"Mike Resnick - 43 Antarean Dynasties, The" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

admire a water fountain, which for some reason appears to her to be a mystical
alien artifact. She is about to take a holo when the child restrains her.
"It's just a goddamned water bubbler, Ma," he says.
"But it's fascinating," she says. "Imagine what kind of beings used it in ages
past."
"Thirsty ones," says the bored child.
She ignores him and turns back to me. "As I was saying, it must be criminal to
rob the galaxy of such treasures."
"Yeah, well _somebody_ destroyed some buildings around here," interjects the
child, who seems intent on proving someone wrong about something. "Remember the
hole in the ground we saw over that way?" He points in the direction of the
Footprint. "Looks like a bomb crater to me."
"You are mistaken," I explain, leading them over to it. "It has always been
there."
"It's just a big sinkhole," says the man, totally unimpressed.
"It is worshipped by my people as the Footprint of God," I explain. "Once, many
eons ago, Kalimetra was in the throes of a years-long drought. Finally Jorvash,
our greatest priest, offered his own life if God would bring the rains. God
replied that it would not rain until He wept again, and we had not yet suffered
enough to bring forth His tears of compassion. But He promised that He would
strike a bargain with Jorvash."
I pause for effect, but the man is lighting another cigar and the child is
concentrating on his pocket computer. "The next morning Jorvash was found dead
inside his temple, while God had created this depression with His foot and
filled it with water. It sustained us until He finally wept again."
The woman seems flustered. "Um...I hate to ask," she finally says, "but could
you repeat that story? My recorder wasn't on."
The man looks uncomfortable. "She's always forgetting to turn the damned thing
on," he explains, and flips me a coin. "For your trouble."
#
_Lobilia was the greatest poet in the history of Antares III. Although he died
during the 23rd Dynasty, most of his work survived him. But his masterpiece,
"The Long Night of the Exile" -- the epic of Bagata's Exile and his triumphant
Return -- was lost forever._
_Though he was his race's most famous bard, Lobilia himself was illiterate,
unable even to write his own name. He created his poetry extemporaneously,
embellishing upon it with each retelling. He recited his epic just once, and was
so satisfied with its form that he refused to repeat it for the scribes who were
waiting for a final version and hadn't written it down._
#
"Thank you," says the woman, deactivating the recorder after I finish. She
pauses. "Can I buy a book with some more of your quaint folk legends?"
I decide not to explain the difference between a folk legend and an article of
belief. "They are for sale in the gift shop of your hotel," I reply.
"You don't have enough books?" mutters the man.
She glares at him, but says nothing, and I lead them to the Tomb, which always
impresses visitors.
"This is the Tomb of Bedorian V, the greatest ruler of the 37th Dynasty," I say.
"Bedorian was a commoner, a simple farmer who deposed the notorious Maelastri
XII, himself a mighty warrior who was the last ruler of the 36th Dynasty. It was