Lora of Two Worlds

Lora had been back in Lohenheim for days, constant crises, no time to visit Golden Lion at the stables. She’d wanted to invite Leon, but he’d gone out again.

She remembered she hadn’t seen Faye in a while. She took her carriage to find her, they’d go to the stables together. At the gate, she saw workers removing the ”Odenheim House” sign from above the door. What? Before she could enter, Faye came running out, beaming:

”Yangyang! I thought you’d forgotten me the moment you got back!”

”Never! I came the first moment I had free.” Lora smiled wryly.

Faye linked arms and pulled her inside. The Black Eagle staff were busy moving things. Lora couldn’t help asking: ”Did you buy a lot of new things?”

”Don’t you know? Roland took my brother yesterday, bought the deed to this house back. We all think it’s wonderful. Beautiful. Move-in ready, no repairs needed.”

Faye pointed at two lilac trees in the courtyard, one on each side:

”At our house in Yarnford, we also had two lilac trees. What a coincidence, isn’t it? When I see them, I feel like I’m still home with Mother in Yarnford...”

Her voice thickened. Lora put her arm around her shoulder:

”That’s fate. Your brother living here, this is your family home now. I came to take you out, let’s go to the stables. What do you say?”

Faye’s tears turned to laughter: ”Good! Wait, let me tell my brother.”

Chester Horn came out too, pleased. Buying a house near the Great Avenue in a good ward wasn’t easy. It solved his biggest problem.

Danya carried a box, curtsying with a smile: ”Lady. Danya. Made. Gift.”

”Oh, did you make more of those little wooden dolls? I loved the last one.”

”Yes. Dawnfolk women, all, make.” Danya, seeing Lora’s delight, flushed with pride. She gestured for Lora to open the box.

Lora lifted the lid. Gasped. Covered her mouth. Stared. Then carefully, from a row of four small wooden figures, lifted one in a red gauze skirt.

”Yangyang, you’re so clever! Danya says: the red skirt one is you. The other red one is me.”

True, the two figures had different painted hair ornaments. One skirt was a pleated robe. The other, a Black Eagle diagonal-collared dress.

Even in the modern world, these would be artisanal souvenirs at a tourist spot. And if the limbs moved a bit more, a dress-up doll.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it’s taken without the author’s consent. Report it.

Dress-up doll? Lora suddenly remembered the string puppet she’d played with Carl in the little study, and an idea sparked. She closed the box, smiling:

”Beautiful. With this skill, Danya could earn her own living.”

Danya didn’t fully understand. She looked to Faye, who translated. Danya, shocked, then thrilled, pointed at the box, asking in Dawnfolk:

”Making little wooden people? In Dawnfolk, on Daughters’ Day, everyone makes them. They don’t cost anything.”

Faye answered directly: ”This is Lohenheim. The girls of the Empire don’t make them.”

Lora nodded: ”I’ll help you improve them. Make them cuter. People will buy.”

The group piled into the carriage, joyful.

”Too bad we’ll miss St. Agnes’ Eve.” Lora regretted.

Lucy said: ”That’s all right, next month is Harvest Home. Three days’ holiday. Street fairs by day, moon-viewing parties by night. These little things, sold along the Great Avenue to the South Market, they’ll catch every girl’s eye.”

”Right! We celebrate Harvest Home too, we honor the moon!” Faye clapped.

The carriage buzzed with chatter, common tongue mixed with Dawnfolk. A cheerful babel.

At the stables, the stable hands recognized Shawn and the young lady. They bowed, grinning: ”Good news, my lady, Golden Lion’s been so frustrated by the frame and the cast, he’s given up resisting.”

”Oh, he must be miserable. Let me see him.” That proud horse, beaten by injury. Lora’s heart ached.

The stable hand just smiled, and pushed open Golden Lion’s private stall door.

Golden Lion was contentedly chewing half-dried hay. He saw Lora enter, nostrils flaring, head swaying, snorting.

Lora, who’d watched Grandpa treat animals, knew exactly what each species liked to eat and where they liked to be touched.

From her satchel, she produced a pale yellow milk-sugar cube. Caramelized sugar, boiled with milk, a confection. She held it to Golden Lion’s lips. His upper and lower lips rippled, the cube vanished.

He snorted happily. Rubbed his neck against her face. Nudged her palm for more.

”My lady, what did you feed him? We feed him daily, brush him, he’s never been this affectionate.”

The brown sugar that cost sixty pennies a pound was for people. They didn’t know horses loved sweets. And this milk-sugar, the stable hand himself had never tasted one.

”Secret, can’t tell you!” Lora grinned.

Horses were sensitive to sweetness. Loved carrots, but carrots hadn’t been introduced yet. Sugar would do.

After much begging, Golden Lion got one more cube. He was so happy he forgot he was in a sling, tail swishing, hooves stamping.

Danya and Lucy couldn’t ride. The stable hands found two gentle mares for them to circle the paddock. Faye and Lora mounted, and within moments were galloping off.

Shawn and the stable master chased after them, alarmed.

High sky, pale clouds, green hills, green grass. Lora and Faye, one in blue, one in red, like a pair of wings over the meadow, carrying them to the sky’s deepest blue.

At the window, Leon watched. Gripping the wheelchair’s armrests. Wishing he were the one galloping beside her.

He’d come early to see Golden Lion. He’d been glad to see Lora’s carriage arrive, but hearing Faye’s voice as they dismounted, he’d hidden in the stable hands’ quarters.

On the Yorvik journey, he’d been the mustached guard. Now, in the wheelchair, he still feared recognition.

Besides, watching her from afar was its own undisturbed pleasure.

On the way home, Faye asked, carefully:

”Yangyang, what was that you fed the horse?”

”Oh, that?”

Lora produced two pieces and placed them in Faye’s hand: ”Taste and see.”

”It’s milk-flavored candy!”

More laughter from the carriage.

That night, Lora expended tremendous effort. No, she’d only moved her mouth and eyes. Shawn had done the heavy lifting, converting a string puppet into a wooden figure with articulated arms.

Lora dressed it in one of Danya’s red gauze skirts. Posed it, one arm high, one level, in a dancing posture. She asked:

”Look, isn’t she beautiful?”

Margaret and Lucy laughed:

”That’s clearly you, drunk, dancing by the lily pond!”