Lora of Two Worlds

Every eye in the great hall turned to Hugo.

He didn't blink: "Dorothy knows how to live. She used to bring food over every few days, my brother never ate it, so it all went into my stomach. I never got the chance to thank her."

The food she brought... made by the kitchen staff, not her own hands, but whether Hugo was sincere or sardonic, Lady Dunbar had her exit. She laughed weakly:

"You're too kind, my lord..."

The Grand Princess couldn't tell if her second son was serious. She didn't know what to say.

Hugo had just turned eighteen, two years short of his majority. For eighteen years, the question that had gnawed at her was this: both boys were hers, both born of the same father, so how was one a lion among men, and the other a frost-bitten turnip?

Guilt over the younger had made her softer with him. The elder son was to seek title and honor; the younger could idle, she could afford to keep him. The elder must carry the princely bearing; the younger's cheerful chubbiness was its own kind of Fairfax charm.

Looking at Hugo, the Grand Princess smiled:

"You see? The children have their own ideas. I'm fond of Dorothy too, tell her not to overthink, and to come around as she always has. Felix is busy with his work and rarely home, Hugo can keep her company. As long as our two houses don't make a fuss, the gossips won't either. Isn't that right, my dear?"

"Quite, quite. Our house is thin on company, let the young people visit more. Hugo, you come by the Dunbar house too, when you've time."

The Prince Consort, rarely able to get a word in, wrapped it up neatly.

The reversal was so fast that Warwick felt something was off. He started to speak, but his parents were already rising, exchanging courtesies, and taking their leave.

Felix walked them to the gate. On the way back, he said, grateful:

"Hugo, you were a lifesaver. Nothing was settled today. I'll talk to Mother, I'll put an end to this Dunbar business."

"Brother, it wasn't only for you. I don't have anyone I'm particularly sweet on. If I can't marry for love, I might as well marry for position and live in mutual courtesy the rest of my days. Aunt has a point, if you can't warm to Dorothy, there're plenty of houses in Lohenheim who'd jump at her."

Hugo said it cheerfully, as if he meant every word.

But Felix's mind was on the night's operation. No time for heart-to-hearts. He nodded:

"If you're all right with it, that's what matters. I've things to do, I'm off."

Hugo called after him: "If you like someone, make your move! She used to come running after you, and all you did was play the straight man. Now she's had her dunking and come up forgetting you entirely, you can't just cry into your pillow, brother!"

The servants lining the path stared hard at their own toes, biting the insides of their cheeks to keep from laughing.

Felix turned back and glared, jabbing a finger at him, but kept walking, around the corner and into the rear courtyard.

Meanwhile, in the Dunbars' carriage, Warwick was fuming:

"Total waste of a trip. The Fairfaxes played us, pushed their second son out to stall us. Dorothy has had her heart set on Felix since she was small. If they actually betroth her to Hugo, she'll jump in the Loene again for sure."

"What's wrong with Hugo? Isn't he the Grand Princess's own lawful son? I thought he was perfectly sweet, and devoted to our Dorothy." Lady Dunbar was busy convincing herself.

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Lord Dunbar had come to the Fairfax house today with a purpose.

He'd read the Fairfaxes' response wrong, he'd expected to be broaching a cask of ale to celebrate becoming in-laws. His plan was to play the concerned friend before the Sheriff and the Grand Princess while the city burned, his backer in Augustburg, the Grand Master, had told him the goal was to pin all the blame on the Count of Odenheim.

Now he'd left the Fairfax house before the real act even started. He was in a dark mood:

"Nonsense. Nothing was settled today. Why must a husband come from Lohenheim? When we go to Augustburg and take rooms at the Serene Palace, she'll be treated like a princess, any fine young lord we like. Prince Ambrose is still unwed, for that matter, and he hasn't chosen his consort "

Warwick cut in, low: "Father, are we really putting all our eggs in Ambrose's basket? They say a Crown Prince is about to be named. Once the heir is set, Ambrose's claim loses its teeth."

Lady Dunbar curled her lip: "Even if they name Prince Ewan, he's only seven. A child that age is years from ruling. Plenty of time for something to happen to him."

"Now, now, you're outside. Watch your words. Walls have ears "

Lord Dunbar barely got the word "ears" out of his mouth when disaster fell from the sky:

A band of men in black on fast horses thundered past the carriage. Each one held a torch, and as they rode, they hurled them onto rooftops. One torch struck the Dunbar carriage.

The torches were oil-soaked. The carriage canopy went up like kindling. The horses bolted.

"Stop the carriage!"

"Can't, the reins have been cut!" The driver was close to despair.

"Father, Mother, jump! Follow me!"

"Who dares attack the Dunbars, do they've a death wish? Son, your father's old bones, a jump at this speed and we're dead for sure "

Warwick hacked the burning curtain away with his blade. In the firelight, he drew a sharp breath:

This wasn't an attack on the Dunbars. This was the beginning of an attack on all of Lohenheim.

Lord Dunbar was beyond rage, smoke practically pouring from his ears: Mongrel curs! Don't they know whose carriage this is? When this is over, I'll hang the lot of them up and burn them like torches !

Under the night sky, Lohenheim erupted in fire.

The conspirators were smarter than anyone had expected. What better way to loot in chaos than to set the whole city burning?

Lora had made it home. The firelight brought everyone into the courtyard. She ran out, the walls blocked the flames themselves, but the sky above glowed red.

"Shawn! Keane!"

"No, look at the fire in the sky. The only part of the city not burning is the royal precinct, where the Silver Shield is stationed.

This is a smokescreen. What they're really after is the Crown Granary. Go, find my brothers. Tell them: don't lose formation because of the city fires. Don't, under any circumstances, open the city gates to haul water. Hear me? Tell them exactly that!"

"No, look at the fire in the sky. The only part of the city not burning is the royal precinct, where the Silver Shield is stationed. This is a smokescreen. What they're really after is the Crown Granary. Go, find my brothers. Tell them: don't lose formation because of the city fires. Don't, under any circumstances, open the city gates to haul water. Hear me? Tell them exactly that!"

Shawn and Keane exchanged a look, leaped back onto the roof, and ran north over the rooftops.

The whole city was ablaze. Except for the banks of the Loene, the districts far from the river wouldn't have enough water to fight the fires.

Today they'd found black powder and weapons in the Crown Granary, the Silver Shield and the Royal Commissioner of Transport were likely in on it, which meant the granary's fire-prevention measures were almost certainly sabotaged. The only fast way to fight a fire that size would be to open the gates and haul water from the moat.

Opening the gates, that was the key.

Am I a genius or what? Must be from watching too many third-rate mummers' plays.

Somewhere else in the dark, the same thought struck someone else:

Am I a genius or what? Good thing I guessed right, it really is the Yorvik troops.

Leon, in black clothes and a face-cloth, lay flat on the roof of the Yorvik Liaison Office. They could see it clearly: the men who'd gone out to set fires, thirty-odd of them, had come out of the back courtyard.

Hard evidence. No way to talk their way out of I.

It was a vicious play. Leon ground his teeth. The fire of Lohenheim was happening regardless. But it confirmed their guess:

The marauding marcher troops weren't yet in the city. That was why they needed to turn the entire capital into a smoke tapestry screen.

They'd hidden weapons in the Crown Granary. Under cover of firefighting, they'd enter the granary, arm themselves, and turn from firefighters into looters, grab what they could and run. So the city gates were the key.

"My lord, the back courtyard is empty."

"Good. You three, go bring the cart." Leon vaulted off the roof into the yard.

Damn, the knee still twinged.

On landing, a spike of pain shot through his knee. Leon was startled, two more days had passed, and it still wasn't fully healed?

No time to worry about that now. He limped to the back gate, opened it, and let Linn and the others drive the cart, loaded with weapons and armor, inside.

The weapons were from the Crown Granary search. The armor was from the garrison armory, Alvin had signed out thirty sets. Enough to hang a treason charge on the Venns.

They were about to leave when a voice rang out:

"Thieves! Help, thieves!"

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