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glance, feeling a hint of tears that never came.
"Martin?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Martin MacGregor D'Gerswin Kerwin."
"Why didn't you let me know?"
"Because I wasn't brave enough to leave New Augusta. Because I did not want
to continue bouncing from Service planet to Service planet. Because I came to
love Merrel and because it was important to my father that we marry."
She stopped and took a sip from the Djring cup.
Gerswin stared out through the armaglass at the shadowed lawn and took a
breath deeper than normal, mentally cataloguing the scents in the room as he
tried to gather himself together.
Caroljoy ... the spice of her was richer, fuller, but had not quite peaked to the
cloying of age.
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r r
The liftea . . . the pungency similar to cinnamon, but without the dustiness and
with the orangeness and mint.
Trilia ... the background fragrance that hinted of flowers that were not present.
"He didn't object?"
"How could he?" The statement was simple, the implications of strength
profound.
Gerswin did not pursue. He darted a look at the glowstones before taking
another sip of the liftea from the Djring cup that weighed less than a trilia
blossom in his fingers.
"Martin . . . looked much like you, with the hawk-eyes, except his were green,
and with the fantastic reflexes. Of course, he became a pilot, after he graduated
with honors, and then went from the corvette to commander of his own scout. He
was so proud, and even Merrel was proud of him."
Weight, with the inexorable chill and mass of a glacier, settled on and around
Gerswin.
"Firien's Star?"
"He could have escaped, but he covered the Sinta Mare . . . and the others. The
Emperor's Cross . . . upstairs with my jewels." She shrugged, as if trying to lift a
burden off her shoulders and not quite succeeding. "Now, once in a while, I can
look at it."
Again, silence cupped the room in its unseen hands.
What could he say? He caught himself before he started to shake his head.
"Lieutenant ... I mean. Commander, we all have our chains to the past. I am not
asking you to share mine, nor would I trade anything that has been, and that
includes you. At times, I have wondered, but I would not. Martin's childhood was
one of the most wonderful times of my life, but that time had passed already
when he died, and I had not understood that. All parents die a little when their
children become real."
She smiled, and while the smile was faint, the warmth brought a benediction to
Gerswin.
"Young Jane made up for it, later, some, but neither Analise nor Jerzey were
comfortable here. Jane liked to visit, and who could deny her? She had Martin's
eyes, and saw everything. She still cubes me, but they come in batches, now that
she's on the Rim expedition."
Gerswin felt more lost at each word, and concentrated on trying not to shake
his head at all the implications that tumbled from her words. If Analise had been
Martin's wife or the woman who had his child, who was Jerzey?
"Jane? Jerzey?"
"Jerzey was Analise's husband. I've lived with it all for so long it's really quite
clear. Lieutenant . . . pardon me, but, you know, dear Commander, I still think of
you as that dashing young lieutenant." She cleared her throat, softly, and took
another sip of the liftea. "Like his father, Martin fascinated the ladies, but he
never even knew he had a daughter. Neither did we. I found that was a possibility
several years later, well after Firien, from his friend Torvye, who brought it up to
console me."
She held up her hand. "No need for details, but Analise was adopted out, and
by the time I found her, had married Jerzey, a decent sort, if a rather mundane
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r r
barrister on Herkimer. Jane found it too mundane as well."
"So she joined the Service?"
"A familial weakness, I would guess," suggested Her Grace, her mouth
upturned slightly at the comers. "She also took her grandfather's name, but,
enough of the history. You'do well to humor an aging lady."
"Not humoring," he protested. "Not at all."
Martin a grandfather? What did that make him? Or Carol-Joy?
"You've been most kind," he began hesitatingly, "particularly in view ... of
everything . . ." This time, he did shake his head. There were no words to express
the conflicting feelings ricocheting back and forth under the black undress armor
he wore.
"No," she answered with a smile best described as sad, "I am not kind. I had
always wondered, but never had the will to search you out, to leam whether you
had survived the deserts of Old Earth and intricacies of the I.S.S. I'm the type [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]