Statesman by Piers Anthony

by Piers Anthony

  "But he knew my identity, of course. He asked me to be open with him, when we were in private, and so I was. It was in my own guise that I dressed his wound and helped him get around and bathe. I did it because of what we owed him, but the better I came to know him, the more I respected his qualities. He was a handsome man, and an intelligent one, and an honest one, and though we existed at opposite political and social poles, I found myself attracted to him. And he—his wound, taken in our service, was in the groin, deep and serious, and though the medication healed the flesh, he was fearful for his potency.

  "Thus it was that what happened happened. He recovered his potency, and I had his baby. But we could never let it be known, because he was married and I was Hispanic; news of it would have destroyed his career, and that of my brother. But I could not give up the baby. So I brought it to Megan, and she—she was, is a great woman." Here she could not continue, for she was crying again. But I already knew the rest. I held her, as she had held me in my infancy, and now the secret between us was gone.

  I knew too that Megan had not been entirely unselfish in her adoption of Spirit's baby. She had done it to please Hope, of course; but more than that, for herself. She had perhaps not realized that she wanted a baby, until she had been offered one. Possibly she had not wanted just any baby, but this particular one overrode her reluctance. Because she had been the one Thorley's act of heroism had saved. Megan had always been one to pay her debts, of whatever nature, and she owed Thorley her life, and had no way to repay it. Spirit had done what Megan could not; Spirit had brought a life to Thorley. That love child could not be acknowledged, but it required loving care. Megan took that baby, and in that manner she repaid Thorley and Spirit for her life, using her life to raise their child. It was also the closest she could come to having Hope's child, and so she would have wanted it even if there had not been the debt.

  I was that child. I could not have had a better mother than Megan, or a better father than Hope Hubris, and I do not deny them now. But how much my new knowledge of my natural parentage adds to my life!

  "Must this remain secret?" I asked.

  "That is for you to decide."

  "But people could be hurt—"

  "Thorley's wife is dead. My brother is dead. Times have changed. I may marry Thorley. We can no longer be hurt by your origin. Do what is right for you."

  I was stunned. "You—Thorley—still?"

  "I am the mirror of my brother. Apart from him, I have loved two men, and dallied with others. The first is dead; the second is not. What would you have me do?"

  "I... I meant no judgment of you! I only—" Now I remembered the times Thorley had been with us, as when he joined Hope's first expedition to Saturn, when Hope was Governor of Sunshine. That had been, nominally, for the news—but also for the secret love between Hope's leading critic and his sister. And, perhaps, to be with me, the child who had not known. So many events to be reinterpreted!

  And who was to interpret them? "Aunt Spirit—" I faltered, embarrassed, but she only smiled. The habit of a lifetime is not readily erased by a single revelation. "Spirit, your story must be told!"

  She shook her head. "Hopie, I have never written personal things down; only my brother did that. Now I am the Tyrant, carrying on in his stead; I have no time for such a narrative."

  "Then tell me, and I shall write it for you!" I said. "There is so much that you alone know, that will otherwise be lost with you."

  "But the time, even for that—"

  "In snatches," I pleaded. "At odd moments, when you are free. Tell me, or dictate briefly for a tape that I can later transcribe. Any way possible, so that I may have your story, for now I realize that it is not finished with my father—with Hope Hubris. All the details he omitted, because you took care of them—"

  She shook her head in negation. "Hopie, it just isn't feasible! You have no idea how busy I—"

  "It cannot end here, my sister, my love!"

  Spirit stared at me, though I had not spoken. At least, I don't think I—it must have been the presence who wrote the final chapter of the Bio of a Space Tyrant. I do not know; I cannot explain it. I only know that for a moment I felt the presence of my father, the Tyrant. I had, it seemed, inherited a number of his traits; I hoped I had not also inherited his madness.

  Then Spirit bowed her head. "As you wish, as ever, my brother, my love," she whispered.

  And so it was that I commenced the editing of another volume after I had thought the task complete. The narrative of the Iron Maiden, my natural mother. The current Tyrant, as she guided mankind on toward the stars.

  Solar Geography

  Planet

  Earthly parallel

  Mercury

  South Africa

  Venus

  North Africa

  Earth

  Luna

  India

  Ceylon

  Mars

  Phobos

  Deimos

  Asia Minor (Moslem)

  Israel

  West Bank of Jordan

  Asteroid Belt

  Hidalgo

  Chiron

  Pacific Islands

  Hawaii

  Cyprus

  Jupiter North

  Jupiter South

  Jupiter RedSpot

  Amalthea

  Io

  Europa

  Ganymede

  Callisto

  outer moons

  North America

  South America

  Mexico

  Bahamas

  Puerto Rico

  Jamaica

  Cuba

  Hispaniola

  Lesser Antilles

  Saturn North

  Saturn South

  inner satellites

  outer satellites

  rings

  Titan

  Russia

  China

  Philippines

  Indonesia

  Taiwan

  Japan

  Uranus

  Miranda

  Ariel

  Umbriel

  Titania

  Oberon

  Europe

  Crete

  Sardinia

  Ireland

  England

  Iceland

  Neptune

  Triton

  Nereid

  Australia

  New Zealand

  Tasmania

  Pluto

  Charon

  Antarctica

  Falklands

  Copyright © 1986 by Piers Anthony

  ISBN: 0-380-89835-7