Lora of Two Worlds

Speak of the devil.

Walking through Yorvik before, she hadn’t noticed so many foreigners. But after Lord Horn’s warning, she saw them everywhere.

Earlier, she’d heard that foreigners liked to snatch unaccompanied southern women as wives or concubines.

She’d had Horn list a few common foreign names. She’d picked one that sounded pretty and given herself a foreign name: Chayl Yangyang.

What she didn’t know, the homophone she’d heard, ”Chayl,” was one of the royal surnames of the Redmane tribe. The other, better-known form was ”Zarek.”

She and Linnie had no heart for browsing. They wanted to reach the Shrine of the Two Lords, find Lyle and Shawn, learn what had happened to Alvin and the others.

”Hey, pretty girl, you fancy me? Don’t bump my back, bump my chest!” A bearded foreigner blocked their path.

Linnie, hurrying to keep up, had collided with a man who’d stopped short. He spoke a foreign tongue they didn’t understand.

”Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Linnie, flustered, forgot their plan to pass as foreigners. She blurted out a sentence in the common tongue.

”Dressed like that, and you’re southerners? Southerners never cover their faces. Let’s see what’s under that veil.” He wasn’t alone. Two companions watched, amused.

In Yorvik, intermarriage was common. The old golden-age taboos had long faded. But southerners still balked at marrying daughters to foreigners. A girl who did, lost her family forever.

Even princesses sent as diplomatic brides were quietly despised by their royal cousins.

But foreigners loved southern wives, considered them gentle, capable, good household managers. So southern women in Yorvik rarely went out alone, for fear of being seized.

Lora pulled Linnie behind her. She glared at the man, opened her mouth:

”What’s wrong with you? Get lost!”

The foreigners spoke the common tongue, but not this. They froze:

”You... you’re not southerners?”

Lora didn’t answer. She pulled Linnie to leave. They blocked her: ”Don’t go, which tribe, which house are you from...?”

Behind them, a woman’s voice, in their language:

Stolen story; please report.

”Yelu Huang, are you asking for a beating? These are my father’s guests. You dare harass them on the street? Get lost, don’t let me see you on this road again.”

The three men clearly knew her. They grinned, babbled excuses, and vanished.

Lora caught the word ”Yelu.” So they were Black Eagle nomads. And this woman...

She studied her: a cotehardie with narrow sleeves. A beaded belt. A small black cap with cascading red jet beads that swayed with her braids.

Lovely eyes, bright and sharp.

Seeing Lora’s gaze, the woman introduced herself:

”I’m Faye Horn. My father is the innkeeper at the guest house where you’re staying. I saw you talking to him at the counter.”

”So that’s it. Thank you for the rescue. Your father did mention, if we run into Black Eagle troublemakers, drop his name. But I can’t tell who’s Black Eagle and who isn’t.”

Faye laughed:

”Lots of people live their whole lives in Yorvik and only speak their own tongue. Not me, I love learning everyone’s language. It’s fun. Oh, by the way, young lady, what language was that you just spoke? I’ve never heard it.”

”That? That’s Anglo-Saxon.”

”Wow! I haven’t met that tribe yet. Did you learn it in the Heartlands? Will you teach me?”

Lora’s mind clicked: She and Linnie were both southerners. Add Faye, a local who knew the languages and the streets.

She smiled: ”I’ll teach you Anglo-Saxon, Japanese, and Dawnfolk. What can you teach me?”

Lora: All those years of anime and K-dramas, finally paying off.

”Me? Black Eagle, Turkic, Mohar, Kyren, Redmane, Sogdian, Sherghar, there’s nothing I can’t speak.” Faye was a little smug.

A walking translating machine. Lora invited her at once:

”We’re going to the Shrine of the Two Lords. Can you guide us?”

Faye covered her mouth, laughing: ”Truth is, my father sent me. He said your companions were taken by the household guards. Poor things. He told me to help.”

”Companions...!”

So Lord Horn had known all along that they were with the envoy’s party. That was why he’d slipped them the news about the men across the hall.

Faye took Lora’s hand and walked ahead, chattering about Yorvik. Linnie, treated as Lora’s maid, trailed behind, forgotten. Three women, it turned out, was a crowd.

With Faye guiding, they moved fast. Yorvik was divided into wards. The Shrine of the Two Lords was in the east, the Sogdian quarter. But every nation had a presence. Goods from every people were exchanged there. Southerners came to buy.

Lora’s eyes scanned the crowd for Lyle and Shawn. Hard, everyone wore foreign robes. She’d need to see a face.

”Yangyang, look, that’s the shrine.”

Lora followed her hand. A temple with no enclosing wall. A great incense brazier before the door. The crowd had left a clear space around it. Those who couldn’t get close bowed on the open ground.

The two rebel warlords, revered here as heroes who’d built an empire. In the Heartlands, they were monsters who’d torn the old kingdom apart. Here, champions.

No sign of Lyle or Shawn at the gate. But the three women had become objects of scrutiny themselves.

”Yangyang, see the robes? The short ones that show the boot-tops are Redmane. They’re few in Yorvik. Quiet. Here to trade.”

Redmane?

Lora looked closer. The two tall, high-nosed men from the street were there, loading goods onto a cart, about to leave.

”The troublemakers are the Turkic tribes.”

”Why?”

”They’re numerous. Split into factions. The ones who came recently from the steppe, no papers, no land. Everyone bullies them. Even the local Turkic groups. They’ve it hardest.”

They didn’t point, just looked. Faye narrated where their eyes fell.

Then, a disturbance. Men with thick braids, glaring at each other.

”See the braids, those are Turkic tribesmen.”

Hmm. In TV shows, Turkic tribesmen had wild, unwashed hair and dressed like beggars. These had braids. Who knew?

The three of them drifted toward the conflict.