Lora of Two Worlds

Leon had been in Lohenheim ten days. Alvin, Gareth, and the other brothers had all called on him at the Grand Princess’s mansion. But this was his first visit to House Odenheim.

He explained to Green:

”Back in the Princes’ Quarter in Augustburg, I was close to Prince Jasper’s household. When I left, you saw, Jasper’s people saw me off without hiding it. Lord Aldric’s second son came himself. Next door to me here is an uncle and aunt, it’s only right I pay my respects.”

The Count of Odenheim and Valentin Voss were at daggers drawn. Voss had already begun moving against the Count. If Leon couldn’t see that, and insisted on cozying up, he deserved to lose his title.

Green sneered inwardly at the cripple: As long as you’re not going to the Odenheims’ to have your legs healed, I couldn’t care less. But his face bore a smile, and he bowed:

”Should I prepare a gift, my lord? You’re the junior, and a baron ranks half below the Count. To go empty-handed would be a grave breach.”

”That won’t concern you, Captain Green.” Leon, as if he hadn’t heard the gibe, answered lightly: ”The late King once gave me a sword, Frosteel. He said the bond between brothers couldn’t be broken by any blade. Now that the sword is of no use to me, I would offer it to the Count.”

The late King he spoke of was his my older brother, the late King Carloman. The ”brother” of the saying was his Gareth, the King who sat the throne now.

If the bond is gone, what can the sword hold?

The two front gates were seventy paces apart, two bowshots. Leon still took the carriage.

In Augustburg, land was worth its weight in gold. The Princes’ Quarter had nothing like the sprawl of these two princess’s mansions.

The full glory of the Empire had perhaps been most visible in the forty-six years when the old King and Empress Matilda had held court here in Lohenheim.

Leon’s musings in the carriage were the same ones Lora had made the night she’d followed Aprille out of the house: ”My legs nearly gave out”, no exaggeration at all.

House Odenheim was laid out differently from the Grand Princess’s. In the Princess’s house, she lived in the front, her consort in the back. In the Odenheim house, as in any nobleman’s, the Count lived in the front, the Countess in the back.

And since the Count handled military affairs from his study, the forecourt was more austere. A straight road ran to the great hall. On either side: the training yard.

Compared to the Grand Princess’s flowers and gardens, it was another world.

Leon felt a pull of familiarity. The ardor he’d suppressed in Augustburg kindled at the sight of the weapon racks, halberds, swords, maces, all in neat rows.

The carriage rolled to the foot of the great hall steps. Lyle and Green carried him, wheelchair and all, up.

The Odenheims, the Count and Countess at their head, were waiting at the top. It was his first meeting with the two elders, and his ”first” meeting with the little cousin. Roland introduced everyone carefully.

”Cousin, you look very familiar.” He smiled, took a velvet-lined casket from Green, and opened it. Inside was a jewelled gold collar. Leon looked at Lora with meaning:

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”I understand my cousin recently had a fall into the water. This collar was blessed by the bishop at the cathedral, for protection. Nothing could be more fitting.”

Lora’s eyes lit up: Now this was a fine thing. The cathedral tapestries showed royal nobles wearing just such

Wait. What was that dangling from the collar?

A bright, shiny bone, a dog’s tag.

This was a dog collar. The nerve! Calling me a dog!

Leon had meant the collar for Chance. But seeing Lora, who was usually all grins and afraid of nothing, standing demurely behind the Countess, he couldn’t resist a joke:

You like crawling through dog-holes? This suits you perfectly.

In front of her parents, Lora couldn’t blow up. She couldn’t very well reveal that she’d met this cousin several times while in her lying-in.

She took the casket, snapped the lid shut, and glared at Leon, biting off each word: ”If you’re such a marvel, why have you not ascended to heaven?”

Seeing Leon’s blank face, Lora lifted her chin: Hmph! Call me a dog, why don’t you fly?

Their hidden blades of wit flew over the heads of the Count and Countess, who took it for the usual cousinly banter of a first meeting.

The Count admired the Frosteel sword and chatted. When Leon mentioned he’d like to ask Roland about a new game, the Count sent his sons to walk the garden with their guest.

Lora trailed behind, casket in arms. Roland called from ahead:

”Lil, come here. Your brother has a question.”

Lora dawdled over, stopping behind Leon’s wheelchair: ”What? I have nothing to say to my cousin.”

”How do you know it’s him asking?” Roland grinned. ”He wants to know: that day at the Crown Granary, when you stalled the clerks with ’tarocchi’, do you remember how to play?”

”Of course I remember. Why, you want to learn? I’m warning you: that game is addictive. You play till you lose all track of time. Earthquake, flood, nothing stops you from finishing a round. You’re men who are going to be pillars of the realm. Best stay away. It dulls a man’s edge.”

The brothers laughed and made for her head, ruffling her hair. Lora batted their hands away:

”Hey! Don’t mess up my hair, it takes forever to braid! If you’re going to gamble, I’ll tell Father!”

Alvin smiled: ”She’s not exaggerating. I’ve seen cockfighting ruin a house. The trouble is, keeping a fighting cock is expensive. If this tarocchi game is cheap and portable, it’ll draw far more people.”

”Exactly. The clerks’ version is crude, their tiles are too long, take up too much space, and the rules are too simple. With better rules and a few twists, it’d be irresistible.”

Lora waved her hands: ”House Odenheim’s rules: no brothel-going, no gambling, no alchemical elixirs. I can’t teach you.”

”And if I wanted to use it against an enemy?”

That came from the wheelchair. Leon, quietly.

In his former life, House Odenheim had been attainted, the whole house executed, the charge: treason. The absurd part: they’d been accused of conspiring with the very marcher troops who’d killed Alvin.

In his former life, Alvin’s doom had been approaching. But this time, the Count hadn’t been demoted. Would the rest still happen?

Leon couldn’t be sure.

The one thing he could do was turn the regional forces against the Silver Shield, make enemies for Voss.

”You mean, spread the tarocchi game among enemy troops? The Silver Shield?”

Lora blurted it out. This she knew cold. Her parents, in that other life, had studied the rise and fall of the Silver Shield. They’d written a book about it. It sat on her shelf.

She knew that by the mid-Empire, the Silver Shield’s command had been co-opted by the chamberlains.

Their gear was better than the regional forces’, their pay several times higher, and the regional forces’ pay was always in arrears. It was one reason the marcher lords drifted further from the crown with every passing year.

Her blurted question spooked her brothers, and Leon.

Gareth pulled her into the middle of their group, his face grave: ”Lil, tell us straight. Who taught you these things?”

”Nobody! I just... dreamed it... and... I sneaked out to the abbey and listened to the storytelling outside. The stories have everything!”

This wasn’t a lie. In this age, there were no storytellers yet, that was a later fashion. But there was something close: the pulpit outside the abbey, where monks preached.

There were two kinds: formal sermons, like a saint spreading the word, and moral tales, more lively, about good and evil from ages past.

She remembered reading about it in a saint’s travelogue from her old life. Her mind had taken a sharp turn and pulled it out on the spot, to see if she could bluff her way through.

The pulpit told such things?

Her brothers had never been to an abbey pulpit. Neither had Leon.

But it fit Lora’s habit of wandering the city on a whim.

They let it go, for now.