Lora of Two Worlds

This incredible roast meat, it wasn't the passenger-boat cook's?

Alvin and Leon both looked at Roland: Was it your seasick cook?

"Maybe... possibly... if it was her, I'm dragging her back to the household and making her roast meat for us every day!" Roland grabbed the last rib chop without a shred of shame.

After two bowls of wine, Alvin headed back to the passenger boat. Roland used the excuse of seeing his brother off and went ashore too.

He hurried toward the cooking spot. The closer he got, the stronger the aroma. When he arrived, there was no firelight, just his sister crouching before the iron plate, a knife in hand, flipping slices of mutton that sizzled and spat on the hot metal.

Stranger still, next to the mutton was a heap of grain, frying in the rendered fat on the plate, each grain turning golden and fragrant.

"What are you doing?"

"Don't you know? This is iron-plate cooking. The heat from the metal cooks the meat and vegetables, gentler than open flame. Keeps everything more tender." Lora said, smug:

"Try my egg-fried grain. I guarantee you've never had grain this good."

No frying pan? No problem. The iron plate could fry and sauté just the same. When she'd spotted the plate on the cargo boat, she'd thought of Cipangu-style barbecue.

Roland had no doubts about the iron-plate meat, he'd already eaten the rib chops. But fried grain? He took the bowl Shawn handed him, knife ready. It smelled like...

He hadn't eaten all day!

Brother, sister, and two fake overseers happily polished off every last grain of roast meat and fried grain.

"What about the dozen men on our boat? What did they eat?" The roast was great, but it wasn't meant for everyone. Tomorrow, he'd have to send someone to town for supplies.

"Don't worry, they had chicken-egg fried grain. One chicken, diced fine, stirred into sixteen portions of grain. A bit skimpy on the meat, maybe, but there's egg. And everyone gets chicken-bone soup."

Chicken and duck were far cheaper than mutton. One chicken for sixteen men, they'd be lucky to taste the bones.

"I'm heading back. Clean up and get on board, quick."

Roland wanted to get back fast. He needed to warn the men on his boat: whatever they'd eaten, keep your mouths shut. Don't let it reach the other boats.

Though even if the other cargo boats found out, they couldn't have replicated the fried grain.

Because besides the iron plate, Lora hadn't known that salt came in different grades. Tonight she'd used the fine salt, the refined stuff reserved for Leon and Roland. The other boats had coarse salt, full of impurities.

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Coarse salt: three hundred pennies a peck. Fine salt, the kind only nobles could afford, six hundred, if you could find it.

When Lora had opened the salt bag, she'd tasted it before she believed it. The Empire already had decent refined salt. That was a pleasant surprise.

Salt was the king of flavors. Add the natural oils from the meat, plus cumin, the Riverlands pepper, black pepper, ginger, garlic, leek, and coriander, making good food in this age wasn't actually that hard.

"Well? Did you go ask? Is it the cook on your boat?" When Roland came aboard, Leon smiled, knowing.

What kind of cook warranted the Odenheim third lord's repeated visits?

"Oh, it's her. New. First time I've had her cooking too. Hey, are you two going fishing?"

"Yes. This is where the river meets the north canal, moving water into still. Fish love it. One night, shame not to night-fish."

Lyle brought over a small Murano glass storm-lamp, its yellow glow vivid in the darkness. Hooked to a fishing rod, it was irresistible to fish.

"You've thought of everything. Even brought rods."

"A month on the water, there'll be chances. Always be prepared. I've got a spare rod for you. But only one lamp."

"I don't need a lamp. I fish like the old master, let the fish come to me. I annoy the fish!"

They laughed and settled on the bow deck. Lora, climbing aboard, heard voices forward. She crept toward the bow, curious.

In the dim light, a faint glow on the water, someone fishing.

"The man in the cabin should be awake by now, shouldn't he?"

"Yes. He came to around midday, we knocked him out again. Linn's watching him. By the time we finish fishing and go back, his recruitment dinner should be done."

"Can he be trusted?"

"He's no choice. He's already in Heyford, two hundred miles from Lohenheim. He's not fool enough to think his old master would still trust him."

Lora's heart jumped. She'd heard this voice today, it was familiar. But the man's appearance had changed, and more importantly, he was standing. She hadn't put two and two together.

If not for the word "Linn", she would never have connected the two people who were, impossibly, the same person.

He... is Leon?

"Who's there?"

Lyle sensed someone and stepped toward the shadows. Lora spun and ran aft. The sentry on watch came forward, Lora ducked her head and whispered, laughing:

"Brother, was tonight's dinner good?"

The sentry, recognizing the cook, grinned: "Good! We never get fine grain, let alone something with oil and salt and chicken and egg. One meal, but we lived like kings for a day."

"Oh... oh oh..."

Thinking of Leon, Lora suddenly realized: the ingredients she'd used tonight probably weren't meant for everyone.

She peeked behind her. Lyle hadn't followed. She let out a breath and scurried back to the stern hold.

Shawn and Keane sat against the stern door. Seeing her return, they pushed it open and pointed to a cleared space beside the grain sacks:

"Bedding's laid out. It's not much."

"No worries! Heaven sends great trials to those it means to test, what's a little hardship?"

She crawled in, rummaged through the provisions, and found another salt bag. She opened it, coarse salt, unrefined. She touched it to her tongue: saltier than the fine salt, with a faint bitter edge at the tip.

Fine. She'd used their good salt. She'd find a chance to go into town and buy fine grain, salt, and eggs to replace it.

Before she'd finished covering the provisions, Shawn knocked. He carried a bucket of hot water. Keane brought a new night bucket. Shawn said:

"Both from the posting house, Lord Roland sent for them."

"Oh, my brother thinks of everything."

"Also... don't come out too early in the morning... the men get up and go to the riverbank to... you know."

"So no breakfast? No pottage?"

Lora was used to the tower chamber, where the kitchen sent up morning snacks and Carl often bought her treats from outside.

Keane laughed: "You're too kind, my lady. We're not that particular. Two meals a day is plenty."

"Two meals? My brother too?"

"The General, the staff officers, everyone. On campaign: two meals."

"That rough... all right. Noted."

Lora lay on a thick cloth spread over the grain sacks, probably Roland's own cover.

Her first trip away from home. She hadn't planned ahead.

Sloppy.

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