Lora of Two Worlds

That night Lora had got in touch with the hidden guard Shawn, and gained a helper; but Norton, who had gone after Anne, was back almost at once.

For Anne had seemed only to step into the privy at the east end of the court, and come back and lie down on her pallet.

She hadn't run.

On the bed, Lora couldn't make up her mind: was she truly without alarm? Or only holding her hand for now?

Closing her eyes and waiting was truly dull, but there were two lads outside, watching... Lora let down her guard, and drifted toward sleep.

In the princess's mansion, on the other side of the wall, one small court hadn't put out its lamp.

Leon sat at the table, distracted. Before him lay a vellum slip, on which were a few words, a letter to Dr. Osler.

The last dose of the antidote had been taken; by Osler's reckoning, his legs should be wholly recovered, but in walking now, he still felt a swelling ache in the joints.

Was it the after-effect of going into the water yesterday?

The draughts were all used up, and he was a little uneasy. With his present reach, to get this letter to Osler in Augustburg, without a soul knowing, wasn't a thing he could swear to.

He thought it over, then took the oil lamp and burned the slip to ash.

The most pressing matter now wasn't his legs, but the marcher sack of the Crown Granary that was soon to come.

He didn't know which marcher troops they were, but today, looking at the Map of the Marches, he had recalled: the sudden rebel attack on the Crown Granary of Lohenheim had come just after the King made Aldric Vane deputy commander of the Yorvik March, and acting warden in the late Marcher Duke's stead.

By his reckoning, that was the ninth day after his own reduction to a baron.

Today, seven days had passed.

The time left them was short. He must tell Roland at once to stand on his guard; if need be, seize the Yorvik Liaison Office first.

It was only a guess, but that sack had been Aldric Vane's revenge for petitioning the King (in vain) to be made Marcher Duke of Yorvik with the added title of vice-chancellor.

Leon's thought cleared at a stroke:

The Count of Odenheim's ten thousand men held the whole Lohenheim jurisdiction; the Lohenheim city garrison was but three thousand, and they must be spread across eight gates.

By the sacked Crown Granary lay two gates, the Westgate held by the Silver Shield, the Eastgate by the Lohenheim garrison. In the end, only the Lohenheim garrison was punished; the Silver Shield and the Crown Granary's own wardens washed their hands of it.

Aldric Vane must be in league with Valentin Voss, and the friend within was none other than the Silver Shield that guarded the royal residence!

"Lyle, go and bid my two lords come; tell them the wine is ready."

Leon couldn't, of course, tell his two friends of his rebirth; but he could say he had had word. How the word had come, he wouldn't say; and they wouldn't ask.

Lyle didn't understand, what had put his lord in such humor tonight, that he must have Felix and Roland over for wine? He looked all round, and found the two lords were both at the river-fleet barracks.

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Tonight had been full: first Felix had taken Coltrain to the gaol; then, a while after, Carl had come over and called for his release, saying there had been a misunderstanding in the house, now all cleared up.

Well enough, Felix had real business yet; he had pulled Roland along to the river fleet.

The river fleet didn't oversee the royal posting houses, and wouldn't board every boat; but they kept a watch, twelve hours around the clock, on the Loene outside the royal quarter, only a river's width from the West Quay.

So when Felix couldn't find that boat in the harbormaster's register, the river fleet was the first place he thought of. The two had just done questioning the watch when Lyle came up.

"It's past ten o'clock, bid your master get some rest," Roland said with a wry smile. "We've still to put together today's threads; we've not your master's leisure."

"But my lord... he seemed very anxious," Lyle said, certain.

Felix had confirmed at the river fleet that a boat had put in at the West Quay at midnight, just as the witness said; but whose boat it was, the fleet couldn't tell.

"Come, since the wine is readied, we'll talk when we get back."

When they reached the Princess's mansion, all was quiet. They walked to the deepest court; the Hannah Holm, where Leon lodged, still had a lamp.

They pushed the door open, and the smell of wine came at them in a wave. As they stared, Leon said:

"Carry Sergeant Greene back to his room, and stand at his door, let no one near him."

It had taken him a whole flagon to drink Greene under, or rather, the wine had been drugged, enough to keep him under till dawn.

"You're a wonder. Must we drink him under every time we talk? You'll be the patron saint of vineyards before long." Roland was beaming, all unawares of the danger come down on Lohenheim.

Felix shook his head. "Our own wine is plainly not enough. Tomorrow I'll have the estate winery send more."

"Tell me, what did you find today? Has the killer of our little cousin been found?"

Leon went straight to it. With the thought clear in his head, he had already recalled: among the young ladies on the barge was Grace Venn, daughter of the Yorvik liaison commissioner, and her brother was on the boat as well.

At Leon's direct question, Felix dropped his smile, took up the wine-cup set out anew, and filled it for himself and for Roland:

"We've had some finds, but only threads; nothing to tie them together. I traced last night's secret landing at the West Quay, but no such boat in the register; I've set the river fleet to watch, in case they show themselves.

"Gareth went to the smiths today: this year, several smiths in the city, though they turn out no unlawful arms, have turned out twice the blades of any common year. Someone is quietly hoarding weapons."

"That's far beyond the common supply of iron to Lohenheim. Where does the iron come from? And whose hands hold the blades? My father has set men to search hard at the gates. Only... these things have no direct tie to my sister," Roland said, doubtful.

"Add my word to yours, and they may tie."

Leon lifted his cup, touched theirs, sipped, and said:

"Today the King made Aldric Vane acting warden of the Yorvik March, and didn't send an army to crush him."

"Aldric Vane stirs his household men-at-arms to murder their Marcher Duke, and the King lets him go? Truly the Three Transriver Marches are uncrowned kings!" Roland was hot.

Felix said nothing, but his heart was glad: Leon had ever been indifferent to such things; he hadn't thought that here in Lohenheim, Leon's network of word would run so, the sheriff's hall hadn't yet had the royal dispatch, and Leon had word already.

Good, for a man of Leon's parts and breeding, he deserved a better future.

"Yorvik sent to the King at Augustburg, and what they asked wasn't the acting warden's post, they asked for Marcher Duke and vice-chancellor both. The King, no doubt, thought it unseemly to make a man Marcher Duke the very day he had killed his Marcher Duke... He's ever so, would hold both ends, and loses both."

Leon sighed lightly, and looked at Roland: "His half-measures Lohenheim must now bear. I have word, within a day or two, someone will sack the Crown Granary. Set the two together, and it may be Aldric Vane's rage at his rebuff, come to take something from the Crown by force."

"So the boxes landed last night may be at the Yorvik Liaison Office? And the weapons are the work of the men who mean to sack the Granary? Then my sister... she saw something, and they meant to silence her?"

Roland and Felix stared at each other. It was only a guess, but it touched the Lohenheim garrison, and the Lohenheim sheriff's hall wasn't untouched.

"Whoever it's, to sack Lohenheim is no good for us. Uncle must hurry and call up men; secretly reinforce the gates near the Crown Granary, and the roads and rivers that lead to Yorvik. I fear, though..."

Leon frowned; those boxes, smuggled in by night, the thought of them now was frightening.

"Fear what? Those boxes?"

The same word struck all three friends at once:

Black powder!

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