Lora of Two Worlds

Roland, on a roll, rattled off his interrogation. The Yangs, father and daughter, were flustered into begging for guidance. He listened for sounds outside. Finally, a guard's voice: "Young lady, who are you looking for?" Relieved, Roland said, gravely: "Lady Yannic mentioned Mistress Mina from the capital. She was famous when I lived there, I was only twelve. What the two capitals favor now isn't what it was." "I don't believe it!" Linnie was shaken. Dance was her trump card. Her mother had paid a fortune for Mistress Mina, who'd sworn that either the "Spring Oriole" or the "Ripple" would make her name. "You don't? It happens I have a female guardsman on my boat. She's no professional dancer, but she knows the essence.  Let her demonstrate. If you can't match my own guardswoman, how can you hope to dazzle Augustburg? Musicians, can you play 'The Drunkard'?" The lutenist said he could, though no one used it as dance music. "Good!" Roland clapped. A lively, free-spirited melody filled the cabin. To the brisk rhythm, a girl, hair simply bound, face veiled in white gauze, wearing a close-sleeved jacket and a slightly flared pleated skirt that ended at the ankle, rose onto her toes and danced in through the cabin door. As she passed Leon, his two wisps of mustache twitched: So it's you! She wore the same damask slippers, but the soles were now leather.  Her skirt didn't need tearing, it was already two inches short. Under it, she'd added two layers of gauze that held the skirt slightly out, so that even standing still, it looked as if a breeze had caught the hem, a flower just opening. Most captivating: her slim ankles, her raised toes, the whole person so tall and poised, a confidence that unfolded like a banner. It was that self-contained radiance that Leon couldn't forget. He saw again the girl dancing by the lily pond with the swans, so full of life, so unapologetically bold. She hadn't cared who watched. In that moment, she'd danced only for herself. The incredible roast meat. The Southland grain. Roland's silver tongue. All of it, her? Leon's eyes cradled a deeper smile. The ancient notes of the seven-stringed zither and the movements of Lora's ballet, in the narrow cabin, they found each other, fused, and became something new. The Empire's dance tradition already bore traces of foreign, steppe and Levantine, influence.  Linnie was now convinced that what she'd learned was outdated. To catch the King's eye, she'd need to master these new forms. The Empire's dance tradition already bore traces of foreign, steppe and Levantine, influence. Linnie was now convinced that what she'd learned was outdated. To catch the King's eye, she'd need to master these new forms. Alvin had circled back to the passenger boat and found guards and attendants craning their necks at the doorway. He rapped one on the head. They scattered. He looked in. When had Roland gotten inside? The Yangs looked green. And the dancer, veiled, but that figure... Alvin's face clouded and cleared and clouded again. If he didn't recognize that girl, he'd been a bad brother for fifteen years. Roland's smug expression confirmed it, accomplice. Alvin didn't go in. He stood at an angle where neither von Klein nor the Yangs could see him, and watched his sister dance. Von Klein's heart was beating fast: I'm woefully ignorant. Even in the King's court, full of singers and dancers, this is something new. He'd never seen the like. True masters walk among the common folk. "Young lady, is that the lost Whirling Dance? In the golden age, the Whirling Dance was all the rage.  After the wars, no one in the palace could perform it anymore. They say the famous consort Yannic was renowned for it..." "Young lady, is that the lost Whirling Dance? In the golden age, the Whirling Dance was all the rage. After the wars, no one in the palace could perform it anymore. They say the famous consort Yannic was renowned for it..." The Whirling Dance? That was the one the fat rebel general loved, the one where you spin in circles. A steppe dance, yes. Close enough. Lora's ballet had found its cover name. Lora curtsied and said softly: "Your lordship has a good eye. That's indeed the Whirling Dance." Consort... Yannic? Linnie's head swam: Isn't that my future? No, I must learn this Whirling Dance. I'll make the King fall under my spell! Roland laughed: "The Whirling Dance is nothing. My guardswoman knows many dances. If she weren't plain-faced, the Odenheim house couldn't have kept her." No wonder the veil. Plain-faced, nothing to be done. Linnie relaxed. She made her decision on the spot and knelt before von Klein: "Yes, yes, Lord Envoy, please grant my daughter's wish to learn." Yannic caught on.  Sharpening the axe doesn't delay the woodcutting. The envoy would be gone a few months. By the time he returned to Augustburg, he'd have grown fond of Claudeniang, and would push for her at court. He called toward the door: "Yes, yes, Lord Envoy, please grant my daughter's wish to learn." Yannic caught on. Sharpening the axe doesn't delay the woodcutting. The envoy would be gone a few months. By the time he returned to Augustburg, he'd have grown fond of Claudeniang, and would push for her at court. He called toward the door: "Bring them in!" Alvin saw one of Yannic's servants signal the bank. Men hauled several camphor-wood chests aboard. He smirked: So that's it, bring half the gifts, hold back the other half. A county justice, and look at the fortune. The chests were brought in. Yannic didn't open them. He said to his daughter: "Linnie, you kneel before Lord Envoy. Bow three times. Ask him to accept you as his goddaughter and keep you by his side." Von Klein raised a hand to stop her, but Linnie was already banging her forehead on the deck. "What wonderful news! My congratulations, Lord Envoy, on gaining a worthy daughter.  We're all heading north together, if your daughter wishes to study dance with my guardswoman, it couldn't be more convenient." So Yannic's gifts came in two sets: a meeting gift and a dutiful gift, five chests in all. The gift didn't hurt. Yannic had recently come into unexpected money... Von Klein had taken goddaughters before, but they'd been palace maids. I was clearly aimed at the King's bed. He hesitated. Roland, quick as a flash, bowed and congratulated: "What wonderful news! My congratulations, Lord Envoy, on gaining a worthy daughter. We're all heading north together, if your daughter wishes to study dance with my guardswoman, it couldn't be more convenient." Linnie was overjoyed. Lord Roland's words meant he'd agreed to let her learn from the veiled dancer! She prostrated herself: "Father, I love dance above all. Please grant me this earnest wish." "Well... rise, daughter." Von Klein patted himself. Nothing valuable on him, then his hand found a pomander on his belt. The palace chancery had issued it as an insect repellent. The King hadn't cared for it, tossed it to him. He untied it and handed it to Linnie: "A small token from the King himself. Consider it your meeting gift." Linnie received it with trembling hands: "Thank you, Father!" Roland glanced back at Leon, unreadable. Leon's face wore a cryptic smile. Lora, seeing matters settled, curtsied and slipped out. She'd barely stepped through the door when a hand seized her arm and dragged her aside. She opened her mouth to shout, and saw, looking up, a half-smiling face. She produced a sickly grin: "A-Alvin!" "Two days on the road, and not once did you come call me 'brother'? Sneaked out, left Father and Mother sick with worry. Were you planning to let your Alvin take the fall?" "Absolutely not! I left Mother a letter... it was all my own idea..." Lora giggled, hand raised in oath. Alvin tapped her nose through the veil: "If you're a guardswoman, act like one. I'll have someone escort you back to your boat." "No need, Shawn and Keane are waiting below." "Those two covert guards, I'll deal with them when we get home!" Before he could finish, Lora had gathered her skirts and run. Off the boat, she didn't see Shawn. But the boats, bow to stern, were lit with torches. The bank wasn't dark. Lora decided not to look for them. She'd walk back to the stern boat herself. Then, a hand clamped over her mouth and dragged her into the dark. Before she could understand what was happening, the stench of a man who hadn't bathed in ten years told her: this wasn't her brother playing a joke. Walk the riverbank long enough, you'll get your shoes wet. The ancients didn't lie.

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