Lora of Two Worlds

On the last day of February, Linn’s caravan finally rolled into Lohenheim, welcomed by cheering citizens and officials lining the road.

”Linn, this turnout, I’m getting nervous.” Armand peeked through the curtain.

Linn hadn’t answered when Claude Sheffield said, coldly: ”They’re not here for you. The convoy we passed at the last posting house, that’s who they’re waiting for.”

”Right. Lord Legard arrives in Lohenheim today. He’s past eighty, wanted a marcher lordship to end his days in, but the King wouldn’t have it. Lohenheim was the consolation, coming home to a quiet post.”

Linn’s trip had been fortunate. He hadn’t found the Frost Ravens, but he’d ruled out Stillmount completely. Seeing time running short, he’d gone to Augustburg and hired twenty servants, then turned back.

And the real stroke of luck: winning over Claude Sheffield.

Before leaving, Leon had told him, Claude Sheffield wasn’t Armand. A little kindness and family pressure wouldn’t work on a tourney champion. You had to reason with him, win his agreement.

As it turned out, Claude Sheffield was already deeply bitter about the court being manipulated by the chamberlains. Leon’s plight struck a chord. After several nights of talk, Claude Sheffield had given Linn his heart:

Better to stay and serve Lord Leon in his search for the King’s Frost Ravens than go back to Augustburg and be sidelined.

When Armand suggested that, if they couldn’t find the real thing, they should recruit their own men and pass them off as Frost Raven descendants, Claude Sheffield shut him down hard:

”No. That can’t be done. Quite apart from the fact that a few hundred men can’t accomplish much, a fraud is a fraud.

You’d be handing the King a ready-made excuse to execute his lordship. Small gains, great peril. That’s the worst kind of mistake.”

Armand was speechless. Linn nodded silently.

Back at the Grand Princess’s mansion, with Green sent away, Claude Sheffield formally swore fealty to Leon. Leon was pleased. He tucked the deed to a tract of woodland near the Cliff Sanctuary into a small chest and laughed:

”Today the Fairfaxes and the Odenheims have all gone to welcome the new governor. We’re the only ones with nothing to do. Bring out two casks of wine, let’s drink to your safe return.”

Next door, Lora was shouting the same thing:

”It’s so quiet today, everyone’s out. Let’s get two casks, shut the gate, and drink! To celebrate Norton finishing his first course of treatment, he can say three-word phrases now!”

Norton could now hear people speaking. He’d been swimming in joy all week. But at this he protested, earnest:

”Young... lady!... Three words!”

Lora laughed: ”So it’s, three words. Starting tomorrow, we go to every other day for treatment. Keep practicing. After three full courses, you’ll be speaking in sentences.”

In the forecourt, he’d always wanted to train with the men-at-arms.

But they’d pushed him aside, deaf, always half a beat behind. Now he could hear. He could follow his godfather into battle, ride with the Count and the young lords.

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In the forecourt, he’d always wanted to train with the men-at-arms. But they’d pushed him aside, deaf, always half a beat behind. Now he could hear. He could follow his godfather into battle, ride with the Count and the young lords.

Lucy and Aiden brought the wine. Margaret called Shawn down from the roof. They gathered around a small charcoal brazier for grilling meat, eating and drinking.

In truth, no one but Lora dared drink freely. They all paced themselves, letting her have her fun.

But after a few cups, the ale, which didn’t taste as strong as spirits, crept up on them.

Lora had been out exploring the city for days. The novelty had worn off, and the homesickness had crept back in. Her parents in that other world. Grandpa. The drink loosened her tongue:

”I want to go home!”

”You’re home already, my lady. Where else is there to go?” Margaret handed her a cup of honey water, smiling: ”Drink this, it’ll help.”

”I don’t want honey water. I want to go home.” The sadness and the drink amplified each other. She stood up, bottle in hand, and marched for the gate.

”My lady! Where are you going? Should we go to the Countess, at least?”

”Fine! I’ll go to Mother, Mother will take me home.”

Cheeks flushed, she threw open the court gate. She was about to stride through when she remembered, she couldn’t disappear in front of all these people. She whipped around and waved them back:

”Nobody follow me!”

Margaret and the others trailed her from a distance.

Lora could hold her liquor. She wasn’t blind drunk, she just wanted, in this half-drunk elation, to let herself go a little.

Out of the tower chamber, she giggled her way toward the rose garden and the lily pond.

Margaret saw her heading for the water and hurried after her: ”My lady, not by the water!”

”Why can’t I go? Why can they?”

She pointed across the pond, drunk and beaming. The sibling swans and the paired swans had come to the water’s edge to feed.

Four swans, white as snow, their long flight feathers black, their heads and legs a vivid red. To keep them from flying off, one wing on each had been pinioned.

The swans weren’t startled by Lora. The mated pair spread their wings, tipped their heads to the sky, and honked, long, trumpeting calls:

”Honk... honk...”

”HONK... AH!”

Lora laughed and shouted back at them: ”Honk-ah! Honk-ah! Honk-ah-honk!”

On the other side of the wall, Green had been drunk and hauled off to sleep, with Claude Sheffield and Armand carrying him. Only Linn and Lyle were still drinking with Leon.

The noise next door was getting loud. Lyle volunteered: ”I’ll go see what’s going on over there.”

What could it be? With the men of House Odenheim all out, the only one who could cause a scene was the little cousin.

Leon grabbed a bottle and stood up: ”I’ll go myself, see what new trick she’s pulled.”

He’d been stuck in the wheelchair for nearly a month. Walking on two legs made him want to laugh at the sky.

He also wanted to test, would the knee still spike with pain under hard use?

Leon kicked off the wall twice, caught the branch of the old apple tree, heaved himself up, and settled onto a limb.

On the terrace by the lily pond stood a slender girl. On the bank behind her, several people watched, tense.

The girl wore a white kirtle under a layer of red gauze that fluttered in the wind. A red damask streamer hung from her arm, matching the bodice, a play of color and light.

Across the water, the sibling swans suddenly spread their wings and began to dance, displaying their plumage to each other. Lora was intrigued. She called across the pond:

”You think you’re so special? I can dance too!”

She spread her arms and spun. The trailing gown got in her way. She bent down and, rrrrip, tore off a length of the underskirt. Her ankles, slim and bare, were free.

Tsk tsk.

This girl was really too... too...

Before he found the right word, the bottle froze at his lips. Lora, ankles bared, rose onto her toes, and began to dance.

Leon had seen women dance, at court and out of it. Their feet were always hidden under their skirts. Whether it was the sword dance, all fire and steel, or the soft, flowing maiden’s dance, none was like this.

She rose onto her toes, light and tall, her arms opening and closing outside the wide sleeves of her houppelande, her clear laughter ringing out, she looked like an angel borne on the wind.

Her feet, in their dainty pointed slippers, peeked below the hem. On her toes, she skimmed and turned, lifted and leaped...

It was an unguarded temptation.

Leon’s face warmed. He cursed the perry, a light drink, how could it go to his head so?

Across the water, the swans danced. On this side, the girl danced.

Lora ended with a spinning descent, folding to the ground. She was breathing fast, eyes closed, smiling:

”I’m done.”