Lora of Two Worlds

At the word "disobedient son, on your knees," Lora jumped. She started toward Brendan and Carl to line up with them, but her mother caught her arm and shook her head with a small smile.

The Count's face held no smile. His voice was the hard bark of a barracks parade ground:

"Brendan, you took your little sister out and didn't watch over her. You let her fall in the water and get hurt. Is that how a brother behaves?"

Brendan hung his head and muttered: "Carl's a brother too. Why not say it to him?"

"Insolent! You're older than Carl, doesn't the responsibility fall harder on you? Answering back like this, it seems all those books of wisdom of yours have gone straight to the dogs!"

When the Count had come back from camp, he'd been holding in a bellyful of anger:

The Salts walked Valentin Voss's road in Augustburg. The Count was of Prince Jasper's faction, loyal to King Edmond IV, and a believer that the Crown must pass by the laws of God and the realm.

Now, the Count was in the middle of the party urging the King to name a Crown Prince early. The ministers meant to use the heir's investiture to push back against the household officers' chokehold on the King and the court.

The Count, in his post as Lord Warden of Lohenheim's defenses, was the most important military man among the pro-heir lords. His stance mattered.

And today someone had come to tell him that three of his children had been at a Salt banquet. Wasn't that pulling the rug out from under him?

Worse, it gave the other side a handle. In the future, the King might suspect him.

The Odenheims had six children. The eldest, Alvin, was ten years older than Lora, already a vice-commander in the Lohenheim army. The second and third were colonels. The fourth and fifth weren't yet eighteen, only probationary officers doing drills.

As for the daughter, she wouldn't come of age until autumn. She was the treasure of the house, the apple of every eye. She could be willful, she'd done nothing truly out of line. Let her be spoiled two more years; then, no matter how it broke their hearts, she'd have to marry.

For the sake of those precious two or three years, if it came to it, the Count would cut the flesh from his own bones to feed her.

The baby of the house, the only daughter, was the apple of her parents' eyes. Brendan, falling in the same age bracket, was naturally the scapegoat for the younger set.

When he was little, he'd only felt it was unfair. As he grew, the resentment grew too.

The Count, furious, pointed at him: "How many times have I told you, stay away from the Salts, stay away from the Salts! If your ears won't hear, we'll cut them off and feed them to the dogs!"

Lora, hearing this, remembered the story they'd agreed on. She stepped forward and said, low:

"Father, today wasn't Brendan's fault. I wanted to go to the boat party with my convent school classmates, I made them take me "

"Stand back. You're a child, you don't understand what's at stake. I'm scolding your brother, you remember what I say and don't do it again." To Lora, his voice softened noticeably. He paused, then turned to Alvin:

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"Alvin, bring the rod. If I don't beat him properly today, this won't pass."

Alvin knelt at once: "Father, Brendan is young and didn't know better. I'll teach him slowly. Today the little sister had such a fright, and they haven't even caught the culprit. They must be worn to the bone. Don't frighten the little sister."

"I'm beating him for her sake. Brendan not only did wrong, he tried to shirk the blame and put Lora up to lying! She's lost her memory, she can't even remember who pushed her in, how could she possibly remember whose invitation it was?"

Lora was dumbfounded. When they'd hatched the story, they'd forgotten about that.

Father... really sharp.

Failure to protect his sister. Fraternizing with the Salts. Putting his sister up to lying. Three charges. Brendan howled for half an afternoon. By the end, he couldn't sit down.

Carl didn't escape either, sentenced to a night without sleep, made to copy out the Office of the Dead from the Breviary, to be delivered to the abbey at first light for the Office of the Dead.

Just as Brendan was draped over a bench, bracing for the rod, Mother had the three brothers escort Lora back to her own quarters.

Alvin, on his way out of the front gate, met the royal physician coming in, and escorted him and the house physician to Lora's Long Gallery.

Mother and Father had made light of the "amnesia." In truth they were frantic. Mother had even sent her calling card to invite the great physician Jared, the old master who attended the senior princes, to come and see Lora.

"My sister has always been strong," Alvin told Physician Jared. "They say she was in the water a good while today, but when they pulled her out she was crying and fussing. Just, no memory."

Alvin was the one introducing Lora's case to Physician Jared.

Physician Jared took the pulse twice, said nothing, and gestured for the house physician, Zachary, to take his turn.

Physician Zachary withdrew his hand: "The pulse is steady, neither faint nor bounding, soft yet forceful, with even rhythm. The young lady is, physically, perfectly well."

"I agree," said Physician Jared. "As for the memory loss, I'd call it shock from the submersion. The vital spirits and humors haven't quite settled back into their courses yet. Surround her with old things and old stories, perhaps one day it'll all come back."

Physician Jared's diagnosis matched the barber-surgeon's. The amnesia wouldn't be hurried.

After Alvin saw the physicians out, Roland, the Roland, laughed: "If I'd known you were going to forget everything, I wouldn't have given you back that Dream Stele calligraphy so soon."

"Don't even think about it! Tomorrow I'm going through your rooms, anything good to read, anything fun to play with, it's all mine."

Lora, still getting used to these new brothers, grinned and teased. Alvin, coming back in, didn't know whether to laugh or cry:

"But that calligraphy was something you took from me. Roland, don't mislead her while her memory's gone."

"Is that so? I don't remember. The little sister says all good things are hers, are you going to fight her for it?"

Roland hadn't been in the army long. He had the look of a scholar-general. He'd been away from Lohenheim for years, when he came back and found his little sister all grown up, he'd been especially fond of her.

Lora giggled. Her brothers didn't know what that laughter meant:

What eye candy. Five tall, long-legged, handsome brothers. In the modern world, the boy-crazy girls would have been sick with envy.

Gareth, the Gareth, said, serious: "Felix went aboard today, didn't he? Did he get anything out of them?"

At that, the three brothers sat around Lora.

Lora shook her head and recounted the day: "Nothing had come of it by the time we left. It's nearly dusk now, and Anne hasn't come back. I don't know how the questioning at the hall went."

"I've already sent Ash to fetch her. While you were gone we talked it over, we're afraid the Salts are behind this. But every way we spin it, it doesn't add up. You're a young lady who doesn't meddle in affairs. If they wanted to court us, why frame you? What could they gain?"

Honest Gareth scratched his head.

The Odenheims were now Lora's whole world. She'd fallen in with them, their interests were hers.

And, in just these few hours, she'd come to love this lively household.

Lora said at once: "Brothers, there's something I didn't dare say on the boat. I do have one last memory. The woman who pushed me in was wearing a green bodice and white skirt, our dance costume. There were six of us in costume, including me."

That took them by surprise.

Lora laid out her reasoning in detail, then finished:

"I think Rosalind Ashby and Odile Legard are the most suspicious. The time in the privy could be long or short, Rosalind was waiting outside during exactly the window when I was pushed.

But I have no witness. I don't know if they had a motive. Brothers, who are these people?"

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