Lora of Two Worlds

While the maids were laying out the dishes, Lora was still thinking: no chili peppers, no tomatoes, no carrots, no maize, no potatoes, no white pigs, not even an iron iron pot for stir-frying. What could possibly be good?

When the food was set out, she was astonished. Steaming, boiling, stewing, grilling, roasting, there were more variations than she'd imagined.

The Count and the brothers often ate at camp. Even when they were home, their hours didn't match. Grandmother ate light. So at the Odenheim mansion, most people ate separately in their own quarters, each meal served in small portions, dainty and various, no reheating, no waste.

A foodie is a species that transcends race, gender, and era. Lora was one.

She was happily enjoying her exclusive chicken broth when Anne finally came back.

"Why so late? Anything from the hall?"

Anne shook her head: "I was the last to leave, so I'm late. Lord Felix had me sit behind a tapestry screen. He said... you didn't come, so I was to remember everything, and you could ask me whatever you wanted."

Felix, thoughtful.

Lora had only learned after coming home that she and Daphne were both Felix's cousins, just at different degrees of remove.

Daphne's aunt was a Dowager Lady who had borne the King's half-brother, Prince Ambrose.

Lora remembered: King Edmond IV was the second son. Three of his younger brothers had lived to adulthood. The one who'd eventually taken the throne wasn't the heir, but the Carl.

So Father supporting the King's son, was that a bad position?

King Edmond IV himself had come to the throne by brother-to-brother succession. His own son was only six. Three adult younger brothers, it was hard for people not to get ideas.

Daphne had such advantages, no wonder she could pick and choose her men.

But Lora had no interest in Felix right now. She only wanted to find the culprit, avenge the original Lora, and figure out how to get back to the modern world.

"Did you hear anything useful?" She didn't expect much.

"Everyone had an alibi. One pass, signed and sealed, done. Even the boatmen and stewards, nothing suspicious. Only, one boatman said..."

"Said what?"

Anne bowed her head, biting her lip: "They said they saw you turn a corner and walk alone toward the bow. So they think you might have fallen in by yourself."

If not for that flash of green bodice and white skirt, Lora might have accepted the hypothesis. But not now.

Her face stayed calm. She nodded: "And what did Lord Felix say?"

"Nothing. He just had it all written down... Young lady, you really can't remember anything from before? Could it really be that you fell in yourself?"

Anne asked it carefully, but when Lora looked at her, her eyes flickered. That look... it was like a project sponsor who'd handed in faked data.

"Maybe. Maybe not. But right now I really can't remember a thing. Margaret is here to look after me. You go eat, you've had a long day. Rest early."

"Margaret? Young lady, have I done something wrong?"

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Anne's face went panicky. She didn't know what to do with her hands.

Margaret was the first maid in Mother's household. In the past, the young lady, not wanting to be watched, afraid of being reported to Mother, had refused to have these older governesses. How had she lost her place just by coming home a little late?

Margaret smiled and explained:

"The physician said the young lady needs to be reminded of old things, it helps with recovery. I watched the young lady grow up. The madam has moved me to the Long Gallery to serve you. You'll keep doing what you always did. One more person doesn't change anything for you."

"Oh, I see. Anne understands." She curtsied and was about to go, then hesitated and asked:

"Young lady, this amnesia, it can be cured, can't it?"

"Cured or not, she's still our young lady. Go eat. Your food is waiting."

Margaret gathered up the used dishes and had Anne carry them out.

When she was gone, Lora asked: "Margaret, is Anne always this jumpy?"

"You saw it too? I was just thinking, maybe today rattled her. The little one's eyes were... wandering."

Lora nodded and smiled: "Maybe that's it. Give her a bowl of the calming herb tea too. Let her rest these few days, don't have her do any outside work."

"Yes. You should rest early too. The house puts out the lamps at the end of the evening watch, but the Countess said the lamps along your gallery aren't to be put out. She says you'll be afraid in the dark."

Margaret turned down the bed, helped her off with her outer robe, and, before leaving, pointed to the books on the writing desk:

"The madam had me find these. They're the books you used when you first learned to read. You made marks in them. See if they help. The madam says, if you truly can't remember, don't force it."

"I know. One more trip, tell Mother I'm all settled. I've had the calming herb tea. Tell her not to worry."

"No trouble, it's my place. Petra is on night duty just outside, one curtain away. Call if you need anything, she'll hear."

When Margaret had gone too and Lora was alone in the inner room, she let out a long breath.

She picked up a book from the desk. On the cover: "Catechism of the Faith." In the lower left corner, a little doodle of a stick figure holding what might be a stick, or a sword. Had she drawn that?

She opened it and looked closely. Because she'd memorized the Catechism of the Faith as a child, and still remembered it, the old Latin script came to her quite smoothly.

She'd been worried about being illiterate. Mother's little gesture had saved her.

Starting with the Catechism of the Faith, the Hornbook of Saints, the Roll of Arms, texts she'd learned and memorized in the modern world, her brain was like a cheat code, with a built-in old-and-new script conversion table.

Lora was at the oil lamp, happily reading, when she heard Petra whispering to someone outside:

"Little Mute, those two lanterns don't go out. From now on, the gallery lamps at the Long Gallery stay lit. Got it?"

She was speaking slowly, with gestures. The mute answered in soft "ah-ah" sounds.

"You ask after the young lady? She's fine. Inside, reading a book. Reading, understand? Here, pastry. Eat it outside the gate."

The mute went "ah-ah" again, but he sounded pleased.

Then Petra shut the door, and there was no more sound.

The masters of the Odenheim house were kind. The servants were good-natured too. That Anne... probably Lora was just overthinking it, too eager to find the culprit.

So: Lora von Odenheim had a loving father, a loving mother, and five brothers to shield her.

Mother was of the royal Aurelian line. Father's forefather was the famed founding general Aldric of Ironhold. Father himself was Lord Warden of Lohenheim's defenses, the Count of Odenheim.

No beautiful, scheming half-sister. No scoundrel ex-fiancé.

Perfect!

Twenty-seven years a singleton, Lora could accept this new identity.

Then, CRASH, the window of her inner room, frame and all, flew inward in a shower of splinters.

A black-clad, masked man leapt in through the hole.

Lora, startled, blew out the oil lamp at once, seized the hot-oil lamp, and hurled it at the intruder. With her other hand she tipped over the spindly writing desk to make a barrier.

By the sound, the lamp had hit him, but it wouldn't do real damage. The only way out was out. She screamed:

"Petra, assassin!"

Petra was quick. She threw the door open and screamed: "Help! Assassin! Assassin!"

The house was past lamp-out. The yard was quiet. Only a few lanterns still burned. Petra's scream cut the night like a knife, and at once the house stirred.

Petra ran back to find Lora. Lora had already felt her way to the curtain. The two collided. Lora seized Petra's arm and shoved her toward the door:

"Run!"

Through the curtain, the outer room held a dim light, the gallery lamps shining through the open door and windows.

Petra bolted, but an arm caught hers. She looked back, and her soul left her body:

A noose was around Lora's neck, and it was pulling her backward.

When they'd pushed through the curtain, a thread of light had betrayed her position. The intruder, still in the dark, had thrown his weighted garrote. It had landed clean.

He'd drag her back and finish her, strangle or stab, either way.

"Young lady!"

Petra, in front, Margaret and Anne running in, the servants in the outer room, all saw Lora being dragged into the dark, and screamed.

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