Lora of Two Worlds

Norton was thrilled that the young lady liked his dog. He beamed from ear to ear, itching to show off some trick that would make her laugh.

"Ah-ah!"

Chance came trotting back with the stick in its mouth, tail wagging.

Norton fished out a small, dry piece of sesame bread from inside his tunic, broke off a corner, and popped it into the dog's mouth. While Chance was eating, he darted toward a little storage room by the courtyard gate.

He was back in a flash, holding one shoe up for Chance to sniff. He "Ah-ah'd" at the dog twice. Chance seemed to understand and bounded toward the storage room.

Lora noticed then that Norton was barefoot, he had only one shoe in his hand. He must have hidden the other one for Chance to find.

She took the small dish Margaret handed her, four meat pies on it, and, munching on a pie, walked toward the storage room.

Norton had hidden that shoe well.

Even when Lora reached the doorway, Chance was still inside, nosing around.

It was a tiny room, piled with off-season padded curtains and the worn cushions the household servants used, things to be taken apart and washed when the weather turned fine.

The narrow cot, barely two feet wide, was the emptiest spot in the room.

Chance was sniffing earnestly along the pile of cushions by the cot. Suddenly it seemed to catch something, it stood up, scratched at the cushions, then shoved its muzzle into the gap and dragged out a shoe.

It carried the shoe to Norton's feet and scratched at his foot with its front paw, telling him to put it on.

"Incredible, he hid it so high and it still found it."

The dogs in this world were mostly purebred local stock, not like the mixed breeds back in her own time. This big yellow dog was clearly smarter than any mutt.

Lora picked up a meat pie and held it out. "Chance, this is your reward."

But Chance didn't take it. Instead, it looked up at Norton, waiting. Only when Norton nodded permission did it snap the pie up in one eager bite.

"Great training!" Lora said admiringly.

"He learned that the hard way, after a whole day of the runs. Norton's terrified the dog will eat something from a stranger and drop dead one day," Margaret said.

She served in the Countess's household, but she wasn't entirely ignorant of what went on in the forecourt.

They were all laughing and chatting as they went back inside when Carl strode in. He dropped into a chair, poured himself a cup of herb tea, and downed it in one long pull.

"Lil, I have to go back to the garrison today. I won't have as much time to look after you from here on."

"Weren't you supposed to report at the end of the month? Did something turn up last night?" Lora had come back early; she didn't know how Felix's search of the Liaison Office had ended.

"Nothing turned up, that's exactly why we've to be on guard everywhere. Gareth had his men-at-arms scouring the city all night and still couldn't find Aprille. This morning her likeness went up at every city gate. Let's just hope she doesn't slip through."

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Carl stood up, ruffled Lora's hair, and grinned.

"Don't worry. The important man next door is well informed, Roland says he got word that marcher troops are going to hit the Crown Granary in the next day or two."

"Oh? Hit the Crown Granary, that came from the important man next door?"

"Yeah. They figure the weapons and those big crates we couldn't find might be hidden inside the Granary. I've got to run, I need to check every gate. If Aprille actually gets out of the city, House Odenheim is done in Lohenheim."

Carl waved and strode toward the courtyard gate.

Last night, all she had done was tell Roland she dreamed the Crown Granary caught fire and men looted it in the chaos. One offhand sentence, and her brothers had believed it!

All Lora knew from the history books was that during King Edmond IV's reign, marcher troops had run riot and sacked Lohenheim.

The records said the Crown Granary was stripped bare and half the city went up in flames.

Which marcher troops, and when? The chronicles never said.

Leon knew only this: in his previous life, ten days after his banishment, dispatches had reached the Crown reporting that the Lord Regent of Lohenheim's garrison had been caught napping. Marauding marcher troops had looted and burned half the city.

Where the fire started, why the Lohenheim garrison failed to hold, those details he didn't know.

The day after he arrived in Lohenheim, he had invited Roland and Felix to take a boat out on the River Loene, meaning to shake off Sergeant Greene's surveillance and discuss the matter with them.

But the two of them never showed. Instead, he had ended up diving into the river to save Lora, and her near-drowning and the subsequent assassination attempt had led them straight to the hidden weapons and suspicious crates.

That saved him the trouble of finding a way to bring up "marcher troops running riot", Lora's dream had done it for him.

And Lora's dream had given him the key insight: the "inside help" mentioned in the dispatches from his previous life wasn't in the Lohenheim garrison at all. It was inside the Crown Granary, guarded by the royal garrison troops.

Without Leon, Lora, transplanted into this world, might well have drowned at the bottom of the river. Without Lora, Leon, reborn with four years' foreknowledge, could never have found the real source of the disaster so quickly.

By now, Leon was at his new house, surrounded by his escort, raising hell:

"Are you people taking me for a fool because I'm not a prince? Picking up junk and stuffing it into my house!"

Sergeant Greene hurried over with an oily smile. "How could that be, my lord? Before we left, the King specifically instructed, you may hold the title of Baron, but all your provisions and household are to be fitted out to a prince's standard."

"I can't spend one more day in a dump like this. If this is how it's going to be, I'd rather go back to the Grand Princess's mansion."

Leon put on a look of utter disdain. Linn spun the wheelchair around and headed for the gate.

That would never do. If he didn't move into the new house, the rest of his escort would have nothing to do, and Greene's own drinking capacity was pitiful. With no one to share the toasts, he'd drink himself to death inside a month. Greene panicked and hurried after them.

"My lord, wait, it's salvageable. You can go to the royal storehouse yourself and pick out whatever pieces you like. Whatever you want, wherever you want it. If the King holds it against anyone, it'll be on my head."

Leon raised a hand. Linn stopped.

"You're letting me choose for myself?"

"Yes, yes, yes, I'll contact the Crown Granary this very moment and arrange a time for you to go." Greene was effusive.

He had been furious about this posting, tedious, thankless, and not a penny to be made.

But Grand Master Voss had promised: once the first three months were past and he was sure Leon's legs were truly crippled, he could transfer back to Augustburg.

So he had no wish to make waves.

And if Leon wanted to play the grand lord and deck his house in luxury, wasn't that exactly what the King wanted?

"Ridiculous! I'm going now. Do I need anyone's permission?" Leon turned up the heat, pointing at Greene. "You, lead the way!"

Greene waved his hand. The guards hoisted Leon, wheelchair and all, into the carriage, and the whole cavalcade rolled toward the palace district.

That day on the barge, Leon had looked across the river at the palace walls, the high ramparts and the grand turrets and roofs of the royal palace, and a hundred feelings had pressed in on him.

He thought of the old days, when Empress Matilda and her prince consort had held court here, and the Aurelian Empire had been at the height of its glory. The Great Rebellion had been a hundred years ago, and the court had never recovered its old nerve.

His brother the King wasn't without ambition, but he feared shadows at every turn, indecisive one moment and blaming everyone but himself the next.

Leon's mind wandered as the carriage passed through the north gate of the Crown Prince's palace and rolled slowly into the Crown Granary compound.

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