Lora of Two Worlds

Leon had been in Lohenheim ten days. Staying at his aunt's, the Grand Princess's, mansion had one advantage: she shielded him from the city's grandees and their pestering.

The Grand Princess, though a woman, would have made a play for power in the age of Empress Matilda, that much was certain.

The Countess next door, her cousin, was a softer soul. Leon couldn't fathom how a mild-tempered woman like that had raised a daughter who was nothing but trouble.

Norton's hearing treatment and speech training were going well. After only five days of needle therapy, using the tuning fork Carl had brought back, his hearing was already registering.

The tuning fork had been made from a drawing Lora had done, no dimensions marked, just the shape from memory.

Carl, not knowing the size, had the smith make it to the scale of the drawing. It had come out about the length of a standard tuning fork, and when struck on the elbow and held to the ear, it gave a tone close to the low rei on a church organ.

"Lil, what's this thing?"

"Uh... it's a tool musicians use to tune instruments. You can also use it to test whether someone's ears still work."

"How come I've never seen anyone use one? When did you learn this?"

"In a dream."

"Another dream? Lil, I take you everywhere, next time you dream, can you dream me along?"

"Oh, for, you ask more questions than a novice-master... Watch this!"

As she spoke, Lora strapped the hand-bow to her forearm, raised her left hand, aimed at a tree trunk, and tripped the trigger.

Thwip! A single black bolt buried itself in the bark. Then four more followed in rapid succession.

From the tree on the far side, Lyle saw every shot clearly:

Linn had lied to him! The hand-bow's range was at least five yards, five shots, and they still struck the trunk with force.

Lora laughed: "Not bad. The improved version's got more punch now. Norton, try winding the coiled spring a little thicker."

Carl was electrified. This was far more interesting than the tuning fork:

"Coiled spring? What's a coiled spring?"

Lora pulled a tremblant brooch from her coiled hair, an enamelled piece with a butterfly on a wire, and held it up: "See this? The wire that connects the butterfly to the pin. Make it bigger and coil it, that's a spring."

Carl took the brooch. His mother and sister both had ones like it, he'd always thought the wire was just there to make the butterfly quiver and catch the light. He'd never imagined it had another use.

"You dreamed this up too?"

"Yep. The other day I saw Norton helping me build the hand-bow, the old design used a flat spring to push the bolt. I had him take this little coiled spring from the brooch and make a finger-thick version "

She hadn't finished when a voice behind them cut in: "Don't kid us. Iron wire, even coiled, won't be springy. We make mail, we draw iron wire all the time. Your brother's done it himself."

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They didn't need to turn around. It was Gareth.

Gareth and Roland had come to fetch Carl, their father had heard about "that business" and wanted to question Brendan. They'd stopped by to see their sister, and caught her mid-boast.

"I'm not boasting." Lora grinned. "Gareth, you know about shear steel, right? Best steel for a blade, shear steel first, folded steel second."

"You smelt the shear steel, quench it in oil to give it flexibility, draw it into rods, then draw the rods into wire.

You wind the wire around an iron rod in a spiral, and here's the key: after shaping, you temper it again. That's what makes the spring durable.

"You smelt the shear steel, quench it in oil to give it flexibility, draw it into rods, then draw the rods into wire. You wind the wire around an iron rod in a spiral, and here's the key: after shaping, you temper it again. That's what makes the spring durable.

"We've only made two. The springiness is limited, but within a few yards, it's got killing power, guaranteed."

All three brothers stared. Was this really their little Lora?

Lora handed Gareth the hand-bow tube from the stone table. Gareth aimed at the same tree and pressed the trigger. The push was unmistakable in his hand. The bolt flew, and buried itself in the bark.

"This... you really dreamed this up? Or is there a hidden master behind you?"

Gareth could barely believe his eyes. The material had changed, and a different process had given it springiness. But what she'd described wasn't some dark art. It was just that nobody had thought to do it.

Lora thanked her lucky stars she'd been an investment project manager.

The job was a jack-of-all-trades, you had to know the basics of every industry you might invest in. Drill down to a specific project and you had to turn yourself into a subject-matter expert on the spot.

Lora thanked her lucky stars she'd been an investment project manager. The job was a jack-of-all-trades, you had to know the basics of every industry you might invest in. Drill down to a specific project and you had to turn yourself into a subject-matter expert on the spot.

The days of making money with your eyes closed were over. No foresight, no persistence, and you'd answer for it to the people who'd put up the coin, and to your own paycheck.

After the brothers had marveled and headed out, Carl called back: "Next time you dream, remember to invite me!"

Roland rapped him on the head: "You're the one having daydreams!"

They laughed their way out of the tower chamber.

Norton, in the days since, had done everything Lora asked, sitting with his eyes closed, practicing listening with his ears, working hard on his voice, and spending the rest of his time tinkering with the spring she'd described.

Now that he had Lord Gareth's approval, his hands didn't know where to go.

The young lady had given the hand-bow wings. He had to find a way to make it deadlier. Because this was the young lady's weapon.

Up in the tree, Lyle was bursting to report. He tossed the meat-filled bread roll to Chance, who sat at the base of the wall, teeth bared, looking up, and scrambled down to Yewholm.

Inside, no Green. He hissed:

"My lord! The Odenheim girl, she's incredible!"

"Are you sure you're not just worshipping her? If you're that interested in what goes on over there, I'll talk to Roland and lend you to the young lady's service.

You can watch her tinker every day, and someone will actually talk to you."

"No, this time it's not medicine. She made Norton's hand-bow something called a 'coiled spring.' Their hand-bow fires five bolts now, five yards!"

Leon's mouth curved:

"Are you sure you're not just worshipping her? If you're that interested in what goes on over there, I'll talk to Roland and lend you to the young lady's service. You can watch her tinker every day, and someone will actually talk to you."

"Yes! ... No, I'm your guard. You can't just toss me aside. And don't disbelieve me, Lord Gareth and Lord Roland were both there watching. Lord Gareth tried it himself. If not for Chance, I'd have tried it too."

"Oh? They were there too?"

Could Lyle be right?

Leon suddenly remembered: in the Crown Granary, his little cousin had played cards with the clerks, and they'd been perfectly deferential to her. Something stirred. He looked up:

"Lyle, that day at the Crown Granary, you watched for a while. Did you understand the game they were playing?"

"The 'tarocchi'? I only saw it for a moment, how would I learn it? I think there were suits, batons, coins, and... letters!"

"Since you're so fond of the young lady next door, I'll do you a favor. Go tell Roland I'd like to pay a formal call on the Count and Countess, and while I'm there, you can learn how to play 'tarocchi' from the young lady."

"Oh, thank you, my lord!" Lyle clapped his hands and vanished.

Leon picked up his cup of citron cordial and took a long, unhurried swallow:

The game was addictive. And unlike cockfighting or beetle-fight stakes, no live animals to house and feed. You could pull it out anywhere, any time. It shouldn't be just the granary clerks who played it.

He should see it spread into the Silver Shield garrison in Lohenheim.

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