Lora of Two Worlds

After Lora left, Carl walked on, his mind on Brendan. That morning he'd dropped by next door. Brendan had been up and walking, but there'd been no talk of him going out. What was so urgent that he'd be riding? Meanwhile, Brendan's horse was tethered outside the Aldgate, the south gate of Lohenheim. "Lord Brendan, what brings you here?" The gate warden, Lucas, hurried forward with a grin. Brendan was only an ensign, so "Lord" wasn't strictly his due, but he was the Count's son, and everyone knew the Brendan liked the courtesy title far more than the fifth did. "I reported back to the barracks today, but they didn't assign me anything specific. Figured I'd come by and see how you lot are doing." Brendan dropped onto a stool, and winced as the bruise made itself felt. The whole garrison knew about his whipping. Lucas didn't tiptoe around it: "Still not healed? The Count really laid it on." Back when Brendan had first joined up, he'd served under Lucas's company, so the visit was perfectly natural. "Tam, bring out my tonic wine. Let the young lord have a couple of cups." It was Lucas's own brew, expensive herbs steeped in fine aged ale. That was exactly what Brendan wanted. He didn't decline. They chatted a bit. The wine came. Brendan said: "You always said this tonic of yours cures what ails you and builds what doesn't. I'm in a good mood, drink with me. Oh, and have you got any fried broad beans? Bring some out for the table." "Heh, you remember. Coming right up." Lucas bustled out for the beans. The moment his back was turned, Brendan slipped a purging powder into the man's cup. Two cups down, and poor Lucas was running for the privy. "Young lord, looks like I can't handle my tonics. Too rich for me. I can't even play host. Let me report to the company and get someone to take my post at the gate." "You were doing this for me. Tell you what, I've got nothing going on. I'll cover your post for the day. Come back when you're right, and I'll hand it over. Otherwise my father finds out why, and I get another round, and my backside can't take that." "You were doing this for me. Tell you what, I've got nothing going on. I'll cover your post for the day. Come back when you're right, and I'll hand it over. Otherwise my father finds out why, and I get another round, and my backside can't take that." It was perfectly reasonable. He was the Count's son, standing gate watch for a day was nothing. Lucas thanked him profusely, called over the gate guards, and handed him the keys on the spot. Brendan hadn't done it out of kindness. He'd come for those long iron keys from the start. That morning, he'd found he could walk without pain. Two days flat on his back had left him stiff. Bored, he'd started sorting through his treasures, and found a small gold box. It held a golden beetle automaton. Its tail had a tiny lever, pull it, and the beetle's wing-cases opened and closed, just like a fighting beetle rearing for combat. Maybe he should return it, along with the boots. No more gifts from the Salts. His sister had nearly drowned on their boat. Whether they were behind it or not, it had happened on their watch. He'd shown it to Carl once, bragging, but never told him where it came from. Maybe he should return it, along with the boots. No more gifts from the Salts. His sister had nearly drowned on their boat. Whether they were behind it or not, it had happened on their watch. He wrapped the velvet boots in cloth, pocketed the gold beetle box, and headed out. At the front gate, he had a soft sheepskin pad draped over his saddle before riding out at a leisurely pace. At the The Gilded Lily, he dismounted. A doorman materialized with a smile to take his horse: "My lord, it's been a few days. Are you recovered? Our second master's been asking after you. Go on up." Brendan's face went cold: So the whole city knows I got whipped? As he climbed the stairs, he could feel the hall below buzzing with whispers. Everyone seemed to be laughing at him. And in fact, the story had been put about by House Odenheim itself. The Count had done it to stake out his position, and to warn the Salts and whoever had hurt his daughter. For Brendan, a young man perpetually trying to prove himself, it was salt in the wound. Whatever guilt he'd felt that morning toward his sister and his house burned away like mist. He glared at the tittering crowd and stamped upstairs. In the private room, he dumped his bundle and the gold beetle on the table with a scowl. Only then did he see that Simon wasn't alone, Cedric Salt was there too. "What's this? Who'd dare make the young lord angry?" Cedric was his usual unruffled self. He peeled back a corner of the cloth, exposing the velvet boot. A sharp gleam crossed his eyes. He smiled, betraying nothing: "So, we've displeased you, and the young lord has come to cut ties?" Brendan's bluster deflated. Something about Cedric made him feel small. He scrambled to explain: "No. The whipping was because my sister got hurt. My parents were upset and took it out on me. Nothing to do with these things." "Then what's all this about? Why bring them back? Am I to blame for not protecting the young lady, are you here to end our friendship?" He'd only met Lora that one time on the barge. During the dance, he hadn't paid her much attention. But when Dorothy went into the water and Lora had calmly ordered him to fetch milk and egg white, then personally induced vomiting, he couldn't take his eyes off her. He'd only met Lora that one time on the barge. During the dance, he hadn't paid her much attention. But when Dorothy went into the water and Lora had calmly ordered him to fetch milk and egg white, then personally induced vomiting, he couldn't take his eyes off her. When the physician arrived and checked her pulse, he'd said the prompt treatment had saved Dorothy's life, without it, she would have been in mortal danger. His brother had told him to befriend the Odenheims. He'd finally managed to get close to Brendan, and now the boy was here to return gifts and break off the friendship. It would make Simon look terrible in front of Cedric. I'll be damned if I thank her. I'd have been right as rain by morning without her interference! Simon had no hand in the family business, but he'd enjoyed every perk of being a Salt. A merchant's son with the standing of a gentleman's son. His brother had told him to befriend the Odenheims. He'd finally managed to get close to Brendan, and now the boy was here to return gifts and break off the friendship. It would make Simon look terrible in front of Cedric. Brendan sighed: "My father's an old stickler. He can't see how the world really works. My word carries no weight at home, I can't argue your case. Best I keep my head down. Lohenheim isn't short on powerful houses. If the Salts keep their business clean, the Odenheims won't make trouble." He stood to leave. Cedric's voice came, unhurried, from the side: "You can walk away, if the young lord settles his gambling debts from his visits to the The Gilded Lily."

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