Ookami to Koushinryou - Volume 2 - Chapter 1-7

CHAPTER ONE

The rolling hills continued endlessly.
Boulders were prominent; grass and trees were few.
The road wound thinly between the hills, frequently becoming
so narrow that even the single cart was enough to block it
entirely.
Just when it seemed the climbing would continue forever, the
road turned down, and the seemingly endless naked rocks and
dried shrubs suddenly changed to a wide awaiting vista.
While the journey had been more interesting than endless
grass plains, most anyone would find the travel tiresome by the
fifth day.
From the road, tinged with a loneliness that suggested the coming
winter, the voice that once sounded its delight at the undulations
of the stony, ocher path was now gone. Its owner was now
apparently too bored to even sit on the bench of the cart; she lay
instead in the bed, grooming the fur of her tail.
A young man drove the cart, apparently used to such selfish
behavior on the part of his companion. The man, Kraft Lawrence,
was instantly recognizable as a traveling merchant. This
year made the seventh since he'd struck out on his own, and he
appeared to be around twenty-five. As if in acknowledgment of
the chill that came with the deepening autumn, he tightened the
fur coat that was wrapped around his body.
Occasionally, the chill also caused him to stroke his chin, covered
in the sort of beard one often saw on traveling merchants,
since when he sat still, he became slightly cooler. Letting a breath
escape that would have turned foggy once the sun set, Lawrence
glanced over his shoulder at the bed of the cart.
Normally filled to the brim with various goods, the bed was
enjoying a brief respite. All that stood out was the firewood and
straw that provided warmth at night, along with a single bag,
small enough for a child to carry.
However, the contents of the bag were more valuable than an
entire cart full of wheat would have been. The bag was full of
high-grade pepper worth roughly one thousand silver trenni. If it
could be sold in a mountain town, it might fetch as much as seventeen
hundred pieces, but the bag was currently being used as
a pillow by Lawrence's companion, who continued lazily grooming
her tail.
She was small with a face that was somehow imperious despite
its apparent youth, reminiscent of a queen relaxing in her palace.
The hood of her robe was thrown back, exposing her pointed ears
as she attended to her tail, her expression listless.
Given the tail, the pointed ears, and the fact of her status as a
merchant's traveling companion, one might reasonably think of
a dog, but unfortunately she was no dog.
She was apparently a "wisewolf," a wolf-god from the taiga in
the distant north — but Lawrence felt there was some question as
to whether she could be properly called a wolf.
After all, this "wolf" appeared to be a young girl. Calling her a
wolf seemed slightly inaccurate.
"We'll be reaching the town soon. Be careful," he said.
It would be disastrous for the girl's ears and tail to be seen
by others. The truth was, her canniness would put the instincts
of even the sharpest merchant to shame, thus Lawrence didn't
need to warn her of the danger. However, she was so thoroughly
relaxed that he simply had to speak up.
Not so much as glancing at him, she only yawned hugely.
Her yawn concluding with a vacant exhalation, she now nibbled
puppylike on the snow white tip of her dark brown tail, as
though it itched. She did not appear to have the slightest inclination
to "be careful."
Having introduced herself as a wolf and possessing these ears
and this tail, Holo certainly relaxed with the carelessness of an
animal, if nothing else.
"... Hrm."
A slight vocalization that could have been a reply (or it could
simply have been a small utterance of satisfaction at having conquered
the itch) reached Lawrence's ears. Tired of waiting for her
reply, he looked forward again.
Holo and Lawrence had met two weeks earlier. Owing to a
strange event in one of the villages Lawrence stopped at, Holo
had joined him, and the two had been traveling together since.
With her ears and tail, she was currently regarded as an evil
spirit, and the Church sought to end her life to preserve order.
Lawrence had not a shred of doubt that she was in fact a wolf
rather than a simple girl, who happened to have a wolf's ears and
a tail.
Just nine days earlier, in the river town of Pazzio, as a riot of
silver chasing had come to a close, he had seen her true form.
The huge brown wolf named Holo had understood human
speech and possessed an overwhelming presence that was undeniably
that of a god.
Yet Lawrence believed his relationship with Holo the Wisewolf
to be one of money, of partners in lending and borrowing, of
companions in travel, and of friends.
He looked behind him again, and Holo appeared to be curled
up in sleep. Although her legs were covered by the pants she wore
under her robe, the robe was still hitched up around her waist
from her earlier tail grooming, and there was no denying the fact
that the sight was slightly lascivious.
Her sleeping expression was the very picture of defenselessness,
and coupled with her slight form, Holo looked less like a
wolf and more like the sort of girl a wolf was likely to eat.
Nevertheless, Lawrence did not take her lightly.
Her wolf ears pricked suddenly, and she stirred, pulling her
hood over her head and drawing the edge of her robe down to
cover her tail.
Lawrence looked ahead just as the road drew near the face of a
hill and curved. Before them, the figure of a single merchant on
foot could be seen.
Cautioning Holo had indeed been unnecessary.
Holo the Wisewolf was hundreds of years old, and the young
man's twenty-five years of experience were far from sufficient to
make him her equal.
However, Holo looked to be the younger of the two, with her
true age being many times greater than what she appeared to be,
a fact that occasionally irritated Lawrence.
It was Lawrence's hope that Holo would act more in keeping
with the apparent difference between their ages, obediently
minding him when she was told. A variety of problems could
have been avoided this way, and the wolf would have him to
thank for this — but unfortunately, the opposite was much more
common.
Lawrence glanced back at the cart bed once more.
Despite the surreptitious nature of Lawrence's backward peek,
Holo returned his look from where she lay, curled up around the
bag of pepper.
She threw him a mean-spirited grin as if to say that yes, she
could see everything ahead just fine, before closing her eyes once
more.
Lawrence looked back to the road.
Perhaps enjoying the cart ride, Hole's tail flicked back and
forth.
The town ahead bore the strange name of Poroson.
Beyond the town to the north and east (they would travel
toward towns and villages that lay many days beyond the highlands
in the foreground), the dress and food of the people would
change — even the gods worshipped would be different. The pair
would find themselves in a truly foreign land.
Lawrence had heard that Poroson was until recently known as
a gateway to another world.
Descending to the west of these rock-strewn highlands, one
would find abundantly fertile, forested land in all directions. Yet
the land, hemmed in as it was by the surrounding rocks, which
yielded little springwater, was difficult to farm. The only reason
to take the trouble of founding a town here was its position as
this gateway to another world.
They continued through the fields. Lawrence could hear the
faint cries of goats through the morning haze as he counted the
many gravestone-like posts he saw. The posts were carved with
the names of many generations of sages in the Church's long history
and continued to purify the land even now.
Long before it was known as a gateway to another world,
Poroson was a holy land to a certain pagan faith.
Many years had passed since the Church, following the will
of its god, sent missionaries to convert the heathens, starting a
war to purify this land tainted by impure beliefs. Poroson was a
psychological turning point in the process of the destruction of
the old faith. Once the Church was on the verge of wiping out the
pagan faith in the area, the priests commanded that a town be
founded there.
Poroson soon became the staging area for the missionaries
and knights heading north and east after the remaining pagans,
and it came to have a reputation as a crossroads for both goods and
people.
The missionaries with their tattered, hermit-like robes and the
knights with righteous swords in hand, ready to reclaim land in
the name of their god, were now gone.
All that passed through the town these days were woven goods,
salt, and iron from the north and east and grain and leather
from the south and west. The holy wars of the past were long
gone, replaced by the continuous comings and goings of shrewd
merchants.
Hole's presence made it necessary for Lawrence to take roads
with little traffic, but along certain ancient trade routes, they
continually passed carts laden with rare goods. Many of the textiles
they saw were of particularly fine quality.
Despite the brisk trade, Poroson was rather modest, thanks to
the habits of its residents. The wealth of commerce provided for
a magnificent wall around the town, but the buildings within
it were of humble stone construction, their roofs thatched with
straw. It's true that wherever goods and people intersect, money
will be left behind and the area will prosper, but Poroson's circumstances
were slightly different.
The residents were all highly devout and gave most of their
money to the Church. Furthermore, Poroson was not the holding
of a particular nation, but rather of the religious capital of Ruvinheigen
to the northwest, so tithes did not stay in the town's own
church, but instead flowed to the larger city. In fact, the Church
offices managed land taxes as well, so Poroson did not even control
its own tax revenue.
The residents of the town had no interest in anything beyond
their own humble lives.
When a bell sounded through the morning haze, the workers
in the fields paused in their labors and turned to face the sound,
putting their hands together and closing their eyes.
In a typical town at this hour, red-faced merchants would be
busy jockeying for position in the town square, but here there
was no such rude commotion.
Not wanting to intrude upon the residents' prayers, Lawrence
stopped his cart horse. Then, putting his hands together, he
offered a prayer to his own god.
The bell rang a second time, and when the people returned to
their work, Lawrence made his cart horse walk again. Suddenly,
Holo spoke.
"Oh, so you are a religious man now, are you?"
"I'll pray to anyone who can promise me safe travels and tidy
profits."
"I can promise you a fine harvest."
Holo faced Lawrence as he glanced at her out of the corner of
his eye.
"You want me to pray to you, then?"
Holo knew and hated the loneliness felt by gods. Lawrence
believed she couldn't possibly be serious, but he ventured to ask.
He suspected she was joking with him out of boredom.
As expected, her reply came in a purposefully sweet voice.
"Yes, I certainly do."
"What shall I pray for, then?" asked Lawrence, by now used to
this sort of treatment from Holo.
"Whatever you like. I can provide a bountiful harvest, naturally,
but safe travels are also no problem for me. I can predict the
winds and rain and tell whether springwater is good or bad. And
I'm just the thing for getting rid of wolves and wild dogs."
She sounded just like a village youth extolling his virtues to
a merchant guild, but Lawrence thought for a moment before
answering.
"I suppose safe travels would be worth praying for."
"They would, would they not?" answered Holo with a selfsatisfied
smile, inclining her head slightly.
Seeing her carefree, innocent smile, Lawrence wondered
whether she wasn't simply trying to praise her own abilities over
the god of the Church. Every once in a while, Holo exhibited a
certain childishness.
"Well, I suppose I'll ask for safe travels, then. It would be heartening
to be able to avoid wolves."
"Mm. Safe travels, is it?"
"Indeed."
Lawrence tugged on the reins to avoid a donkey grazing on the
grass.
The gateway to the town walls would be upon them soon. The
end of a line of people waiting for inspection was visible even in
the morning mist.
Though the entire town was part of the Church, many merchants
came to it from pagan lands, so Poroson was remarkably
accommodating — its inspection of goods was much stricter than
its inspection of people. Lawrence was considering the tax likely
to be levied on the pepper he carried when he became aware of
someone looking at him from the side. There was only Holo.
"What, is that all?" Her voice sounded slightly irritated.
"Hm?"
"I am asking you if all you require is safe travel."
Staring blankly at Holo for a few moments, Lawrence realized
what she was talking about.
10
"What? You wanted me to put my hands together and pray?"
"Don't be ridiculous," she said with a vexed glare. "I'm guaranteeing
you safe travel — surely you don't think that a single,
useless prayer is compensation enough."
Lawrence's mind turned like a waterwheel as he arrived at the
obvious conclusion.
"Ah, you want an offering."
"Hee-hee-hee." Holo gave a self-satisfied chuckle.
"What do you want?"
"Dried mutton!"
"You gorged yourself on the stuff yesterday! It mustVe been a
week's worth that you ate."
"I've always room for mutton."
Never shy, Holo licked her chops at the memory of the meat. It
seemed even the noble wolf was a mere dog when presented with
dried victuals.
"Cooked meat is good, too, but I simply cannot resist the texture
of dried meat. If you would pray for safe travels, dried mutton
is the price."
Hole's eyes blazed, and her tail switched restlessly underneath
her robe.
Lawrence ignored this completely, instead looking at the goods
loaded on the horse that was being led by the merchant in front of
them. The horse's back was piled high with a mountain of wool.
"What about that wool — is it good or bad?"
Wool evidently suggested sheep. Holo looked at the mountain
of wool, her eyes brimming with anticipation, before answering
quickly.
"It is quite good — so good I can almost smell the grass they
ate."
"I thought as much. My pepper should fetch a good price here."
If the wool was of high quality, the meat would be excellent,
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too. And as the quality of meat rose, so did its price. Expensive
meat made his pepper, which could be used to flavor and preserve
it, all the more valuable, and Lawrence began to look forward to
selling his wares.
"Also, dried meat with lots of salt is good. Just a little bit of salt
will not do. Also, meat from the flanks is the best, better than
meat from the legs. Here now, are you listening?"
"Hm?"
"Salted meat! From the flanks!"
"You have excellent taste. That'll cost us."
"Hah, 'tis a bargain at twice the price."
It was true that some good mutton was a bargain if it meant
Holo would guarantee safe travels. After all, her true form was a
giant talking wolf. She could probably even protect him from the
kind of ill-mannered soldiers that were hard to distinguish from
out-and-out thieves.
Nonetheless, Lawrence assumed a purposefully blank expression
as he regarded Holo.
Her eyes were fixed greedily upon the imagined food. He
couldn't help but tease her.
"Well, now, you must have quite a bit of money indeed. If you've
got so much, perhaps you should repay me."
Yet his opponent was a canny wisewolf. She soon discerned his
motive.
Her demeanor tightened suddenly as she glared at him.
"That approach will no longer work."
Apparently she had learned from the apple incident. Lawrence
clicked his tongue in irritation, his face grim.
"You should've just asked nicely in the first place, then. It
would Ve been so much more charming."
"So if I ask charmingly enough, you will buy some for me,
then?" asked Holo without a trace of charm.
12
Lawrence eased the horse forward as the line moved, answering
flatly, "Of course not. You could stand to learn something
from those cows and sheep — try chewing your cud, hm?"
He grinned to himself, proud of his wit — but Holo's face went
blank with anger, and without a word, there on the driver's seat
of the wagon, she stomped on his foot.
The road was nothing more than hard-packed dirt, the simple
houses made of rough-hewn stone and thatched with grass.
The people of Poroson bought nothing but the barest necessities
from the merchant stalls, so there were surprisingly few such
stalls.
A goodly number of people moved about the town, among
them merchants with carts or backs fully loaded, but the atmosphere
seemed to suck up the normal town chatter like cotton, so
it was oddly quiet.
It was hard to believe this quiet, simple, proud town was a
nexus of foreign trade that earned dizzying amounts of money
every day.
After all, missionaries whose street-corner sermons went
largely ignored in other cities could count on gratefully attentive
crowds here — so how was profit so effectively made?
To Lawrence, the town was nothing less than a mystery.
"'Tis a tedious place," came Holo's assessment of the uniquely
religious town.
"You're only saying that because there's nothing to eat."
"You speak as though I think of nothing else."
"Shall we take in a sermon, then?"
Just ahead of them, a missionary preached to a crowd, one
hand on a book of scripture.
The listeners were not only townspeople — there were several
merchants whose prayers were normally for naught but their
own profit.
13
Holo regarded them distastefully and sniffed.
"He's about five hundred years too young to be preaching
to me."
"I daresay you could stand to hear a sermon on frugality."
Toying idly with the silken sash at her waist, Holo put her hand
to her mouth and yawned at Lawrence's suggestion. "I'm a wolf
yet. Sermons are complicated and difficult for us to understand,"
she said shamelessly, rubbing her eyes.
"Well, as far as the teachings of the god of frugality go, they're
more persuasive here than anywhere else, I'd reckon."
"Hm?"
"Nearly all the money made here flows to the seat of the Church
northwest of here, Ruvinheigen — now there's a place I've no
desire to hear a sermon."
The Church capital of Ruvinheigen was so prosperous some said
its walls had turned to gold. The upper echelons of the Church
Council that controlled the region had turned to commerce to
support their subjugation of the heathens, and the priests and
bishops of Ruvinheigen put the merchants to shame.
Lawrence wondered if that was precisely why opportunities for
profit there were so absurdly plentiful.
Just then, Holo tilted her head quizzically. "Did you say Ruvinheigen?"
"What, do you know it?" Lawrence gave Holo a sidelong glance
as he steered the wagon to the right once the street forked.
"Mm, I remember the name, but not as a city — it was a person's
name."
"Ah, you're not wrong. It's a city now, but it was the name of a
saint who led a group of crusaders against the pagans. It's an old
name — you don't hear it much anymore."
"Hmph. Maybe 'tis him I'm remembering."
"Surely not."
14
Lawrence laughed it off but soon realized — Holo had set out
on her travels hundreds of years ago.
"He was a man with flaming red hair and a great bushy beard.
He'd hardly gotten a glance at my lovely ears and tail before he
set his knights after me with spear and sword. I'd had enough,
so I took my other form and kicked his knights around before
sinking my teeth into that Ruvinheigen's backside. He was rather
lean and far from tasty."
Holo sniffed proudly as she related the gallant tale. The surprised
Lawrence had no response.
In the holy city of Ruvinheigen, there were records of Saint
Ruvinheigen having red hair and the city itself having originally
been a fortress that fought against pagan gods.
However, in his battles against the heathen deities, Saint
Ruvinheigen was said to have lost his left arm. That is why on
the great mural in the city cathedral he was pictured with no left
arm, his ragged clothing smeared with blood, resolutely ordering
his crusaders forward against the pagans, the protection of God
at their backs.
Perhaps the reason Saint Ruvinheigen was always pictured in
clothes so ragged he might as well be nude was because Holo had
shredded them. Her true form was that of a massive wolf, after
all. It was easy to imagine her bloodying someone after a bit of
sport.
If what Holo said was true, Saint Ruvinheigen had probably
been ashamed of being bitten on his rear and had omitted that
bit from the story. In that case, the tale of the saint losing his left
arm was pure fabrication.
Had Holo bitten the real Saint Ruvinheigen?
Hearing the story behind the history, Lawrence chuckled.
"Oh, but wait a moment —," said Holo.
"Hm?"
15
"I only bit him, I'll have you know. I did not kill him," said
Holo quickly, anticipating Lawrence's reaction.
For a moment, Lawrence didn't understand what she was getting
at, but soon he realized.
She must have assumed he would be angry if she killed one of
his fellow humans.
"You're considerate at the strangest of times," said Lawrence.
"'Tis important," said Holo, her face serious enough that Lawrence
capitulated without any further teasing.
"Anyway, this surely is a tedious city. The middle of the forest
is livelier than this."
"I'll unload my pepper, pick up a new commodity, and we'll be
on our way to Ruvinheigen, so just bear it until then."
"Is it a big town?"
"Bigger even than Pazzio — more properly a city than a town
really. It's crowded, and there are lots of shops."
Hole's face lit up. "With apples even?"
"Hard to say if they'll be fresh. With winter coming, I'd think
they'd be preserved."
"...Preserved?" said Holo, dubious. In the northlands, salt
was the only method of preservation, so she assumed preserved
apples would also use salt.
"They use honey," said Lawrence.
Pop! went Hole's ears, flicking rapidly under the hood she
wore.
"Pear preserves are good, too. Also, hmm, they're a bit rare,
but I've seen preserved peaches. Now those are fine goods. They
slice the peaches thin, pack them in a cask with the odd layer of
almonds or figs, then fill up the spaces with honey, and seal it
shut. Takes about two months for it to be ready to eat. I've only
had it once, but it was so sweet the Church was considering banning
the stuff... Hey, you're drooling."
16
Holo snapped her mouth shut as Lawrence pointed it out.
She took a nervous glance around, then looked back at Lawrence
dubiously. "You... you're toying with me, though."
"Can't you tell if I'm lying or not?"
Holo set her jaw, perhaps at a loss for words.
"I'm not lying, but there's no telling whether they'll actually
have the preserves. They're mostly for rich nobles, anyway. The
stuff isn't just lined up in a shop."
"But if it is?"
Swish, swish — Hole's tail was switching back and forth
beneath her robe so rapidly it almost seemed like a separate animal
altogether. Her eyes were moist and blurred with overflowing
anticipation.
Hole's face was so close to Lawrence that she rested her head
on his shoulder.
Her eyes were desperately serious.
"... Fine, fine! I'll buy you some!"
Holo gripped Lawrence's arm tightly. "You have to!"
He felt that if he looked sideways at her, he'd be bitten on the
spot.
"A little, though. Just a little!" Lawrence said. It was not clear if
Holo was listening or not.
"That's a promise, then! You've promised!"
"Okay, okay!"
"So let us hurry on, then! Hurry, now!"
"Stop grabbing me!"
Lawrence shrugged her off, but Hole's mind had wandered
elsewhere. She seemed to look off into the distance and muttered
as she nibbled on the nail of her middle finger.
"They may sell out. Should it come to that..."
Lawrence was beginning to regret having said anything about
honeyed peach preserves, but it was too late for such regrets. If he
17

dared to suggest he had decided not to buy any after all, it seemed
likely she'd tear out his throat.
It didn't matter that honeyed peach preserves weren't something
that traveling merchants could afford.
"It's not a question of selling out — they may not have any at
all," Lawrence said. "Just understand that."
"We are talking about peaches and honey, sir! It beggars belief.
Peaches and honey."
"Are you even listening to me?"
"Still, it's hard to give up pears," said Holo, turning to Lawrence
and looking up at him.
Lawrence's only reply was to heave a long-suffering sigh.
Lawrence planned to sell his pepper to the Latparron Trading
Company, whose name was every bit as odd as the town in which
it was located — Poroson.
If one were to trace the name, it would surely hearken all the
way back to the time before Poroson was a town and only pagans
inhabited the area. The strange names were all that remained of
the past, though. After all, everyone here was a true believer in
the Church, from the tops of their heads to the tips of their toes.
The Latparron Company would soon have its fiftieth master, and
each seemed to be more devout than the last.
Thus it was that no sooner had Lawrence called upon the
company — which he'd not visited in half a year — than he was
regaled with praise for the newly arrived priest, whose sermons
he simply had to hear, as would they not save our very souls?
Still worse, the master of the Latparron Company seemed to
take Holo in her robes for a nun on pilgrimage and exhorted her
to minister to Lawrence as well.
Holo took the opportunity to rail at Lawrence at length, occasionally
grinning in a way that only he could see.
19
After some time, their preaching ended, and Lawrence swore
to himself that he wouldn't spare so much as a single coin for any
honeyed peach preserves.
"Well, then, that went a bit long, but shall we talk business
now?"
"I await your pleasure," said Lawrence, clearly tired — but the
Latparron master had put on his business face now, so Lawrence
couldn't let his guard down.
It was possible that the master's lengthy sermon was a tactic to
wear his opponents down, making them easy prey.
"So, what goods have you brought me this day?"
"Right here," said Lawrence, regaining his composure and
bringing out the pepper-stuffed sack.
"Oh, pepper!"
Lawrence kept hidden his surprise at the master's correct guess
of the bag's contents. "You know your goods," he said.
"It's the smell!" said the master with a mischievous smile — but
Lawrence knew pepper yet to be ground has little scent.
Lawrence stole a sidelong glance at Holo, who looked on
amused.
"It seems I'm still a novice," said Lawrence.
"Just a matter of experience," said the master. As far as Lawrence
could tell from the man's broad, easy manner, his mistaking
Holo for a nun might also have been an act.
"Still, Mr. Lawrence, you always bring the best goods at the
most opportune time. By God's grace, the hay grew well this year,
and the pork has gotten fat merely walking the streets. Demand
for pepper will be high for a while. Had you gotten here even a
week sooner, I'd have been able to take it off your hands for a
pittance!"
Lawrence could only offer a pained smile in response to the
cheerful man. The Latparron master had taken complete control
20
of the conversation. He could now use strong-arm negotiating
tactics. It would be hard for Lawrence to regain the upper hand.
Traders like these in small companies were why the life of the
merchant was a hard one.
"Right, then, let's take its measure. Have you a scale?"
Unlike the money changers whose reputations depended on the
accuracy of their scales, the scales that merchants carried were
doctored as a matter of course. With commodities like pepper
or gold dust, a small "adjustment" to a scale's gradations could
make a large difference, so both buyer and seller weighed items
on their own scales.
However, it wasn't every day that Lawrence dealt with highpriced
goods like pepper, so he had no scales.
"No, I don't have a scale — I trust in God."
The master smiled and nodded at Lawrence's reply. There were
two sets of scales on a shelf, and he deliberately brought out the
set farther away.
Though he was careful not to show it, Lawrence internally
sighed in relief.
Be he the most devout, faithful follower of the teachings of the
Church, a merchant was still a merchant. Undoubtedly the first
set of scales had been doctored. If Lawrence's pepper was weighed
on such scales, there was no telling how much of a loss he might
sustain. It could be as bad as a silver piece for every peppercorn.
Lawrence gave God his thanks.
"Even if you believe in a just God, man should be able to discern
whether the scripture before him is true or false. A righteous
man still trespasses against God if he commits to memory
false scripture, after all," said the master, setting the scales down
on a nearby table.
He was probably trying to reassure Lawrence that his scales
were accurate.
21
Although merchants were always trying to outsmart one
another, that didn't mean trust was never necessary.
"If you'll excuse me for a moment," said Lawrence, at which
point the master nodded and took a step back.
On the table was a beautiful set of brass scales, which gleamed
a dull gold. It was the sort of set one would expect to see in the
offices of a wealthy cambist in a large city and seemed a bit out of
place in this shop.
The Latparron Trading Company's storefront was so plain it
was easily mistakable for a simple home, and the only employees
were the master and a few men. The interior of the shop was
also plainly furnished with two shelves situated against the wall,
one holding jars that seemed to contain spices or dried foodstuffs
and another holding bundles of documents, paper, and
parchment.
While the scales seemed not in keeping with the rest of the
shop, the balance of those scales was clear.
The scales balanced in the center with plates of counterweights
to the left and right.
They did not seem to have been tampered with.
Relieved, Lawrence looked up and smiled. "Shall we proceed to
weigh the pepper, then?"
There was no reason not to.
"Let's see, we'll need paper and ink. Wait just a moment,
please," said the master, walking to the corner of the room and
retrieving an ink pot and paper from the shelf. Lawrence was idly
looking on when a tug at his sleeve pulled him out of his reverie.
There was no one else there — it was Holo.
"What is it?"
"I'm thirsty."
"You'll have to wait," said Lawrence shortly — but he immediately
reconsidered.
22
She was Holo the Wisewolf after all. She wouldn't make a complaint
like that out of the blue. There had to be some kind of reason
behind it.
Having changed his mind, Lawrence was about to ask her to
explain herself when the master spoke again.
"Even the saints themselves needed water to live. Would you
like water or perhaps wine?"
"Water, if you please," said Holo with a smile. Evidently she
had only been thirsty after all.
"Just a moment, then." The master left the contract paper, ink,
and quill on the table and walked out of the room, going to fetch
the water himself.
In this regard he seemed to be no merchant, but the model of a
devout adherent of the Church.
Yet even as Lawrence was impressed at the master's faith, he
gave Holo a sidelong glare.
"I know this may seem like nothing to you, but to us merchants
this is a battleground. You could have had as much water as you
wanted later."
"But I am thirsty," said Holo, looking away stubbornly — she
hated being scolded. Despite her frightening intelligence, she
could be strangely childish at times. There was no point in saying
anything more.
Lawrence sighed, and to chase away his frustration with Holo,
he set his mind on estimating how much pepper he had.
At length the master returned, carrying a wooden tray with an
iron pitcher and cup. Lawrence's shame at having made a business
associate and an elder perform such a menial task was very
real, but the master's smiling face seemed to have dispensed with
business for the moment.
"Well, then, shall we proceed with the weigh?"
"Indeed."
23
They began to weigh the pepper as Holo looked on, leaning
against a wall a short distance away, iron cup clasped between
her hands.
The weigh was a simple enough task, with a set weight being
prepared on one side of the scales and the other being loaded
with pepper until it balanced.
It was simple, but if one grew tired of seeing the counterweight
sink and was tempted to call it good enough and proceed to the
next load, a merchant could unwittingly sustain a significant
loss.
So both the master and Lawrence carefully balanced each load
until each was satisfied before proceeding to the next.
For all its simplicity, the weighing was sensitive work, and it
took forty-five loads to finish. Pepper varied depending on its
origin, but a load of Lawrence's product balanced roughly with
a single counterweight should have been worth about one gold
lumione piece. Based on his most current knowledge of exchange
rates, one lumione equaled thirty-four and two-thirds trenni, the
silver coin commonly used in the port town of Pazzio. Forty-five
loads at that rate would come to 1,560 trenni.
Lawrence had bought the pepper for a thousand trenni, so that
meant a profit of 560 pieces. The spice trade was indeed delicious.
Of course, gold and jewels — the raw materials for luxury
goods — could fetch two or three times their initial purchase price,
so this was a meager gain in comparison, but for a traveling merchant
who spent his days crossing the plains, it was profit enough.
Some merchants would haul the lowest-quality oats on their very
backs, destroying themselves as they crossed mountains, only to
turn a 10 percent profit when they sold in the town.
Indeed, compared with that, clearing more than five hundred
silver pieces by moving a single light bag of pepper was almost
too savory to believe.
24
Lawrence grinned as he packed the pepper back into its leather
sack.
"Right, that's forty-five measures' worth, then. Where does this
pepper come from?"
"It was imported from Ramapata, in the kingdom of Leedon.
Here's the certificate of import from the Milone Company."
"From Ramapata, then? It's come quite a ways, then — I can
scarcely imagine the place," mused the master, narrowing his
eyes and smiling as he took the certificate parchment Lawrence
offered him.
Town merchants often spent their entire lives in the villages of
their birth. There were some who would go on pilgrimages after
their retirement, but there was no time for such things when they
were actively working.
However, even Lawrence the traveling merchant knew little of
the kingdom of Leedon, save that it was famous for its spices. To
get there from Pazzio, one had to take the river all the way to the
coast and then board a long-distance sailing ship south across
two separate seas, a journey of roughly two months.
The language was different, of course, and apparently it was
hot like summertime year-round in Leedon, and the population
was permanently tanned near black from the time they were
born.
It seemed unbelievable, but there was spice, gold, silver, and
iron that supposedly came from the place, and the Milone Company
vouched for the origin of the pepper, which the certificate
claimed was Ramapata.
Was it a real country?
"The certificate seems authentic," said the master.
The kinds of bills of exchange, trusted promissory notes and
contracts that passed through town merchants were huge. Supposedly
they could even recognize bills signed by small companies
25
in faraway lands to say nothing of huge organizations that had
their main branches in a foreign country.
Recognizing the seal of a company as large as Milone would
be but the work of a moment. Signatures were important, but the
soul of a contract was the seal.
"Right, then, it'll be one lumione per measure. Will this do?"
"Can you tell me what the lumione is trading at currently?"
Lawrence asked suddenly, even though he had some grasp of the
coin's market value.
Gold coin was generally used as an accounting currency — that
is to say it was the basis for calculating the values of the many
other currencies in the world. Calculations were performed
in gold currency and then remitted in other, more convenient
forms. Of course, in that situation the market value of the currency
in question became an issue.
Lawrence was suddenly very nervous.
"Mr. Lawrence, as I recall, you follow the path of Saint Metrogius
in business, like your teacher did, correct?"
"Yes. Perhaps it's the protection of Saint Metrogius that's kept
my travels safe and my business sound."
"So I presume that you'll take payment in trenni silver?"
Many traveling merchants wanted to repeat the successes of
the past, and so rather than move randomly from one town to
another, they trod the paths of the saints of old.
Thus it was that the currency they used at a given time was
quite predictable.
For the master of the Latparron Trading Company to come to that
conclusion so quickly meant he was very shrewd merchant indeed.
"In trenni silver," he continued, "the current rate is thirty-two
and five-sixths."
The rate was lower than Lawrence remembered. But given this
26
town's importance as a trade center, it was within the realm he
could allow.
In places where currencies from many different places all converged,
the exchange rate with respect to accounting currencies
tended to be lower.
Lawrence did the calculations in his head at lightning speed.
At this rate he'd get 1,477 trenni for his pepper.
The amount was less than he'd anticipated but a tolerable price
nonetheless. It would be a huge step toward realizing the dream
of opening his own shop.
He took a deep breath and extended his right hand toward the
master. "That price will be fine, sir."
The master's face broke into a smile, and he accepted Lawrence's
hand. A merchant's spirits were never better than at the
moment of a successful contract.
This was one such moment.
"Ughh...," Holo cut in with a listless voice.
"Whatever is the matter?" asked the master worriedly as he
and Lawrence looked to Holo, who leaned unsteadily against the
wall.
In that instant, Lawrence remembered the sale of his furs to
the Milone Company and grew suddenly nervous.
The master of the Latparron Company was a canny merchant
who managed his shop alone. Trying to outwit him was likely to
end badly. Having Holo around didn't mean they had to try to
trick their trading partners every single time.
Even as Lawrence thought this, he stopped short. Holo was acting
strangely.
"U-ugh... I'm, I'm dizzy..."
Holo held on to the cup as her unsteadiness grew worse, and
the water seemed like it would spill out at any moment.
27
The master walked up to her, looking worried as he stilled the
cup and supported her slim shoulders.
"Are you recovered?"
"...A bit. Thank you," said Holo weakly, finally standing
straight again with the master's help.
She looked every bit the fasting nun suffering from a bout
of anemia. Even someone who wasn't as devout as the master
would have wanted to help her, but Lawrence noticed something
strange.
Underneath Holo's hood, her wolf ears had not drooped very
much.
"A long journey will tire even the strongest man," declared the
master.
Holo nodded slightly, then spoke. "I may well be tired from the
travel. My vision seemed to tilt suddenly..."
"That won't do. Ah, I have it — shall I bring some goat milk? It's
fresh from yesterday's milking," he said, offering her a chair and
briskly going to fetch the milk without waiting for her response.
Lawrence was surely the only one who had any premonition
that Holo was going to do something else when she did not sit
in the offered chair and instead went to set the iron cup on the
table.
"Sir," she said to the master, whose back was turned. "I believe
I am yet a bit dizzy."
"Heavens. Shall I call a physician?" asked the master, looking
over his shoulder with heartfelt concern.
Underneath the hood, Holo's expression was anything but the
weak dizziness she feigned.
"Look here. It's tilting before my very eyes," said Holo, taking
the cup and spilling a few drops on the surface of the table —
whereupon it flowed smoothly to Holo's right and off the edge of
the table, dripping to the floor with a small plip sound.
28
"Wha —!" Lawrence walked swiftly to the table and put his
hand on the scales.
It was the same set of scales he'd so carefully gauged the accuracy
of earlier. If they were even slightly off, it would mean a
large loss for him, and so he'd checked the scales' accuracy carefully
— but they aligned perfectly with the direction in which the
water had flowed off the table.
This led to a single conclusion.
The weighing was over, and the plates of the scale were empty
save for the counterweights on them. Lawrence took the set of
scales and rotated it to face precisely the opposite direction.
The scales tipped this way and that owing to the sudden movement,
but when set back on the table, their movement slowed and
eventually stopped.
According to the gradations, the scales balanced perfectly
— despite the incline of the table. If they had been accurate,
the reading would have been skewed by the slant of the table.
The scales had clearly been tampered with.
"So, then, did I drink water, or was it wine?" inquired Holo.
She looked back to the master — as did Lawrence.
The master's expression froze, and sweat appeared on his forehead.
"What I drank was wine. Was it not?" Hole's voice sounded so
amused that even her smile was practically audible.
The master's face paled to a nearly deathly pallor. If the fact
that he used fraudulent scales to swindle merchants was made
public in a god-fearing town like this, all his assets would be forfeit,
and he would face instant bankruptcy.
"There's a saying that 'no one drinks less than the master of a
full tavern' — this must be what that means," said Lawrence.
The stricken master was like a cornered hare, unable to cry out
even as a predator's fangs pierced its skin.
29
Lawrence walked back toward the master with an easy smile.
"The secret to prosperity is being the only sober one, eh?"
So much sweat beaded up on the master's forehead that you
could trace a picture in it.
"It seems I'm drunk on the same wine as my companion. I
doubt we'll be able to remember anything we've seen or heard in
here... though in exchange I may be a bit unreasonable."
"Wh-what do you... ?" The master's face shivered in fear.
Taking easy revenge here would be failing as a merchant,
though.
There wasn't even a mote of anger at being deceived in Lawrence's
mind.
All he thought of were cold calculations of how much more
profit he could extract from his opponent's fear.
This was an unexpected opportunity.
Lawrence drew near the man, his expression still smiling, his
tone still every bit the negotiating merchant.
"Let's see... I think the amount we agreed to, plus the amount
you were going to gain, plus, oh... you'll let us buy double on
margin."
Lawrence was demanding to be allowed to buy more than he
had the cash to secure. It's self-evident that the more money a
merchant can invest, the greater profit he can realize. If he can
buy two silver pieces' worth of goods with a single piece, he will
double his profit, pure and simple.
But to buy two pieces' worth with one piece, he would obviously
need collateral. Since the merchant is essentially borrowing
money, the lender has the right to demand collateral from
the borrower.
However, the master was in no position to make such a
demand, which is why Lawrence pushed such an unreasonable
30
position. It's a third-rate merchant that doesn't take advantage of
weakness.
"I, uh, er, I can't possibly..."
"You can't do it? Oh, that's a shame... I'm feeling significantly
less drunk."
The master's face was so wet it seemed to nearly melt as the
sweat mixed with tears.
His face a mask of despair, he slumped, defeated.
"As for the goods, let's see. Given the amount, perhaps some
high-quality arms? Surely you have lots of goods bound for
Ruvinheigen."
"... Arms, you say?"
The master looked up, seeming to see a glimmer of hope. He
had probably been assuming that Lawrence never planned to pay
him back.
"They're always a good bet for turning a tidy profit, and I can
get the loan back to you quickly that way. What say you?"
Ruvinheigen served as a resupply base for the efforts to subjugate
the pagans. Any items that served in the fighting flew off the
shelves year-round. It was difficult to sustain depreciation losses
when selling such goods.
Since Lawrence would be able to purchase double the normal
amount on margin, he'd have double the insurance against depreciation,
which made weapons a good choice for a margin buy.
The master's face shifted to that of a shrewdly calculating merchant.
"Weapons... you say?"
"Since I'm sure there's a trading company in Ruvinheigen with
connections to yours, selling them there will balance out the
books."
In short, after Lawrence sold the weapons he bought with
money borrowed from the Latparron Company to another
31
company in Ruvinheigen, he wouldn't have to come all the way
back to Poroson to return the money.
In certain situations, the give-and-take of money could be
accomplished with nothing more than entries in a ledger.
It was the great triumph of the merchant class.
"What say you?"
At times, the business smile of a merchant could be an intimidating
thing. Even among such smiles, Lawrence's was exceptionally
intimidating as he cornered the manager of the Latparron
Trading Company, who — unable to refuse — finally nodded.
"My thanks! I'd like to arrange for the goods immediately, as I
hope to depart for Ruvinheigen very soon."
"U-understood. Er, as for the valuation..."
"I shall leave that to you. After all, I trust in God."
The master's lip twisted bitterly in what must have been a
pained smile. It was unavoidable that he'd appraise the weapons
rather cheaply.
"Are you two quite finished?" said Holo, guessing that the
strong-armed "negotiation" was over. The master gave a sigh of
dismay. It seemed there was still one person who wanted a say.
"I daresay my drunkenness is lifting as well," said Holo, her
head tilted charmingly to one side — but she must've seemed like
a devil to the master.
"Some fine wine and mutton would do much for my spirits.
Make sure the mutton's from the flanks now!"
The master could only nod his head at her casual imperiousness.
"Make it quick now," said Holo, partially in jest, but hearing
these words from the girl who adroitly saw through his doctored
scales, the master turned around and scampered from the room
like a pig smacked on the rear.
One couldn't help but feel the master was overdoing it a bit, but
32
if his fraud was made public, he would be ruined. To that extent,
a little bowing and scraping was a small price to pay.
Lawrence would have taken a huge hit to his own assets if the
trick hadn't been noticed.
"Hee-hee. Poor little man," said Holo with a delighted chuckle
that made her seem even nastier.
"You've certainly a keen eye, as usual. I didn't notice a thing."
"I'm beautiful and my tail fur is sleek, but my eyes and ears are
also keen. I noticed the moment we entered the room. I suppose
he would've been sly enough to fool the likes of you, though,"
said Holo, sighing and waving her hand dismissively.
Lawrence would have been happier if she'd said something
sooner, but the reality was he had not noticed the fraud, and the
fact that Holo did had turned a great loss into a great gain.
It wouldn't kill him to be polite.
"I've nothing to say for myself," Lawrence admitted. Holo's
eyes twinkled at his unexpected meekness.
"Oh ho! I see you've matured a bit."
Lawrence — indeed having nothing to say for himself— could
only smile, chagrined.
There is something known as "spring fever."
It is most common during the winter in places far from rivers
or seas. The streams freeze, and people survive on salted meat
and stale bread day in and day out. It's not that no vegetables can
survive the frost, but rather that such produce is better sold than
eaten. Eating the produce does nothing for the chill, but with the
money gained from its sale, firewood can be bought and furnaces
stoked.
Eating naught but meat and drinking nothing but wine takes
its toll, and by spring, many have broken out in rashes.
This is spring fever, and it is proof of neglect for one's health.
33
Naturally it is well-known that resisting the temptation of meat
and the comfort of wine will spare one this fate. Eat vegetables
and meat only in moderation — such will the Church's sermon
be every Sunday.
Thus come spring, the sufferers of spring fever will often find
themselves being terribly scolded by the priest. Gluttony is, after
all, one of the seven deadly sins — whether or not the glutton
knows it.
Lawrence heaved a long-suffering sigh at Hole's overindulgence.
She burped. "Whew... that was tasty." She was in high spirits
after washing down the fine mutton with some fine wine.
Not only was it all free of charge, but after eating and drinking
her fill, she could curl up in the wagon bed for a nap.
Even the most extravagant merchant will, as a matter of course,
think ahead and limit his excesses, but not Holo.
Tapping her feet in delight, she had eaten and drunk with glee
and only stopped to take a break.
Lawrence reckoned that if it had been their travel provisions,
she would Ve eaten three weeks' worth — and she drank so much
wine he began to wonder where it was going.
If she had turned around and sold the food she extorted from
the Latparron master, she would have put a big dent in her own
debt to Lawrence.
This was yet another reason Lawrence was stunned.
"Now, then, I daresay I'll take a nap," said Holo.
Lawrence didn't even bother to look at the source of this exemplar
of depravity.
In addition to squeezing some fine wine and mutton from the
Latparron Company master, Lawrence had obtained a large load
of arms at a very reasonable price. He and his companion left the
town of Poroson without so much as waiting for the noontime
34
bells. Little time had passed since then, and the sun was just now
overhead.
With the clear skies and warm sunshine, it was perfect weather
for a midday drink, followed by a nap.
Owing to the load, the wagon bed was in a state of disarray, but
with wine enough in her, Holo probably wouldn't mind.
The trade road that they took to Ruvinheigen was full of steep
inclines and sudden turns just outside of Poroson but smoothed
out and gave a grand view as it slowly descended.
The road meandered on.
It was well traveled, which made for a firmly packed surface
with holes being quickly filled.
Even though her "bed" was packed full of sword hilts, Holo
was easily able to nap on top of them and pass the afternoon away
since the road was so smooth.
Then there was Lawrence, who had drunk no wine and spent
the day looking at a horse's backside, reins in hand. His jealousy
made it easy for him not to look at Holo.
"Mm, I ought to tend to my tail," said Holo — her tail the only
thing she was diligent about. She pulled it out of her robes without
a hint of concern.
Not that any was warranted; the expansive view meant there
was no danger of being surprised by an approaching traveler.
Holo began to comb her tail, occasionally picking a flea out or
pausing to lick the fur clean.
The care she took with her tail was visible in her silent, singleminded
attention to the job.
She worked from the very base of the tail, which was covered
in dark brown fur, finally reaching its fluffy white tip, and then
suddenly looked up. "Oh, that's right."
"...What?"
"When we get to the next town, I want oil."
35
"...Oil?"
"Mm. I've heard it would be good to use on my tail."
Lawrence turned away from Holo wordlessly.
"So will you buy some for me?" asked Holo with a charming
smile, her head tilted.
Even a poor man would be hard-pressed to resist that smile,
but Lawrence only glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
Figures larger than her smile danced before his eyes — specifically,
the debt she owed him.
"The clothes you're wearing now, plus the extras, the comb,
the travel fee, the wine and food — have you added them all up?
There's the head tax when we enter a town, as well. Surely you're
not telling me you can't do sums," said Lawrence, mimicking
Hole's tone, but Holo still smiled.
"I can surely do sums, but I'm still better at subtraction," she
proclaimed, then laughed at some private amusement.
Lawrence knew she was hiding some kind of comeback, but
her manner was strange. Perhaps she was still drunk.
He glanced at the wineskins that lay in the wagon bed. They'd
taken the Latparron master for five skins of wine, two of which
were now empty.
It wasn't impossible that she was drunk.
"Well, perhaps you should try adding up all you've used. If
you're such a wise wolf, you should be able to work out my answer
from that."
"All right, I shall!" said Holo with a smile and a cheerful nod.
Just as Lawrence looked forward again, thinking how nice it
would be if she were always so agreeable, Holo continued.
"You will definitely buy me some," she said.
Lawrence cast his eyes askance to spy her grinning at him.
Maybe she really was drunk. It was a very charming smile.
"Just look what happens to the wits of the proud wisewolf when
36
she has too much wine," muttered Lawrence to himself. Hole's
head flopped from one shoulder to the other.
If she fell drunkenly out of the wagon, she could be injured.
Lawrence reached out to steady her slim shoulder, and Holo
grabbed his hand with a quickness that was nothing short of
wolflike.
Surprised, Lawrence looked into her eyes. She was neither
drunk nor laughing.
"After all, it's thanks to me that your wagon bed was so cheaply
filled. You'll pull in a tidy profit."
Her charm had vanished.
"O-on what basis -
"I won't have you belittle me. Surely you don't think I missed
you strong-arming that master? I've a sharp mind, keen eyes, aye;
but don't forget, my ears are good, too. I couldn't have missed
your negotiations." Holo grinned unpleasantly, showing her
fangs. "So you'll buy some oil for me, yes?"
In fact, Lawrence had taken advantage of the master's weakness
during his negotiations, and it was also true that things had
gone just as Lawrence had hoped.
He cursed himself for being so obviously pleased upon signing
the contract. Once it was known that someone was going to
make a lot of money, they were obvious targets for sponging and
wheedling — it was human nature.
"Uh, er, well, how much do you think you're in debt to me for?
It's one hundred forty silver! Have you any idea how much money
that is? And now you think I'm going to spend more on you?"
"Oh? What, you want me to pay you back?" Holo looked at
Lawrence with an expression of mild surprise, as if to say she
could pay him back at any time she chose.
There are none in this world who don't wish to be paid back
money they have lent. Lawrence gritted his teeth and glared
37
at Holo, enunciating his response very carefully. "Of. Course.
I. Do."
If Holo paid back what she owed in a lump sum, he'd be able to
fill his wagon bed with more and better goods, which would mean
improved profits. More investment equaled greater return — it
was at the very center of a merchant's world.
Yet Holo's expression changed completely at Lawrence's words.
She regarded him coldly, as if to say, "Oh, that's how it is."
Lawrence faltered at the completely unexpected change.
"So that's how you've been thinking," said Holo.
"Wh-what do you — "
Lawrence would have finished with mean, but Holo's rapid-fire
response cut him off.
"Well, I suppose if I pay my debts, that makes me a free wolf. I
see. I'll just pay you back, then."
Hearing these words, Lawrence understood what Holo wanted
to say.
Some days earlier, during a disturbance in Pazzio, Lawrence
had seen Holo's wolf form and retreated in fear. Deeply hurt,
Holo tried to leave Lawrence, but Lawrence stopped her by saying
he would follow her all the way to the north country to collect
the money she owed him for destroying his clothes.
"Come what may, you'll pay me back," he had said. "So leaving
me now won't get you anything."
Holo stayed with Lawrence based on the reasoning that making
him come all the way out to the north country would be a
bother, and Lawrence had thought that the business about debt
repayment was just a pretense for both of them.
No, he'd believed it.
He believed that even if she were to repay the debt, she would
still wish for him to travel with her to the forests of the north
38
country—though her bashfulness would prevent her from
admitting it.
And Holo had now turned the tables on him. She used the fact
that the debt was his own pretense against him.
A single word jumped into his mind.
Unfair. Holo was truly unfair.
"In that case, I'll just give your money back and hie myself
north, shall I? I wonder how Paro and Myuri are faring."
Holo looked away, purposefully letting a small sigh escape.
Lawrence, at a loss for words, glared sourly at the wolf girl that
sat beside him and wondered how to retort.
He imagined that if he was stubborn and demanded that she
pay him now and go on her merry way, Holo would really do
it — and that wasn't what Lawrence wanted. This was where he'd
have to cry uncle.
There really wasn't anything charming about Holo.
Lawrence stared at her, furiously trying to think of a comeback,
but Holo looked away from him obstinately.
Some time passed.
"... We didn't decide the due date for repayment. Just as long as
I get it by the time we arrive in the north country. Will that do?"
Some part of Lawrence was still stubborn. He simply couldn't
let the cheeky wolf girl have everything she wanted. This was as
far as he could give in.
Holo seemed to understand that. She slowly turned toward
him and smiled, satisfied.
"I should think I'll be able to repay you by the time we've
arrived in the north country," she said purposefully, drawing
near him. "And it's my intention to pay you back with interest,
which means the more I borrow, the greater profit for you. So
you'll do it for me, yes?"
39
Hole's eyes met Lawrence's as she looked up at him.
They were beautiful eyes with red-brown irises.
"The oil, you mean?"
"Yes. Make it part of my debt, but please — buy it for me, won't
you?"
The plea was strangely rational, and Lawrence couldn't think
of a good rejoinder.
All he could do was slump his head sideways as if exhausted.
"My thanks," said Holo, brushing against Lawrence's arm like
a cat asking for affection — which wasn't a bad feeling at all.
He knew that was what Holo wanted, and it was an unavoidable
part of his long, lonely time as a traveling merchant.
"Still, you really did haggle him down, didn't you?" asked
Holo, attending once more to her tail as she reclined against
Lawrence.
This particular wolf could sense lies, so Lawrence didn't bother
lying and answered truthfully. "Rather he put himself in the position
of having no choice but to be haggled down."
Yet the interest rate on the arms was not good. The most profitable
method would be to import the materials and then assemble
and sell the weapons. As far as the business of selling completed
weapons went, simply by going somewhere with a constant
demand for large amounts of weaponry and turning a fair profit,
the amount by which the goods could be bargained down was
limited.
Lawrence headed to Ruvinheigen for that very same fair
profit.
"How much?"
"What's the point of asking that?"
Holo glanced up at Lawrence from her position leaning against
him and then looked quickly away.
At which point Lawrence more or less understood.
40
Despite her forcing of the oil issue, she was actually quite concerned
about his profits.
"What? I was just worried about sponging off a traveling merchant,
who is barely scraping by. That is all."
Lawrence tapped Hole's head lightly at the nasty comment.
"Weapons are the best-selling product in Ruvinheigen, but
many merchants bring them into the city. Thus, the interest rate
on them drops, and the amount I could bargain him down is
limited."
"But you bought so much, you'll yet come out ahead, yes?"
The wagon bed was not full, strictly speaking, but it was well
laden. The goods were solid, and though the interest was low, in
comparison to Lawrence's initial investment, the actual amount
of material was nice indeed. The fact that he was getting double
the material for his investment was icing on the cake. Like the
saying goes, "One raindrop raises the sea," and so Lawrence's
gain might be second only to his profit from the pepper.
In truth, the proceeds would be enough to buy more apples
than would fit in the wagon bed, to say nothing of oil, but if
Lawrence told Holo that there was no telling what demands she
might make — so he held his tongue.
Holo, blissfully ignorant, simply groomed her tail.
Looking at her, Lawrence couldn't help but feel a bit guilty.
"Well, I should think we'll make enough to pay for some oil,
anyway," he said.
Holo nodded, apparently satisfied.
"Still, now that I think about it, some spice would be quite tasty,"
Lawrence murmured, as he estimated the likely gain against the
cost of the weapons.
"You've eaten it?"
"I'm not like you, you glutton. I'm talking about the profit."
"Hmph. Well, why don't you load up on spice again, then?"
41
"The prices in Ruvinheigen and Poroson aren't so very different.
I'd take a loss after paying the tariff."
"Then give it up, I say," said Holo shortly, nibbling the tip of
her tail.
"If I could get a rate about like what I'd normally get for spices
or maybe a little more, I'd make enough to open a shop."
Saving enough money to open his own shop was Lawrence's
dream. Though he'd made a sizable amount in the kerfuffle in
Pazzio, the goal remained distant.
"Surely there's something," said Holo. "Say...jewels or gold.
Those are sure things, no?"
"Ruvinheigen is not a profitable place for such things really."
Perhaps catching a bit of fluff in her nose, Holo gave a small
sneeze as she licked her fur. "... Why's that?" she asked.
"The tariff is too high. It's protectionism. They levy serious
taxes on all but a certain group of merchants. There's no business
to be had there."
Towns that weakened the foundation of commerce with this
kind of protectionism were not uncommon.
But Ruvinheigen's policy was aimed at turning monopolistic
profits. Gold brought to the Church in Ruvinheigen could
be stamped with the Church's holy seal, and such gold would
bring safe travels, happiness in the future, or triumph in battle,
all by the grace of God. There was even gold for guaranteeing
happiness in the afterlife, and it all sold for exorbitant
prices.
The Church Council that controlled Ruvinheigen colluded
with the merchants under their power to preserve the monopoly,
so taxes on gold entering the city were terrifying and punishments
for smuggling harsh.
"Huh."
"If we somehow smuggled gold in, we'd be able to sell it for, oh,
42
ten times what we paid. But the danger rises with the profit, so
I've no choice but to make money bit by bit."
Lawrence shrugged, thinking wistfully of the end of his road.
In a city like Ruvinheigen, there were plenty of merchants who
made in a single day what Lawrence had spent his entire life
striving for.
It seemed unfair — no, worse than unfair, it was downright
strange.
"Oh truly?" came Holo's unexpected reply.
"Do you have some idea otherwise?"
This was Holo the Wisewolf, after all. She might have come up
with some unheard-of scheme.
Lawrence turned to her expectantly. Pausing in her grooming
for a moment, Holo looked up at him.
"Why don't you just sneak it in?"
If she was always this foolish it would be charming, thought
Lawrence to himself upon hearing her suggestion.
"If that were possible, everyone would do it."
"Oh, so you can't do that."
"When tariffs go up, smuggling does, too — it's a basic principle.
Their inspections are very thorough."
"Surely a small amount wouldn't be found."
"If they do find anything, they'll cut off your hand at the very
least. It's not worth the risk. It would be worth it if you were
bringing a larger amount in... but that's impossible."
Holo smoothed her tail fur and nodded, satisfied with her
grooming. Lawrence couldn't see much difference, but apparently
Holo had her standards.
"Mm, 'tis true," she said. "Well, your business is steady enough.
It is well as long as you make steady coin."
"Right you are, but I seem to have a certain companion bent on
wasting that same steady coin."
43
Holo yawned, pretending not to hear the gibe as she squirmed
to hide her tail. She rubbed her eyes and crept back to her place
in the wagon bed.
Lawrence had not been terribly serious. He stopped following
Hole's movements and looked to the road ahead. Trying to talk
to her once she decided to sleep was an exercise in futility, so he
abandoned the prospect.
For a while he could hear the clattering of weapons as she
pushed them aside to make a place to nap, but soon silence
returned, and he heard her sigh contentedly.
Lawrence glanced back and saw her curled into a ball, just like
a dog or cat. He couldn't help smiling.
He couldn't very well say what he thought for many reasons,
but he did want her to stay with him.
As Lawrence pondered this, Holo suddenly spoke.
"I forgot to say it earlier, but the wine we got from the master—
I've no intention of drinking it all myself. This evening we
must drink together — and enjoy that mutton, too."
Mildly surprised, Lawrence turned to look at her, but she was
already curled back up.
But this time, she was smiling.
Lawrence looked ahead, holding the reins, and drove the horse
carefully, so as not to shake the wagon any more than he had to.
44

The rolling hills ended, replaced by undulations in the landscape
that barely rated the term, which made for easy traveling.
Lawrence hadn't yet shaken the effects of the previous night's
wine, so the easy road suited him just fine.
With a companion to partake of the fine wine and food, he had
overindulged. If he'd had to navigate a mountain trail in his current
state, he would likely have tumbled straight to the bottom of
the valley.
But here, there wasn't so much as a river, let alone a valley, so
Lawrence could safely leave the horse to simply follow the road.
Occasionally he would nod off for a brief moment, and in the
wagon bed Holo was sound asleep, snoring away without a care
in the world. Every time Lawrence started awake, he thanked
God for such peaceful times.
After passing many quiet hours this way, Holo finally stirred
herself awake just past noon. She rubbed her eyes, her face still
clearly bearing the marks of whatever she had slept against.
She hauled herself up to the driver's seat and gulped some water
from a water-skin, a blank expression on her face. Happily, she
did not seem hungover. Had she been, Lawrence might have had
to stop the wagon — otherwise, she might wind up vomiting in
the wagon bed, an outcome that didn't bear thinking about.
"'Tis good weather today," said Holo.
"It is."
The two exchanged lazy pleasantries, then both yawned hugely.
The road that they were on was one of the major northbound
trade routes, so they encountered many other travelers while
following it. Among them were merchants flying flags of countries
so far away that Lawrence only knew of them from import
receipts. Holo saw the flags and seemed to think they were simply
advertising the merchant's home country, but generally the small
flags were displayed so that merchants from the same nation
could identify a fellow countryman should he pass. Generally
such encounters would give way to exchanges of news from the
old country. Arriving in a foreign land, where the language, food,
and dress were all different, could lead even a constantly traveling
merchant to homesickness.
Lawrence explained this to Holo, who then gazed at the small
flags of passing merchants, deep in thought.
Holo had left her homeland hundreds of years ago, and her
desire to speak to someone from her birthplace was stronger
than any traveling merchant's homesickness.
"Ah, well, I'll be back soon enough, eh?" she declared with a
smile, but there was a touch of loneliness in it.
It seemed to Lawrence that he should have some response to
this, but none came to mind, and as he drove the horse along the
road, the afternoon sun made the thought hazy in his mind.
There was nothing finer than warm sunlight in the cool season.
But the stillness was soon shattered.
Just as Lawrence and Holo started to doze off in the driver's
seat, Holo spoke abruptly.
"Hey."
48
"...Mm?"
"There is a group of people."
"What'd you say?" Lawrence asked as he scrambled to grab the
reins, his sleepiness gone in an instant. He narrowed his eyes and
looked ahead into the distance.
Despite the slight undulations in the road, the generally flat
terrain offered a good view ahead.
But Lawrence saw nothing. He looked to Holo, who now stood,
staring forward intently.
"They are certainly there. I wonder what happened."
"Are they carrying weapons?"
There were only a few ways to explain a group of people on a
trade road. Lawrence hoped for a large caravan of merchants, a
column of pilgrims all visiting the same destination, or a member
of the nobility visiting a foreign country.
But there were other, less-pleasant possibilities.
They could be bandits, rogues, hungry soldiers returning home,
or mercenaries. Encountering returning soldiers or mercenaries
might mean giving up everything he owned — if he was lucky.
His life could well be forfeit.
What would happen to his female companion went without
saying.
"I... do not see any weapons. They don't seem to be annoying
soldiers, at any rate."
"You've encountered soldiers?" asked Lawrence, slightly surprised.
"They had long, sharp spears, which made them quite a bother.
Though they couldn't keep up with my wits," Holo said so proudly
that Lawrence didn't venture to ask what had happened to the
unlucky mercenaries.
"There's... no one about, yes?" Holo looked around quickly,
then pulled her hood back, and exposed her wolf ears.
49
Her pointed ears were the same brown as her tail, and like her
tail, they expressed her mood so effectively that they were a good
way to tell when she was (for example) lying.
Those same ears pricked forward intently.
Holo's attitude was every inch the wolf searching out its prey.
Lawrence had encountered such a wolf once before.
It had been a dark, windy night. Lawrence had been following
a road across a plain, and by the time he heard the first howl, he
was already within the wolves' territory. Baying sounded from
every direction, when he realized he was surrounded, and the
horse that pulled his wagon was half-mad with fear.
Just then, Lawrence caught sight of a single wolf.
Its posture was fearless as it had looked straight at Lawrence,
its ears so keenly fixed upon him that he was sure it could hear
him breathe. He had known that forcing his way free from the
wolves' snare would be impossible, so he immediately took out
a leather bag and, making sure the wolf could see, dumped all
the meat, bread, and other provisions he had onto the ground.
Then he urged his horse onward, the wolf watching him all the
while.
He could feel the beast's gaze on his back for some time, but
eventually the howls seemed to cluster around the food he had
dropped, and he escaped unscathed.
Lawrence would never forget that wolf. And at this moment,
Holo looked just like it.
"Hmm... seems there's some kind of to-do," said Holo, bringing
Lawrence out of his reverie; he shook his head to clear it.
"Is there a market I've forgotten about?" said Lawrence. Roadside
meetings to exchange information and advance trade were
not unheard of.
"I wonder. It doesn't smell of a fight. That's for sure."
Holo pulled her hood back over her head and sat down.
50
Lawrence was preoccupied with driving the cart as she regarded
him with an expression that said, "So what shall we do?"
The merchant was deep in thought as he visualized a map of
the area.
Lawrence knew he had to get the arms in his wagon bed to
the Church city of Ruvinheigen. He had signed a contract to that
effect with a company in Ruvinheigen. If he detoured now, he
would have to backtrack along a very roundabout route — the
only other roads were so poor as to be passable only on foot.
"You don't smell any blood, do you?" asked Lawrence.
Holo shook her head decisively.
"Let's go, then. The detour is a bit too far."
"And even if they should be mercenaries, you have me," said
Holo, pulling out the leather pouch filled with wheat that hung
from her neck. A better bodyguard didn't exist.
Lawrence smiled trustingly as he drove the horse down the road.
"So, to detour around here, take the path of Saint Lyne?"
"No, it's surely shorter to take the road that crosses the plains
to Mitzheim."
"Anyway, is that talk about the mercenary band true?"
"Buy this cloth, won't you? I'll take salt in exchange."
"Anyone here speak Parcian? I think this guy's got a problem!"
Lawrence and Holo caught snatches of conversation as they
reached the throng of people.
Some of the people stopped in the road were recognizable at a
glance as merchants. Others were artisans from different lands
on pilgrimages to improve their skills.
Some walked; others traveled by wagon or carriage. Some led
donkeys loaded with bundles of straw. Conversation was everywhere,
and those who didn't share a common language gesticulated
wildly in efforts to make themselves understood.
51
Getting into a confrontation because of a language barrier is a
terrifyingly unforgettable experience — all the more so when you
happen to be carrying your entire fortune with you.
Sadly, Lawrence didn't understand the man, either. He empathized,
but there was nothing he could do, and he didn't know
what the precise problem was anyway.
Lawrence glanced at Holo — a sign that she should stay quietly
sitting in the driver's seat — and hopped out of the wagon, hailing
a nearby merchant.
"Excuse me," he said.
"Hm? Oh, a fellow traveler. Have you just arrived?"
"Yes, from Poroson. But what's going on here? Surely the local
earl hasn't decided to open a market here."
"Hah! Nay, were that so, we'd all have mats spread on the
ground and be trading the day away. In truth, there's tell of a
mercenary band crossing the road to Ruvinheigen. So we're all
stopped here."
The merchant wore a turban and loose, baggy pants. The man
had a heavy mantle wrapped about his neck and large knapsack
slung over his back. Judging by his heavy clothes, the merchant
frequented the heart of the northlands.
The dust of the road lingered on his snow-burned face. The
many wrinkles and the tanned leather pallor of his skin were
proof of a long life as a traveling merchant.
"A mercenary band? I know General Rastuille's group patrols
these parts."
"No, they were flying crimson flags with a hawk device upon
them."
Lawrence knitted his brow. "The Heinzberg Mercenary
Band?"
"Oh ho. I see you've traveled the northlands. Indeed, they say
52
it's the Hawks of Heinzberg — I'd sooner run into bandits than
them when carrying a full load of goods."
It was said that the Hawks of Heinzberg were so hungry for
wealth that wherever they passed, not so much as a single turnip
leaf would be left behind if they thought it could be sold. They
had made their name in the northlands, and if they were on the
road ahead, trying to pass it would be suicidal.
The Heinzberg mercenaries were reputed to spot their prey
faster than a hawk on the wing. They would be upon a lazily traveling
merchant in an instant, surely.
However — mercenaries acted purely out of self-interest, and
in that sense, they were not far from merchants. Essentially,
when they behaved strangely, there was often something similarly
unexpected happening in the marketplace.
For example, a sharp jump or drop in the price of goods.
Being a merchant, Lawrence was naturally pessimistic, but
pessimism would get him nowhere, he knew — he was already
on the road, loaded with goods. All that mattered now was how
he would get to Ruvinheigen.
"So it seems taking a long detour is the only course," said
Lawrence.
"Most probably. Apparently there's a new road to Ruvinheigen
that heads off from the road to Kaslata, but it's been on the unsafe
side lately, I hear."
Lawrence had not been in this region for half a year, so this was
the first he had heard of a new road. He seemed to recall that on
the northern side of the plains that stretched out, there was an
eerie forest that was the source of constant unpleasant rumors.
"Unsafe?" he asked. "Unsafe how?"
"Well, there have always been wolves in the plains, but it's been
especially bad lately, they say. There's a story going around that
53
an entire caravan was taken two weeks ago — and the wolves
were summoned by a pagan sorcerer."
Lawrence then remembered that the unpleasant rumors were
mainly of wolves. He realized Holo was probably listening in
on this conversation and stole a glance at her. A smile danced
around the corners of her mouth.
"How do you get to this new road?"
"Hah, you're going to go? You're quite the rash one. Take this
road straight, then turn right when it forks. Keep going for quite a
while, then it will split again, and you bear left. Though peacefully
whiling away two or three days here should be all right. It'd take
but five minutes to tell if the mercenaries really are there, but by
the time you saw them, it'd be too late. The merchants with fish or
meat will have to head to a different city, but I'll play it safe."
Lawrence nodded and looked back to the contents of his own
wagon. Fortunately his cargo was in no danger of spoiling, but he
still wanted to sell it in Ruvinheigen.
He pondered silently for a moment, then gave his thanks to the
other merchant, and returned to the wagon.
Holo had behaved herself, but once Lawrence sat down in the
driver's seat, she started giggling. "Summoned, eh?"
"So, what is Holo the Wisewolf's take on this?"
"Hm?"
"The wolves in the plains," Lawrence clarified as he took up the
reins and mulled over the question at hand — to go or not to go.
"Mm," sniffed Holo, idly biting her little fingernail with a sharp
fang. "I think they'd be more interesting than humans. At the
very least, we'll be able to talk."
It was a good joke.
"That decides it, then." Lawrence flicked the reins and turned
the wagon around, heading down the road and away from the
chattering merchants.
54
A few of them saw and raised their voice in surprise, but most
simply took off their hats or capes and waved.
"Good luck," their gestures said.
There was no merchant that would shy away from a dangerous
bridge — if across that dangerous bridge waited a larger profit.
The news of a mercenary band traveling the roads would spread
faster than a plague. Such was the threat that they posed.
But for a merchant, time was an indispensable tool. Wasting it
always led to loss.
This is why Lawrence decided that with Holo along, he would
risk traveling the plains, despite the rumors of wolves.
The stories of a nearby mercenary band would surely have an
impact on the Ruvinheigen market, and Lawrence meant to take
advantage of that to make a nice bit of pocket money. At first he'd
jumped to the assumption that things had taken a turn for the
worse, but in reality, it was just the opposite.
And in any case, unexpected developments were part and parcel
of the life of a traveling merchant — that's what made it fun.
"You certainly seem happy," remarked a bemused Holo.
"I suppose" was Lawrence's short reply.
The road ahead led to profit, the watchword of the traveling
merchant.
They arrived at the plains in question before noon the next day.
There were times when new trade routes naturally occurred,
and other times when the powers that be in the region created
them. Sometimes grass was cleared to make the road, but in
extreme cases, gravel would be laid, then topped with wooden
planks, allowing carts to cross the terrain at relatively high
speeds.
Such roads did not come cheaply, of course, and tolls to use
them were high, but since robbers along these roads were dealt
55
with harshly, the price was a good value in terms of time and
safety.
The road ahead, with its rumors of wolf appearances, was
somewhere between the two types.
A sign had been erected, indicating the destination of the road
that now branched off. There at the fork was a pile of weatherbeaten
planks, as if there had once been a plan to build something
at this junction. Perhaps the builders had intended to collect a
toll to maintain the road well, but now all that remained was that
one lonely sign.
The junction sat atop a small hill, and from its crest, one could
see down the road as far as one cared to. This seemed like a
good spot for lunch. Despite the approaching winter, the grass
was still quite green, and Lawrence could look out across plains
that he would have rushed to pasture his sheep upon were he a
shepherd.
All that was left of the road that cut through the plains was a
pair of wagon tracks, mostly overgrown with grass. Naturally,
there were no other travelers.
According to Lawrence's mental map, the forest to the north of
this road was the most suitable spot for the wolves to make their
home, but it was hardly true that all wolves lived in forests. In the
distance stood patches of tall grass, and this looked more and
more like an ideal plain for wolves.
Lawrence could guess that much without asking Holo, but he
went ahead and consulted her anyway.
"What do you think? Any wolves about?"
Holo, who was in the process of devouring a piece of dried
mutton, gave Lawrence an exasperated look. "We wolves are
hardly so foolish as to be spotted from a place with such an obviously
good vantage," she said, sniffing with disdain. Her fangs
56
occasionally showed as she chewed the meat, revealing her nonhuman
nature.
Holo's statement and her fangs brought her essential wolf
nature to the forefront of Lawrence's mind, and he considered
complications.
If they did encounter wolves, the situation would become problematic.
"It should be well, though. Should we happen into a pack, we'll
just throw them some jerky. We wolves don't get into pointless
fights, after all."
Lawrence nodded and snapped the reins to start across the
plains; the gentle breeze smelled faintly of wild beasts. Lawrence
murmured a quiet prayer for safe travels.
"Afaram silver piece."
"Nope. It's a counterfeit marinne."
"Wait, was not the counterfeit marinne this one?"
"No, that's a piece of late Radeon bishopry silver."
<c M
Holo fell silent, holding several pieces of silver in her hand.
Lawrence was teaching her the names of various currencies as
a way to combat boredom, but even Holo the Wisewolf struggled
with coins whose size and design were so similar.
"Well, you'll pick it up as you use them, no doubt," said
Lawrence.
Holo was so serious that Lawrence was afraid to tease her, but
his effort to be considerate only seemed to hurt her pride even
more. She glared up at him, her ears flicking angrily under her
hood.
"Once more, then!" she said.
"All right, from the top."
57
"Mm."
"Trenni silver, phiring silver, ryut silver, fake marinne silver,
faram silver, bald king Landbard silver, Mitzfing temple silver,
fake Mitzfing temple silver, Saint Mitzfing silver, Miztfmgmas
silver, and this one is..."
"... W-wait, now."
"Hm?"
Lawrence looked up from Hole's palm, where he'd been pointing
at the various coins. Her expression was complicated — angry
and on the verge of tears.
"Y-you're making sport of me," she said.
Lawrence remembered accusing his own teacher of the same
thing, when he'd had to learn the names of all the different currencies
— so without thinking, he laughed.
"Rrrrrr."
Holo growled and flashed her fangs, and Lawrence quickly
composed himself. "The Mitzfing diocese in particular issues a
lot of coin. I'm not teasing you, truly."
"Then don't laugh," Holo grumbled, looking back down at the
coins. Lawrence couldn't help but smile.
"Anyway," Holo continued, "why are there so many coins? It
seems such a bother."
"They're made when a new nation is established — or collapses.
A powerful regional lord or church can issue coin, and of course,
there's no end to counterfeiting. Even the ryut silver started out
as a fake trenni piece, but it was so widely used it became an independent
currency."
"But when pelts were used, you always knew what you were
dealing with," said Holo, sniffing and then finally heaving a sigh
of irritation. She might be able to tell the coins apart by scent, but
Lawrence didn't know how serious she was about it.
"Still, it's a good way to kill time, eh?" he offered.
58
Without so much as a smile, Holo thrust the collection of coins
back into Lawrence's hands. "Hmph. Enough. Tis time for a nap."
Holo stood, ignoring Lawrence's pained smile. He spoke to her
as she made her way to the wagon bed.
"Even napping, you'll know if wolves come near?"
"Of course I shall."
"It'll be a hassle if we're surrounded."
To be cornered by mercenaries or bandits was, of course, troubling,
but at least they could be reasoned with. Wolves, on the
other hand, cared little for human words. One never knew what
might cause them to attack.
Even with Holo at his side, Lawrence was uneasy.
"You worry excessively," said Holo, turning around with a grin,
perhaps sensing his concern. "Most animals are quite aware, be
they sleeping or awake. 'Tis only you humans who are defenseless
in slumber."
"You'd be more convincing if you snored less."
Holo's face hardened at Lawrence's words. "I do not snore!"
"... Well, it's not too loud, I suppose," admitted Lawrence. He
found her snoring rather charming, but the furrows in Holo's
brow only deepened.
"I do not snore, I say."
"Fine, fine," said Lawrence, chuckling, but Holo came back up
to the driver's seat and leaned close to him.
"I do not."
"All right! Fine!"
Holo seemed to consider this a question of honor, and Lawrence
found her sharp expression irritating. She had constantly
gotten the best of him since they'd met, and he realized he was
generally used to her treatment.
She seemed to have nothing more to say; her expression sour,
she turned her back on Lawrence unceremoniously.
59
"Still, there really doesn't seem to be anyone around," murmured
Lawrence casually, smiling to himself at Hole's antics.
In truth there wasn't a single soul on the expansive plain, as far
as the eye could see.
Even given the rumors of wolves, Lawrence would have
expected a few people to be taking the shortcut to Ruvinheigen,
but when he looked back, there was no one to be seen.
"Rumors are a powerful force," said Holo.
Even when her back was sullenly turned, her way of carrying
on the conversation was amusing, and Lawrence chuckled in
spite of himself. "True enough," he said with a nod.
"Though it's not quite true that there's no one about," said
Holo, her tone slightly different now and her tail switching restlessly
underneath her robe.
Then she sighed, bored.
So far, Holo had tended to her tail without alarming the merchants
they passed on the road. When Lawrence saw her now deliberately
hide it away, he wondered why—and soon had his answer.
"I smell sheep. There will be a shepherd ahead — I so hate shepherds."
If there were sheep on the plains ahead, there would be shepherds
as well. Shepherds were legendary for their ability to detect
wolves, and Holo must have known this.
Her small nose wrinkled when she spoke of them, making her
distaste entirely evident.
Shepherds and wolves were natural enemies.
But as merchants and wolves were also basically antagonistic,
Lawrence kept silent on that point.
"Shall we detour?"
"Nay, it's them who should run from us. There's no need for us
to move aside."
Lawrence found himself chuckling at Hole's displeasure. She
60
glared at him, but he pretended not to notice and looked elsewhere.
"Well, if you say so, we'll stay the course. The fields suit our
wagon quite well."
Holo nodded silently as Lawrence took up the reins.
The wagon traveled along the thin road through the plains, and
at length, white dots that might have been sheep became visible
in the distance. Hole's irritated expression remained.
Lawrence noticed when he stole a glance at her, and the sharpeyed
wolf girl seemed to notice.
She sniffed, twisting her lip. "I've despised shepherds longer
than you've been alive. Getting along with them now is impossible,"
she said, sighing as she looked down. "There's all that delicious
meat just walking about, but imagine just having to look at
it, never tasting it — you'd hate them, too, would you not?"
Her somber tone was amusing, but it was clear that she was in
fact very serious, so Lawrence made an effort to keep a straight
face as he looked ahead.
They had now gotten close enough to the flock of sheep that
Lawrence could tell one from another.
The sheep were grouped closely together, so it was hard to be
sure of the precise number, but it was a score, certainly, that
roamed lazily across the grass, chewing away placidly.
Of course, it was not only sheep on the plains. Hole's nemesis,
the shepherd, was there as well, accompanied by a sheepdog.
The shepherd wore a robe the color of dry grass, and he had
a horn fixed at the waist with a mist-gray sash. He also carried
a staff longer than he was tall, with a palm-sized bell affixed to
the top.
A black-furred sheepdog paced to and fro about its master, as
if keeping guard. Its long fur made it seem like a tongue of black
flame as it sprinted across the plains.
61
It was said that there were two things travelers needed to be
careful of when encountering a shepherd on their travels.
The first was not to offend the shepherd. The second was to
make sure the shepherd robes did not conceal a demon.
The shepherds, who wandered the vast plains with naught but
sheepdogs for company, evoked such strange warnings because
their lives were even lonelier than those of traveling merchants
— they were often seen as nearly inhuman.
Leading their flocks across the plains alone, controlling the
animals with nothing but staff and horn in hand — it was easy to
imagine shepherds as some kind of pagan sorcerers.
Some said that meeting a shepherd while traveling ensured
protection from accidents for a week, thanks to the spirits of
the land — others said that shepherds were demons in disguise,
and if you let your guard down, they would imprison your soul
within one of the sheep they tended.
For his part, Lawrence found nothing strange in these beliefs.
Shepherds were mysterious enough to warrant such ideas.
He raised his hand and waved it thrice in the way that had
become ritual for greeting shepherds, and he was relieved to see
the shepherd raise and lower his staff four times in the traditional
fashion. At the very least, this shepherd was not a ghost.
This first barrier had been cleared, but the real test would come
when he got closer and could ascertain whether or not the shepherd
was a demon in disguise.
"I am Lawrence, a traveling merchant. This is my companion,
Holo," declared Lawrence by way of introduction once he got
close enough to make out the patchwork on the shepherd's cloak
and brought his horse to a stop. The shepherd was rather small of
stature, only a bit taller than Holo. While Lawrence talked, the
dog that had been rounding up the sheep came trotting over to
its master, sitting beside the shepherd like a faithful knight.
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Gray eyes tinged with blue steadily scrutinized Lawrence and
Holo.
The shepherd was silent.
"I have come by this road and met you by the grace of God, and
if you are a good shepherd and true, you'll be well met."
A true shepherd would be able to prove himself with the traditional
hymn and dance of his kind.
The shepherd nodded slowly and planted his staff directly in
front of him.
Lawrence found himself surprised at the shepherd's small, slender
hand, but he was even more surprised at what came next.
"By the blessing of God in the heavens..."
The voice that intoned the shepherd's hymn was that of a young
girl's.
"By the protection of the spirits of the land..."
Moving her staff with skill, the shepherdess drew an arrow in
the dirt with practiced ease and then, starting from the tip of the
arrow, inscribed a circle around herself counterclockwise.
"The word of God is carried on the wind, and the blessings
of the spirits of the land inhabit the very grass eaten by the
lamb."
Once her circle reached the tip of the arrow, she began to stamp
her feet in the earth.
"The lambs are led by the shepherd, and the shepherd by God."
Finally, she held her staff still, aligned with the tip of the arrow
in the earth.
"By the grace of God, the shepherd follows the path of righteousness."
No matter the country, the shepherd's hymn was always the
same. It was not the habit of shepherds to associate the way craftsmen
or merchants did, but it was no exaggeration to say that the
hymn and its dance were universal.
63
It was enough to lend credence to the idea that shepherds could
converse across great distances by sending their words on the wind.
"My apologies for doubting you. You surely are a shepherdess,"
said Lawrence as he climbed down from the wagon. The
shepherd girl's mouth quirked in a smile. Her hood still obscured
much of her face, so it was difficult to be sure, but based on what
was visible, she was a beauty.
Even as he remained gentlemanly, Lawrence was filled with
curiosity.
Female merchants were rare, but shepherdesses were rarer still.
Given that she was also a fetching young lass, a curious merchant
could hardly fail to be interested.
However, merchants are completely hopeless at anything outside
of the mercantile world.
Lawrence was a fine example of this. Unable to find a topic of
conversation beyond their encounter on the road, he suppressed
his curiosity and stuck only to the most standard of greetings.
"Having met you by the grace of God, I would have you pray
for our safe travels, shepherdess."
"With pleasure."
At the sound of the girl's voice, calm as a grazing sheep, Lawrence's
curiosity grew larger than a summer cloud. He didn't
show it, but it was only with effort that he kept his inquisitiveness
hidden. It was not his nature to ask shamelessly personal questions
— nor did his nature grant him any gift for smooth talk. As
he approached the shepherdess to receive her prayer, he thought
of Weiz, the money changer in Pazzio, and envied him his easy
way with women.
Added to that was Holo sitting in the wagon — Holo who hated
all shepherds.
Somehow, that last fact was the weightiest reason for stifling
his curiosity.
64
§• '
*
As Lawrence considered this, the shepherdess held her staffhigh
to give the prayer for safe travel that had been requested of her.
"Palti, mis, tuero. Le, spinzio, tiratto, cul."
The ancient words from scripture, used by shepherds in every
country no matter what the language, retained their mysterious
quality no matter how many times Lawrence heard them.
Shepherds did not know the true meaning of the words, but
when praying for safe travels, they always used the same ones as
if by some ancient agreement.
The way in which the shepherdess lowered her staff and blew a
long note on her horn was also thus.
Lawrence gave his thanks for the prayer of safety and produced
a brown copper coin. Copper, rather than gold or silver, was customary
as a token of thanks for a shepherd, and it was also traditional
for the shepherd not to refuse the token. The girl extended
her hand, just slightly larger than Hole's, and Lawrence thanked
her again as he placed the coin in her palm.
Unable to find any reason to continue his conversation with
her, Lawrence reluctantly gave up.
"Well, then," he said, taking his leave — though his feet were
slow to move as he tried to return to the wagon.
Unexpectedly, it was the shepherdess who spoke next.
"Er, are you perchance bound for Ruvinheigen?"
Her clear voice was different from Hole's, and it was hard to
imagine that she could be counted among those who chose the
harsh life of the shepherd. Lawrence glanced over his shoulder at
Holo, who looked off in a different direction. She seemed quite
bored.
"Yes, we're on our way there from Poroson."
"How did you come to hear of this path?"
"It's the pilgrimage road of Saint Metrogius. We heard of it just
the other day."
66
"I see... Er, have you heard about the wolves, then?"
With these words, Lawrence understood why the girl had gone
to the trouble of starting a conversation.
She no doubt took Lawrence for a simple merchant who had
chosen this route without any information.
"I have indeed," he replied. "But I'm in a hurry, so I decided to
take the risk."
There was no need to explain about Holo. For enough profit,
any merchant would risk a wolf-infested road so there was no
reason for suspicion.
But the shepherdess's reaction was strange.
She seemed almost disappointed.
"I see...," she muttered quietly, her shoulders slumping. She
had clearly been hoping for something — but what?
Lawrence mulled the conversation over — there were not many
possibilities.
Either she had hoped he didn't know about the wolves or she
was in no hurry.
That was all he could guess from their brief exchange.
"Is something the matter?" he asked.
Were he not to ask the girl what her troubles were, it would be
his failing not as a merchant, but as a man. He put on his most
gentlemanly manner and gave her a businesslike smile.
Behind him, Holo was probably quite irritated by now, but he
put the thought out of his mind.
"Er, well, um... that is..."
"Anything at all — is there something you need?"
When it came to negotiating, Lawrence was in his element.
Selling her something would let him find out more about this
rare female shepherd — even fairies were more common. Of
course, behind his smile he was trying to work out exactly what
he could sell her.
67
But with her next words, such thoughts evaporated.
"Well, I... I was wondering if you mightn't... hire me."
Faced with this shepherdess looking up at him as she held, no,
clung to her staff, Lawrence's mind raced.
When a shepherd asked to be hired, it was equivalent to being
asked if you would leave your sheep in their care.
But Lawrence had no sheep. What he did have was a single
clever, cheeky wolf.
"Ah, well, as you can see, I'm a merchant, and I don't trade in
sheep. I'm sorry, but..."
"Oh, no, not that — "
Flustered, the girl waved her hands hastily, then glanced from
side to side as if to buy herself some time.
Her head was deep enough in the hood that her gaze wasn't
visible, but it was clear that she was looking for something.
Perhaps that something was a tool that would help her explain
her request.
Soon it seemed as if she had found it — from underneath her
hood, she somehow communicated a sense of relief, almost as if
she had expressive ears hidden under there, like Holo.
What the shepherd girl was looking for sat alertly beside her,
a four-legged portrait of a faithful knight executed in black
fur — her sheepdog.
"I'm a shepherd. Um, I tend my flock, but I can also drive off
wolves."
As she spoke, she waved her right hand slightly, and the black
dog stood at attention.
"If you'll be so good as to hire me, I can protect you and your
companion from wolves. Would you consider it?"
As if to punctuate his mistress's clumsy sales pitch, the dog
barked once, then dashed off to round up the flock, which was
beginning to disperse.
68
Though knights or mercenaries were often hired as protection
on dangerous roads, Lawrence had never heard of hiring a shepherd
to drive off wolves, but now that he thought about it, having
a shepherd at your side would give you a keen set of eyes and ears.
He'd never heard of such an arrangement, though, because shepherds
that would propose such a thing were nonexistent.
Lawrence looked at the dog as it rounded up sheep, as if practicing
for possible wolf attacks, then turned back toward the girl.
Living the lonely life of a shepherd, she probably had no occasion
to give a fake, ingratiating grin. Under the hood, she smiled
awkwardly.
Lawrence thought a moment, then spoke.
"Wait a moment, if you would. I'll consult with my companion."
"Th-thankyou!"
For his part, Lawrence was ready to hire the girl unconditionally,
but hiring the shepherdess meant paying her money, and
whenever money was involved, a merchant could think of nothing
beyond the possible losses and gains.
Lawrence trotted back to the wagon bed and raised his voice
to Holo who lounged there, looking bored. If he wanted to know
about a shepherd's ability to repel wolves, he thought his best bet
would be to ask the nearest wolf.
"What do you think of that shepherdess?"
"Hm? Mm..." Holo rubbed her eyes lazily and looked at the
girl; Lawrence did likewise. The shepherdess did not return their
gaze as she gave orders to her dog.
She didn't seem to be trying to show off her skills — she was
merely rounding up the scattered sheep. Sheep, after all, tended
to disperse when they stopped to graze and came closer together
when forced to walk.
Holo turned away from the girl and spoke irritably. "I'm far
more fetching."
69
The horse neighed, as if chuckling.
"Not that — I mean her skills."
"Skills?"
"What can you tell of her, as a shepherd? If she's good, she
might be worth hiring. You heard us, surely."
Holo glanced at the girl, then gave Lawrence a bitter glare. "You
already have me, do you not?"
"Of course. But it never occurred to me to use a shepherd to
drive off wolves. There could be new business in it."
Holo the Wisewolf could tell when a person was lying. Despite
the truth of Lawrence's statement, she still regarded him with
suspicious eyes.
Lawrence soon understood why.
"I'm not being blinded by charm. You are the fairer, after all,"
he said, shrugging his shoulders as if to add, "Okay?"
"I suppose that's a passing mark" came the reply. It was a bit
harsh being graded like that, but Holo smiled pleasantly, so surely
it was a joke.
"So, what of her skill?" he asked.
Hole's face was instantly tense again. "I cannot say for certain
without seeing her in action, but I suppose she'll be in the top
half."
"Can you be a bit more concrete?"
"I could take a sheep from her. However, normal wolves would
be dealt with, even if they attacked together."
It was an unexpectedly high appraisal.
"Her treatment of the sheep is very proficient. The worst shepherds
are the ones with clever dogs who know how to cooperate
with them. That one does both, I daresay. Her voice suggests that
she's young, which makes it even worse. Before she gets any more
dangerous, I've half a mind to — "
"All right, all right. Thanks."
70
Lawrence wasn't sure whether Holo was joking or not, but the
swishing of her tail suggested she was half serious.
It was enough to know that the shepherdess was a good one. If
he just provisionally hired her, it would still cost money, which
would be wasted if she turned out to be clumsy. Lawrence turned
to approach the girl but was stopped short by Holo speaking up.
"Hey."
"Yes?"
"Are you really going to hire that?" Holo's voice had an accusing
tone.
Lawrence heard her and remembered that Holo had no love for
shepherds.
"Aah. You hate her that much?"
"Well, as long as you're asking, no, I don't care for shepherds,
but that's not what I mean. I'm talking about you."
This was the very definition of being caught off guard.
"... Excuse me?" asked Lawrence with all sincerity, having no
idea what Holo meant. Holo sighed in irritation and narrowed
her eyes. Her red-tinged amber irises were keen, burning with a
cold fire.
"If you're going to hire her, that means she will be traveling
with us for a time. I'm asking you if you have no problem with
that."
Holo's eyes fixed Lawrence coolly in their gaze.
She sat in the wagon bed and thus looked down on him.
That wasn't necessarily why, but Lawrence couldn't shake the
feeling that she was very angry with him.
Lawrence frantically thought it through. Holo was furious at
him because he was going to hire a shepherd. If it wasn't because
she hated shepherds, there were not many other possibilities he
could imagine. The options disappeared one after the other, leaving
only one.
71
Perhaps Holo preferred traveling as a pair, just the two of
them.
"You don't like it?" he asked.
"I didn't say that" came her quick, sulky reply.
Musing fondly on this peevish side of Holo's, Lawrence smiled
slightly as he spoke. "It's about two days to Ruvinheigen. No good?"
"...Nor did I say that" she said, shooting him a glance that he
couldn't help but find charming.
"Well, in that case, I'm sorry, but I'll have to impose upon
your patience," he said. He smiled openly, unable to resist Holo's
unexpected charm.
Holo knitted her brow. "What exactly am I to endure, then?"
she asked.
"Mm, well...," said Lawrence, hesitating. He couldn't very well
suggest that she was jealous to her face. Once Holo's contrariness
was roused, her opposition would be tireless.
"I'd just like to see how effective a shepherd is against wolves.
You can manage for two days, can't you?"
"... 'Tis not impossible. But that is not the issue."
"Well...," Lawrence began, concerned about the shepherdess
— but Holo took the opportunity to continue.
"If we travel carelessly with someone else, they might find out
about me, might they not? And I could manage, aye, but what
about you?"
In those words, Lawrence heard something that made him
stiffen. It was not his imagination, nor was it some grandiose
thing, and even the shepherdess some distance away cocked her
head as she looked on.
Of course. That was it. That was the other possibility. How had
he overlooked it? He wished the sudden cold sweat that broke out
all over him would wash away his mistake.
72
Thinking that Holo wanted to travel alone with him had distracted
him from the obvious. He'd been presumptuous.
Hole's gaze bored into the back of his head.
The change in Lawrence's demeanor was obvious even from
a distance, and the ancient wisewolf sitting next to him surely
discerned his inner workings.
"Oh ho. I see how it is."
Lawrence reddened.
"You wanted me to say something like this, mm?"
He turned slowly back to her, facing the wolf girl with an
expression that was downright desolate.
Holo put a closed hand to her mouth and spoke with a hesitant,
modest tone. "I... I wanted to travel with just you..."
She twisted her body away fetchingly, averting her gaze with
mock bashfulness, then looked back at him suddenly. In that
brief interval, her expression shifted from demure to cold as she
delivered the final blow.
"I jest."
Lawrence had no reply, and whether from frustration or embarrassment,
it was doubtful if he would even be able to remain
standing.
Wanting in any case to put some distance between himself and
Holo, he turned and began to walk away before he was stopped
by her call.
Lawrence looked over his shoulder, wondering if she hadn't
had her fill of tormenting him, and saw Holo smiling there in the
wagon bed.
It was an exasperated sort of grin.
He felt better as soon as he saw it.
"Honestly," he said with a sigh, giving her a rueful smile.
"I doubt I'll be exposed in two days. Do as you will," said Holo
with a yawn and looked away as if to say, "This conversation is
over."
Lawrence nodded, then trotted over to the shepherdess.
He had the feeling he'd grown a bit closer to Holo.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
"Oh, n-not at all. So — "
"How does forty trie for the trip to Ruvinheigen sound? With a
bonus if wolves attack and we make it through safely."
Lawrence wondered if she would refuse, since the conversation
with Holo had wasted some time. The shepherdess's mouth hung
open for a moment, but eventually Lawrence's words seemed to
sink in, and she nodded hastily.
"Y-yes, please!"
"It's a deal, then," said Lawrence. He was about to extend his
hand to shake, thereby sealing the contract, when he realized he
hadn't asked the girl her name.
"Might I inquire as to your name, miss?"
"Oh, um, my apologies," said the girl. She seemed not to have
realized that her hood was up, and now she hurried to pull it
back.
Lawrence had spent a lot of time being humbled in front of
Holo lately, and this was a sight for sore eyes.
The face that emerged was soft and meek, not unlike the sheep
she tended, with faded, obviously uncombed blond hair tied back
into a ponytail. She was slightly bedraggled and underfed, but
her eyes were a beautiful dark brown, and on the whole she gave
off an honorably impoverished impression.
"It's N-Norah. Norah Arendt."
"Again, I'm Kraft Lawrence. I go by Lawrence in business."
He took Norah's timidly offered hand and noticed that
it — which was just slightly larger that Holo's — was shaking a
74
bit. Soon, though, she calmed herself and gripped Lawrence's
hand lightly. Though her hand was small, its roughness marked
her unmistakably as a shepherd.
"I'll be counting on you 'til Ruvinheigen!"
"My thanks," said Norah.
Her smile was like soft summer grass.
Lawrence had assumed they would only be able to go as fast as
the sheep could walk, but he was mistaken.
The sheep were deceptively quick, and when climbing hills, the
wagon was easily left behind.
Their baaing was as pastoral as ever, and the flock was like a
white thread as it flowed quickly along the land.
Norah, of course, kept up with no difficulty. At the moment the
sheep led the way, followed by Norah, who in turn was followed
by Lawrence's wagon.
"Enek!" Norah called out, and like a bolt of black flame, the
dark-furred dog came streaking back to his master, leaping into
the air, barely able to wait for his next order. No sooner had the
bell on Norah's staff rung than Enek charged off to the head of
the group of sheep.
Lawrence didn't know much about shepherds, but he could tell
that Norah's sheepdog handling was clearly excellent. The rapport
she enjoyed with Enek was not gained in a single day.
But Enek did not seem like a young dog. Norah couldn't have
been more than seventeen or eighteen herself, so perhaps her parents
had been shepherds and the sheepdog was her inheritance.
His merchant curiosity was obvious.
"So, Norah, you..."
"Yes?"
"Have you been a shepherd long?"
75
After hearing Lawrence's question, Norah gave her bell one
long ring, then slowed her pace, and came up along the wagon's
right side.
Holo napped along the left edge of the wagon bed.
"Just four years now."
Since the profession required only that one memorize the hymn,
dance, and phrases for blessing travelers who requested it, it was
not uncommon to find even young shepherds with ten years'
experience.
Even without a proper staff or sheepdog, one could guide a
flock with a piece of dead wood and still be a fine shepherd.
"So your sheepdog — er, Enek, I mean — you trained him yourself?"
"No, I found him."
It was an unusual answer. A competent sheepdog was a prized
possession — it was unthinkable that a shepherd would just let
one go.
Lawrence could think of but one scenario. Its former master
must have retired, leaving the dog to another.
"I became a shepherd after I found him."
"And before that?" Lawrence asked without thinking.
"I helped at an almshouse attached to an abbey and in return
was allowed to live there."
It wasn't polite to pry into someone's past, but Norah answered
smoothly, her feelings apparently unhurt. As a rare female shepherd,
perhaps she was used to such questions.
If she had once lived at an almshouse, that suggested she had
neither relatives nor inheritance, but now she was a fine shepherdess
— the gods did still bless some with luck, it seemed.
"When I was relying on the almshouse, I thought I would never
leave such work. It was good fortune meeting Enek."
"The result of daily prayer, surely."
76
"Yes, I can't help but think that I have God to thank for our
meeting."
Her bell rang out again, and Enek came streaking back to her
side.
As the dry sound of Enek's footfalls reached Lawrence's ears,
Holo stirred, leaning lightly against the inside of the wagon. It
seemed true, surely, that she could detect the approach of a wolf
even while sleeping.
"I met him after the almshouse had lost its land to a swindling
merchant," said Norah.
It pained Lawrence to hear of a fellow merchant's misdeeds,
but the fact was such things were common.
"When I found him, he was in a sad state, covered in wounds,"
continued Norah.
"From wolves?"
Holo seemed to twitch. Perhaps she was only feigning sleep.
"No, I think it was brigands or mercenaries... There weren't
wolves in the area. He was wandering about at the base of a hill
with this staff in his mouth."
"I see."
Enek barked his pleasure at having his head petted.
Undoubtedly the dog hadn't been the only one wandering half
dead at the foot of that hill. Most of those who were driven from
an almshouse would have likely died from hunger. The bond
between the girl and dog — they had suffered great hardship
together — was no superficial thing.
And the life of a shepherd was lonely and mean. Enek was
surely a welcome companion.
Certainly better than the goods Lawrence found himself transporting.
Horses, too, were poor conversationalists.
"Still, this is the first time I've had a shepherd offer their services
as an escort."
77
"Hm?"
"Normally they'd refuse such a request, to say nothing of offering
work," he said with a laugh. A flustered Norah looked hastily
at the ground.
"Urn...," she began.
"What's that?"
"I just... wanted to talk to someone..."
Apparently her way of clinging to her staff— which was taller
than she — was something of a habit.
Still, Lawrence certainly understood her feelings.
Outside of townspeople, those who did not find themselves
stricken by loneliness were few.
"Although there is one other thing," the girl continued. Her
demeanor brightened as she looked up. "I'd like to become a
dressmaker."
"Ah, so it's the guild membership dues you need."
Norah again seemed embarrassed by Lawrence's words. Not
being a merchant, it appeared she was unused to frank talk about
money.
"They're high nearly everywhere. Though not necessarily so in
a new town."
"Really? Is that true?" Her pretty brown eyes lit up with a frank
anticipation that was entirely charming.
It was the fondest wish of most who lived by travel to settle in a
town. Such a life was difficult even for an adult man, so the shepherdess
must have felt the hardship still more keenly.
"Sometimes the guild dues are free, in newly founded towns."
"F-free...," whispered Norah with a countenance that betrayed
her disbelief.
After days of enduring Hole's japes, seeing such a guileless face
put Lawrence's heart at ease.
"If we meet any other merchants on the road, you should ask
78
them if they know of any plans to found new towns in the area. If
they know, they'll probably be happy to tell you."
Norah nodded, her face shining with good cheer, as if she had
been told the whereabouts of some grand treasure.
If such news made her this happy, there was clearly value in
telling her.
And there was something about the girl that made him want to
help her — something clearly conveyed in the way she worked so
hard with her slender arms.
He found himself wishing that the wolf nearby—who could
make a sly old merchant into her plaything with a single
word — would take a page out of the shepherdess's book.
She'd be more likable that way, he thought to himself after a
moment's hesitation.
"Fewer towns have been founded recently, though, so you'd do
well to save steadily as you pray for good fortune, of course," said
Lawrence.
"Yes. God can become angry if you rely on him too much."
He'd thought the girl was serious, so her joking tone took him
by surprise.
If Holo hadn't been sleeping behind him, he would have invited
her to sit in the driver's seat.
The moment the thought crossed his mind, though, Holo
stirred; Lawrence spoke up hastily. "Uh, er, so, speaking strictly
from the standpoint of a merchant, you might make more money
escorting my kind like this than you do tending sheep. Surely the
territory disputes are difficult."
"... They are," said Norah with a pained smile after a short pause.
"The safest places already have shepherds occupying them."
"So all that's left are wolf-strewn fields."
"Yes."
"Wolves certainly can be troublesome — ow!"
79
Lawrence felt a sudden pain in his buttock and rose involuntarily
from the driver's seat. Norah looked at him, puzzled, and he
forced a smile before sitting back down.
Hole's sleep was evidently feigned. She had pinched him
soundly.
"I'm sure the wolves are only looking for food, but sometimes
they take lives in the process... A safer place would be nice," said
Norah.
"Well, wolves are sly and treacherous creatures," said Lawrence,
partially to get even for the pinch.
"If I speak ill of them, they may hear, so I won't."
Norah's humble manner was very charming, but Lawrence's
reply, "Indeed," was mostly for the benefit of the wolf
behind him.
"Still," he continued, "if you've skill enough to defend your
flock even through wolf-infested fields, shouldn't your services
be in great demand and your flock huge?"
"No, no, it's only by the grace of God that I remain safe...
and I'm thankful to have any work at all. A huge flock, I just
couldn't..."
Perhaps she was just being modest, but it seemed as though
there was something else behind her sad smile. Lawrence
couldn't think of many possibilities. Was she dissatisfied with
her employer?
Though he knew it wasn't healthy, Lawrence's inquisitive
nature voiced itself again. "Well, then your employer has no eye
for skill," he said. "Mayhap it's time for a change."
Shepherds, after all, were merchants, too. It was only natural
they should seek more favorable conditions.
"Oh, I couldn't possibly!" gasped Norah, taken aback.
It didn't seem like she was protesting out of fear of being heard,
either. She was sincere.
80
"My apologies. I am sorry. As a merchant, I am always thinking
of gains and losses."
"N-no, it's all right," said Norah, as if surprised at her own outspokenness.
"... Urn," she began.
"Yes?"
"I, I was wondering... do people change their employers...
often?"
It was a strange question.
"Well, yes, I think it's normal if one is unsatisfied with one's
terms of employment."
"I see..."
When she talked like this, it sounded as if she was somehow
dissatisfied.
Yet Norah's total shock at the suggestion of changing those
terms implied that she found the very idea outrageous. If that
was the case, one might deduce the identity of her employer.
She had no relatives, so finding someone who would entrust
his sheep to her would be difficult. Even the stoutest shepherd
could expect to lose two sheep for every ten they herded — and
such was an acceptable loss. It would be normal for someone to
worry about a seemingly frail girl being able to bring back even
half the flock.
Given that, whoever hired Norah had to be someone motivated
by charity rather than self-interest.
In other words...
"If you don't mind my asking, is your employer by any chance
the Church?"
Norah's expression was so stunned that Lawrence was glad
he'd seen it. "How did you — "
"Call it a merchant's secret," said Lawrence with a laugh. Holo
stomped her foot lightly. "Don't get cocky," she seemed to be
saying.
81
"Er, well... yes. I receive my flock from a priest of the Church,
but..."
"If it's the Church, you should have no troubles with your work.
You've found a good employer."
Her employer was probably a priest connected with the almshouse
she'd mentioned earlier. Personal connections were overwhelmingly
more useful than either good fortune or strength.
"Yes, I was truly blessed," answered Norah with a smile.
But to Lawrence, whose very livelihood was based on discerning
the truth among flattery and lies, her smile was obviously false.
As Norah turned aside to work with Enek, Lawrence looked at
Holo, who had been feigning sleep. Holo returned his gaze, then
she sniffed and turned away, shutting her eyes.
If she'd spoken, she would likely have said something like, "I've
no sympathy at all."
"They've entrusted me with a flock," said Norah, "and they've
aided me in many other ways."
She spoke as if to remind herself of the fact — it was pitiable
to see.
The reason for Norah's downcast expression was clear. The
Church was not employing her. It was watching her.
Of course, at first it probably had been out of charity that
they'd entrusted her with a flock—which is precisely why she
never thought of changing employers.
Shepherds were often thought of as being vaguely heretical.
They weathered constant accusations of being "the devil's hands,"
so it was far from strange that the ever-suspicious Church would
come to doubt a falsely accused woman who took such a job — all
the more so when she excelled at it. It was just more evidence of
pagan magic.
Even the most oblivious person would eventually notice such
suspicion.
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At the same time, the shepherdess's wages could not be high.
She was worked hard for meager pay — there would certainly not
be enough to set any aside. Lawrence guessed that was the reason
she offered her services as an escort.
But Lawrence's merchant sense told him not to get any more
deeply involved in the issue.
His curiosity was sated. Pursuing it any further would make
him responsible for further developments.
"I see," he said. "I daresay you need not worry about finding a
different employer."
"Do you think so?" asked Norah.
"Yes — with the Church's insistence on honorable poverty,
your pay will always be a bit low, but so long as God doesn't abandon
us, the Church will always exist. You'll not want for work.
As long as you have work, you'll eat. Isn't that something to be
thankful for?"
Having roused her concerns and suggested changing employers,
Lawrence knew that the hard fact was nobody would hire a
shepherd who'd caught the eye of the Church. It wouldn't do for
his actions to rob a lone girl of her livelihood.
Lawrence wasn't lying, in any case, and Norah seemed to accept it.
She nodded several times, slowly. "I suppose so," she agreed.
It was true that having a job — any job — was good, but hope
was important, too. Lawrence cleared his throat and spoke as
cheerfully as he could manage.
"Anyway, I've many acquaintances in Ruvinheigen, so we'll
try asking there after any merchants that might need protection
from wolves. After all, God never said anything about having a
nice little sideline, eh?"
"Truly? Oh, thank you!"
Norah s face lit up so brilliantly that Lawrence couldn't help
but be a bit smitten.
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At such times, he was unable to muster his usual disdain
for Weiz, the womanizing money changer in the port town of
Pazzio.
But Norah was not a town girl nor was she an artisan girl or a
shopgirl. She had a unique freshness to her. Part of it was a serious
demeanor likely inherited from nuns at the almshouse, who
had a slightly negative way of thinking, as if trying to suppress
their feelings.
Norah seemed to have taken that unpleasant tendency and
replaced it with something else.
It didn't take a womanizer to notice it. Lawrence was willing
to bet that Enek, who even now wagged his tail at Norah, was a
male.
"Settling in a town is the dream of all who live by travel, after
all."
These words were still true.
Norah nodded and raised her staff high.
Her bell rang out and Enek bolted, turning the sheep neatly
along the road.
They began to talk about food for traveling, becoming excited
at the prospect.
Stretching across the wide plain, the road ahead was clear and
easy.
Shepherds' nights come early. They decide where to camp well
before the sun sets and are already curled up and sleeping by the
time its red disc is low in the sky and the peasants are heading
home from the fields. They then rise once the sun is down and
the roads free of traffic, and they pass the night with their dogs,
watching over the flock.
When dawn begins to break, shepherds sleep on alternate
shifts with their dogs. There is little time for sleep in the life of
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a shepherd — one reason why the profession is such a hard one.
The life of a merchant, who can count on a good night's sleep, is
easy by comparison.
"Hard work, this," Lawrence muttered to no one in particular
as he lay in the wagon bed, holding a piece of dried meat in his
mouth. It wasn't yet cold enough to bother with a fire.
He glanced frequently at Norah's form, curled up like a stone
by the roadside. He'd offered her the wagon bed, but she had
begged off, saying this was how she always slept, before laying
down in the meager padding afforded by the grass.
When he looked away from her, his eyes landed on Holo, who
was at his right. Finally free from the prying eyes of humans, she
had her tail out and had begun grooming it.
She never tires of that, thought Lawrence to himself as he
looked at the busily grooming Holo, her profile the very image of
seriousness. Suddenly she spoke, quietly.
"Daily care of one's tail is important."
For a moment Lawrence didn't understand, but then he remembered
what he'd just said a moment age to himself; she was merely
responding. He chuckled soundlessly, and Holo glanced at him, a
question in her eyes.
"Oh, you meant the child," she said.
"Her name's Norah Arendt," explained Lawrence, amused at
Hole's derisive use of child to refer to the girl.
Holo looked past Lawrence at Norah, then back. Just as Lawrence
opened his mouth, she snatched the jerky from it. Lawrence
was stunned into silence for a moment. When he came to
his senses and tried to take the meat back, he received such an
evil eye from Holo that he withdrew his hand.
It wasn't necessarily because of his teasing, but she was clearly
in a foul temper.
She had gone out of her way to sit next to Lawrence as
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she groomed her tail, so presumably the object of her anger
wasn't him.
The source of her bad mood was obvious, really.
"Look, I did ask you," said Lawrence.
It sounded like an excuse. Holo sniffed in irritation.
"Can't even groom my tail in peace."
"Why don't you do it in the wagon bed?"
"Hmph. If I do it there..."
"If you do it there, what?" Lawrence pressed the suddenly silent
Holo, who sneered at him, the jerky still held between her teeth.
Evidently she didn't want to discuss the matter.
Lawrence wanted to know what she was going to say, but if he
pushed any further, she would become genuinely angry.
He looked away from Holo, whose wounded-horse mood made
her entirely too difficult to deal with, and put a leather flask filled
with water to his lips.
Lawrence had just managed to stop thinking of her, and as
the sun set, he considered starting a fire when Holo snapped at
him. "You certainly seemed to enjoy your little chat with her,"
she said.
"Hm? With Norah?"
Holo still had the stolen jerky in her mouth as she looked down
at her tail — but her proud tail was obviously not what was on her
mind.
"She wanted to talk. I didn't have any reason to refuse, did I?"
Apparently the indulgence of a wisewolf was not so broad as to
forgive pleasant conversation with a hated shepherd.
Holo had pretended to sleep the entire time. Norah had
glanced at Holo and seemed inclined to engage the girl — who
after all appeared to be roughly her age — in conversation but
had stopped at asking her name. If Holo had wanted to speak to
Norah, there had been opportunities aplenty.
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"Also, I haven't spoken to a normal girl in some time," said
Lawrence jokingly as he looked back to Holo — and faltered at
what he saw.
Hole's expression had completely changed.
But it was nothing like the tears of jealousy he'd hoped to see.
She looked at him with nothing less than pity.
"You couldn't even tell that she hated speaking with you?"
"Huh... ?" said Lawrence, casting a look back in Norah's direction,
but stopped himself after a moment. As a merchant, he
couldn't keep falling for the same trick twice.
Pretending he hadn't looked back at all, he calmed himself and
remembered the words of a minstrel he'd once heard.
"Well, if she fell in love with me at first sight, she'd miss the fun
of falling for me over weeks and months, eh?" he said.
Lawrence hadn't been convinced by this statement when he'd
first heard it, but saying it now lent it a kind of conviction. Perhaps
it really was more fun to fall in love gradually, rather than
all at once.
But apparently, it was too much for Holo.
Her mouth dropped open in shock, and the piece of jerky fell
to the floor.
"I've some wit myself, eh?" said Lawrence.
He'd said it to get a laugh out of Holo, but he was also halfserious.
As soon as she heard it, the wave that hit Holo became a tsunami
on its way back, and she exploded with laughter.
"Mmph...bu-ha-ha-ha! Oh, oh, that's too good! Oh! Ha-haha-
ha!" Holo was doubled over, clutching her stomach, as she
laughed, trying occasionally to stifle it only to dissolve into giggles
yet again. Eventually her face turned red and she pitched forward
into the pile of armor in the wagon bed, her pained laughter
continuing.
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Lawrence joined in at first, but as he saw more of Hole's reaction,
his expression darkened.
Her tail, fluffier than normal thanks to its recent grooming,
slapped against the wagon bed, almost as if begging for help.
"Okay, that's too much laughing."
It was no longer funny.
"... Ye gods," Lawrence muttered, taking another drink from
the water flask, as if to wash down both the irritation at being
laughed at, as well as the embarrassment he now felt for quoting
a minstrel of all things.
"Haah. Whew. Oh... oh my. That was amusing."
"Are you quite done?" inquired Lawrence with a sigh, looking
off to the sun that now sank into the horizon. He didn't much feel
like looking at Holo, mistake or not.
"Mm. That was quite a trump card you had there."
Out of the corner of his eye, Lawrence saw Holo nestled atop
the pile of armor, her laughter-fatigued face angled toward him.
It was as though she was exhausted after an all-out sprint.
"Well, as long as you're happy now."
No matter how much she hated shepherds, Hole's foul temper
had been a bit too foul, Lawrence felt. It was hard to imagine that
she was actually jealous of the conversation he'd had with the
girl, nor was it true that she'd had absolutely no opportunity to
groom her tail.
For a moment he wondered if it was simply shyness, but then
he recalled their first meeting and decided that was entirely
impossible.
"Hm? Happy?"
The wolf ears of the individual in question — which had become
uncovered when she collapsed in laughter — now pricked up
curiously as she regarded him with tear-blurred eyes, as though
he had said something quite strange.
"You were in a foul temper earlier — because you couldn't tend
to your tail, you said."
She seemed to remember something.
"Oh, quite," she said, her face calm.
She hauled herself up off of the cargo, then plopped herself
back down, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes.
Looking at her now, Lawrence thought she could not care
less about whether or not she had sufficient opportunity for tail
grooming. Had that just been an excuse to vent her irritation
about something else entirely?
"Can't be helped," she said.
The tip of her tail slapped lightly against the floor of the
wagon.
"Anyway, your trump card made me laugh so hard I turned
giddy," said Holo, chuckling at the memory. She then looked outside
the wagon. "Is the child not cold, I wonder?"
Her observation brought Lawrence back to the present. The
sun was mostly down, and the sky was a darkening blue. He had
best build a fire.
He had heard that shepherds didn't generally build fires,
though that was because they had to watch over and chase down
their sheep, not out of any particular resistance to cold.
Lawrence mused on this as he looked at Norah, curled up on
the grass's paltry cushion.
He felt a sudden movement near his mouth and turned to find
Holo thrusting a piece of jerky in his direction.
"Payment for your services as a jester."
"Only one piece of jerky for such laugher?"
"Oh, you don't want it?" taunted Holo, amused. Despite his
embarrassment, Lawrence decided to accept the offering.
— but his teeth closed on air. Holo had drawn her hand back
at the last moment.
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The wisewolf snickered; Lawrence realized that going up
against her was a fool's errand. If she decided to be so childish,
he could only ignore her.
If he didn't build a fire soon, then they would all be eating
dinner in the cold. Lawrence moved to get off the wagon, but
Holo grabbed his sleeve and drew near.
Lawrence's heart skipped a beat.
Her eyelashes still had traces of tears in them, which caught the
red light of the setting sun.
"I do think, from time to time, that some raw mutton would be
nice — what say you?"
With the mournful bleating of the sheep echoing through
the twilight air, Hole's words — spoken through her ever-keen
fangs — could not have been entirely in jest.
After all, she was a wolf.
Lawrence patted Hole's head as if chiding her for making a bad
joke, then hopped off the wagon.
Hole's lip curled in a brief snarl, but she soon smiled slightly
and passed Lawrence the bundle of straw, tinder, and firewood.
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CHAPTER THREE

Entering Ruvinheigen required passing through two separate
checkpoints. One controlled passage through the city walls, and
the other was situated out on the main road, which encircled the
sprawl of greater Ruvinheigen.
Owing to the heavy traffic in and out of a city this size, one had
to obtain a passage document at the outer checkpoint in order
to pass through the station at the city walls. Legitimate travelers
would use the legal routes into the city, obtain proper documents,
and pass through the walls — any who lacked the passage
document would be turned away on the spot.
The checkpoints also provided some degree of control over
the inevitable smuggling and counterfeiting that large cities
attracted.
The road that Lawrence and his companions took was evidently
less traveled as their checkpoint — while not exactly crude — was
rather simpler than checkpoints on more common routes, and
the guard there seemed to know Norah. Using some strange
power, she guided her sheep through the purposefully narrow
checkpoint gate, and Lawrence followed after having his wares
inspected.
The plain checkpoint stood in sharp contrast to the grand,
august walls of Ruvinheigen.
It would be completely impossible to breach Ruvinheigen's walls
without control of the surrounding areas. Walls of earth and timber
were spoken of with pride in other areas, but here a barrier
of stone surrounded the city with lookout towers positioned at
regular intervals. Ruvinheigen was nearer a castle than a city, and
Holo let out an involuntary gasp of wonder as they regarded it
from a convenient hill just past the first inspection point.
Just outside the walls were cultivated fields, and between the
fields, roads stretched radially out from the city.
Here a group of pigs was driven by a farmer; there a long merchant
caravan was visible. Farther in the distance, a white carpet
moved slowly over the ground — probably a flock of sheep some
shepherd had brought to pasture. Shepherds with flocks numbering
over one hundred were not rare, but this shepherd was likely
biding his time before finally bringing his sheep into Ruvinheigen
to support the city's consumption of meat.
Everything about the place was extraordinary.
Lawrence and his companions descended the hill and took one
of the roads that ran between the fields.
The city was so large that from the hill it had seemed close, but
traversing the distance took some time. Norah had to be careful
that her sheep didn't eat the crops growing at either side of
the road. At length, the group was close enough to make out the
designs on the city walls.
At this point, Lawrence carefully produced two silver coins
and held them out to Norah.
"Right, then, here's your forty trie."
Trie were simple copper coins. However, that many coins would
be unwieldy, and Lawrence reckoned that the two silver coins he
gave her could be exchanged for forty-five trie.
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He had paid Norah extra because he felt indebted to her. He
and Holo had been fortunate not to encounter any wolves, but
Lawrence was still impressed by the girl's skill. Even Holo would
concede it, and it was easy for Lawrence to see Norah distinguishing
herself in the future. The extra money was just an investment
to that end.
"Er, but, if I exchange this, won't it come to more than... ?"
"Call it an investment," said Lawrence.
"An... investment?"
"Now that I know such a skilled shepherd, I might be able to
turn a surprising profit on wool," said Lawrence in a purposefully
greedy tone. Norah laughed and grudgingly accepted the
two silver coins.
"We'll be at the Rowan Trade Guild for a while. If you've plans
to take your flock afield again, come by there first. I might be able
to introduce you to a merchant in need of escort."
"I shall."
"Oh, one last thing. The area where you can provide escort — is
it just the route we took?"
"Er, I can go as far as Kaslata and Poroson. Oh, and also to
Lamtra."
Kaslata was a remote town with little to recommend it, and
Lawrence was surprised to hear Norah mention Lamtra. Lamtra
was one of the few places in the area not under the influence of
Ruvinheigen, which controlled the rest of the region. It was not
so very far north from the great city — Lawrence and his party
could have gotten there by heading north from the midpoint of
the road they had just taken. However, to reach Lamtra required
passing through a dark and eerie forest, which even knights
blanched at, so it had long resisted invasion from Ruvinheigen
and was the only city where significant numbers of pagans still
lived.
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All the legitimate routes to Lamtra were incredibly roundabout,
so Norah must not be suggesting she could provide escort
along them. She clearly had confidence in her ability to navigate
the forest.
If that was true, there were many merchants who would want
to go with her.
"Lamtra, eh? I daresay you'll have some business," said Lawrence.
Norah's face lit up. "Thank you very much!" she said, bowing
low as if she was still living in an almshouse.
"My pleasure. Well, then, I'll be entering from the southeast
gate, so here's where we part ways."
"Certainly. I hope we meet again," said Norah.
Lawrence nodded and reined his horse to the left as Norah
rang her bell. Ruvinheigen was large enough to have no less than
seventeen great gates. Between those were smaller gates used for
large groups of sheep and other livestock, which Norah would
have to use.
Also, given the city's labyrinthine interior, it was common
sense to enter via the gate nearest one's destination — the city was
just that big.
As they parted, Lawrence looked back over his shoulder at the
girl and saw that Norah was still watching him and Holo. When
she saw Lawrence turn, Norah waved wistfully to them.
He couldn't very well not wave back, but he was afraid of being
mocked by Holo. Lawrence stole a sideways glance at her, which
the wolf girl noticed.
"You think me so ill-natured?"
Lawrence grinned, pained, then faced forward after returning
Norah's wave.
"Hmph. Well, now we'll see how those honeyed peach preserves
taste! I am surely looking forward to that."
"Hm. So you remembered that, did you?" Lawrence said. As
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they approached the gate, he considered how much of his load of
armor he would lose to the entrance tax.
"Surely you're not saying you won't buy any!" Holo was intimidating,
despite her sweet smile and modestly tilted head.
Lawrence averted his eyes and muttered almost as if he were
praying. "We can't buy any if they aren't selling any."
"Well, naturally," said Holo, as if entirely confident that the
preserves would be for sale.
"Oh, and you probably know this already, but try to act a little
more nunlike at the next checkpoint. They'll be more lenient on
a nun."
"Hmph. I'm not so foolish as to stir up trouble in a city such as
this. But do I even resemble a nun?"
"There's no trouble on that count."
As soon as he said it, Lawrence regretted it. Holo had endured
much suffering at the hands of the Church. Saying she looked
like a nun might make her angry.
"Heh, is that so?" Holo said, giggling. She seemed happy—
surprisingly so.
"... What, you're not angry?"
"Hm? Why would I be?"
"Well, I mean... the Church is your enemy, more or less."
"Not necessarily. 'Tis the same as having someone like you
around. Nuns are all fundamentally kind, and even a wolf like
me can tell that most of them are quite lovely. Beauty transcends
species."
For his part, Lawrence understood well enough but was mostly
glad she wasn't cross.
And it was true that many nuns were beautiful. This may well
have been partially because they were so assiduously meek, pure,
and ascetic, but there was also the fact that the illegitimate child
of many a noble became a nun.
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Many a beautiful woman contrived to use her beauty to
become the mistress of a wealthy noble, and many a fetching
noble daughter was seduced by a rake, who wielded poetry and
art like a weapon.
Often the children resulting from such liaisons were more hale
and healthy than their legitimate siblings — most likely because
the men and women able to seduce nobility were formidable
themselves.
Such children were the cause of a fair share of succession struggles,
but most of them would enter an abbey—thus many of the
abbey's brothers and sisters were handsome indeed.
"I don't think I could suffer the constant fasting, though," said
Holo.
Lawrence laughed openly.
As they progressed down the road that ran alongside the great
wall, a lively group of people became visible at its end.
It was the southeast entrance.
The huge gate was flung open, and while some people entered
the city, others left, setting out on their travels.
The inspections of people and goods were conducted as one
passed through the walls, and despite the volume of travelers,
there was little waiting since so many inspectors were on duty.
However, unlike Poroson, not a single person bothered to form
a line, so unless one was familiar with the protocol, it was possible
to wind up standing outside the gate for hours. Lawrence
knew the procedure, though, and he guided his horse forward,
trying his best to avoid colliding with anyone; threading his way
past less-knowledgeable folk; and finally arriving at the road that
passed under the archway, carved out of the stone wall, which
led into the city. In times of war, this was an important point
to defend, so the walls here were very thick. Lawrence glanced
up to see a thickly timbered gate suspended above the crowds,
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and with a chill, he wondered what would happen if it were to
fall — though he'd never heard of such an accident. Just past the
gate, there was an opening in the roof through which boiling
oil could be poured on invading enemies should they breach the
wall. The stone around the opening was discolored, perhaps due
to frequency of use.
Just past the walls was the inspection checkpoint, and beyond
that, Lawrence could see the streets of Ruvinheigen.
Any large city hemmed in by walls — not just Ruvinheigen —
had to expand upward, rather than outward, owing to limited
space. Ruvinheigen was particularly challenged in this regard,
and the city which greeted Lawrence was reminiscent of a ship's
hold piled high with goods. Several buildings looked ready to
overflow at any moment. Still beyond those, he could see the
high, high roof of Ruvinheigen's great cathedral.
"You there, merchant!" a voice called out.
Lawrence shifted his attention to a guard wearing thin leather
armor who pointed at him.
"Staring at the city will get you in an accident!" chided the
guard.
"My apologies."
There was a titter at Lawrence's side.
"Next! Uh, you there! The merchant that just got scolded!"
It was difficult to navigate without a proper line. Lawrence
choked down the embarrassing brand and guided his horse
toward the inspector, bowing in greeting.
"Passage papers," demanded the inspector impatiently.
"Right here."
"Hm. Out of Poroson, eh? Your goods?"
"Twenty sets of armor."
Commerce was prohibited outside the walls, so it was required
that a merchant's load match the travel document.
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The inspector blinked rapidly. He seemed surprised.
"Armor? From Poroson?"
"Ah, yes. I bought them from the Latparron Company in
Poroson. Is there a problem?"
Ruvinheigen had been founded when knights' companies
tasked with suppressing the pagans had set up fortifications,
and to this day, the city remained an important supply depot for
soldiers heading north. Weapons and armor from surrounding
areas were imported here and flew off shelves immediately.
Lawrence was thus puzzled by the inspector's reaction, but the
official just shook his head and turned his attention to the wagon
bed. The cart contained twenty sets of helms, gauntlets, breastplates,
and greaves — all fashioned out of leather and chain mail.
The wine had not been merchandise for sale but would still have
been taxed. However, it had long since been drunk dry.
There was nothing suspicious, and the inspector seemed
satisfied. He climbed atop the wagon to verify that no taxable
items like gold or jewels were hidden within the armor; then,
appeased, he climbed back down. He gave the bundle of firewood
a cursory check, but hiding anything within it would have been
impossible.
"This does seem like Poroson armor. Will you be paying in
coin or stock?"
The armor was worth one hundred lumione total, so the 10 percent
tax would amount to ten lumione.
Ten lumione itself came to more than three hundred pieces of
trenni silver, and no merchant would travel carrying so much
coin. It would have been inconvenient for the inspector to count
out three hundred pieces even if Lawrence had them.
Handing over some of the armor itself as tax solved all these
problems.
"Stock," said Lawrence.
100
"Good answer," replied the inspector, which elicited a sigh of
relief from Lawrence. "Turn in two sets of armor over there," he
said, recording something with a quill on a piece of paper, which
he handed to Lawrence.
Two suits of armor out of twenty satisfied the 10 percent tax.
Lawrence nodded after confirming the accuracy of the
receipt.
For Hole's part, she was every inch a nun and thus went unquestioned.
This was a city of the Church, and suspicion of priests or
nuns was likely more trouble than it was worth.
In any case, relieved that he'd gotten through the checkpoint
smoothly, Lawrence descended from the wagon, then took
hold of the reins, and walked on. It would only become more
crowded — and thus dangerous — ahead.
The area around the tax collection point was like a war, a din of
colliding languages and clothing. Lawrence could hear the same
haggling and begging one heard at any site where taxes were
remitted.
Naturally, he didn't engage in anything so foolish as haggling
over taxes and obediently handed over the required two suits of
armor.
However, the clerk took a look at the receipt Lawrence received
from the inspector and knitted his brow.
Lawrence was suddenly nervous — had there been some impropriety?
But no, it seemed everything was in order.
Unclear as to what had just happened, Lawrence passed through
the checkpoint and into the city, climbing back atop the wagon.
The reaction of the inspector on seeing the cargo of armor was
a mystery, but Lawrence had made it through, so there no more
cause for concern.
He muttered reassurances to himself, but a certain uneasiness
remained.
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"Hey, merchant," said Holo.
Lawrence was suddenly unsettled at the sound of Holo's voice,
as though he was about to hear something unpleasant. "What?"
Holo spoke slowly in response to Lawrence's question. "Mm. I
am hungry."
« »
Lawrence looked ahead again, ignoring both Holo's complaint
and his own lingering unease.
The great cathedral of Ruvinheigen is so massive that it is visible
from anywhere in the city. The metropolis spreads out around
the cathedral — the district closest to it is known as the old city,
hemmed in by the old city walls, and surrounding those walls, in
turn, is the rest of Ruvinheigen.
In the southern part of the roughly circular municipality was
its biggest gate, and passing through the structure — which was
large enough to allow siege engines through — there was a plaza
so wide as to be the envy of any foreign king, with a fountain created
using the latest craftsmanship available in the south and a
permanent marketplace.
Around the edges of the plaza sat the great trading firms of
the region, the homes of true power and influence in the city, all
linked at the eaves. Beyond them were smaller trading companies
and the homes and shops of a wide variety of craftsmen.
The great cathedral stood in the middle of another of
Ruvinheigen's plazas, which were arranged as a great pentagon
with the southern gate at its peak. Each plaza had its own characteristics,
almost like a city within a city.
Lawrence and Holo passed through the southeast entrance,
and though the square they entered could hardly be compared to
the great southern plaza, it was still sizable.
In the center of the square stood striking statues of knights,
who had accomplished some memorable deed in the war against
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the pagans, and saints, who had made some important contribution
to the faith.
Scores of stalls were lined up in the plaza with people on straw
mats hawking their wares within the structures.
There were no stalls around the bronze statues, though. Instead,
an ensemble traded musical phrases with a minstrel playing a plain
wooden flute while a famous troupe of comedic actors plied their
trade. Mingling with the entertainers were pilgrim priests, clad
in rags and wielding tattered books of scripture as they preached;
their rapturously attentive disciples wore even worse clothing.
It seemed like the order of the day in the district was getting
a light snack at one of the booths, watching the performers, and
taking in a sermon after you had your fun.
After Lawrence and Holo arranged for a room at an inn and
stabled the horse, they started for the trading house to begin
their business arrangements when they found themselves drawn
toward the commotion of happy voices and delicious scents.
They held some fried lamprey eel, which seemed to be a popular
snack. The sweetness of the oil masked the earthy smell of the
stuff, and no sooner had you finished a piece than you wanted
another, which seemed to be human nature. The next thing
Lawrence knew, he and Holo had stopped in front of a drink
stand, taking in the comedy show over some beer.
"Mmm, that's tasty," said Holo after she drained one cup, and
with foam still clinging to the corners of her mouth, she ordered
another round. The barman was only too happy to serve such a
profitable customer.
Having snacked on fried eel and beer all afternoon, Holo no
longer looked anything like a nun.
The outfit she used upon entering the city would have been less
convincing because of Lawrence's presence — nothing was fishier
than a person of faith traveling with a merchant, after all.
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So Holo had switched her robe for a rabbit-skin cape, but she
folded the robe up and wrapped it about her waist, using the
resulting makeshift skirt to hide her tail. Her perpetually troublesome
ears were concealed under a triangular kerchief.
Thus had Holo transformed from nun to town lass. The square
was packed with girls who had abandoned work for an afternoon
of fun, so she hardly stood out. The way she drank, with no
regard for her coin purse, made it easy to think she was parting
some guileless merchant from his money.
Actually, as Lawrence paid in advance, the barman seemed to
think it was he who had been tripped up by this casually expensive
girl.
Lawrence gave the man a pained smile to deflect the issue, but
the barman wasn't necessarily wrong, either.
"The liquor is good and the people lively — 'tis a good
city, no?"
"The liveliness comes at a price — we have to watch ourselves,
especially around any knights or mercenaries. A quarrel with
their ilk will be more trouble than we need."
"You can count on me," said Holo.
Lawrence sighed instead of voicing his thoughts on the matter.
"Right, well, we should be moving on."
He had finished his second beer while Holo had downed four
in the same amount of time, so it seemed an opportune moment
to leave.
"Mm? Already? I've not yet begun to drink."
"You can drink more tonight. Let's go."
Looking back and forth from Lawrence to her cup, Holo finally
seemed to give up and backed away from the stall. The barman
called out "come again!" and his voice disappeared into the crowd
alongside Lawrence and Holo.
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"So, then, where do we go?"
"To the trading house — and at least wipe your mouth, hm?"
Only now aware of the foam at the corners of her mouth, Holo
brought her sleeve to her lips as if to wipe them.
However, thinking better of this at the last second, she instead
grabbed Lawrence's sleeve and wiped her mouth on it.
"Why, you — I'll remember that."
"And yet you've already hit me," said Holo, holding his head
off with one hand and glaring at him, her other hand firmly
clamped around Lawrence's. Her anger at being poked lasted but
a moment.
"Still," she continued.
"Hm?"
"Why must you drag me along to this trading house? I'd just as
soon drink my fill in the square."
"It's too dangerous to leave you alone," warned Lawrence.
Holo looked blank for a moment, then giggled bashfully —
perhaps she'd misunderstood.
"Mm, 'tis true. I am a bit too lovely to be left alone!"
It was true that Holo, with the fall of her red-brown hair swaying,
tended to attract attention, and some of those who looked on
must have envied Lawrence, who held her hand.
It wasn't that he didn't take a bit of pride in walking around
with Holo, but the fact was that there was no telling what trouble
she would get into if left on her own.
The square was a fun, lively place, but fun, lively places seemed
to attract more than their share of trouble. If by some fluke her
true form was exposed there, it would be disastrous.
"No amount of loveliness will put Church guards or temple
knights off your tail," said Lawrence. "What if you get drunk and
let your ears or tail show?"
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"Why, I'll just turn on them. I'll grab you in my jaws, and we'll
dash from the city. I can surely leap over those walls. Isn't there
some old story about a knight and a princess like that?"
"What, the one where the knight rescues the captured princess?"
"That's the one!" said Holo, amused. For Lawrence, there wasn't
a trace of romance in the idea of Holo assuming her wolf form
and escaping with him between her teeth.
Quite the contrary, just the thought of being clamped between
those great jaws made Lawrence want to shudder.
"Well, don't do that," he said.
"Mm. If you're the one that's captured, there's little gain in rescuing
you."
Lawrence made a pained expression and looked at Holo, who
eyed him mischievously.
The two of them passed around the swirl of people and headed
north on a narrow lane where storefronts stood under the sparkling,
sunlit eaves that lined the block. There were no trading
companies here, but rather buildings with merchant unions
and trading houses. Some were economic associations created
by mixed groups of merchants from different areas; others were
buildings for craft unions created by textile merchants who cooperated
regardless of their origin.
The world offered no protection for merchants who met with
danger or accidents. Just as knights wore helms and breastplates,
merchants banded together to assure their own safety. The largest
economic alliances were a match for even a merchant's worst
enemy: a nation bent on abusing its power.
One famous story had eighteen regions and twenty-three
guilds coming together in the most powerful economic alliance
ever created, matching forces with an army fourteen thousand
strong and claiming victory almost instantly. The union that was
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formed to preserve profits transcended borders and was a good
example of the solidarity to which such groups could give rise.
For that reason, the buildings these unions and associations
made use of were somehow quite orderly, and those that frequented
them conducted themselves politely.
Without civility, a long-standing rivalry between (for example)
a fishmonger and a butcher might escalate into violence and
overflow into the town.
Such manners generally sprung from an aversion to sullying one's
organization's good name, but they were still very important to merchants.
Commerce depended on trust and reputation, after all.
"Right then, I've got business to take care of, so just wait here,"
instructed Lawrence once they arrived at the trading house with
which he was associated. He saw the building painted in the local
style and could not help but feel a certain nostalgia. He kept it to
himself, though, out of consideration for Holo, whose homeland
was still far away.
Holo regarded him as he feigned indifference. "What, are you
not going to bring me in and show me off to your old village
mates?"
It seemed she had spotted the bit of pride he'd mustered along
the way, but that wasn't enough to bother him anymore.
"That would basically amount to a preamble to marriage. My
town's marriage ceremonies are quite rowdy—are you sure
you're up for that?"
This sort of thing was quite universal. Holo's knowledge of the
human world seemed to give her some idea.
She shook her head in distaste.
"I'll be done soon. If you wait nicely, I'll buy you some sweetbread,"
said Lawrence.
"I'll thank you not to treat me like a child."
"Oh, you don't want any?"
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"I do."
Lawrence couldn't help but laugh at Holo's serious reply, and
leaving her there, he ascended the steps to the building and
rapped on the door of the trading company. The door had no
knocker, which was a sign that only members should knock.
After waiting some time, however, there was still no answer.
Lawrence ventured to open the door on his own. Given the
time of day, it was possible that everyone was out in the marketplace
— and as he expected, the interior was silent. The first floor
was a spacious lobby set up as a drinking hall in which the members
could relax, but the chairs were set atop the round tables,
and a mop leaned against one wall. Evidently the room was being
cleaned.
Nothing had changed in the year Lawrence had been away, save
the hairline of the guild master who tended the front counter —
which had receded. He imagined the master's already large belly
had grown larger, but unfortunately the man seemed to find it
difficult to stand, so Lawrence couldn't be sure.
The master lifted his gaze from the counter and with a friendly
smile began his usual ribbing. "Well, now, what a poor merchant
is this! Wandering around a trading house at this hour — cares
not a whit for making money. You'd do better changing into a
thief's clothes and getting yourself to an alehouse!"
"The greatest merchants make money without dirtying their
shoes with so much as a speck of dust; their only stain is the ink
upon their fingers. Running around the marketplace all day is
the sign of the third-rate merchant. Am I wrong?"
Every time they met like this, Lawrence used to get angry
recalling the master's inexplicable habit of jesting at him when
he was a young apprentice. Somewhere along the line, he had
learned to spar right back without getting flustered.
Lawrence easily returned the master's jape, then straightened
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and brought his heels together smartly, squaring himself to the
counter as he approached it.
The man ensconced behind the counter was squarely built and
stout and slapped his forehead at Lawrence's reply, grinning.
"You've gotten clever, boy. Welcome home, my son!"
"Stop the 'my son' nonsense."
"What are you saying? All in the Rowen Trade Guild are my
sons and daughters."
The two shook hands over the familiar exchanges.
"And yet I know of all the times you wet your bedroll after
we made camp — and is it not the teaching of God that a good
father knows well his son? Or should I mention the time you stole
the cash box and snuck off with your friends, trembling, to the
whorehouse?"
"All right, all right. I'm Kraft Lawrence, then, son of the great
Jakob Tarantino."
"So, Kraft my boy. You're back in Ruvinheigen after a year
gone. How fares our family in other towns?"
Jakob's manner was as overbearing as always, and it hit Lawrence
with all the harsh edge and warmth of liquor. The trading house
was truly his homeland in a foreign city.
This was the kind of harsh hospitality he only tasted at home.
"They're all doing well by the grace of the saints."
"Good, good. Well, now, if you've gone the rounds among
family, you must be fairly brimming with profit! If your purse is
heavy, your trousers sag. If your trousers sag, the ladies won't like
you. And you, lad, are a vain one. Am I wrong?"
Lawrence had no comeback. Laughing at the master's heavyhanded
way of seeking a contribution, he replied, "I've heard that
the ability to handle figures gets bad with age, but old Jakob's
eyes are still sharp, I see."
Lawrence seamlessly withdrew ten silver pieces from the purse
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fixed at his waist and slapped them down on the counter with a
flourish.
If he'd grudgingly handed over two or three copper coins, he
would have gotten an earful.
He wanted to show the old man up, and in any case, his profit
from the spice had been sizable. The generous donation was a
kind of report that he was doing business on this scale now — and
Jakob broke into a grin at it.
"Ha-ha-ha, the little bed wetter's bringing in real silver now!
How lovely."
"Enough about the bed-wetting."
"You still are one to me, boy."
Lawrence shrugged, at which point Jakob's laugh rang out
again.
"Well, then, you've come all the way out here in the middle of
the day, so you must be here on business. You need a certificate?"
"Yes."
"I surely look forward to the day when you're a famous enough
merchant that people flinch at the mention of your name," said
Jakob.
"You're telling me," agreed Lawrence — then remembered he
had something else to mention. "Oh, right. Do you know of any
traders in the guild that're headed to Lamtra?"
Jakob placed a pen and ink pot on the desk, then looked up,
and raised his eyebrows at Lawrence. "Now that's a strange question,"
he remarked.
"I was just thinking of providing a shortcut to Lamtra in
exchange for a consideration..."
Jakob's gaze swung around for a moment before settling again
on Lawrence. He wore a meaningful smile.
"Oh ho. Have you met a certain young shepherdess?"
Lawrence was taken so off guard that his breath momentarily
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caught in his throat, but when he stopped to consider it, he found
it was far from surprising that merchants in Ruvinheigen would
know of Norah the shepherd girl.
Which meant that Lawrence's radical idea had already occurred
to others.
"You're far from the first to have that idea, boy. Especially after
the road that went through the area she wanders was finished.
But nobody makes a business of that now, and nobody asks that
girl for escort. Do you know why?" Jakob spoke smoothly as he
wrote out the certificate.
Lawrence answered with a sigh, "Because there's no business
in it?"
Jakob nodded and looked up. "That girl's the only one who
wanders that area unscathed. Sure, Norah the Nymph's pretty
popular with her charm and skill, but I don't have to tell you
what the Church thinks about that. Nobody wants to get tangled
up with those sons of bitches."
He dipped the tip of his quill in the ink pot and continued, a
malicious leer on his face. "I know Norah the Nymph is the type
of girl you like, but here's some free advice: Give it up."
It was just everyday morning conversation, but it cut a little too
close to the quick, and Lawrence could only offer a pained sort
of smile in reply.
"So, who do I make the certificate out to? Or should I leave it
blank?"
"No, make it out to the Remelio Company, please."
Jakob paused again for a moment.
He looked back at Lawrence with the appraising eyes of a merchant.
"Remelio, eh? If you already know who you're selling to..., you
must be selling on margin, then, hmm?"
"Yes. Out of Poroson. Is there something I should know?" asked
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Lawrence, only to be hit by a sudden, severe look that surfaced
like a fish from the depths of a pond.
"Mm. Well, you'll see when you get there. Here, your certificate."
When a merchant first sold goods to a trading house, the worst
problem he might encounter was if a competing merchant forced
their prices down. Such things didn't happen too often in smaller
towns like Pazzio and Poroson, but Ruvinheigen was large, and
because of the connections between the many trading firms and
associations, it happened often. Ruvinheigen was an obvious
place for large transactions, and the smaller transactions of individual
merchants were like grains of sand.
Thus, Lawrence would state which trading guild he was associated
with and make it clear that he could not be trifled with. With
the name of a guild behind him, he wouldn't be treated badly.
"The Rowen Trade Guild is under the protection of Saint Lambardos.
I'll pray for your good fortune," said Jakob.
"My thanks..."
Lawrence took the certificate that proved his affiliation with
the Rowen Trade Guild, vaguely thanking Jakob, who clearly
knew more than he was saying.
Lawrence knew from experience that if he asked for more
information, he would not get it.
However, in such situations, it was likely that he would come to
the answer after either further thought or investigation.
What could it possibly be? he wondered.
"Yes, yes, you'll see when you go. It's you we're talking about
here, so I'm sure you'll turn it to your advantage." Jakob's words
only served to further confuse Lawrence, but if going to the trading
house would lead to understanding, he had no choice but to
advance. In all likelihood, some commodity's price had destabilized,
and the Remelio Company was in some kind of chaos.
Lawrence put the thought out of his mind, gave Jakob his
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thanks, and turned to leave. He had come here to sell his goods,
and getting distracted before he did that accomplished nothing.
The moment he put his hand to the door, he was stopped short
by Jakob's voice.
Lawrence looked back and saw Jakob smiling pleasantly.
"Oh, and just you wait before getting involved with any girls,
you hear? Even a mild one like Norah's too much for you to
handle — a city girl would take up all your profits just like that!"
There were windows in the guild house's walls, but they were
not made of glass like the great trading companies' — instead oilsoaked
sheets of linen cloth served as the panes. This let a bit of
light in, but one could hardly see through them.
Yet it seemed Jakob had spotted Holo just beyond the door.
It was proof the man possessed the cunning to run a trade guild
in a foreign land; his was far beyond that of a normal person.
"You can't invest without capital."
"Ha-ha! Well met, you bed wetter!"
Lawrence grinned sheepishly and opened the door; Jakob was
still laughing when he closed it behind him.
He remembered his days as an apprentice. When faced with
people like Jakob, he had been in such a hurry to grow up, to surpass
them. It was nostalgic, but bitter and biting at the same time.
Lawrence reflected on how young he still was as he looked
toward the base of the stone steps. Just at that moment, Holo
glanced over her shoulder at him.
"Oh, there he is. That's my companion," said Holo.
She was sitting at the base of the steps as she pointed rudely at
him. In front of her were two boys, probably apprentices to some
tradesman. They looked to be around fifteen or sixteen, about the
same age Holo appeared. They were carrying packages, perhaps
out on an errand for their parents.
The boys, just barely old enough to shave, regarded Lawrence
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with animosity after hearing Hole's words. Dealing with them
could have been a hassle, but they flinched slightly when Lawrence
sighed.
There was a world of difference in the social position of a
craftsman's apprentice and a guild merchant. The boys had probably
approached the obviously bored Holo, but now, confronted
with Lawrence, they realized there was nothing they could do, so
looking to each other, the two apprentices scampered off.
Holo giggled. "They were precious. Called me a beautiful rose,
they did," she said, laughing as she watched the boys dash off, but
Lawrence's face showed his distress.
"Don't mess around with them. Apprentice boys are like wild
dogs. You could get taken."
"And in that case, you could come rescue me again. Am I wrong?"
Faced with her unexpectedly guileless response, Lawrence
couldn't help but feel a bit happy, but his face remained stern.
"Sure, I'd rescue you."
Holo grinned and stood. "Of course, in the end, I was the one
who rescued you."
She had him there.
Lawrence covered his eyes out of irritation and descended the
steps. She took his right arm, snickering.
"I don't know what kind of return you're expecting, but I'll
take that investment," she said.
"...You heard all that?"
"My precious little ears can tell when you so much as twitch an
eyebrow. So you have a thing for fair hair, do you?"
Lawrence only managed a confused "Huh?" at Hole's utterly
inexplicable reasoning before she continued.
"And so scrawny, too. Or do you like the careworn look? Or do
you just have a thing for shepherdesses?"
Her rapid-fire interrogation made Lawrence think of a
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suspension bridge with its ropes being cut one after another. He
stared at Holo, alarmed, but she just smiled back.
Her smile was the most frightening thing yet.
"Now wait just a minute — that's just Master Jakob's way of
saying hello. If he's got an opportunity, it's like a game for him to
say stuff like that. I'm not — "
"Not what?" Lawrence saw in Hole's eyes that she wouldn't tolerate
a lie.
He had no choice but to tell the truth. "W-well, sure, I thought
Norah was nice. I can't say our conversation wasn't nice. But...
that doesn't mean I'm not thinking of you, or... well, it doesn't
mean that."
He got flustered halfway through, and it was suddenly very
hard to face Holo. He'd never had to say anything like this in his
entire life.
Having gotten it out, he took a deep breath. After composing
himself a bit, he glanced over at his companion, who regarded
him with a measure of surprise on her face.
"I was just teasing..."
The embarrassment and anger Lawrence felt at these words
was sliced clean through by the smile Holo gave him.
"I didn't think you'd take me at my word, there... it's nice."
She looked down and squeezed his arm just slightly.
For Lawrence, it hadn't been the dissembling or prevarication
of a business negotiation, but a way of seeing how close they
could become.
Mostly unconscious of and unconcerned with how it might look,
Lawrence moved to put his left arm around Holo but embraced
only air.
She had soundlessly slipped from his grasp.
"Still, males are ever thus. They'll say anything."
Looking at her sad, serious manner, even Lawrence could easily
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imagine that sometime in Hole's past, someone had said something
careless and hurtful, something that she still felt resentment
over.
But Lawrence was a merchant. He was always careful with his
words.
"So — you'll need to show me something. Do knights not
entrust their swords and shields as proof of their good faith?
You're a merchant, so what will you show me?
Lawrence had also heard the tales of knights who would hand
over their swords and shields — said to be their very souls — when
swearing oaths of loyalty.
So what, then, of a merchant? The answer was obvious: money.
Lawrence could just imagine Hole's unamused expression if he
handed her a purse full of coins.
He needed to buy something for her, something that would
both make her happy and stand for the money—his merchant's
soul — that he would unhesitatingly use for her sake.
The item that sprang immediately to mind was the ultimate
luxury: honeyed peach preserves.
"Fine," said Lawrence. "I'll show you I don't say such things
lightly."
Her eyes filled with a mixture of suspicion and anticipation.
If he could somehow answer the question in those red-brown
pupils of hers, well — than honeyed peach preserves would be a
bargain.
"I'll buy you some honeyed peach..."
That was as far as Lawrence got before a strange feeling came
over him, specifically regarding the triangular kerchief on Hole's
head.
Holo cocked her head curiously at the frozen Lawrence.
Then, with a quick "Oh," she hastily put her hands to her head.
"Don't tell me you —," Lawrence started.
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"Wh-what? What's wrong? You were about to say you would
buy me something?"
He had to give her credit for staying shameless, but Lawrence
wasn't going to simply laugh this off.
Looking at the kerchief on her head made it obvious. Beneath
it, her ears had been twitching strangely, vigorously. That was the
proof.
This was all part of her plan.
"You know, there are some things you just can't do!" he said.
Holo seemed to realize that her plan had failed, and now suddenly
sullen, she stuck her lower lip out in a pout. "You said I
should ask more charmingly!"
For a moment Lawrence didn't follow her, but then he remembered
their conversation on the outskirts of Poroson. Exasperated,
he looked up to the heavens.
"No, I said you should ask nicely. I never said anything about
feminine wiles!"
"But I was charming, was I not?"
Lawrence hated himself for not having a ready reply, and hated
himself still more for not becoming angrier with her.
"Though I must say," continued Holo, "you were twice as
charming. That was far more exciting than if my plan had gone
as I meant it to."
Finally, at a loss for words, Lawrence simply walked down the
road.
Holo laughed and followed him.
"Come now, don't be angry!"
When he gave her a look that said "whose fault is that?" she just
laughed at him harder.
"I was happy, though, truly. Are you still angry?"
Lawrence found his expression softened by the way Hole's
swaying, chestnut-brown hair complemented her smile.
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He suddenly very much wanted to share a drink with his reliably
silent horse — who was male.
"Fine, I'm not mad. I'm not mad — okay?"
Holo let slip a private smile as if enjoying her victory, exhaling
before she spoke again.
"It won't do to get separated. May I take your hand?"
To return to their lodgings, they would have to reenter the
crowded streets, but even separated from Lawrence, Holo would
have no trouble finding her way.
So it was an obvious pretense.
She was a canny old wolf, indeed. Lawrence relented. "Yes, we
mustn't get separated," he agreed.
Holo smiled, and her hand slipped into his.
All Lawrence could do was tighten his grip ever so slightly on
that hand.
"So, what about my honeyed peach preserves?"
The cathedral bells rang out to signal noontime — and the
beginning of a new battle.
The Remelio Company was a wholesaler that operated a shop
in the Church city of Ruvinheigen.
Lawrence, betting that he would be able to turn a profit, had
half threatened the Latparron Company into letting him buy up
more armor than he had assets to secure. In order to pay them
back, he planned to sell to the Remelio Company, which Latparron
often dealt with — and there would be no need to return all
the way to Poroson to repay his debt. He'd just have them record
it in their ledgers and that would be that.
He entered a street one block removed from a crowded main
road and arrived at the Remelio Company.
It was the rear entrance, where a large area was reserved for
loading and unloading goods.
In a city the size of Ruvinheigen, unloading goods through a
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shop's front entrance was considered uncivilized. If you tried it
on a street with heavy traffic, you'd be laughed at, at best, and
at worst, you would not be able to sell your goods at all. In fact,
in many places, merchants weren't even supposed to take their
wagons on streets with heavy traffic.
This was why, on the side streets running parallel to the main
street, horses pulling wagons often outnumbered pedestrians.
Lawrence knit his brows.
The area around the Remelio Company seemed oddly quiet.
"Is this company managed by monks?" Holo asked.
"With monks, I'd at least expect to hear prayers. But I don't
hear a thing."
Holo, munching on a bread roll, lightly took off her kerchief
and started to prick up her ears, but Lawrence had no time for
such roundabout methods. He got off the driver's seat, crossed the
slope for wagons to pass through, and entered the loading dock.
Buildings were densely packed, and maintaining a loading
dock in Ruvinheigen — a city where people constantly joked
that buildings were so close together that "poor people can sleep
between them standing up" — was not easy. Yet the Remelio
Company's dock could accommodate at least three wagons with
space for easily a hundred sacks of wheat. There was a table for
conducting negotiations and an exchange stand in the corner,
and the walls were decorated with parchment on which blessings
for good commerce had been written.
It was a magnificent dock.
But livestock feed was scattered everywhere, along with pieces of
horse dung and the remains of this and that cargo. Clearly, no one
was tending to its upkeep, and there was not a dockmaster in sight.
Business comes and goes, so it would not be outlandish to have
times when there are simply no customers. But it was still common
sense to keep your shop neat and tidy.
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It was as if the company had been destroyed. Lawrence withdrew
and got back in the wagon's seat. Holo appeared to have finished
her bread and now rummaged around for her meat pie, which, if
Lawrence remembered correctly, was supposed to be his.
"If you eat that much, the sound of your chewing is going to
wreck that hearing you're so proud of."
"Nicely put — but for the sake of my reputation, I should tell
you I can hear the sound of someone in the building."
Holo then bit down enthusiastically on the meat pie. She was
clearly not going to have just a bit.
"There's someone there?"
"Mm... mmph... mrgh. Seems dangerous, though. At the very
least, it's nothing pleasant."
Hearing this, the five wooden stories of the Remelio Company,
given the state of its loading dock, started to seem downright sinister.
Nothing was so cursed as a trading company that had gone
bankrupt. When that happened, the local church usually found
itself very busy conducting funerals for the newly deceased.
"Well, there's no point wandering around here. We can't make
money if we can't sell the goods."
"A meat pie's no good until you eat it," agreed Holo.
"I was saving that!"
Lawrence shot Holo a glare before moving the wagon and got
an equally sour look for his trouble.
But perhaps eating the whole thing would have been a bit too
much guilt — Holo split the pie and offered one half to Lawrence.
It was about a quarter of what he had originally planned to eat,
but as complaining might have cost him what little was left, he
snatched the piece up.
Normally meat pies were made with ground beef that was
approaching the expiration date set by the butchers guild, but
here in Ruvinheigen, the meat pies were as noble as the city itself.
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The meat was entirely tasty, and Lawrence ate his pie in two bites
as he drove the wagon up to the deserted loading dock.
The horse's hooves clopped against the ground, and it seemed
as though their familiar sound reached the ears of the people
within. Lawrence drove the wagon up, climbing down from the
driver's seat just as the dockmaster finally emerged.
"I daresay there are a few hours left before the sabbath — so
what is the matter?" said Lawrence.
"Er, well, that is...did sir come to the city today...?" The
middle-aged dockmaster slurred his words initially, but his faculties
seemed to return to him as he appraised Lawrence.
Those eyes were like a thief eyeing his mark's coin purse, and Lawrence's
merchant instinct sensed danger. The dockmaster seemed
ragged now that Lawrence got a look at him. This was a place of
physical labor, so he would hardly be standing ramrod straight, but
even so, Lawrence could tell if someone was filled with vigor.
This was not good. This was clearly not good.
"No, I came a few days ago. You know how it goes. Well, you
seem busy, so I'll come by later. I'm in no special hurry."
Lawrence avoided making eye contact, and without waiting for
the dockmaster's reply, he turned back to the wagon.
Holo seemed to sense something off as well. She looked to Lawrence
questioningly but soon nodded. Despite her appearance as
a normal town girl, her wits were extraordinary. She didn't boast
of being a wisewolf for nothing.
But the dockmaster did not give up so easily.
"Well, now, do wait just a moment, sir. I can tell sir is a trader of
some repute. It would be rude of me to let sir leave empty-handed."
If Lawrence just refused the man, there was no telling how his
reputation might spread around the city.
But the merchant blood fairly frothed in his veins.
Run, it said. This is dangerous.
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"Not at all," replied Lawrence. "I'm a merchant with little
besides complaints to sell."
It was only a third-rate merchant who was so clumsily selfeffacing
when selling. Humility was a virtue for men of the cloth,
but for traders, it was like sticking one's head in a noose.
But Lawrence had judged that escape was the best plan. Hole's
frozen posture reinforced this decision.
"Sir shouldn't sell himself so cheaply! Even a blind beggar could
tell sir is a man of stature!"
"Flattery will get you nowhere," said Lawrence, sitting in the
wagon seat and grabbing the reins. The dockmaster seemed to be
able to tell that it was time to relent. He had been leaning forward
so earnestly that he almost stumbled, but now he righted himself.
It seemed like Lawrence was off the hook, so he spoke briefly to
the dockmaster. "Well, then, I'll take my leave..."
"Yes... most unfortunate. I await sir's return," said the dockmaster
with an ingratiating smile. Lawrence took that as his cue
to exit, so he started to move the wagon.
The dockmaster, however, took advantage of this small gap in
Lawrence's defense. "I believe I forgot to ask sir's name," he said.
"Lawrence. From the Rowen Trade Guild."
Lawrence gave his name without thinking, then suddenly, he
wondered if giving his name to someone he didn't know, in a situation
he didn't understand, was a mistake — but he could think
of no reason why it would matter.
Most likely, the dockmaster simply hadn't known what Lawrence
had come to this place to do.
However —
"Lawrence, you say. Indeed. From the Latparron Company."
The dockmaster grinned unpleasantly.
The jolt that ran through Lawrence's spine was impossible to
describe.
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There was no reason he could think of for the dockmaster to
know his name.
"You were bringing some armor to our company, yes?"
Lawrence was suddenly nauseated as he sensed he had fallen
into some kind of trap. His instinct screamed it at him.
He looked slowly over to the dockmaster.
It can't be. It can't be. It can't be.
"Actually, last night a messenger on a fast horse came to us. The
Latparron Company has had their obligations assigned to our
company. So, you see, you have a debt to us, Mr. Lawrence."
With those words, everything changed.
Normally, obligation transfers did not take place over messenger
horse. But the abnormality made the transfer all the more
believable — for example, if two companies were engaging in
fraud.
If Lawrence hadn't been sitting in the wagon, he would have
collapsed.
Even sitting, he lurched over from the force of the words.
Holo, surprised, caught Lawrence as he toppled.
"What is wrong?" she asked.
He didn't want to consider it.
The dockmaster answered for him.
"The merchant beside you has failed at business—just like us."
His happiness was clearly no more than schadenfreude.
"What?" asked Holo.
Lawrence wished desperately for this all to be a dream.
"The price of armor must have plunged some time ago. The old
fox at Latparron shifted his dead stock onto us."
The future was dark.
"We've been had..."
Lawrence's hoarse voice was all that tied him to reality.
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"We both live by such agreements. You understand, right?"
These were the words every merchant feared.
And every merchant would lament his fate upon such a collapse.
"Of course I do. I'm a merchant, after all." It was all Lawrence
could do to say even that much.
"It's simple. Of the exactly one hundred lumione worth of
armor you bought from the Latparron Company, you will need
to remit to us the amount recorded in the obligation deed, to
wit — forty-seven and three-quarters lumione. You are aware of
what this amounts to, correct?"
Remelio looked as stricken as Lawrence felt.
The man's eyes and cheeks were sunken, his shirt hadn't been
changed in several days, and his eyes glittered strangely. He was
not a big man to begin with, but Remelio's weary, thin features
made him look like a wounded bear cub.
He didn't just seem wounded — he was wounded, nearly fatally.
Hans Remelio, the master of the Remelio Company, unconsciously
ran his hand through his slightly graying hair as he continued
to press Lawrence.
"We'd like you to settle your debt immediately. Otherwise..."
Lawrence thought about how much he would rather be threatened
at knifepoint than hear this.
"... We'll have to demand that the Rowen Trade Guild assume
the debt in your place."
It was the threat every merchant who was attached to a trading
house feared.
The guild was a merchant's second home, but it could turn into
an angry debt collector in the blink of an eye.
In that moment, merchants who go about their work, prepared
to half abandon their homes, have nowhere to go for respite.
"Well, the term of the loan was through the day after tomorrow,
so give me two days. I'll pay back the forty-seven and threequarters
lumione by then," said Lawrence.
It was not an amount he could hope to collect in two days. Even
if he were to call in all the credit from every conceivable source
he had, the money wouldn't amount to half of what he owed.
A person could live for three months on a single lumione. Even a
child knew that forty-seven lumione was a huge amount of money.
As did the bearlike master of the company, Remelio.
Ruin.
The word seemed to hang before Lawrence's eyes.
"What do you wish to do with the armor you brought, Mr.
Lawrence? It will only sell for a pittance if it even sells at all,
regardless of where you go."
Remelio's thin, derisive smile was not meant to mock Lawrence.
After all, Remelio himself had been brought to the edge of ruin by
the same plunge in armor prices that now threatened Lawrence.
Ruvinheigen served as a supply depot for knights, mercenaries,
and missionaries heading north to suppress the pagans. Thus,
armor and scriptures were reliable sources of profit.
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Every winter there was a major campaign. The march was timed
to coincide with the birthday of Saint Ruvinheigen, and in order
to equip the mercenaries and knight brigades that amassed from
surrounding nations, goods like armor, scriptures, rations, coldweather
clothes, horses, and medicine all flew off the shelves.
This year the march had been hastily canceled. There was political
unrest in the nation that stretched out between the pagan territories
and the Ruvinheigen-controlled land where the battles
normally occurred, and that nation's disposition toward Ruvinheigen
had suddenly soured. If it had been a normal nation that
would have been one thing, but this particular nation bordered
the pagan lands, and even within its borders, there were here and
there pagan villages. One of the closest was Lamtra. Those who
had to fight the pagans could cross into the other nation, but if
they marched through it like they would any other year, there
was no telling when the pagans, who silently watched them,
might attack. The archbishop that controlled the grand diocese
was in attendance, as were members of the imperial family from
the south. They could not let the unthinkable happen.
Thus, the campaign was canceled.
As to how stricken the city's merchants were because of this
decision, one had to look no further than the predicament of the
Remelio Company, which had operated in Ruvinheigen for many
years. Even so, Lawrence should have realized something was
awry while he was traveling — if the mercenaries that fought in the
battlegrounds of the north were wandering around Ruvinheigen,
there had clearly been some kind of change in the battlefield.
What's more, given the drop in armor prices and the way Lawrence
had learned of it, he had to assume that when he'd gotten
the armor in Poroson, the master of the Latparron Company had
already known.
In other words, when he'd thought he was taking advantage of
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a weakness in order to force favorable terms for himself, he had
actually been used.
Having sold devalued armor to Lawrence at such a price, the
Latparron Company master was probably still laughing to himself.
And because the price of armor had dropped so much, he
knew that it would be either impossible for Lawrence to pay him
back or would take a significant effort. Thus, he had sold the obligation
to the long-standing Remelio Company, perhaps judging
that it would salvage his position.
In the middle of all of this, Lawrence had drawn the worst lot.
It was a failure that made Lawrence want to tear his own
limbs off.
And yet, Lawrence found some strength.
"I'll sell it high somewhere. You'll see. We'll settle the debt in
two days. Will that do?"
"Yes, we'll be waiting."
You could have put out a fire with the cold sweat that both
men were bathed in, but somehow they managed to preserve the
decency of a business negotiation.
They were both people, after all.
However, they were also both merchants.
Lawrence stood, and Remelio gave him some parting words.
"I should say," he began, "that our company's stalls are near the
city gates. If you plan to use them, do let us know."
In other words, don't try to run away.
"I expect I'll be busy with negotiations, so although I appreciate
your informing me, I doubt I will use them." If Holo had been
there, Lawrence would have had to laugh at the battle of wills, but
as both he and Remelio were on edge, he had to be honest.
Bankruptcy meant death in society. It would be better to be a
beggar, shivering from cold and hunger. If creditors caught up
with you, they would sell off everything you owned. Even your
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hair would be cut off and sold for wigs — and if you had good
teeth, they would be pulled and used for someone's dentures.
Your very freedom could be sold, and you could be made to toil as
a slave in a mine or aboard a ship. And even that wasn't the worst
that could happen. If a nobleman or wealthy person demanded
it, you might even pay with your very life — but you would have
no grave, and none would mourn your passing.
That was the inevitable reality of bankruptcy.
"I'll take my leave, then," said Lawrence.
"We look forward to seeing you in two days. May God's protection
go with you."
The weak devour the still weaker; it was the way of the world.
Nonetheless, Lawrence clenched his fists until his knuckles
were white from the rage he felt.
But half of that anger was at himself. He could not undo this
error.
Unescorted, he walked down from the negotiation room on
the third floor to the loading dock on the first floor.
Holo was dressed as a town girl and was thus unable to be present
for the negotiation; she waited in the driver's seat of the wagon,
watched over by someone from the trading company. The moment
Lawrence emerged onto the dock, Holo turned around with a start.
Lawrence wondered how terrible he must look.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said, climbing onto the wagon.
Holo gave a vague nod, peering at Lawrence curiously.
"Let's go."
Lawrence took the reins and ignored the dockmaster, heading
the horse away from the loading dock. The dockmaster had
apparently been informed of the situation in advance, so he
silently watched Lawrence and Holo leave.
As they descended the slope from the dock down onto the cobbled
street, Lawrence let slip a great sigh.
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It escaped with all the anger, frustration, and regret piled up
within him.
There was so much sheer defeat in the sigh that if a rabbit had
been nearby, it might have died on the spot.
But it was not as though the sigh had taken Lawrence's merchant
sense from him.
This was no time for despair. His mind swirled with cold fury
as he began to calculate how he might raise the funds.
"...Hey."
A timid voice cut through his trance.
"Hm?"
"What... what happened?" Holo asked with an awkward, anxious
smile — Holo, whose true wolf form Lawrence had fully
accepted. She had surely overheard the conversation with Remelio,
so her question must have some other intent.
Lawrence imagined what he looked like to Holo.
Image was a merchant's life. He took his hands off the reins
and forced himself to relax his tense facial muscles.
"If you want to know what happened, the load behind us is
worthless."
"Mmph. Then I suppose I didn't hear wrong."
"Incidentally, this could mean bankruptcy for me."
Hole's face twisted, pained — perhaps she understood the
sad fate that awaited the bankrupt, like a lamb being led to the
slaughter. Then her expression changed.
Her cool wolf's eyes regarded Lawrence evenly.
"Will you run?"
"If I run once, I'll be on the run forever. The information networks
of the trade guilds and companies are like the very eyes
of God. No matter where I went, if I tried to do business, I'd
be found out immediately. I'd never be able to be a merchant
again."
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"But the going rate for an injured animal to free itself is gnawing
through its own limb. You won't content yourself with that?"
"Impossible," answered Lawrence flatly.
Holo turned away, as if thinking.
"If I pay back the equivalent of forty-seven lumione gold pieces,
that'll be enough. I still have my goods on hand. I can settle my
debts here and sell the armor somewhere far away, where it'll
fetch a decent price. It's not impossible," said Lawrence, as if it
were simple. In reality, the ease with which he explained it was
equivalent to the impossibility of the task.
But he had no other choice. His merchant's spirit was part of
it — if he tried to run, his life as a merchant was over. His only
option was to struggle until the end.
After averting her gaze for a while, Holo turned back to Lawrence.
As if weary of looking at his stricken face, she smiled thinly.
"I'm Holo the Wisewolf. I'm sure I can be of some help."
"This is rather different from covering your meals."
Holo jabbed Lawrence in his side with her fist. "I said all along
I'd pay for my own food."
"I know, I know," replied Lawrence as he brushed her fist
away.
Hole's eyebrows were raised as she sniffed slightly, her anger
dissolved.
She looked expressionlessly at the horse. When she spoke, it
was as though she was uttering a grave oath.
"If it becomes necessary, I swear on my honor to free you — even
if I must use the power within this wheat."
Within the pouch that hung from Hole's neck was the wheat
that contained her essence. If she used it, she could easily return
to her true form.
Yet Holo loathed above all else the terrified gazes of those who
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saw that form. Those reactions were a prison that condemned
her to loneliness. She had once returned to that shape deep in the
underground canals beneath the port city of Pazzio, but that had
been because Holo herself was in danger.
This was different. The danger now confronted Lawrence alone.
He was meekly gratified that Holo was prepared to go to such
lengths for his sake.
"You promised to accompany me back to the northlands. I
can't have you getting tripped up here."
"I'll keep that promise, and — "
Lawrence closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
" — if it comes to it, I may need saving."
Lawrence felt a new sense of relief, knowing that there was
someone he could rely on.
Holo grinned. "Count on it," she said.
Holo would come to his rescue.
That option did exist.
But it wasn't something he wanted to resort to. If the situation
got that bad, it meant Lawrence's place in the world was entirely
gone.
That was what it meant to have to leave your home, to desert
your native soil. Failure left nothing behind.
"So, what will you do now?" asked Holo in front of the inn after
they had left the wagon with the innkeeper.
It was exactly what Lawrence himself wanted to ask, but he had
no time for such weakness.
The inn had been paid for up front, so they didn't have to immediately
worry about where to sleep and stable the horse. He had
a fair amount of cash on hand. It was fortune within misfortune
that they wouldn't immediately lack for food and shelter.
But the remaining options were few and time in short supply.
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"We'll go to the guild house first. That's all we can do."
"Mm. If they're truly your comrades they'll come to your aid."
She meant it as encouragement, but Lawrence knew all too well
that the world was not so simple. In his ten years spent in the
world of merchants, he had seen any number of people whose
support would disappear as soon as you found yourself in a
predicament.
"Right, I'm heading out for a moment, so you just wait here — "
Holo stamped her foot before Lawrence could finish his sentence.
"Do I look like the kind of ungrateful wolf that lets her companion
face a crisis alone?"
"No, but — "
"Do I?!"
She looked up at him, feet planted.
"You don't, but that's not the issue."
"What is the issue, then?"
She moved aside for the moment, but the look in her eyes
made it clear that she would block him again depending on his
answer.
"The guild house is like home for merchants like me. You
understand what bringing a girl home means, right?"
"It is not as though I'm playing at ignorance of the situation."
"Explaining our situation is impossible! How am I supposed to
account for my relationship to you?"
Holo would be burned at the stake as a demon if the Church was
to find her. Although Jakob, who ran the guild house in this city,
was an even more understanding man than himself, Lawrence
knew that it would be a disaster if he for some reason decided to
turn Holo in to the Church. And besides, many merchants from
the Rowen area came through the guild — and not all of them
were so understanding. He couldn't risk it.
Lawrence would have to engage in at least a bit of deception in
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order to explain his connection to Holo. But could he pull it off?
Jakob could spot a lie a hundred leagues away.
"Just claim we're lovers, then. "Tis better by far than being left
here," said Holo.
It was clear she was worried about him.
Lawrence knew that if their positions were reversed, he would
be angry if she tried to go off and solve her problems alone. He
knew he would feel betrayed if she told him to "stay at the inn."
Holo averted her eyes.
He would just have to pray.
"Fine. Come along. You're the smart one, anyway."
"Mm. You can rely on me."
"However — " Lawrence stepped aside to allow a traveler to
enter the inn "—this is a business meeting. Don't do anything
crazy. That lot can give a rough welcome." Lawrence said this
with a tone that made it clear he would brook no argument on
the matter — his colleagues' idea of a welcome could be a real
baptism by fire.
But Holo seemed happy as long as he was taking her with him.
She nodded agreeably.
"Right then, let's go."
"Let's!"
The two walked off briskly and soon disappeared into the
crowds.
Just as Lawrence was about to knock on the door of the guild
house, someone came out.
It was obvious at a glance that he was a town merchant, but
no sooner had he spotted Lawrence with surprise than his face
soured and he looked away — he was clearly a messenger from
the Remelio Company. The most likely scenario was that he
had come to inform the guild of Lawrence's position and the
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possibility that the Remelio Company would turn to them to
guarantee Lawrence's debt.
Lawrence said nothing, simply giving way to the man as though
he was no one in particular.
The merchant himself would probably never have deigned to
undertake such a role if his own company were not in such dire
straits. As it was, though the Remelio Company was trying to
force Lawrence to pay up, the man practically scurried away from
Lawrence.
A person who liked bringing others to ruin was actually rare
among merchants, who spent their days trying to outwit their
competitors. Destruction and competition were totally different
things.
"I daresay I thought he was going to take a swing at you." Holo
seemed to have noticed that the man was from Remelio, but Lawrence
only gave a pained grin at her joke.
"At least he spared us the trouble of explaining the worst of the
news. I should thank him."
"I suppose it depends on perspective."
Finally able to smile, Lawrence entered the guild house.
The merchants that dealt with fish, vegetables, and other perishable
goods had mostly concluded their work for the day. Unlike
the morning when Lawrence had come, the guild was now filled
with men sitting at the tables, drinking wine, and having a grand
time. Lawrence could put a name to each face. Some raised a
hand in greeting to him as soon as they noticed him.
However, when Holo entered just behind him, the activity came
to a sudden stop, and a strange commotion rippled through the
assemblage. It was like a sigh. And the look — calling it "envy" or
"jealousy" didn't do it justice. Holo was entirely indifferent to the
situation, but Lawrence found it almost painful.
"Oh ho, this must be God's will."
138
Jakob was the first to speak — the smile he displayed failed to
reach his eyes.
"You've caught a rare jewel here, Lawrence."
Holo ignored the myriad eyes fixed on her and walked smoothly
toward Jakob, leading Lawrence by the hand.
The fact that Jakob had called him Lawrence rather than Kraft
stabbed at him.
It meant that Jakob would no longer treat him as a member of
the guild, but only as a merchant like any other.
"I didn't catch her — I was caught by her, Chief Tarantino."
Jakob grinned so widely his face became distorted, then he
rose laboriously and patted Lawrence heavily on the shoulder,
gesturing inside. "Let's talk."
The sharp-eyed merchants in the room had noticed the unusual
mood of the exchange. None spoke.
Past the lobby was an enclosed courtyard. Looking out over
the courtyard with its sparse seasonal decoration as he led them
in, the giant Jakob spoke.
"Didn't you pass the fellow from the Remelio Company?"
"I did. At the front door."
"Ah. I thought you'd be lucky and miss him."
"...Why is that?" Lawrence didn't understand what Jakob was
getting at, but he could see Jakob's shoulders shaking with mirth.
"Because there was no noise when we came to blows."
Holo smirked slightly, and Lawrence relaxed.
Jakob opened the door to a room on the right side of the hallway
they were in and motioned for the two to enter.
"This is where I work. There'll be nobody to listen to our conversation
here, so you can relax on that count," said Jakob.
It was not a large room, but it gave the impression of housing
limitless knowledge.
Looking through the open door, they could see the walls were
139
almost entirely covered with shelves, upon which rested carelessly
stacked bundles of documents.
There was a small table in the middle of the room wedged
between two simple couches of wood and leather construction.
Also facing the door was a desk piled high with a mountain of
documents. Though paper was becoming less expensive with each
passing year, there were still fine varieties to be had. It was proof that
Jakob spared little expense in the preservation of knowledge. Even
a well-regarded theologian might not have collected so much.
"Well, then, where shall we begin?"
Jakob faced the table and sat on one of the couches, which heaved
a creaky sigh under his significant weight. Normally that was the
seed from which a friendly chat would bloom, but in these circumstances,
it was only the authority that bore down on Lawrence.
Lawrence was glad Holo was beside him.
If he had been alone, his mind might simply have gone blank.
"First, I'd sure like to know who and what that beauty of yours
is." Jakob's gaze fixed steadily on Lawrence.
It was admittedly preposterous for a merchant facing bankruptcy
to be walking around with a town girl. Were Jakob a lesspatient
man, he would have given Lawrence the boot as soon as
he had shown up with Holo in tow.
"She's a business partner. We're traveling together."
"Ho, a business partner?" Jakob looked at Holo for the first
time, seeming to think this was a grand joke. Holo smiled and
inclined her head.
"The Milone Company in Pazzio offered me one hundred forty
trenni for the furs I was selling, but in the end, they bought them
for a full two hundred trenni. She's the one who made it happen."
Hole's face betrayed a certain amount of pride in opposition to
Jakob's doubtful expression.
His doubt was understandable. If someone had told Lawrence
140
a similar story, he would have assumed it to be a lie. The Milone
Company was known in many nations, and those who worked
for it were first-rate traders — bargaining them higher in price
was not something that happened easily.
"I said it this morning when I was here. 'You can't invest without
capital.'" Since the story of the furs was true, Lawrence spoke
without fear.
He had not thought about whether Holo would be angry at him
for talking about it, but she seemed to understand that it was for
expediency's sake.
Jakob closed his eyes, and strangely, his expression shifted.
"I don't need to know the details. Your like does show up every
once in a while, after all."
"Huh?"
"One day they just show up at the guild, stunning beauty in
tow, everything going well in business and life. And they never
want to give details about the woman. So I don't ask anymore.
The scriptures say not to open strange boxes, after all."
Lawrence wondered if it was a trick to make him tell the truth,
but he didn't know what purpose it would serve. He tried to
rethink his position.
Perhaps the story of the cart horse turning into the goddess of
fortune and traveling with a merchant was true.
Lawrence himself was traveling with a wolf spirit who had
taken the form of a girl. Merchants like him were too realistic to
assume they were somehow special.
"'Tis a prudent decision," said Holo, which elicited a hearty
laugh from Jakob.
"Well, then, let's speak frankly then, shall we? If you two were
a couple, I'd have tried to convince you to head straight to the
church and make it official. But if you're in business together, well,
that's different. You'll hang together or hang separately—your
141
partner's fall is your own misfortune. The bonds of gold run
thicker than blood!"
Jakob's couch creaked.
"Let me get the story straight. The fellow from Remelio that
just left told it like this: Kraft Lawrence, attached to the Rowen
Trade Guild, bought one hundred lumione worth of armor from
the Latparron Company in Poroson. We're liable for roughly
half. Now the Remelio Company holds the debt. Is that it?"
Lawrence nodded painfully.
"I didn't hear what kind of armor it was, but the armor is going
for about one-tenth what it previously was, so even if you sell it
for that price, you've still got to make up about forty lumione.
That comes out to fifteen hundred pieces of trenni silver."
After all was said and done, Lawrence had come away with
about a thousand pieces of silver from the Pazzio affair. Even if
he were able to repeat the stunt, there would be debt left over.
"It looks like you were completely taken in by the Latparron
Company. I won't ask the details. From what I've heard, that
won't change the situation. No matter what anyone thinks, you
got greedy and made a mistake. Is that right?"
"It is, exactly."
Lawrence didn't try to make excuses. Saying he had become
greedy and failed summed up his predicament precisely.
"If you understand that, this will be a simple conversation. You
must pay back on your own the debt that the guild will, in all
likelihood, shoulder. When you meet with fraud or extortion,
when you become sick or injured and suffer losses, we in the trade
guild put our credit on the line to save you. But not this time. The
only ones to come to your aid now will be the gods — "
Jakob pointed a finger at Holo, who glanced at Lawrence.
- or that beauty."
"I understand."
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Unlike craft guilds, a regional trade guild was built around assurances
of mutual assistance. It ran on contributions from its members,
and as Jakob said, it gave aid to merchants who had suffered
misfortune and would otherwise be unable to get by. Members
would also assemble in foreign lands to protest unfair treatment.
The guild had not been created to guarantee the debts of merchants
whose greed led them to ruin.
In such cases, even if the guild temporarily assumed the liability,
it would pursue repayment relentlessly. The other guild members
wouldn't stand for the loss, and it served as a lesson in the
restraint of greed.
Jakob's eyes were like bows drawn tight.
"Unfortunately, I'm not in a position where I can show you any
compassion — and the reason why I must be so strict is just outside
in the lobby. It is guild law. If it became known that this
trade house goes easy on its members, it would be a target for
riffraff from all around."
"Of course. I myself would be angry if I heard some other
member had been saved from his own failure."
Lawrence put on a brave face, for if he didn't, he would have
collapsed.
"Also, you surely know this, but guild members are forbidden
from lending money to each other. Neither can the guild lend
you money. It would set a bad example."
"I understand."
Lawrence's second home was barring its doors to him.
"Based on what the Remelio Company messenger told me,
your obligation comes due in two days. Their own investments in
armor have failed, so they're feeling the heat as well. They won't
hesitate in demanding repayment. In other words, your failure
will become public the day after tomorrow, and I'll have to detain
you. What have you concluded from this?"
143
"If I do not collect forty-seven lumione in two days and pay the
Remelio Company back, there is no future for me," said Lawrence.
Jakob shook his head slowly, then looked down at the table.
"That's not quite true."
There was a slight rustling sound next to Lawrence; probably
Holo's tail.
"You future will come," continued Jakob. "But it will be black,
bitter, and heavy."
The implicit message was that suicide in the face of this bankruptcy
would not be acceptable.
"Forty-seven lumione could be paid off in ten years of rowing
on a trade ship — or working in a mine. Of course, you'd have to
avoid injury and sickness."
Anyone who had ever seen correspondence between a ship's
captain and its owner knew that was pure fantasy. Nine-tenths of
such correspondence was devoted to the captain requesting fresh
rowers and the owner trying to make them last a little longer.
About 80 percent of rowers on long-distance ships were worthless
after two years, another 10 percent were finished after two
more years, and the remaining 10 percent — unbelievably strongbodied
men — wound up on antipirate vessels and never returned.
And even that was preferable to mine labor. Most miners died of
lung disease within a year, and the lucky few who avoided such a
fate died in collapsed tunnels.
In contrast, some who encountered misfortune might have
their trade house cover their debts and then gradually repay their
creditors at low interest — far better treatment.
Those who failed as a consequence of greed had to understand
the seriousness of their crime.
"But it is not as though I wish death on you. Don't forget that.
A sin must be punished — and it is my duty to enforce that simple
principle."
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"I understand."
Lawrence looked into Jakob's eyes. For the first time, a flicker
of empathy appeared there.
"There's nothing I can do besides wish you luck over the next
two days, but if there is anything I can do, I will. Standard business
assistance is no problem. Also, I trust you. I ought to tie you
up for the next two days, but you can go free."
The word trust weighed heavily on Lawrence's shoulders.
Holo had promised to rescue him if it came to that.
But taking her up on that offer meant betraying the trust Jakob
was showing him.
Lawrence wondered if he could do that.
He unconsciously muttered the problem to himself before
speaking up.
"I thank you for your consideration. I'll try to find the money
in the next two days, somehow."
"There are always possibilities in business — and some you can
only see when you are in true danger."
Lawrence's heart thudded at the statement. It could be interpreted
as suggesting illegal activity.
As the master of the Ruvinheigen branch of the Rowen Trade
Guild, Jakob had to confront Lawrence with harsh reality, but he
was also worried about the young merchant. A person who was
capable only of severity would be unfit to be the master of the
merchants' second home.
"Have you anything you want to ask or say?"
Lawrence shook his head, but then spoke as something suddenly
occurred to him.
"I want you to think of what you'll say when I repay the
money."
Jakob blinked, then laughed loudly. The inappropriate timing
of the joke made it all the funnier.
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"I'll think of something, don't you worry! And you, my dear,
have you anything to say?"
Lawrence was sure she would say something, but Holo —
surprisingly — shook her head wordlessly.
"Right, that should wrap things up. We shouldn't talk too
long. They're a suspicious lot out there, you know. If rumors get
around, it'll be harder for you to act."
Jakob stood from the couch, which creaked again. Lawrence
and Holo did likewise.
Jakob and Lawrence knew it was a bad idea for merchants to
wear dark expressions, so they made every effort to appear normal,
as if the business they had just discussed was nothing more
than a bit of small talk.
When the reached the lobby, Jakob returned to his usual spot
and waved Lawrence off lightly.
Yet the people drinking wine in the lobby said nothing to him,
as if they had sensed something was amiss.
Lawrence felt the weight of eyes on his back; he closed the door
behind him and Holo as if to seal the guild members away.
They might even have been thinking about restraining him.
He couldn't help but feel grateful at Jakob's generosity in letting
him go free.
"Well, we've got two days of freedom. We've no choice but to
see what we can do with it," murmured Lawrence to himself, but
the notion of raising forty-seven lumione without any capital was
delusional at best.
If there were any such method, the beggars of the world would
all be rich men.
Yet he had to think of something.
If he didn't, his future wasn't worth contemplating.
His dream of having a shop would collapse; his recovery as a
merchant would be hopeless; and his life would end either in the
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gloom of a mine shaft or the bowels of a ship, where the cries of
anguish were said to drown out the crashing of the waves.
He tried to buck himself up, to put on a brave face, but the
more he tried to reassure himself, the more the impossibility of
his situation closed in around him.
Jakob trusted Lawrence enough to give him his freedom for
two days.
But now Lawrence began to wonder if it was just Jakob giving
a doomed man his last days of freedom. As he thought about
it realistically, raising forty-seven lumione in two days seemed
impossible.
He noticed his hand was trembling.
Shamed, Lawrence made a fist to stop the shaking. Then a small
hand rested atop his.
It was Holo — he suddenly remembered she was there.
He wasn't alone.
Coming to that realization, Lawrence found the composure to
take a deep breath.
At this rate, he would break his promise to accompany Holo to
the northlands.
His frozen mind began to turn. Holo noticed this and spoke.
"So. What will you do?"
"First, before we do any more thinking, we need to test something."
"And that is?" Holo asked, looking up to Lawrence.
"Debt for debt."
None can feel at ease when lending large amounts of money
unless they are very wealthy or generous indeed.
On the other hand, one does not nag for repayment of a trivial
loan unless they are especially petty or especially strapped for cash.
Debt was like a looming mud slide. Even if it were impossible
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to stop, if one could manage to divert it into other rivers, it could
be managed.
One way to manage a debt of forty-seven lumione would be to
borrow small amounts from many different people to pay it off
and then gradually pay each lender off in turn.
However.
"Well, well, Lawrence! It's been a while. What's your angle
today?"
Every merchant Lawrence knew greeted him roughly the same
upon seeing his face again, but when the talk came of lending
their expressions grew grim.
"Five lumione7. Sorry, friend, times are tough for me at the
moment. It's the end of the year, prices of wheat and meat are up,
and I've got to lay in stock for spring. Sorry, I just..."
Everyone gave the same answer, as if their responses had been
prearranged. They were merchants just like him, sensitive to
exactly what he was trying. If traveling merchants could just
head to a company and borrow money instead of borrowing
from their guild, that would put the trade companies in the same
position that forced guilds to have rules against lending.
And no one wanted to load their goods aboard a sinking ship.
When Lawrence pressed them for even a single lumione, they
regarded him as if he was especially foul smelling.
With no island to cling to, he was often just kicked out or
sent off.
One who came not for commerce or negotiation but simply to
borrow was little more than a thief.
That was common sense in the world of merchants.
"We'll try another one."
After Lawrence met back up with Holo, who waited outside
the row of companies and mansions, he didn't bother with a fifth
rendition of that same line.
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He had only put on a brave face for the first three stops, and
Holo stopped asking him how it had gone after four.
As a "by the way" to his request for a short-term loan, Lawrence
had asked after any opportunities for profit, but that, too,
had withered into silence. After all, merchants used capital to
turn a profit. It was obvious that without money on hand, there
was nothing to be done.
Lawrence unconsciously quickened his pace as he walked,
opening a bit of distance between himself and Holo.
When he noticed, he told himself to calm down, but the words
merely echoed in his empty mind, and he began to find Hole's
words of encouragement irritating.
He was in a bad way.
Despite the chilly air that descended as night drew near, Lawrence's
forehead and throat were slick with sweat.
Though he had thought himself prepared, the reality of his
circumstances affected him more than he'd anticipated. The
seriousness of the situation seemed to spill out of him like water
from an overtaxed ceramic cup.
Why had he made that deal in Poroson? The feelings of regret
warred with the uselessness of such recriminations within him.
Again, Hole's voice reminded Lawrence that he had put too
much distance between them. He was assailed by an exhaustion
that made him wonder if he would ever be able to walk again
were he to stop.
But he had no time for exhaustion.
"Excuse me," Lawrence asked at yet another door.
The bell signaling the close of the market rang; all the companies
would soon be closing their doors for the day.
The ninth location Lawrence visited was already tidying up its
loading dock, and a wooden sign was posted on the entrance,
indicating that the day's trading was over.
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A trading company was home to the master and men working
there, so it wasn't as if no one was about. Lawrence used the
knocker and took a deep breath.
He hadn't many acquaintances left. The merchant had to get
someone to lend him money.
"Who is there?" asked the woman who opened the door. She
was well built, and Lawrence remembered her face.
Just as Lawrence steeled himself to ask after the master, the
woman looked back over her shoulder. Flustered, she went back
into the house.
In her place appeared the master of the company.
"It has been a while, Mr. Lawrence."
"It has. I'm very sorry to trouble you after the market's closed,
but I have a favor to ask..."
The first couple of stops Lawrence made, he had had the luxury
of beginning with small talk, feigning normal business.
But he no longer possessed such a luxury. As he plunged into
his request, the master regarded him scornfully.
"I happened to hear that you've been making the rounds with
your request."
"Er, yes... though it embarrasses me to say so..."
The ties between merchant companies in a city were strong.
The master had clearly heard from one of the companies Lawrence
visited earlier.
"And it's a sizable amount. Is this because of the drop in armor
prices, I wonder?"
"Yes. I was naive and made a mistake."
Even if he had to grovel and throw himself on the mercy of others,
Lawrence had to borrow the money. Starting penniless and
raising forty-seven lumione in two days was simply impossible.
And if he was refused here, he would be turned away at the
gates everywhere else.
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If even one of the other companies had lent to him, Lawrence
felt that others would have too. But the fact that none had offered
him aid made him wonder if they all thought his recovery so
impossible that they wouldn't bother lending.
Merchant companies were closely connected. Once a piece
of information escaped, the news would be all over town in an
instant.
The master's tone was unchanged and cold.
"A naive mistake? I suppose it was at that."
This was something that it didn't take the skill of a merchant
used to discerning others' feelings to grasp.
This was not the tone of a man prepared to lend money.
The master furrowed his brow and let slip an exasperated sigh. It
seemed as if he might have known that Lawrence had gotten greedy
and amassed an oppressive debt by buying armor on margin.
Trustworthiness was a merchant's life. If you couldn't be
trusted, none would extend their hand to aid you.
And your debt was your own responsibility — if you couldn't
pay it back, it was your own fault.
Lawrence hung his head, feeling the strength drain from him
like so much water.
The master continued speaking.
"Yet only the gods can predict a sudden fall in price. It's unfair
to rebuke you for being unable to do so."
Lawrence looked up in spite of himself. He saw a glimmer of
hope. If he could get a loan here, it would be easier to get loans
from others, and his skill as a traveling merchant would be
acknowledged to a degree. If he promised to pay it back with
interest, he might yet save himself.
Hope, he thought, dangled now before his eyes.
But when he looked at the master, the face that greeted him
held only scorn in its eyes.
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"If you're in trouble, Mr. Lawrence, I thought that I might be
able to be of some help to you. You've helped me turn a profit
many a time. But while I'm a merchant, I also live by the teachings
of God, and I need to know your sincerity."
Lawrence did not understand what he was hearing, but nonetheless,
he frantically began to formulate an excuse when he
was cut off by the particularly mercantile form of the master's
speech.
"You've got a woman in tow even as you make the rounds,
depending on the compassion of others to lend you money? Preposterous.
How far the Rowen Trade Guild has fallen!"
The words froze Lawrence cold as the master slammed the
door in his face.
He could neither move forward nor backward.
It was as though he'd forgotten to breathe.
The closed door was so quiet it seemed painted on stone. It
was surely as cold and heavy as stone. The door would not open
again; Lawrence's connections with the merchants of the city had
been cut.
They would lend him no money.
He backed away unsteadily from the door, not of his own volition,
but rather because his body seemed to move on its own.
When he finally noticed his surroundings, he was standing in
the middle of the street.
"Don't just stand in the middle of the road!" the driver of a
horse-drawn cart shouted at him, and like a stray dog, Lawrence
moved to the edge of the lane.
What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?
The words passed endlessly before his eyes.
"Hey there. Are you all right?"
At the sound of the voice, Lawrence started.
"Your face is quite pale. Let's hie to the inn — "
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Holo extended her hand by way of comfort, but Lawrence
slapped it away.
"If only you hadn't —," he shouted. But by the time he realized
his error, he was too late.
Holo looked at him as though she had been stabbed though the
heart. Having nowhere to go, her hand hovered there in midair
for a moment before she slowly lowered it.
She looked down, her face blank with neither anger or sadness
on it.
"I'm... sorry...," she managed in a strangled voice, but she did
not offer her hand again.
Lawrence could do nothing but curse himself.
The sound of the appalling thing he had done pressed in
on him.
"... I'm going back to the inn," announced Holo quietly, walking
off without a second look at Lawrence.
Holo could hear conversations within the next building, so she
had certainly heard Lawrence's exchange with the master.
Of course, she would feel responsible and want to get
away—she had been worried enough about him to accompany
him, after all.
Yet just because her actions had backfired, she hadn't lightly
apologized or acted confused; instead, she had been genuinely
concerned for Lawrence. He knew it was the most appropriate
response. He knew that, which made his treatment of her all the
more reprehensible.
He couldn't find the words to speak to Holo, whose back was
disappearing into the crowds — and he didn't have the courage,
either.
Lawrence cursed himself again.
If the goddess of fortune existed, Lawrence wanted to punch
her square in the face.
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Lawrence finally returned to the inn only after the stalls that
had permission to conduct business past sunset had closed their
doors for the day.
He wanted to drown himself in wine, but he had no money and
sensed that it would be a kind of betrayal.
Standing drunkenly before Holo — that was something he
simply could not do.
It was his visits to the various trade companies that had kept
him out so late.
If he abandoned pride and dignity altogether, he reasoned they
would give him a bit of money simply to be rid of him.
In the end he'd gotten three lumione from four people. Three
of them had told him he didn't need to bother returning it. They
knew who was borrowing, after all.
His goal of forty-seven lumione was still clearly distant. He
had to take this small amount and multiply it significantly in
the little time that remained. It was not as if his situation had
improved. The relationships he had destroyed in order to raise
even this much money were important, even necessary, for doing
business.
There were essentially no legitimate opportunities that
remained for making more money.
And in any case, there was something that had to be considered
before that — something that had to be regained before he could
even think of making more money—which is why he had
gone thither and yon asking after loans with no care for the
consequences.
The memory of how Hole's hand felt when he unwittingly drove
her away came back to him. Pain swirled in his chest, seeming to
pierce his very heart.
When Lawrence entered the inn's lobby, the sleepy innkeeper
stood behind his counter, enduring a large yawn. The city
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required that the innkeeper remain awake until all the guests
had returned to the inn. If a guest hadn't returned by the next
day, the town guard had to be notified.
It was a precaution against thieves and criminals entering the
city and perpetrating foul deeds.
"Well, you're back early" came the sarcastic greeting from the
innkeeper. Lawrence waved it off and headed to his room.
It was a single room on the third floor. Lawrence didn't want to
consider the possibility that Holo had simply gone off somewhere
else.
For the second time that day, he took a deep breath and opened
the door.
Whether he opened the door slowly or quickly, the creaking
would have been the same, so he did it briskly and entered.
Between the terrible building conditions and the huge number
of travelers who passed through Ruvinheigen, a room with a bed
was already fairly luxurious. This room, with its crude bed in the
center, had a simple table by the window and still cost a pretty
penny.
But now Lawrence was grateful it was so small.
If it had been even a little bit bigger, he probably would have
hesitated to speak.
Holo was curled up on the bed, illuminated faintly by the moonlight
that entered through a crack in the shuttered window.
"Holo."
The brief utterance diffused in the small, dark room, and Lawrence
was beset by the illusion that he had never said anything
at all.
On the bed, Holo did not so much as move.
If she had never wanted to see his face again, she would not
have come back to the inn. The fact that she was curled up there
on the bed soothed him that much at least.
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"I'm sorry."
Those were the only words he had, all he could think of to say,
but Holo remained still.
He could not imagine that she was sleeping, so he took one step
toward the bed and gulped.
Instantly, he felt a sharp sensation at his feet. He stepped back
quickly as a sweaty chill ran up his spine, and the frightening
feeling vanished.
He looked back and forth between Holo and his feet.
When someone is truly angry, Lawrence thought, just getting
close to them can almost feel like being burned. Disbelieving,
he slowly reached his hand out; it was met by an overwhelming
aura. Her anger was literally palpable. There was a distinct layer
of air that felt strangely hot and cold at the same time.
Lawrence steeled himself and reached his hand out again. It
felt as if he were plunging his fist into burning sand laced with
blades. His senses told him that his flesh was charring and being
cut into pieces.
He remembered his first glimpse of Hole's true form in the
underground passageways.
He willed himself to take a step forward.
And in that moment.
"_ i"
There was a rustling sound, and just as Lawrence thought he
saw Hole's blanket move slightly, his hand was deflected by something
hard. He saw her bristling tail had been flicked away, but
a pain lingered in his hand, distinctly enough so that he didn't
have time to wonder whether it was illusory or not.
Then he realized that Holo had felt the same pain when he
struck her hand. Lawrence had been prepared for this reaction,
whereas his rejection of Holo came utterly without warning. The
surprise alone must have hurt her.
156
Again, he cursed his own mistake.
Lawrence took a leather pouch out from underneath his shirt
and tossed it onto the bed.
It was all the money he had spent the day burning bridges to
acquire.
He had cashed in all the relationships he'd built up in this
city.
"This is all the money I was able to get on my own. Three lumione.
I still have to raise over forty more, but I've no way to do it. I
can think of no way to use that as capital to raise what I need."
It was like he was talking to a cobblestone, so complete was
Hole's lack of reaction. Still, Lawrence cleared his throat slightly
and continued.
"All I can think of to do is take the money to a gambling house
and hope for luck. But if I give it to the person who really should
have it, I feel it may yet increase. So I entrust it to you."
Drunken singing could be heard from the street outside the
window.
"And if everything goes bad, well, adding three lumione won't
make a difference anyway."
Lawrence had sacrificed possibilities for cash half in the hopes
that Holo would be able to use her wits to find a way to increase
their funds and half because he wanted to leave her some money
in the event that the worst happened.
Though it was only a verbal contract, Lawrence had promised
to take her to the northlands, and parting on such bad terms
would leave a bad taste in his mouth.
He felt that the least he could do for Holo, as a merchant, was
to give her some coin.
Still, there was no response.
He backed up a step, then turned, and pulled the door open,
going into the hall.
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He couldn't stay in the room when it was like that.
Lawrence descended the dark stairs and went outside, ignoring
the rebuking voice of the innkeeper.
Off to his right, he heard the drunken singing that previously
had filtered through the room's window.
The town guard would soon be making the rounds. Having no
particular place to go, Lawrence thought of going to see Jakob,
who was quite involved with his problems at the moment. Since
Lawrence had gone around practically forcing his request on
every merchant in the vicinity, Jakob had undoubtedly received
a flood of complaints.
But he stopped after taking a step.
The realization that tonight could well be his last opportunity
to walk around as a free man seized his heart.
He looked up unconsciously. He started to angle his sights
toward the room on the third floor where Holo was. Holo, who
surely had some terrible knowledge that could help him now;
Holo, who he couldn't possibly ask a favor of now.
His gaze didn't even reach the third floor before he stopped
and lowered it.
Just as he resigned himself to go to the guild house, something
hit him on the head.
Lawrence's field of vision swam from the sudden shock, and
he fell to his knees. The word robbery came to mind, and he
reached for the dagger at his waist, but there was no assailant.
Instead came the distinctive clinking of coins jingling against
one another...
He searched around and saw the bag containing the three precious
lumione he had left on the bed.
"You fool" came the words above his head.
He looked up to be met with Hole's scowl, as cold as moonlight.
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"Get back in here, then," she said and immediately disappeared
into the room. Just as she did, the innkeeper opened his door and
emerged.
If a traveler staying at an inn were to perpetrate any misdeeds,
the innkeeper could also be held responsible. As someone going
out in the middle of the night had to be up to no good, the innkeeper
had come to bring Lawrence back in.
But Lawrence no longer had any reason to stay out.
He calmed himself and picked the purse up, holding it up
lightly to the innkeeper.
"My companion threw it out the window, you see," he said with
a rueful smile.
The innkeeper made a put-upon face. "Try to keep it down,
please," he chided, opening the door.
Lawrence nodded cursorily and headed back up the stairs to
the room.
In his hand was the purse with the three lumione.
He stood before the door to the first room on the third floor
and opened it without much hesitation.
Holo had taken off her robe and sat cross-legged on a chair by
the window.
"You/oo/" was the first thing she said.
"Sorry."
Lawrence could think of no better reply. It accurately reflected
what was in his heart but was too brief.
Yet no other words came.
"The money...," said Holo with equally short words, a displeased
expression on her face. "How did you collect it?"
"You want to know?"
Holo looked away, as though presented with her least favorite
food. "What was I to do, run off with your precious money?"
"That's half the reason I collected it. If my failure means I can't
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fulfill my end of the bargain, the least I could do is leave you
some travel money — "
He swallowed the rest of the sentence.
Holo still averted her gaze, her lips tight — but tears welled up
in her eyes.
It was as if the emotion within her was overflowing, and she
was trying desperately to hold it back.
Then a single tear sparkled as it fell. The dam had broken.
'"Travel... money'... ?"
"Well, yes..."
"Of all the absurd..."
Defiantly, Holo wiped her tears with both her sleeves, then
stood, glaring at Lawrence, her eyes still blurry.
"It is my fault, is it not? If I were not here, you'd shoulder no
debt! Why aren't you angrier? If I were... if I were...!"
Her small fists quivered as the words within her became tears,
overflowed, and fell.
Yet Lawrence did not understand.
Holo had come with Lawrence to the trade guild because she was
worried about him. She certainly had not known that he would be
turned down for loans because he had a woman with him.
And though it had been but a moment's passion, he had slapped
her hand away.
No matter how he considered it, he was the one at fault. He
couldn't find a reason to be angry with Holo.
"But I was the one at fault. You came along because you were
worried about me. I can't be angry at you for — "
She looked at him sharply. The moment he started speaking,
Holo turned and grabbed the back of the chair.
"You-"
She picked the chair up —
"—fool!"
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Alarmed, Lawrence winced, but Holo did not throw the largish
chair.
Soon he realized it took all her strength to lift the chair, and she
couldn't throw it.
"Urgh... damn this...," she said, perhaps cursing the heavier
than expected chair — or perhaps Lawrence.
But there was one thing he knew. Hole's thin arms could not
hurl the chair by force of emotion alone. Her moonlit body leaned
toward the window, hands still on the chair, eyes still glaring at
Lawrence.
"Look out!"
Just as the chair leg clattered against the window frame, Lawrence
sprang forward, grabbing the chair with his left hand and
Hole's thin wrist with his right.
Despite the fact that she had nearly fallen out the window, chair
and all, Holo continued glaring at Lawrence.
Unable to bear that gaze, he looked away.
Not knowing what else to say, he pulled the chair away from
her to set it back on the floor and Holo relinquished it unexpectedly
readily.
Then, as if that chair had been the entirety of her anger, the
strength drained from her small body.
"...You..."
Her eyes dropped as tears hit the floor; her voice was low.
"You're so naive..."
Lawrence put the chair down as she said it.
"I'm... naive?" he asked reflexively, so unexpected was her
statement.
Holo nodded, childlike, her hands still balled up into fists.
"But... you are... are you not? No one would loan you money
because I was with you, yet... yet..."
"I hit your hand away! I was mad at you — unjustifiably mad!"
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Holo shook her head and hit Lawrence's chest with her free hand.
Her face looked like she wanted to be angry, but she had forgotten
how.
"I... I... I followed you because I was selfish. When it went awry,
of course you were angry. But I never thought you'd hit my hand
away like that, so I wanted to be angry — I wanted to, but..."
Lawrence started to understand now.
"H-how could I be angry at you when you looked at me like
that?"
Holo wiped her tears again with her free hand.
"I became so foolishly vexed..."
She had been angry when he slapped her hand away, but looking
at Lawrence's face once he realized what he'd done had caused
that anger to subside.
Lawrence thought he must have looked quite pathetic.
But that didn't mean the rage inside Holo had entirely vanished.
She had still been irritated at having her hand slapped.
And wanting to be truly furious but not being able to — that
was only more frustrating.
She hadn't responded to him when he returned to the inn
because she had not known what to say. Her mind worked far
faster than Lawrence's, yet it had been thrown into confusion
without a clear object for her anger.
Then, completely misunderstanding her, Lawrence left her at
the inn with the three precious lumione.
That was like throwing oil on a fire.
Holo was already upset at herself for not being able to be properly
indignant, and him leaving the coin with her only made it
harder to be angry.
"I'm sorry... No, what I mean is, when I hit your hand away,
I thought I'd done something I'd never be able to take back, no
matter how much I apologized," said Lawrence slowly.
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Holo looked at him with eyes that seemed tired of fighting.
She probably was tired. Despite her quick mind and quicker
tongue, she had been angry enough to try to pick up and throw
a heavy chair. Her wolf form notwithstanding, Lawrence did
not think that her small body could sustain such ferocity for long.
"Anyway, I... I just wanted to undo what I'd done. And if it
didn't come across, well... I'm sorry."
Lawrence inwardly cursed his limited eloquence. Holo lightly
hit his chest again with her raised right hand.
"... Right, you."
"Hm?"
"Just answer me one thing."
Lawrence had no reason to refuse, so he nodded at Holo, whose
hand clutched his shirt.
But Holo did not say anything immediately. She hesitated several
times before finally speaking.
"Why... why are you so..."
She glanced up at him only for a moment.
"...softhearted?" she finished and then looked immediately
away, as if to escape.
Nonetheless, the whole of her attention was focused on Lawrence
and Lawrence alone.
It felt like she was anticipating something.
Her wolf ears, which until a moment ago drooped dejectedly,
now pricked up slightly, and her tail swished just a bit.
Her small body was illuminated by the moonlight that fell
through the open window.
The truth was the reason he had been so stunned by his own
actions when he hit her and the reason he had so frantically gathered
travel money for her were one and the same: Holo was very
special to him.
And that was surely the answer she wanted to hear.
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Lawrence looked down at her and tried to answer.
When he opened his mouth to speak, he realized that what
emerged was something other than what was in his heart.
"Just my personality, I guess."
He was afraid of the reaction he would get if he answered honestly.
There was no telling what would come of a frontal assault on
the unassailable Holo.
He feared her response, hence his answer. It seemed unfair.
It seemed a consequence of his own weakness.
However.
"Y-you..."
Just as he realized her hand was shaking, Holo smoothly
slipped her wrist from his grasp, delivering a punch to his gut as
she spoke.
"...Fool!"
Staggering back at the surprisingly forceful impact, he saw
Holo glaring at him, still holding on to his clothes as if to prevent
his escape.
"Y-your personality? Your personality? At least be a man and
tell a lie worth falling for, you dunce!"
Lawrence winced in spite of himself. Holo could see through
that much.
"S-sorry. The truth is — "
But that's as far as he got.
Still grabbing his collar, Holo grinned.
"Hear this, you. There are times when I want you to tell me
something even if it's a lie, and times when if you lie to me it
makes me want to give your face a sound beating. Which of these
do you think we now face?"
He was so stunned by her malicious smile that he barely
164
managed to say, "The latter," whereupon Holo gave a longsuffering
sigh and shoved him away.
Her ears and tail twitched her displeasure. Her anger was easy
to understand.
"Oh, you're a rare dunce indeed! How many males are there
in the world, do you think, who would not have managed to say,
'I'm in love with you,' or 'You're precious to me,' or any other line
to get a female to fall for him? I can see quite clearly what you are
thinking, but I simply cannot believe it — I cannot believe you
are such a soft touch!"
Her eyes had gone past amazement and into disdain, but she
didn't seem too irked.
Thinking about it the other way, Holo had wanted him to
say it.
"But I suppose 'tis that same quality that lets me travel with
you so easily. One can't have everything one wants."
Her comments were scattered, but Lawrence had no real
rebuttal.
What had Holo really wanted him to feel when he delivered
this supposed line?
Had she just been acting spoiled, teasing him? Or perhaps...
As soon as it occurred to Lawrence, Holo reached her hand
smoothly over to him and drew him near.
Lawrence was immediately on guard for whatever she was
planning, but she soon made her motive clear.
"Still, I did want to hear you say it. So come now, try again."
All he could think of to say was "Give me a break, please," but
he knew doing so would call down a fiery wrath upon him.
Holo gave a slight cough and looked at him entirely expectant;
Lawrence took a deep breath, preparing himself. The way she
looked at him couldn't possibly be an act.
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"Why are you so softhearted?" she asked again.
She looked even more serious than before, her sad eyes glistening
and her lip trembling slightly.
He could feel the blood rising to his face, but Lawrence steeled
himself and spoke anyway.
"Because you're very special to me."
She looked happy— so happy that it couldn't be an act — and
bowed her head, resting it against his chest.
The unexpected gesture took Lawrence by surprise. Holo
looked up at him, pouting, then took his arms and guided them
around her back.
Apparently he was supposed to hold her.
It was so absurd and oddly endearing that he was stunned for a
moment. Her tail swished as he embraced her slim body. It made
him so happy, he dared to squeeze a bit tighter.
It was not long, but somehow the moment seemed to last.
Holo moved in his arms, which brought Lawrence back to
himself—at which point, she laughed.
"Ha-ha-ha, what are we doing?"
"You made me do it!" said Lawrence, releasing her.
"Hee-hee. I suppose it was a good rehearsal for you," said Holo
mischievously.
Lawrence was in no mood to give her a serious reply.
When he slumped, she laughed hugely.
"Still, I must say —," she said, apparently not finished. "Next
time, just make me angry, yes? 'Tis nice you were so thoughtful,
but sometimes it is quicker to have a nice loud row and solve our
problems that way."
It was a strange thing to say, but Lawrence couldn't bring himself
to disagree.
It was not an idea he would ever have come up with himself,
But it seemed fresh and somehow warm to him.
166

"Right, then. Looking at your face I can imagine how you got
the money together — how much?"
"Three lumione and two-sevenths."
Her ears twitching, Holo again put her forehead against Lawrence's
chest. If she tried to blow her nose against him, he was
going to push her away, but as she was just wiping her tears, he
let her be.
When she finally looked up, she was back to her old self.
With a proud smile, she began to speak.
"You were right to count on my wit. I have a cunning plan."
"Wha...whatisit?"
Lawrence leaned forward unconsciously out of a mix of curiosity
and surprise; Holo made a face and pulled away.
"Don't look too forward to it, or else I'll worry about not being
able to do it," prefaced Holo, and then she launched into a very
brief description of her scheme.
It was simplicity and straightforwardness itself. It was so simple,
in fact, that Lawrence's eyes bulged.
"What think you? Can it be done?"
"I'm sure everyone's thought the same thing, but it's actually
impossible. I'm sure there are those who've tried it and been caught."
"Oh, surely, if you have to get a bunch of different people to
cooperate. You'd never make it past the first gate."
Holo had suggested smuggling in gold, using an incredibly
simple, straightforward method.
Lawrence would never have imagined Holo the Wisewolf could
make such a dangerous, hopeless proposal.
Unsurprisingly, she then made the case for why the plan was,
in fact, possible.
"I swear on my own ears and tail, I happen to know exactly
who we can count on to turn this plan into reality. From what
I saw, she can certainly do it. In truth, I'm reluctant to ask her.
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Even I can jump over the city walls if need be. But with your predicament,
we don't have that luxury."
Lawrence, of course, soon understood who Holo was talking
about.
Holo was almost certainly right as far as this person's ability
was concerned.
But smuggling gold into Ruvinheigen wasn't simply a matter of
getting it through the checkpoints. Being caught meant death, so
everyone involved had to understand the risks and be willing to
trust each other with their very lives.
There were many other problems, as well. There was no question
that persuading the carrier was a daunting task. No matter
how great the potential reward, you were still placing your life in
the hands of another.
However, if smuggling gold in were a possibility, Lawrence could
not afford to ignore it. It couldn't be dismissed out of hand.
"So if help can be secured, you think it's possible?" asked Lawrence.
"I should think so, as long as nothing extraordinary happens."
«T » I see...
Lawrence's mind was already thinking about what would be
necessary to smuggle in gold.
To even propose it, he and Holo would need to offer the carrier
enough money to offset the danger and ensure his or her silence.
The amount they could make by smuggling in gold bought in some
other town with the three lumione they had on hand wouldn't
be enough. They would lose all the potential profit just by compensating
their partner. And compensation aside, it was doubtful
that the gain made on three lumione could even approach
the amount of Lawrence's debt. They had to pull in more capital.
Holo, who said she could get past each checkpoint, realized this
and suggested an alternate plan. Even if they proposed this plan
to a potential investor, explaining the smuggling part would be
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a problem. Even more, they had to trust that the person lending
them this money and aiding in the smuggling would not betray
them. And those weren't even the biggest problems. The biggest
problem of all was that Lawrence had no time.
He was deep in thought when he felt a tug on his hand, bringing
him out of his reverie.
He soon realized that nothing had pulled him — rather Holo
had extricated her intertwined fingers from his and had withdrawn
her hand.
"Right, I'll leave you to work out the little details," she said.
"I'm going to sleep."
She yawned, and then her tail flicked once in a sort of sigh as
she walked slowly over to the bed.
"What, now?" Lawrence had planned on borrowing her intelligence
again, but she had crawled under the plain blanket on the
bed and popped out only her head to regard him.
"I know nothing of the city. I've nothing to offer save the fact
that it is possible to get gold into the city."
Lawrence internally conceded the point, at which Holo smiled.
"Or, what, do you want me to stay beside you there?"
Unfazed, Lawrence remembered the "rehearsal." "I certainly do."
"It's cold, so no."
Hole's head disappeared beneath the blanket, but her
tail — which seemed much warmer than the blanket — waved
happily.
Lawrence took a deep breath, smiling at this, the sort of pleasant
exchange that never happened when one traveled alone.
If he didn't figure something out between the sun rising and
setting tomorrow, everything pleasant in his life would wind up
sacrificed as an offering at the feet of the gods.
However, there was hope. He had no choice but to make that
seed of hope bloom into a flower of success.
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He sat in the chair Holo had lifted earlier and picked up the
leather coin purse from the floor.
The familiar sound of jingling coins echoed in the quiet room.
A wagon clattered noisily along the cobblestone road, and Lawrence
looked out the window to see the wagon's bed piled high
with produce — probably a merchant heading to the marketplace
first thing in the morning. Other people started to emerge here
and there as well.
Just as Lawrence thought that it was about time for the morning
sermon bell, the great cathedral bells echoed out through the
whitening morning sky. Despite the considerable distance, the
weighty sound carried quite well.
Then, before the echo of the great bells had faded, the bells
from the many smaller churches that dotted the city answered
the call; a little riot of sound to start the morning.
The townspeople were used to this, but for travelers used to
dawn breaking with naught but birdsong, it was a bit raucous.
And to a wolf whose hearing far surpassed that of any human,
the noise was more than a bit raucous. She moaned her displeasure
before rolling out of bed.
"Good morning."
Holo said nothing, only nodding glumly.
"I'm hungry" were finally the first words from her mouth.
"If we head to the plaza, the stalls should be opening soon."
"Mm," said Holo, stretching almost catlike, then combing her silky
hair. "So, having thought about it for a night, what do you think?"
"We can do it."
It was such a short, blunt answer that Holo, who had finished
with her hair and was now combing her much more important
tail, looked up, surprised.
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"That's an awfully quick answer for you," she said.
"What do you mean?"
Holo looked away purposely. Lawrence continued, ignoring
her.
"Although, in any case, there are two barriers we have to overcome."
"Two?"
"In addition to whoever's carrying the gold, we have to find an
investor who will help us buy up our supply. The three lumione I
have on hand won't even be enough to compensate the carrier."
Holo thought for a moment, then looked at Lawrence doubtfully.
"There is one more problem, is there not? You only have
today. Can you bring the gold into the city so quickly?"
The self-proclaimed wisewolf's thinking was quick as usual.
But he'd had all night to think, and his mind had reached a
place the wisewolf's had yet to settle.
"Naturally I've thought of that. It seemed like the biggest problem
to me, as well. Call it strange, call it a miracle, but there is a
key to solving all of those problems."
"Oh ho."
Lawrence smiled proudly at Holo, who regarded him as a master
would a student about to be tested.
"We'll get the Remelio Company to invest."
Holo tilted her head slightly.
The Remelio Company was in the process of failing, just as
Lawrence was. But it was hard to imagine that they were so stone
broke that they would need to do the same kind of naive door
knocking as Lawrence. They would probably have enough capital
to fund one last attempt at a grand comeback, and those last precious
funds would support the gold smuggling. Since the Remelio
Company itself was on the verge of ruin, they would have every
reason to be interested in a reliable plan to move gold.
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Such smuggling was extremely susceptible to betrayal. In other
words, once the smuggling was proposed to them and they were
on board, it would be bad for them if Lawrence preceded them on
the road to ruin. There was no need for discretion on the part of
those already headed for death. Lawrence would have only to say,
"The Remelio Company is planning to smuggle gold," and their
plans for a comeback would be destroyed.
Thus, they would have no choice but to postpone the repayment
of Lawrence's debt, and in order to protect against betrayal,
Lawrence had no choice but to make them his accomplice.
This was his conclusion the previous night.
"But, in any case, we still lack time."
This was the biggest problem that faced them.
"Mm. Shall we then go right after breakfast?"
"Breakfast?"
"One can hardly fight on an empty stomach."
Now that Holo mentioned it, Lawrence thought back and realized
he had not had a bite since lunch the previous day, but either
because of the all-nighter he had pulled or because of the intense
work that was left to do, he did not have much appetite.
But Holo was entirely cheerful as she hopped off the bed, fastened
her robe and skirt snugly around her waist, and put her
kerchief on her head.
"Some meat would be nice!"
Even if he had been fit as a fiddle, Lawrence would have found
the idea of meat first thing in the morning entirely distasteful.
After taking breakfast at a stall, Lawrence and Holo headed
on foot to the Remelio Company. Since they weren't arriving
on a cart and horse, they called this time at the front door
entrance.
As one might expect given that the entrance faced the street,
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it did not seem much different from normal, but once they
opened the door, which bore no sign reading either OPEN or
CLOSED, the unmistakable odor of financial troubles filled Lawrence's
nose.
It was clearly a different atmosphere from outside, where hope
bloomed in the morning air. Here, despair lurked in every nook
and cranny, and there was a hungry impatience, a feverish aura
scattered throughout the place. The simple presence or absence
of money could change the very atmosphere.
"Er, might I ask who is there?"
The middle-aged man who greeted them wore a hard expression;
it was early for a sudden visit. Nonetheless, he was relatively
calm and his voice polite. He was thin and probably always had
been.
"My name is Lawrence. I visited yesterday. There is something I
would very much like to speak with Mr. Remelio about..."
"Is that so? This way, please...Oh, I'm terribly sorry, your
companion — "
"She's my apprentice. It's convenient for her to be dressed as a
town girl at the moment, but I look forward to her becoming a
fine merchant woman in the near future. I'd like her to sit in on
the meeting."
Lawrence spun the great lie without any hesitation, and the
man seemed to accept it. Female merchants were uncommon,
and girls aiming to become one were even less so.
"If you'll follow me, then..."
Lawrence followed the man into the building, Holo trailing
after him. The workers on the first-floor office sported bloodshot,
dark-circled eyes. Just like Lawrence's previous days, they
had been working frantically through the nights on ways to raise
money most likely.
"Please wait here."
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They were led to a room on the third floor. This was probably
the room normally used for negotiations about jewels, spices, and
other high-priced items. Lawrence sat not on a plain cloth chair,
but on an overstuffed couch with leather cushions.
"May I convey what your business with us is today, Mr. Lawrence?"
"I'd like to discuss a way to settle my debt with this company,
and possibly for this company to settle its own debts as well," said
Lawrence smoothly and evenly, looking straight into the man's
eyes.
The man straightened as if struck by lightning, his eyes widening.
He considered Lawrence with obvious doubt in his eyes,
probably wondering if this visit to a struggling company was the
last-ditch effort of a thief.
"Your doubt is entirely understandable. That is why I'd like to
speak with Mr. Remelio as soon as possible."
The man appeared flustered at having been seen through. "I
will take the message to the master," he said, taking his leave.
Eight or nine times out of ten, Remelio would have taken the
bait — nothing Lawrence said was a lie. The only people who
called on a company whose bankruptcy was near were those proposing
liquidation arrangements. Merchants trying to salvage as
much money as possible from a sinking ship would gather like
ravenous ghosts. They could not possibly ignore someone coming
along with even the flickering possibility of turning their fortunes
around.
Hole's gold-smuggling proposal would potentially yield enough
profit to wipe out the Remelio Company's vast debt, to say nothing
of Lawrence's relatively meager liability.
However, the plan would never succeed unless the Remelio
Company was fully involved.
Additionally, if people in the company were caught, they
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wouldn't be spared execution. The Remelio Company's employees
and their families would never be able to live in this city
again. The danger was very real.
However, sitting and waiting would bring much the same outcome.
Given that, the company would certainly take the chance.
Then once Lawrence had repaid his debt, they would be able to
lend on an absurd scale.
The greater the risk, the larger the potential gain.
It was the same as in Poroson when Lawrence had seen through
the Latparron Company master's cheat and forced him into a
deal.
Lawrence chuckled ruefully to himself at the memory, but the
past was done; there was only the future now.
He had to convince the Remelio Company to take the risk.
That was the first mountain to climb. He took a deep breath and
straightened himself, then felt eyes on his face. There was no one
else in the room; it was Holo.
"I'm with you. Don't worry." Holo gave him a lopsided smirk,
exposing one sharp fang. It was a fearless smile.
"Yeah."
Lawrence's reply was short. His brevity was proportional to his
trust in her. The closer a relationship, the less the need for lengthy
contracts; the more a simple handshake suffices.
There was a knock at the door.
It opened, and there stood Hans Remelio, looking every bit as
careworn as Lawrence.
"You said you have something important to discuss?"
The first step in the plan had been taken.
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CHAPTER FOUR

There was no need for elaborate tricks. First, Lawrence explained
the objective.
Unsurprisingly, Remelio's eyes became wide. "You don't
mean —," he said.
"I mean exactly that," said Lawrence, but soon the common
sense he would expect from a merchant running a trading company
in Ruvinheigen showed on Remelio's face. It turned scornful
as the master sat in a chair.
"I understand that your debt is a difficult one to repay, but I
can't have you making such ridiculous chatter."
He began to stand, as if unwilling to waste any more time,
when Lawrence stopped him.
"I'm sure there have been those who tried to smuggle gold this
way before and were caught."
"Well, if you understand that, this will go quickly. It's easy for
someone on the brink of ruin to mistake a reckless plan for a
perfect one."
It occurred to Lawrence that this statement was half aimed at
Remelio himself, but he continued undaunted.
"What if you could entrust it to someone especially talented at
smuggling?"
Remelio looked at Lawrence gravely and sat back down. "What
you propose is not possible. Someone so skilled as to be able to
smuggle gold in would already be making plenty of money on
his own. He wouldn't cooperate. If you plan to bring in someone
from outside, you might as well give up now. There's no end
to gold-smuggling plots like this, so inspections of anybody not
registered with the city are especially thorough."
Remelio's objections were exactly the arguments Lawrence had
been expecting.
"What if there were someone who was highly skilled but not
making good money?"
"If he is so skilled, finding work in this city is not difficult.
There's already a shortage of labor."
Remelio sat and waited for Lawrence's reply.
His expression was faintly reminiscent of Hole's the previous
night.
He'd given his objection and waited for Lawrence's counterobjection.
He wanted to give up but couldn't.
Lawrence took a deep breath.
"What if this skilled person had only ill-paying work in the city and
a need for money? More importantly, what if this person's current
employer left something to be desired? I'm referring to the Church.
Importing gold flies directly in the face of the Church. We'll offer
not only the opportunity for profit, but to exact some small revenge
against the Church—it will be irresistible and the probability of
betrayal very low, owing to a fair distaste for the employer."
"Th-that's far too convenient a tale."
"That's when business is most profitable. Am I wrong?"
Procuring produce when the crop has been bad, buying fashions
that go out of style only to find them booming in another
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city—the biggest profits are realized from the most improbable
coincidences.
Remelio's face twisted.
He wanted to believe but couldn't quite manage it.
"If I tell you this person's name, I think you will be able to
accept it."
"I-in that case, why would you go to the trouble of coming to
me and having another party demanding a share?"
Having established smuggling as the topic, Lawrence proceeded
to this tangential problem, setting aside issues of possibility
or impossibility.
"There are two reasons. The first is that the debt I owe this
company comes due today, and at sundown I will surely be taken
into custody in lieu of payment. The second is that this is all the
coin I have on hand."
Lawrence produced the coin purse, untied its drawstring, and
emptied its contents onto the table.
It was a mixture of silver and copper coins totaling three lumione.
The coins glittered in Remelio's eyes — Remelio, who faced
bankruptcy, just as Lawrence did.
"It's three lumione. If you want to know how I raised it, just ask
around among the merchant houses; you'll soon find out."
Hearing this, Remelio took a deep breath.
Given the situation, he surely knew how Lawrence had collected
the money.
"This is truly everything I have. I want you to take it as collateral
and trust what I am saying."
Lawrence leaned forward and looked straight into Remelio's
eyes.
"I also want you to suspend the repayment of my debt and for
your company to finance the purchase of gold for us to smuggle."
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Remelio's haggard face was covered in a cold sweat, wrinkles
gathering at his chin.
The only reason he didn't deny Lawrence and Holo on the spot
was that he had just enough funds to finance the plan.
— And just enough hope to want to believe them.
All it would take was one more push, but if Lawrence pushed
too hard, it would only make Remelio more doubtful.
Gold smuggling could yield enormous profit, but it came with terrible
risk. And given the current condition of the Remelio Company,
the deal to finance the smuggling could itself be seen as fraud.
There were plenty of people willing to destroy a struggling
company in order to make a quick profit, so these doubts were
hardly strange.
Lawrence had to choose his words carefully.
But before he could —
"Listen, you," said Holo.
Surprised, Remelio looked at Holo, blinking, as if only just now
realizing that there was somebody else.
Lawrence, too, turned to Holo. Holo herself regarded the floor.
"Do you think you have the luxury of wavering?"
"Wha - " Remelio was tongue-tied at the provocative, threatening
question.
Thinking this an unwise approach, Lawrence was about to stop
her. However —
"Another person left just now. Can you keep dillydallying like
this?"
Transfixed by Hole's sharp look, Remelio froze, as if he had
swallowed a stone. "E-er..."
"I've excellent hearing. Shall I tell you about your workers and
their plans being hatched downstairs right now? Their plans to
escape while they can?"
"Uh-"
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"Whoops, there goes another one. At this rate the shop will
be-"
"Stop!" cried Remelio, clutching his head.
Holo regarded the man, her expression entirely unperturbed.
Lawrence half agreed with her. A company was like a boat. If
there is a hole in the hull and no hope of patching it, the crew
ignored the captain and abandoned ship.
But it was clear enough that Holo had chosen that line of attack
for a reason. She knew better than anyone the meaning of the
word loneliness.
She certainly understood Remelio's distress.
"Mr. Remelio," began Lawrence mildly, having understood Hole's
angle. "I propose that you take these three lumione—everything I
have—as a deposit and invest in gold. We know someone who will
make the smuggling possible. If this person is paid well enough,
trustworthiness is assured. And given your company, I'm sure you
have a means to move the smuggled gold. What say you? If you'll
postpone my loan and give me a fair portion, I want to conduct
this operation with no unfavorable conditions placed on you."
A moment passed.
"What say you?"
Remelio looked down, head in hands.
Lawrence's words, more seductive than wine, were surely filtering
through the man's mind now. He still hadn't looked back up.
Time silently passed.
It was quiet, as if the entire company was focused on Remelio's
decision.
Just as Lawrence began to say, "Mr. Remelio," the master finally
spoke.
"All right." He lifted his head, his face exhausted, a flame burning
in his eyes. "Let's do it."
Lawrence stood up without thinking and extended his hand.
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The two men, both of whom faced bankruptcy, shook.
"May God forgive us."
After settling the arrangements regarding roles and compensation
with the Remelio Company, Lawrence and Holo found themselves in
front of a smallish church in the eastern part of Ruvinheigen. The level
of ornamentation, the size of the bells, and so on were decided based
on the chapel's standing within the Church's organization—the reasoning
being that the higher the abbey, the closer to God it was.
The church Lawrence and Holo visited was in the bottom middle
of that hierarchy. Its adornment was not at all poor, but for
Ruvinheigen, the church was rather subdued.
It was just after noontime, and the midday service was in progress
within the parish.
"Now, then," said Holo abruptly, sitting on the stone steps as a
hymn praising the holy mother wafted out of the chapel. "Think
you can really pull one over on the girl?"
"Such things you say."
"Am I wrong, then?" asked Holo, amused.
Lawrence made a stern face and stared straight ahead as he
answered. "You don't change."
He and Holo waited at the entrance of this house of worship
because they had business with Norah the shepherdess. They did
not know which church in particular she was affiliated with, but
there weren't many that housed a female shepherd. Their search
had been quick.
And having gone to all the trouble of searching, they weren't
here to make idle gossip.
They had come to ask her to play a crucial role in the goldsmuggling
operation — the carrier.
However, Norah was not facing financial ruin the way that
Lawrence and the Remelio Company were. Still, proposing the
gold-smuggling plan would certainly involve deception because
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they would need to make the profit that would come in with the
plan's success seem equal to the danger.
Any who smuggled gold bet their life on it — and nothing could
compensate for loss of life. Yes, some fudging of the details would
be necessary.
Yet both Norah's skill as a shepherdess and her standing in the
city were indispensable to their scheme.
And the merchant had faith that she would be their accomplice.
Lawrence felt a pang of conscience at treating someone's heart
as a commodity in the marketplace. If Norah had been a merchant,
he would have no such compunctions, but she was an
innocent shepherdess. Nonetheless, the fact was not lost on Lawrence's
keen merchant insight.
In addition to being a shepherd — and thus already regarded
as vaguely heretical — she was a woman, which made her all the
more likely to be a tool of demons. It was simple to conclude that
the Church was not sheltering her out of some sense of charity,
but rather to keep an eye on her. That was probably the root of
her unease, which he had picked up on when talking to her about
the shepherding work she did for the Church.
Also, though Norah had expressed her desire to save up enough
money to become a dressmaker, it was not in the girl's personality
to be avaricious — and the extra income afforded by doing escort
work did not give her that luxury. He could understand if she
didn't want to be exposed to a rather harsh work environment.
Toiling the day away doing the difficult work of a shepherd,
yet never quite making ends meet — it would make it impossible
to greet the morning with any joy. The future would stretch out
endlessly ahead, holding only bitterness and suffering.
In contrast to that, Lawrence would propose the gold-smuggling
stratagem to her: Rather than scraping tiny amounts of money
together, she would make enough in one fell swoop to not only
185
pay her guild membership dues, but also to end any worries about
making ends meet. Sure, there was danger, but how could she let
this opportunity pass? This was how he would persuade her.
Lawrence would hardly force her, so in that sense he wasn't
doing anything wrong, but he still had misgivings about using
her adverse circumstances in this fashion.
Nonetheless, it had to be Norah.
The fact that she was a skilled shepherdess who could lead her small
flock through wolf-infested areas, where few humans ventured; the
fact that she was unsatisfied with her employer, the Church; the fact
that she needed money to fulfill her dream—it truly seemed like
every condition was divinely arranged specifically to help Lawrence
succeed in smuggling gold into Ruvinheigen. It was impossible to
imagine anyone better positioned to help them.
Yet Lawrence heaved a sigh. Convincing her still weighed
on him.
While he was absorbed in thinking about it, Lawrence grew
conscious of Holo's eyes on him. He looked over and saw her
grinning at him resignedly.
"You really are just too softhearted by half."
It was what she had said yesterday. It was true that Lawrence
was quite sentimental for a merchant. There were plenty of merchants
who would happily bring misfortune to their families if it
meant making money in the process.
"Still, though," said Holo, standing and looking out over the
ever-lively city street. "It's thanks to that softheartedness that I've
been able to travel so easily," she announced casually, descending
a couple of the stone steps to stand next to Lawrence. "I suppose
I'll have to talk her into it. I need to be of some use, after all."
She gave a thin smile, but her words lacked a certain spark,
Lawrence thought.
He studied her and sure enough, her eyes were downcast.
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Maybe it was because he and Holo were close to the boisterous,
busy lane, but she seemed smaller than usual.
"What, are you still thinking about yesterday?" he asked.
Holo shook her head but said nothing. It was an easy lie to see
through.
"There's no telling what would Ve happened back there if you
hadn't leaned on Remelio. I'd say you were plenty useful."
Holo nodded; perhaps she accepted the truth of the statement,
but her face remained crestfallen.
Lawrence patted her head lightly. "I'll talk to her myself. It was
my eyes that were blinded by greed and got us into this mess,
after all. It'd be absurd to make you do all the talking because of
my reluctance."
Though he was half trying to cheer up Holo and half being selfderisive,
everything he said was certainly true.
"And anyway, if I let you help me too much, there's no telling
how much I'll be taken advantage of later," he said with a shrug.
After a moment, Holo looked up and smiled with a soft sigh. "And
here I was thinking I'd be able to call in some favors later."
"I certainly avoided quite a trap there," joked Lawrence.
Holo casually put her arm to her forehead. "Indeed, you did,
but you're backing into a still larger trap. I don't hunt a rabbit
caught in a trap. 'Twould be too feeble."
"Do you know the sort of wolf snare that uses a trapped rabbit
as bait?"
"Make sure not to cower at the wolf howls when you set the
trap. You'll foul the snare else."
It was the empty banter of familiarity.
Lawrence shook his head at the ridiculousness of it. Holo
couldn't contain herself anymore and started laughing.
"Anyway, merchants are like sabers — they're no good if they're
not straight. They break otherwise," said Lawrence mostly to
187
himself, and then he cast his eyes to the sky, as if searching for
the sound of the bells.
It was a beautiful blue sky with a scattering of clouds. He shifted
his gaze to the east and spied a few more white clouds.
It was a fine day—and fine weather meant good business.
As Lawrence considered that, he heard a quiet knocking sound
behind him — the chapel doors were opening. Lawrence and
Holo backed away to the sides of the stone steps. Soon the congregation
began to filter out of the church, their faces full of postprayer
serenity as they descended the steps. The crowd divided
into smaller groups as they dispersed to finish the day's work — a
scene that repeated itself daily.
At length, the exodus subsided.
There was once a time when it was groundlessly believed
that the longer one remained in the church, the deeper one's
faith — until priests started becoming angry with anyone who
lingered in the chapel. Now such things did not happen.
That said, it was not good to leave a church too quickly, lest it
seem like one is trying to escape.
As a result, butchers, tanners, and other craftsmen likely to
attract the Church's baleful attention tended to leave the sanctuary
more slowly.
As shepherds were counted among those suspicious professions,
the shepherdess was last to leave. Her downcast eyes and
reserved posture were no doubt due to the fact that the church
was not a place of rest for her.
"Good day," declared Lawrence as he stopped in front of Norah,
smiling as pleasantly as he could manage. A good smile was an
important part of negotiation.
"Er, L-Lawrence and...Holo, yes?" said Norah, reddening
slightly and looking over at Holo, then back to Lawrence.
"It is clear that us happening to meet in front of a church is the
188
will of God," said Lawrence with a slightly grandiose gesture.
Norah seemed to notice something and giggled in amusement.
"I won't be fooled, Mr. Lawrence."
"And thank heavens for that. I have heard that lately there
are those at services who have drunk a bit too much of the holy
blood."
Lawrence was referring to wine. Were she drunk, he might be
able to convince her to join him, but she might also lose her nerve
or turn him down. He was glad for her sobriety.
"I cannot drink much wine, so I mostly avoid it," she said with
a shy smile, then looked around nervously. Perhaps she had been
contacted with an offer of escort work.
Lawrence did not hesitate to use that expectation. "Actually, I
am here about some work for you."
Norah's face lit up so quickly you could nearly hear it.
"This place being what it is, perhaps we should away to a stall
somewhere..."
The reason Lawrence didn't suggest a bar was because nothing
would be more conspicuous given the hour. Secret negotiations
were best conducted in busy public spaces.
Norah nodded agreeably. Lawrence began walking with Holo at
his right side and Norah to his left, trailing behind him slightly.
The three strolled along the busy, boisterous lane until they
passed through the crowds and arrived at the plaza.
The plaza was as loud and festive as ever, but fortune smiled
on them as the trio found a table at a beer stall where Lawrence
ordered beer for the lot of them. Ale was cheaper, but as Norah
was with them, he couldn't very well order any.
The service was quick but rough as the three cups arrived; Lawrence
paid a pittance in silver for them, then put his hand to his mug.
"Here's to our reunion."
The tankards clacked together noisily.
189
"So, Norah, did you say you were able to go as far as Lamtra?"
Taken offguard by the sudden broaching of the subject of work,
Norah, who hadn't touched her beer, eyed Lawrence guardedly.
Holo watched the two, nursing her drink.
"Y-yes, I can go that far."
"Even bring your flock?"
"As long as it's not too large."
She answered so directly that Lawrence wondered how many
times she had crossed the fields and forests on the way to Lamtra.
But just to be sure, Lawrence glanced to Holo to check the
truth of the statement. Holo nodded so imperceptibly that only
Lawrence could tell.
Evidently Norah was not lying.
Lawrence took a deep breath to avoid arousing Norah's suspicion.
Being excessively roundabout might damage her resolve.
Better to plunge straight in.
"I want to hire you for a certain job. Compensation will be
twenty lumione. Not in a cheap banknote, of course — it will be
hard coin."
Norah looked at him blankly, as though he were speaking in a
foreign tongue. In fact, it took time for the words to penetrate her
mind — it was as if they had been written down in some faraway
land and sent to her.
To some people, twenty lumione was that much money.
"However, there is risk, and the compensation is only if we succeed.
Failure earns us nothing."
Looking at someone's finger as it traced circles or x marks on a
table was one way of telling if he or she was real and not a dream
or hallucination.
Norah followed the movements of Lawrence's finger, and it
seemed that he was quite real.
Yet still she had trouble believing, it seemed.
190
"The job will be moving sheep — then moving them back again
as safely as possible. That will be all we need of your services as
a shepherd."
Norah finally seemed to wrap her head around Lawrence's proposal,
and realizing that the work and the compensation he had
offered were far from comparable, she began to voice her skepticism.
Lawrence seemed to have been waiting for that and cut
her off.
"However, the work itself involves significant danger —
proportional to the risk."
Having explained the unimaginable profit, he now explained
the risk. Both could inspire shock, but the first detail would leave
a stronger impression.
"Nevertheless, the pay is twenty lumione. Even the highest
guild dues are but a single lumione. You could rent a house and
take care of your daily expenses, working without worry. With
that much, you could easily buy your own business. You would
be the mistress of Norah Dressmakers."
Norah's face was troubled and then on the verge of tears. The
enormity of the amount of money seemed to be sinking in — and
with it, undoubtedly, the concern over the danger.
She had taken the bait. Now the real challenge began. If he
muddled his statements at all, she would clamp a shell around
her like a clam.
"Oh, that's right — had you planned to join the tailors guild in
this city, Norah?"
She was waiting, prepared, to hear the bad news, but Lawrence
seemed to have thrown her off the trail. Inside her head,
Lawrence knew thoughts raced of both the ridiculous amount
of money and the fact that she had not yet heard the risk. There
wasn't much room to ponder extraneous things, so her answer
should be quite honest, Lawrence thought.
191
"N-no, I was thinking a different town."
"I see! Do you not like the sprawling size of this city compared
with others? It can be quite hard to live in an unfamiliar city with
no friends, I find."
While her mind was occupied with other matters, she couldn't
easily voice her thoughts — such was the plan.
Norah nodded, looking troubled, saying nothing.
That was enough for Lawrence, whose merchant intuition told
him a person's heart based on the expression on their face.
The shepherdess's mind was like glass to him.
"Well, I suppose you'll want to get away from this city and its
churches, won't you?"
The trap was set.
Holo gave Lawrence an obvious look, but the result was instantaneous.
"N-no, I mean, not at all... Well, but..."
"The harder you work for them, the better you protect the sheep
they've entrusted you, the more they'll suspect you of witchcraft.
Am I wrong?"
She froze, her head moving neither up nor down, left nor
right — Lawrence was spot on the mark.
"And as they try to expose you, you'll have to venture where
other shepherds would never go — because the alternatives are
already taken by those selfsame shepherds, you said."
That instant, Norah's eyes snapped wide open, and she looked
at Lawrence. Perhaps it was something she had vaguely considered
before, since even if other shepherds had their territories, if
she was willing to travel far enough, there would be safe places
that remained.
"The priests will keep pushing you farther away until you're
attacked by wolves or maybe mercenaries. And every day you're
not, they'll suspect you of being a pagan."
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Lawrence clenched his fist under the table, as if to crush his
guilty conscience.
He had lit a fire under the small doubt that had always lingered
within Norah's heart. There was no way to take it back. Whether
it was true or not was irrelevant.
Merchants are like sabers — useless unless straight.
"I've been in a similar situation myself. Let me say it plainly."
He looked straight at Norah and spoke in a voice just low
enough for people around not to hear.
"The Church here is lower than pigs."
Speaking ill of the Church was a serious crime. The shocked
Norah peered around, the flames of her doubt suddenly scattered.
Lawrence placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward.
"But we have a plan. We'll give the Church some trouble, make
some money, and head to a different town — that kind of plan."
The flames of her doubt turned to anger and burned hotter,
but once they burned out, they would leave behind the cinders of
confidence. Within Norah, the seed of justified defiance would
begin to flower.
Slowly, Lawrence articulated the heart of the matter.
"We will smuggle gold."
Norah's eyes widened, but she soon calmed herself. Surprise
could, at best, only be felt as a slightly strong wind.
She finally spoke, her mind working again.
"But... what can I possibly do?"
It was a good question. Her skill as a shepherd wasn't her only
merit.
"As I'm sure you know, gold coming into the city is heavily
regulated. Every road that enters Ruvinheigen has checkpoints
and two stages of examination. If you hide something in your
sleeves or among your luggage, they'll find it on the spot. If you're
trying to bring in a lot of something, it's even harder."
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Norah nodded fervently at Lawrence's plain explanation, as
though she was a devout believer listening to a sermon.
"We plan to get gold past the checkpoints by hiding it in the
sheep's stomachs."
The look on Norah's face was so astonished that Lawrence could
practically hear her say, "Impossible," but the notion gradually
percolated through her mind, like water sinking into hard clay.
Many animals that eat grass year-round, including sheep,
tend to swallow stones in the process. There was no reason not
to scatter grains of gold among the grass and have the animals
swallow them, though they might cough up gold during the long
inspection process. And then there was Norah, who despite her
skill as a shepherd, had but a small flock that she took far afield,
wandering places where few humans traveled. When coming in
from Poroson, the first checkpoint was a modest one; heavier
traffic would mean a larger scale checkpoint.
Norah nodded slowly. "I see," she murmured.
"But gold prices are absurdly high in any city affected by Ruvinheigen
policy. That makes the pagan town of Lamtra the most
convenient place from which to start. If you come via the safest
routes from Lamtra, there's a lot of traffic, and much of that territory
has been claimed by other shepherds. This is what makes
you perfect for the job. No one will find it suspicious that you're
bringing your sheep through a low-traffic route — and that route
is the quickest path from Lamtra to boot."
Lawrence paused, clearing his throat slightly and looking carefully
at Norah before continuing.
"You've suffered at the hands of the Church in the city, Norah,"
he said sharply. "This is your best chance to turn the tables on
them. The Church's two biggest sources of income are tithes and
the gold trade, after all. But if we're caught, the punishments will
be heavy, and once the job is done, we'll have to leave the city to
194
be safe. And depending on circumstances, we may have to ask
you to butcher the sheep."
There were few shepherds who had never had to butcher an
animal — and still fewer who didn't find the job painful. It was a
good way to measure her resolve.
"On the other hand, it's twenty lumione" Lawrence said.
You're being unfair, he told himself, but the more unfair her
situation seemed, the more effective the result.
Finally, the girl across the table from him — who had endured
heat and cold, suspicious gazes, and terrible treatment, all the
while silently tending her flock—weighed the profit, risk, and
nature of the job and seemed to come to a conclusion.
Lawrence could see her eyes become calm.
Strong words were uttered from a small mouth.
"Please, let me do it."
In that moment, Lawrence had convinced another person to
make a bet with her own life.
Yet he swiftly aligned himself with Norah and extended his
hand — it was that hand that reached out for his own future.
"I shall count on you."
"...And I on you."
Now the promise was firm. Norah and Holo shook hands as
well, and now all three of their fates were inextricably linked. All
three would laugh together or all three would weep.
"Right, now for the details."
Lawrence then asked Norah about when she would take the
sheep, how many she would take, the specifics of the landscape
around Lamtra, and how much gold she thought she could compel
the sheep to swallow. He would take this information to the
Remelio Company.
Midday passed in a twinkling, and by the time they finished
talking, business was ending and the merchants and craftsmen
195
appeared in the streets on their way home. Having left her beer
untouched, Norah stood. She had absorbed everything while
entirely sober and made her decision.
If Lawrence had thought otherwise, he would have followed
Norah when she left, giving her parting thanks to the man who
had brought such an extraordinary opportunity. He would have
tried to convince her to rethink her position.
Lawrence drained the lukewarm beer in the cup in one go. It
was bitter and unpleasant.
"Come, should you not be more happy? Everything has gone
well and yet!" said Holo to Lawrence with a wry grin.
But Lawrence could not be unreservedly happy. He had persuaded
Norah to choose a dangerous path.
"I don't care how great the profit; nothing exists to balance out
the wager of a person's life," he said.
"I suppose that's true."
"And just talking up the profit like that is the same as fraud.
Merchants have always said that it's a fool who's bound by an
unfair contract. But what is she? Just a shepherdess!"
Though all he had done was raise his voice, regret swirled
within his chest.
If all he cared about was survival, he could have accepted
Hole's help, abandoning his life as a merchant and all the people
in it.
But to Lawrence that was not so very different from death.
So he had leapt at the heaven-sent chance to turn Holo's scheme
into reality, tricking Norah into helping him.
He knew what he had done but couldn't help regretting it.
"Come, now," chided Holo after a time, swirling the remaining
beer around in her cup as she stared at its contents.
Lawrence looked over; she kept her attention focused on
the cup.
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"Have you heard the terrible cry that a sheep makes when you
tear out its throat?"
Lawrence's breath caught at the sudden question. Holo finally
faced him.
"Sheep have no fangs, no claws, no fleet feet with which to escape
when wolves come flying across the field like arrows with claws,
teeth, and speed to tear at their throats. What think you of this?"
Holo spoke as if making everyday conversation — and in truth,
she was.
What she talked about happened frequently—no, more than
frequently.
One hunted one's food with every method available. It was
simple, obvious.
"The death cry of a lamb is indescribable, yet my empty stomach
complains constantly. If I must listen to one of them, I'll lend
my ear to the louder of the two, will I not?"
Lawrence understood.
If having to sacrifice something in order to survive was a sin,
then the only path remaining was to die while fasting as a saint.
But that didn't excuse just any behavior.
It took someone else saying what he needed to hear in order to
free himself from the conflict.
"You're not so very bad."
Lawrence saw Holo smile at him helplessly and felt his black
guilt melt away.
He had very much wanted to hear those words.
"Hmph. Such a spoiled boy."
Lawrence made a grim face at having been seen through so
easily, but Holo just finished off her beer and stood.
"Still, neither humans nor wolves can live alone. Sometimes
one needs a pack mate to curl up with. Am I wrong?"
Surely this was the definition of flexible strength.
197
Lawrence nodded in acknowledgment of Hole's smile and
stood himself.
"Still, you're quite the dangerous one," she said.
She was probably talking about his skillful manipulation of
Norah — but a fine merchant he would be if he could not do at
least that much.
"You'd best believe it. Watch yourself, lest I trick you as well."
Holo giggled. "I'll look forward to that." She laughed as though
she truly did anticipate it, which made Lawrence wonder if he
was not the one being led on. He didn't say it, but as Holo let
slip a private smile when they began to walk, it seemed best to
assume she could see right through him.
"In any case, we've no choice but to try and make sure we all
end up laughing," said Lawrence.
"That's the spirit. Still..."
Lawrence looked at Holo, who had trailed off in midsentence.
"... Would it not be even better for the two of us to have the last
laugh?"
It was a seductive notion, but no — better that everyone was
happy.
"You really are simply too softhearted."
"Is that so bad?"
"Far from it."
The two smiled slightly as they walked through the city.
The road ahead was far from bright, but each sensed in the
other's face that the future was clear enough.
The smuggling would succeed.
The thought was unfounded, but Lawrence believed it anyway.
"My name is Marten Liebert, of the Remelio Company."
"Lawrence. And this is my companion, Holo."
"Urn, I'm N-Norah. Norah Arendt."
198
The Church city of Ruvinheigen had many entrances and exits,
and it was in a plaza just before the northeast gate that the three
introductions were made.
The morning air before the market bell rang was crisp and
pleasant, and the plaza, though still cluttered with litter from the
previous night's commotion, was somehow beautiful.
Among the people gathered there, only Holo had the luxury of
looking at the city.
The faces of the other three were all drawn tight with nerves.
The crime of smuggling gold into Ruvinheigen carried heavy
punishments, up to and including being drawn and quartered.
Under normal circumstances, they would have met many times
to ensure there were no unpleasant surprises, but unfortunately
the situation did not allow that.
There were many creditors who wanted to crush and devour
the Remelio Company. Even a firm facing bankruptcy had land
and houses and accounts receivable — all of which could be converted
to money.
These creditors could hardly wait for the loan deadlines, so the
Remelio Company was under pressure to finish the gold smuggling
quickly and turn the results into coin.
Thus, Norah picked up her sheep from the church right after
morning services, then headed immediately to join up with the
others. Evidently, she had not expected anybody besides Lawrence
to be involved and was surprised to hear the Remelio
Company's name, but she kept any doubts to herself. She seemed
prepared to play her part.
"Let us go, then. Business is like fresh fish in the kitchen,"
declared Liebert. It spoils easily was the unspoken conclusion.
Liebert was the man Hans Remelio had entrusted with the
role of smuggling in the gold. Lawrence had no objection, and of
course, neither Norah nor Holo seemed opposed.
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Arousing only the slightest curiosity from the sleepily yawning
guards at the gate, they left the city of Ruvinheigen without
incident.
Lawrence wore his usual merchant's clothes; Liebert dressed
in the kind of traveling clothes a city merchant might wear on a
hunting trip. Holo had returned to her nun's outfit, and Norah
looked as she always did.
However, neither Lawrence nor Liebert used a wagon. Liebert
sat astride his own horse, and Lawrence had put Holo upon
another horse, which he led by the reins as he walked. The road
was likely to be poor, and traveling without a wagon was significantly
faster.
With Norah leading the way as she guided her seven sheep and
her sheepdog Enek, the group headed northeast to the town of
Lamtra.
It was like the road from Poroson — the route was unpopular with
travelers, and the group went the entire day without encountering
so much as one other person.
There was nothing worth calling conversation, and the only
sounds were the bell on Norah's staff and the bleating of her sheep.
The first interaction that even approached conversation came
at sunset, when Norah stopped and began to make camp, which
Liebert took issue with. With his almond-shaped eyes and smooth
blond hair, he was every inch the spirited young employee entrusted
with an important job. He advocated, in a rather high-strung fashion,
for making more progress before stopping to camp.
But Liebert lacked travel experience. Once Lawrence explained
things like how shepherds work and the risks of nighttime travel,
Liebert was surprisingly understanding. He may have been highstrung,
but he was by no means unreasonable.
Far from it, in fact, Lawrence realized Liebert was probably a
200
good-natured man under normal circumstances once he offered
a sincere apology.
"I am sorry. The pressure is getting to me, I think."
Liebert had been entrusted with the continued existence of the
Remelio Company. Sealed securely in the inside of his coat was
a note for buying up gold — in the amount of six hundred lumione.
Even his master, Remelio, was probably clasping his hands
in prayer back in Ruvinheigen.
"Well, unlike me, you're carrying an entire company on your
back. It's to be expected," said Lawrence. Liebert looked slightly
relieved and smiled.
The night passed quietly, and soon it was morning.
Among townspeople, breakfast is often regarded as a luxury,
and many do not take it — but for those who live by travel, it is
common sense.
Thus, they set off with all but Liebert chewing away on flat
bread and jerky.
They stopped again just before noon.
It was just at the crest of a small hill; the road beneath their feet
headed straight east, bending south at the summit of the next
hill. All around them grew grass ideal for grazing; it stretched
out in every direction.
But the road now turned away from their destination. Faintly
visible to the north was the dark green line of the forest, and
tracing that line west, they could see the craggy faces of the steep
hills in the distance.
They would be heading between the hills and the forest, across
fields where no wagon rolled and no traveler's foot trod.
The fields dividing the craggy hills, which were so rugged that
they were impassable even on foot, from the thick, eerie forest
(that even knights hesitated to enter) were the quickest path to
Lamtra.
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No one in their right mind would take that route, which despite
its entirely mundane appearance was ineffably terrifying. Though
Holo sniffed at rumors of pagan sorcerers summoning wolves, it
was hard not to wonder at them.
Unless they navigated the pass and arrived safely in Lamtra and
unless they returned with gold, none of them had a future. Their
faces met, and they all nodded with unspoken understanding.
"If we encounter wolves, do not panic. We will arrive safely,"
said Norah with surprising resolve — it was reassuring, though
Holo did not seem to find it at all amusing.
No doubt Holo the Wisewolf had something to say. When Lawrence
met her eyes, she sneered slightly, but she soon regained
her composure.
"God's protection be with us," Liebert prayed.
The rest followed suit.
The weather was good.
There was an occasional wind that stirred the cold air, making
it brush against the travelers' cheeks, but as they were walking, it
was easily ignored.
Norah headed up the group along with Liebert on horseback;
behind them came the seven sheep; and trailing the sheep was
Lawrence, leading the horse on which Holo rode.
The farther north through the fields that they headed, the closer
the hills drew, nudging them toward the forest's edge. They kept
as close to the forest as they could, since the horses might injure
themselves on rockier terrain. However, as they got close enough
to make out the gloomy form of the forest, its eeriness grew.
It was hard to say, but Lawrence thought he might have just
heard a wolf howl.
"Hey."
"Hm?"
202
"Do you think wolves will be a problem?" he asked, lowering
his voice.
"No good. We're already surrounded."
Even that obvious joke made his breath catch in his throat for
a moment.
Holo chuckled soundlessly. "I can guarantee your safety. The
others, I don't know about."
"We'll be in trouble unless everyone's okay."
"I truly do not know. The forest is downwind; if there are
wolves, they've long since noticed us and started sharpening
their fangs."
Lawrence suddenly got the feeling that something in the forest
was watching him.
He heard the sudden patter of an animal's footfalls, and surprised,
he turned to face the sound, seeing Enek run past him in
a blur of black fur.
Enek chased after two stray sheep.
"Clever dog," said Lawrence.
He had not meant anything by it, but Holo still sniffed in
irritation.
"Being half-clever only invites death," she said.
"... What do you mean?" he asked. It would be complicated if
Liebert or Norah, ahead of them, were to overhear the conversation,
so Lawrence spoke in a hushed voice.
On the horse above him, Holo wore a sour expression.
"That dog, it knows what I am."
"It does?"
"Hiding my ears and tail will fool humans but not a dog. Ever since
we first met, it's been looking at me in the most irritating way."
Lawrence could tell Enek had been looking at them, but he had
not realized why.
"But, here, what really irritates me" — Holo flicked her ears
203
underneath her hood; she was quite angry—"is that dog's eyes.
Those eyes, they say, 'Just you try touching the sheep. I'll rip your
throat out.'"
Lawrence smiled awkwardly, as if to say "surely not." The flintyeyed
look he got from Holo made him wince.
"Nothing makes me so angry as a dog that doesn't know its
place," said Holo, looking away.
Perhaps dogs and wolves were enemies in much the same way
that crows and doves were.
"And anyway, I am Holo the Wisewolf. I won't fall for some
mere dog's provocation," she complained with a scowl. It was
nearly impossible not to laugh.
But since it would be a problem if Holo got angry, Lawrence
stifled his chuckle. "Indeed, that dog is no match for you. You're
stronger, smarter, and your tail fur is finer."
It was obvious flattery, and the last compliment seemed to work.
Hole's ears pricked up beneath her hood, and her face broke into
a proud smile that no mask of composure could hope to hide.
She giggled. "Well, I see you understand the way of it, then."
It was true — Lawrence did understand by now how to handle
Holo, but of course, he didn't say that and only inclined his head
in a vague bow.
Eventually the grass grew sparse and the ocher soil more
prominent.
The hills that spread out to the west were closer than ever and
looked like an angry sea.
The group continued down the road, though it barely rated as
such when they had to cross large tree roots that occasionally
slowed progress.
Soon the sound of the wind through the trees reached their ears.
Yet still they pressed onward, passing the second night of the
journey without incident.
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According to Norah, if they left at daybreak the next morning,
they would reach Lamtra by midday. Thus, they would have
spent less than half the travel time that it normally would have
taken to use the established route. Their route was closer to a third
or a quarter of the distance. If this path was cleared, trade with
Lamtra would become simple. Looking back on the distance they
had covered thus far, Lawrence realized that wolves had not been
a problem. It was easy to wish there was a more proper road.
Of course, a road would also make Lamtra much more susceptible
to assault. Ruvinheigen would find it hard to tolerate a
pagan city situated so close. That had not happened yet, which
made it easy to suspect that Lamtra secretly paid Ruvinheigen
specifically to prevent such a road's construction. Wherever
there is power, there is also bribery, after all.
After a bland dinner, Lawrence sat deep in thought as he sipped
some wine Liebert had brought. With no one to talk to, he was
left to his own devices.
Holo had quickly finished her own wine and was now wrapped
up in a blanket, leaning against Lawrence, fast asleep. Liebert,
tired and unaccustomed to travel, dozed before the campfire.
Lawrence looked around and spotted Norah a bit farther
from the campfire, stroking Enek on her lap. Evidently, if she
stayed too close to the fire, her eyes would become accustomed
to the light and that could cause problems if something were to
happen.
Norah seemed to notice Lawrence looking at her; she glanced
over at him.
She looked down at her hands, then back up, smiling pleasantly.
For a moment Lawrence didn't see why she was smiling, but
then he looked down at his own hands and understood.
Holo snored away on Lawrence's lap — "the same as me,"
Norah's smile said.
205
Lawrence, though, was quite afraid to stroke Hole's hair. The
wolf on his lap was far more fearsome than Enek.
As he looked at Holo, peaceful and innocent as she slept, the
temptation to caress her grew keener. Surely there would be no
problem if he mimicked Norah with Enek.
Liebert was asleep, and Norah minded her sheep as she tended
to Enek.
Lawrence set down the roughly hewn wooden cup he held and
slowly moved his hand toward Holo.
He had stroked her head many times before, but suddenly it
now seemed somehow sacred.
His hand trembled. Then, at that moment —
"_ !"
Holo lifted her head up.
Lawrence hastily withdrew his hand; Holo eyed him warily but
soon turned her attention elsewhere. Lawrence wondered what
was happening when he noticed that Norah had gotten to her
feet, as had Enek, teeth bared.
Everywhere he looked it was the same — pitch-black forest.
"Mr. Lawrence, get back!" shouted Norah urgently, and mostly
by reflex, the merchant tried to do as he was told, but he was
caught on something and could not stand.
He turned only to find that it was Holo, holding fast to his
clothes, keeping his hands behind him. He was about to protest
when a warning glare from Holo over his shoulder pierced him.
If he had to guess, the look meant something like "ignore the girl
and get behind me."
Holo seemed to harbor an intense hostility toward Norah,
and afraid to oppose her, when Holo stood, Lawrence stayed
behind her.
Norah was absorbed in her own work, ringing the bell on
her staff and directing Enek, rounding up the sleeping sheep
206
and bringing them closer to the campfire, and then tapping the
sleeping Liebert on the shoulder. Finally, she threw several more
pieces of firewood onto the campfire.
Norah's movements were practiced and calm, and her awkward
manner around other people reminded Lawrence of his
own clumsiness when dealing with people outside of business.
Liebert finally awoke and, sensing the tense atmosphere, followed
Norah's and Hole's gazes, searching for wolves.
He retreated, hand clutching his chest—no doubt feeling for the six
hundred lumione note that was concealed there — as he got behind
Enek, whose tail fur was standing on end as he bared his fangs.
The camp's defense arrangements settled, the only sounds
that remained were the uneasy baas of the sheep, Enek's ragged
breathing, and the crackling of the campfire.
There was no sound from the ebony woods. The moon was out,
and there was no wind. Naturally being a mere merchant, Lawrence
could hardly sense any presences in the forest.
But Norah, Enek, and Holo were utterly motionless as they
looked into the woods.
For all he could tell, they might have been staring at catfish
swimming in a black pond.
Strangely, he could not hear so much as a hint of a wolf's howl.
Lawrence had been attacked by wolves many times in his travels,
and such attacks always came with howls. And yet none were
audible.
He wondered if there really were any.
Time crawled by with agonizing slowness.
There was no baying. The only reason Lawrence could keep his
guard up was Holo — he trusted her implicitly, and she was still
the very picture of seriousness.
Liebert, seeing Norah and Holo as mere girls, was another
matter entirely.
207
The color returned to his previously frightened, pale face, and
he began to cast his gaze here and there doubtfully.
There was movement the instant he opened his mouth.
Norah held her staff in the crook of her right arm and with her
left hand took hold of the horn affixed to her side. Holo saw the
gesture and was unamused — perhaps because wolves and hunting
horns were ever in conflict.
Just as wolves howled and bears scratched themselves on trees,
shepherds announced their presence with the blow of a horn.
No animal could reproduce that long, drawn-out note, which
unmistakably betrayed the presence of a shepherd.
The note rang out in the night and was swallowed by the forest.
If there were indeed wolves nearby, they now knew that a skilled
shepherd was among them.
But still, no howling rang out. The group's opponents maintained
absolute silence.
"... Did we chase them off?" asked Liebert uncertainly.
"I'm not sure... At the very least, they seem to have backed away."
Liebert knitted his brow at Norah's vague answer, but seeing
Enek stop baring his teeth and set about the work of rounding up
the sheep, he accepted that the immediate danger had passed.
Perhaps he had decided that animals understood other animals.
"The wolves in this area are always like this. I hardly ever hear
them howl, and they do not seem to attack—they just watch..."
The young employee of the Remelio Company paled at Norah's
words, as though she had been talking about corpses returning
to life and rising from their graves. Liebert was more timid than
he looked.
"'Tis a bit strange they don't even howl," murmured Holo, still
looking into the forest. Liebert gave her a skeptical look — this
town girl who wasn't even a shepherd, what did she know of
wolves?
208
It wasn't that Liebert had an especially bad disposition — many
townspeople were like this, but their assumptions still grated on
Hole's nerves.
"It could be aught besides wolves. For example, the spirit of a
traveler who died here."
Liebert's face went sheet white. The wisewolf had exposed his
cowardice.
"Still-"
Holo tugged at Lawrence's sleeve once she had finished teasing
the poor lamb. Her voice was low, so Lawrence leaned down to
put his ear level with her.
"I was half-serious. I have a bad feeling."
This journey was no ordinary one. They had to make it safely
to and from Lamtra. If the group failed, whether they ran or met
their fate, Lawrence's life as a merchant would be over.
He gave Holo a baleful look as if to say, "Don't try to frighten me
with your foolish stories," but she just vaguely surveyed the forest.
Apparently she wasn't joking.
"Hmm, we seem to be out of firewood," said Norah brightly,
perhaps to dispel the still-tense atmosphere. Lawrence agreed,
and Holo finally averted her gaze from the forest and nodded.
Liebert nodded as well, probably mostly out of a sense of
obligation.
"I'll just go gather some more then, shall I?" said Norah, perhaps
confident in her night vision.
Lawrence felt bad leaving it just to her. "I'll come as well."
Holo chimed in. "As shall I."
Not knowing the first thing about starting a campfire, Liebert
had not raised a finger to tend it, but now he must have felt
entirely ill at ease.
"I-I'll help, too!" he said, clearing his throat, afraid of being left
all alone.
209
Holo smiled unpleasantly at him.
They walked into the forest to gather firewood, and Lawrence
wondered if the bestial aura he felt was just his imagination.
Yet there were no further incidents, and the night passed quietly.
When Lamtra finally came into view, Lawrence breathed a sigh
of genuine relief.
With the deep forest to their right and the rugged hills to the
left, their passage had felt akin to going down an endless back
alley.
But his sigh of relief did not come from reaching the end of that
alley. He had experienced far worse trails many times in the past.
No, the relief came from the fact that the strange gaze he had felt
upon him the previous night was gone.
Lawrence knew it wasn't simply his imagination since Holo
and Norah had been continuously on guard as well. There was
definitely something within the forest that separated Ruvinheigen
and Lamtra — something that even knight brigades feared.
Even so, they had made the trip out successfully, so the return
trip should also be possible. Lawrence was still uneasy about
it, but Norah was with them, and she had made the trek many
times and never been attacked once. Relying on her shepherding
skills — as well as Holo — would see them through somehow.
Then all they had to do was bring in the gold.
Lawrence was deep in thought as he watched Liebert head into
town to make the purchase — there was no point in the lot of
them filing into Lamtra.
"I hope everything goes well," said Norah, no doubt referring
to Liebert's task.
So far, everything they did was perfectly legitimate, so there
was little to worry about, but pointing that out seemed excessive.
210
"Indeed," replied Lawrence.
There was a reason he used his best merchant smile when he
said this.
Norah was simply making small talk.
But in Lawrence's heart, misgiving mingled with regret.
He worried that Norah didn't truly understand the consequences
that awaited them were they to fail. The shepherdess
before him was the one who would be in the most danger when
they moved the gold.
The gold would be hidden in the stomachs of her sheep when
they passed the checkpoints. If one of the sheep should happen
to cough up any of that gold, the shepherd responsible would face
immediate punishment.
In contrast to that, if Liebert and Lawrence were to keep silent,
they might be able make it through the checkpoint.
There was a huge difference in their risks. He wondered if
Norah understood that.
Lawrence looked on as Norah tended to her flock as at any
other time, petting Enek when he returned to her side after performing
this or that task. The merchant felt he needed to ascertain
Norah's awareness of her peril.
It simply did not seem as though she grasped the difference
between what could happen to her compared to what the people
around her might face.
If so, taking advantage of her ignorance was not far from fraud.
Lawrence considered this and concluded that his conscience was
most definitely somewhere near the pit of his stomach.
Were Norah to learn that she would be made to take the fall if
caught, she might refuse to cooperate, turning a cold shoulder to
them. That had to be avoided. Thus, Lawrence kept silent.
"Now that I think of it...," Norah piped up, jolting Lawrence
out of his reverie.
211
However, when he lifted his head, he saw that she was not
speaking to him.
Norah looked at Holo, who had plucked a single stalk of tall
grass and was now wandering about aimlessly.
"Miss... Holo, I mean..." Norah hesitated after saying Hole's
name, perhaps needing to muster up more courage to speak.
Lawrence had noticed Norah trying to engage her female companion
several times, but Hole's curtness made her hesitate.
In his mind, he encouraged her, but he was genuinely surprised
at the words that next came out of her mouth.
"Do... Do you know a lot about wolves?"
Lawrence was shocked for a moment, but Holo — ever the
canny Wisewolf—did not alter her expression a bit. She finally
tilted her head curiously at Norah.
"Urn, I mean...I just, last night you noticed the wolves so
quickly, so I..."
She trailed off there, perhaps because she wondered if Holo
also had experience as a shepherd. Were that the case, it would
be like one white crow finding another — one rare shepherdess
meeting another would make for lively conversation.
If so, Holo's unapproachable attitude left few opportunities to
speak up.
"What? I simply noticed them, that's all."
"Oh, I see..."
"I mean, the men are generally useless, after all," said Holo
with a mischievous smile, glancing at Lawrence, who gave a small
shrug in reply. "Don't you think?" she finished.
"Urn, I, I don't..."
"Hmph. So you think you can count on that?" prodded Holo,
pointing sharply. Norah followed where Holo indicated —
— only to meet Lawrence's eyes.
In that moment, Norah looked genuinely awkward as she
212
averted her eyes. Holo asked her again, and Norah glanced apologetically
at Lawrence as she whispered something to Holo, who
had drawn near the shepherdess.
Given the cheeky wolf's smile, it had to be that kind of
answer.
Lawrence watched and realized the conversation was about to
turn farcical.
He waved his hand back and forth as if to admit defeat, while
Holo and Nora laughed.
"In the first place, 'tis not strange to ask if someone like me,
traveling alone with a man, knows a lot about wolves!"
Going by looks alone, Norah appeared to be the older of the
two girls, but as soon as Holo spoke, she took the upper hand.
She put one hand on her hip and held up the index finger of the other
looking for all the world like a theologian giving a lecture.
"You see, the answer is completely self-evident! Because — "
Because? Norah leaned forward as if to say.
"Because! Come nighttime, a wolf will always appear — tempted
by this helpless, adorable rabbit. Surely you'll agree that a rabbit
who is devoured by a wolf every night could not fail to know
something about wolves!"
Norah looked blank for a moment but soon understood what
Holo meant. Her face turned beet red as she searched back and
forth between Holo and Lawrence; then, embarrassed, she looked
at her feet.
Holo giggled. "Ah, 'twas a lovely reaction. But no — my first
answer is the one to remember," she said delightedly, at which
Norah blushed to her ears and averted her gaze as she seemed to
remember something.
It then sounded like she raised her voice in a quiet "Oh."
"In truth, it's my companion that's more like a rabbit. If I left
him on his own, he'd likely die of loneliness."
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Holo whispered into Norah's ear, but her voice was loud enough
to reach Lawrence quite distinctly. He gave Holo a bitter smile,
but it was Norah's credulous nodding that hurt the most.
As if he really seemed that way.
"But, in any case, I just happened to notice the wolves last night."
In truth, it was not an obvious conclusion, but Norah had been
sufficiently confused by Holo at this point that she seemed to
accept it. She put her hands to her cheeks (the blush was now
subsiding) and nodded.
Then taking a deep breath, she spoke, her nervousness evidently
dispelled.
"Actually, I thought perhaps you were a shepherd, Miss Holo."
"Oh, because I was quick to notice the wolves?"
"Well, there is that, too," admitted Norah, pausing to look at
her black-furred companion, who was content to pause in his
work while his mistress had her chat. "Actually, it was because
Enek seems to be very aware of you."
"Mm, is that so?" Holo — whose nerve was such that she had
no trouble exposing her tail when she knew she would not be
caught — smiled, totally unperturbed as she folded her arms and
regarded Enek. "It's hard to say in front of a pet dog, but I daresay
he's smitten with me."
As if he had heard her, Enek looked back to Holo and then
struck out once again to tend to the flock of sheep.
His mistress, on the other hand, was struck dumb by Hole's
words.
"Wha-what? Er, you mean, Enek is?"
"My, it's nothing to be sad about. Any male will get overconfident
if spoiled. I'm sure he's quite important to you, but that only
makes him feel secure that he's gained your affection. There's no
mistake; he'll go looking for others to frolic with. No matter how
delicious the bread, sometimes you want soup."
214
Perhaps feeling some sympathy with Hole's intricate argument,
Norah nodded, apparently impressed.
"Put another way, sometimes you have to be cold. It's a good leash."
Norah nodded firmly, as if she had been told some deep truth,
but then called Enek's name and crouched down to greet him.
She caught him head-on as he streaked over to her, then looked
up to Holo, and smiled.
"If he ever has an affair, I'll keep that in mind."
"Good."
The wrongly accused Enek barked once, but Norah put her
arms around him, and he was soon calm.
"I think I'd like to indulge him as long as I can, though," said
Norah, lightly kissing Enek behind his dangling ears.
Holo looked on, a slight smile playing about her lips.
It was a somewhat bemused smile, inappropriate to the occasion,
Lawrence realized, when Holo looked at him.
"Because... whether this job goes well or fails, I'll be giving
up my work as a shepherd," said Norah quietly as she held
Enek in her arms. It was clear that she had a firmly rational
grasp of the situation and was prepared to act according to that
understanding.
She understood both the position she had been placed in and
the likely outcomes.
Lawrence's concern was unnecessary.
Though Norah might have looked frail, she had survived being
cast out of an almshouse and lived through any number of difficulties.
She was no pampered noble's daughter.
At the same time, Lawrence had renewed respect for Holo.
She had discerned Lawrence's misgivings and, after seizing the
conversational initiative from Norah, casually drawn out evidence
of how prepared the girl actually was.
That explained Hole's bemused smile earlier.
215
The merchant wondered if Hole's pronouncement that men
were generally useless was not necessarily off the mark.
Lawrence covered his eyes in defeat and then sprawled out on
the ground to rest.
The autumn landscape was cold with the approaching winter,
but the scattered clouds in the sky looked warm.
The smuggling would succeed.
Lawrence muttered encouragement to himself as a sheep meandered
over and peered down at him.
After some time, Liebert returned, riding his horse back at a
leisurely pace.
When one carries a large amount of money, he will see everyone
around him as a thief, but true to his position as a trusted employee
of a trading company in a big city, Liebert appeared unperturbed.
He produced a bag of gold grains just large enough to be held in
one hand, and after all present had confirmed the bag's contents,
Liebert tucked it into the inside of his jacket, patting it lightly.
"Now all we have to do is make it safely back with this and feed
it to the sheep at an opportune time," he said as if to emphasize
that any real problems would be from here on out. "Then once
we've gotten them through the gates, the sheep will be received
as previously discussed. Are we agreed?"
"We are," said Norah with a nod.
Liebert faced straight ahead. "Then let us go. A golden tomorrow
awaits us."
The small band headed back onto the narrow path between
forest and hills.
The next morning, Lawrence opened his eyes as he felt something
cold on his face.
7s a sheep licking me again? he wondered, but he saw only the leadcolored
sky. Evidently there was going to be a rare autumn rain.
216

CHAPTER FIVE

And it was cold. Lawrence lifted his head off the tree root he
had been using as a pillow and saw that the fire had gone out. In
order to have a small gap between the time Norah went to sleep
and everyone awoke, one person had been tasked with having
Norah awaken them early to tend the fire. That person was supposed
to have been Liebert, but he lay there snoring away, firewood
clasped in his arms.
It was so foolish that Lawrence could hardly be angry with him.
"...Mmph."
Lawrence sat up, apparently awakening Holo, with whom he
had shared a blanket.
Without so much as a "good morning," she shot him a truly
withering glare and yanked the blanket away.
"If you're awake, you don't need it" seemed to be her logic.
If he argued the point, she would likely become genuinely
angry, so although it was a bit early for him, Lawrence forced
himself up. He had to toss another log on the campfire. The sheep
were all huddled together from the cold, and with no work to
do, Enek slept stretched out by the cinders — nestled up to his
beloved mistress, of course. Lawrence stood, joints creaking, and
tossed a log onto the fire to get it started, glancing wearily at the
comfortable-looking Enek.
As the dry wood began to crackle in the fire, Enek yawned contentedly.
Lawrence smiled; it reminded him of Holo.
Still, it was cold. It was as if winter had suddenly arrived.
The cause was obvious to Lawrence, looking at the weather, but
as they would be arriving in Ruvinheigen at midday the next day,
he had wanted it to hold until then.
But the sky seemed unlikely to wait. Lawrence sniffed bitterly.
Rain would likely fall by the afternoon, surely by evening.
The trees were thick enough in the forest that the group could
218
probably take shelter under them, but with the sheep along, that
was hardly an option. The forest was an ominous one, too. Lawrence
was not terrified of it, but neither was he eager to spend the
night there. Using the edge of the trees as a rain shelter would be
quite close enough.
Lawrence thought it over as he gazed into the growing campfire,
and then something suddenly loomed over his back.
He didn't have time to turn around before a familiar face
appeared directly beside him.
It was Holo with the texture of the tree root she had slept on
still imprinted on her face.
"'Tis warmer over here."
Lawrence was not so humble as to take those words purely at
face value.
Holo wrapped the blanket around Lawrence's back and deliberately
huddled under it with him again. Stealing the blanket
away was all well and good, but perhaps she had decided that
was excessive. Hunger and cold were every traveler's companions,
after all.
But as Holo had said nothing to apologize, Lawrence said nothing
by way of forgiveness.
He stirred up the embers with a stick, then tossed it into the fire.
"Oh, that's right," he said casually. "Didn't you say you could
predict the weather?"
"Surely. It will rain just past midday today," she replied sleepily.
"Anyone could tell that, looking at this sky," teased Lawrence.
Instead of scowling, Holo bumped her head against his shoulder
lightly.
"Wish we could take fast horses and make it to town before the
rain. Anyway, what say you to some potato soup? It's been warming
by the fire."
219
"I've no complaints. Also —'
"Your tail grooming, right?" said Lawrence, lowering his voice
still further.
Holo sighed and nodded. "I want to return to the inn as soon
as we can. Though..."
Her face was melancholy as she looked up at the sky.
A chill wind blew through her bangs, and she narrowed her
eyes as though it had touched her long eyelashes.
"A rain is coming, though I haven't wished it so."
It was then that Lawrence remembered. When he had met Holo,
she'd been the harvest god of a bountiful area. Farmers hated a
chilly rain during the harvest months of autumn, so though she
was far from the wheat fields now, such weather was not something
she could welcome.
Though Holo herself hardly had good memories of the wheat
fields, owing to the many things that had happened there, she
had still been the god of the harvest.
It didn't take a harvest god to find the cold rain distasteful. In
the worse case, the rain might turn to sleet.
Lawrence got cold just thinking about it, and he briskly tossed
another log onto the fire.
There was a bit more time before everybody woke up.
Yet he still hadn't realized something.
Holo never said anything meaningless.
220

CHAPTER SIX

White breath trailed behind them as they walked. The exhalations
warmed their cheeks momentarily, but with every breath,
they soon turned to a painful chill.
The darkening sky had finally lost its patience, and just after
midday, a thin drizzle began to fall as if shaved from some giant
block of ice. Thus, Lawrence's face was so cold he wondered if it
had actually frozen, but whenever a bit of air found its way into
his clothes, it was just pleasantly cool.
They ran — the people, the horses, the sheep, and the dog.
There were eyes on them, many of them. There were presences,
too.
But no matter how watchful the group was, not a single howl
was heard nor a single clump of fur seen, and eventually the
weather and the hard effort robbed them of their ability to worry
about wolves.
It was as if something had aimed for that gap.
By the time Holo noticed this, they were already surrounded
by the wolves.
"Enek!"
Norah's voice echoed, and Enek sprinted to the rear of the
flock in a blur of black fur and white breath, driving on a lagging
lamb.
The lamb sprinted desperately but was unable to distinguish
between dog and wolf, and a wolf's howls echoed as if to
mock it.
The situation was clear. The cry had come from a wolf atop
the rocky hills to the right as it tried to collect the sheep. In contrast,
little howling could be heard from the forest on the left
side — what could be heard were footfalls and panting.
On the far side of the ferns and undergrowth beneath the trees,
Lawrence and the others ran side by side. Lawrence and Holo sat
astride their horse; likewise, Liebert rode his. Norah's bangs were
plastered to her forehead from the sleet and sweat as she used
both Enek and her staff to control the sheep.
When it came to the wolves — well, if they were surrounded,
that would be the end. Wolves hunted very carefully, making
sure none in their pack was injured in the process. There would
be no plan to use a single wolf as bait, nor would a single member
make a heroic attack on its own. Wolves were cautious to the end
and always conducted themselves with cunning.
Thus, if the group could put themselves in a position to kill just
one wolf as the pack tried to tighten the noose, they could free
themselves from any further harassment.
Lawrence listened to Holo's hasty explanation and saw that
Norah moved to do just that.
A single wolf was visible in brief flashes, trying to get ahead
and cut off their route, but it would be instantly diverted by either
Enek being sent out ahead or Lawrence himself plunging ahead.
When the wolves moved to slowly close the loop, the sheep
would be made to dash in some wild direction, breaking the line.
For a shepherd, sheep are not poor children to be protected, but
a shield — a weapon to be wielded like any other.
224
It was not Lawrence's or Liebert's time to act. Liebert was fully
engaged holding his reins in one hand and keeping the gold
within his jacket secure with the other.
For his part, Lawrence could only ask Holo what he
should do.
"What to do, eh?"
The road was terrible and much worse on the back of a trotting
horse. Impacts were constant, and it felt like one's head was about
to separate from one's body. Keeping Holo, who sat in front of
him, from being thrown off was work enough.
"What to do, indeed."
Her enunciation was bad, and not necessarily just because the
bumpy ride made it easy to bite one's tongue when talking.
"Listen — "
"What?"
"About my explanation before — I take it back."
"Explanation before?" Lawrence was about to ask when the
grass diagonally behind them in the forest rustled, and immediately
thereafter came the sound of claws digging into dirt.
Lawrence felt an intense chill run down his back, as if wings
were about to sprout there. It was not a chill that could be
described as merely hot or cold. It was a message of danger from
the very grave.
"Enek!"
With nearly superhuman intuition, Norah sensed the attack as
she ran well ahead with the sheep. She quickly raised her staff to
summon her black-furred knight, but their last hope was the hill
that lay ahead.
Naturally the wolves realized this as well.
A brown whirl came streaking at the legs of Lawrence's horse.
It was do or die. Lawrence was about to pull back on the reins
with all he had, but Holo put her hand out and stopped him.
225
Then looking over her shoulder, she spoke.
"Fallback."
The reason Lawrence understood that she had spoken to none
other than the wolves themselves was that the surging pack suddenly
wheeled aside and stopped, as if struck by arrows.
Norah, Lawrence, and the others weren't the only ones surprised.
The bemusement of the halted wolves themselves was
obvious just by looking at them.
Yet Lawrence could neither praise the feat as amazing nor give
his thanks to Holo for saving them.
Hole's normally red-brown eyes flashed ruby bright.
To look on her was to be afraid; Holo the Wisewolf was among
them.
"The humans, as well."
Her cold voice reminded Lawrence of when he'd first seen her
true form.
"Youngsters these days, I suppose I could say."
Lawrence wondered for a moment what she was talking about,
when suddenly he realized what she meant.
Though the immediate danger had passed, Norah did not
understand why; doubt tinged her face. But there was no time to
think. Preparing to face whatever crisis came next, Enek steadily
carried out the rapid-fire orders given to him by his mistress.
Liebert clung desperately to his horse, trying only to avoid
dropping the gold.
If they kept going at this speed, they would be able to put the
forest behind them by sundown.
And to put this danger behind them, they had no choice but
to try.
Then it resounded.
At first it seemed like the wind — there was a whoosh as the icy
drizzle was blown back momentarily into the sky.
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But it was soon clear that this was a strange wind indeed.
A normal gale didn't chill one's core the way this one did.
The wind was immediately followed by the sound.
A tremendous, forest-splitting roar battered their eardrums
from one side.
"...!"
The overwhelming blast was enough to freeze a person's
breath.
The horses stopped. The sheep stopped. Even the gallant sheepdog
was frozen in his tracks.
The violent roar seemed to nail everyone to the ground.
They stood as statues, looking into the forest.
"Listen —," said Holo quietly to Lawrence. Everything was
still; the only sound was the drizzle falling on the earth. "This is
a trouble I must bear. When I send the girl and the kid on, you'll
have to stay back for a time as well."
"Wha — why?"
There in the stillness, Norah and Liebert did not seem to take
notice of Holo and Lawrence's exchange as they glared unblinkingly
into the forest.
But it wasn't that they hadn't noticed.
It was the same as a hound that had cornered a bird — even as
the hunter moved its hand to strike, the bird could not fly away.
They were unable to take their eyes off the forest.
"Because what's in that forest is no normal wolf. You understand,
yes?"
Holo slowly looked away from the forest, turning to Lawrence.
His legs went weak at those eyes.
Her expression was well past displeasure; her eyes flashed with
such anger that Lawrence wondered if she might rage at the very
cobblestones in the road.
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Her breath was slow, like the breathing of a demon-horse in hell.
"If I go along with them, the pack will chase the sheep no longer.
Those sheep are not their aim."
She turned back to the forest.
"Such cheap bluster. Such rough pride. Both prized by the
young, I suppose."
Holo was still mostly within Lawrence's arms, and she seemed
almost to swell as she spoke.
It took Lawrence a moment to realize that it was from the
swishing of her tail beneath her robe.
"Go! They won't move until you speak. You're my partner — and
partners cooperate, do they not?"
Hole's expression was suddenly softer, and Lawrence found
himself nodding.
He was a merchant and generally hopeless at anything save
business.
For Hole's part, there was none who knew more of wolves than
she did.
"We'll take it from here. The two of you take the gold and go on
as planned!" Lawrence hadn't planned to shout, but Norah and
Liebert snapped out of their reveries as though they had heard
voices in the middle of the night.
There were no objections. In situations like this, to leave the
seemingly weak ones behind as a sacrifice so that the strong can
live on was a well-used tactic.
But they did look at him questioningly—"Is it really all right?"
their eyes asked.
No matter how established the tactic, what was possible for a
grizzled mercenary band was not so for a regular traveler.
"We shall meet at the walls of Ruvinheigen. And we'll all be
rich." Of course, Holo had no intentions of becoming a sacrifice,
but there was no way for the others to know that. At the same
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time, she could not very well explain herself, so she just smiled
lightly as she spoke.
She was taking advantage of human nature. People wouldn't
waste the sacrifice of someone facing near-certain death with a
smile and a faint hope. A clever wolf knew how to use that fact.
Liebert was the first to nod his agreement, followed by Norah.
Norah waved her staff, and time seemed to start moving again.
"The fortunes of war be with you," said Liebert. Norah gave
Holo a look more eloquent than words and then soon turned
away. As he heard the sound of the sheep starting to run, Liebert
followed after them.
Holo watched all this, then turned to Lawrence.
"You'll need to stay away. If you get close, it could go badly. You
understand, I know."
Instead of answering, Lawrence took Holo's hand before she
dismounted from the horse.
"I won't let you lose," he said.
Her hand was surprisingly hot, and she returned his squeeze.
"Were you a proper male, I'd at least get a kiss for my trouble
here." Holo grinned for a moment before her expression tightened,
and she hopped off the horse.
"Oh, that's right. Here, take this for me," she said, undoing the
sash at her waist and taking her robe off quickly.
Her flowing chestnut hair, pointed wolf ears, and fluffy wolf
tail were all exposed.
As was the slightly swaying wheat-filled leather pouch around
her neck.
"It is my hope that this will all conclude peacefully, but I don't
know how it will go. When we meet up again, it will be cold if I'm
naked, and a bit of a problem for you, too, I should think," she
said with a smile and then looked to the forest, unmoving.
Her tail bristled as though struck by lightning.
229
Lawrence hesitated over what to say.
What finally came out was short: "Let's meet again."
He didn't wait for a reply before spurring the horse on.
Saying he didn't want to remain there would have been a lie.
But what could he accomplish if he did? Lawrence knew Hole's
true form. Even if she were cornered by mercenaries or bandits,
she could get away.
Lawrence drove the horse on. The sleet got heavier.
His face was strained and not just because of the cold.
For the first time in his life, he cursed himself for not being
born a knight.
It appeared that Norah and Liebert had traveled some distance
ahead in a short time. Lawrence did as he was told and had the
horse at a gallop in order to put distance between himself and
Holo, but even running at a fair pace, he had yet to catch sight of
Norah or Liebert.
He no longer felt those unpleasant gazes, so this was probably
a good opportunity to make progress. That was certainly true
from Norah and Liebert's perspective — they would not want to
waste Lawrence and Hole's deaths.
Lawrence smiled grimly to himself at the thought, and the
concern about losing his way flitted in and out of his mind.
However, it soon dispersed. He was not especially familiar with
the territory, but once the sun went down, he would have to stop,
and he couldn't lose his way while at a standstill.
As long as he kept the hills to his right and the forest to his left,
he would not stray too far off course.
Additionally, farther down the way the grass was clipped short
and called a road, and if he followed that, it would take him
straight to Ruvinheigen. Even if he never caught up with Norah
and Liebert, there was little to be worried about.
230
Lawrence was more worried that his horse would stumble over
a stone and fall, so he pulled back on the reins to slow the animal
and then looked back over his shoulder.
Holo had long since disappeared behind him, but if the wolves
changed their minds and came after him, they would cover the
distance quickly.
He fought back the temptation to stay there and turned forward
again, spurring the horse on to a walk.
He had Holo's robe; it was still warm. It seemed like a bad omen
to leave clothing behind as a token. Lawrence felt himself grip
the robe tightly.
But if Holo found it necessary to take wolf form, she would be
in trouble if she had no clothes to change into.
She was even more rational than Lawrence the merchant.
Lawrence sighed deeply, shaking out the robe, which had a good
deal of shed fur on it, probably from Holo's tail. He folded the garment
up and stuffed it inside his own coat, which was already fairly
wet, but that was better than holding it under his arm. Holo had
taken the most dangerous role of all, so the least he could do was
make sure her clothes weren't soaking wet when she returned.
The drizzle was getting heavier; it would be real rain by nightfall.
Lawrence continued on horseback for a bit, then stopped in the
middle of the path, deciding that he had come far enough. Even
if he had not put a lot of distance between them, it would require
some effort for Holo to catch up with him — assuming she was
in human form.
However, standing there in the middle of the road was tantamount
to suicide. The cold had already numbed Lawrence's hands
as they gripped the reins. It would be better to take shelter in the
forest and keep an eye out for Holo coming down the road. He
was worried about freezing to death before she ever found him.
Lawrence dismounted under the trees at the edge of the forest,
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looking back up the road. The space between the forest and the
hills was mostly open. Norah and Liebert had probably already
cleared the edge of the forest and were making their way straight
to Ruvinheigen.
They were moving faster than normal, so it was entirely possible.
If so, then truly the only thing that remained to be done was
feeding the gold to the sheep and entering the city.
As long as that went well, the gold smuggling would have wiped
out his debt and turned a large profit for him to boot.
Lawrence's promised share would clear his debt and leave him
with 150 lumione. That was a staggering amount of money, but
still small in comparison to the total profit the smuggling would
yield. They had bought up roughly six hundred lumione worth of
gold, and avoiding the taxes on it meant that it would be multiplied
tenfold. If he had been greedier, he probably could have gotten
a larger share. After all, he was an accomplice to smuggling,
a fact the rest could hardly ignore.
He stopped himself. Being greedy invited misfortune. It was
the way of the world.
Lawrence tried to keep his mind off the cold as he gathered up
what dry wood he could find, taking some tinder from a carefully
waterproofed bag on the horse and starting a fire.
There was nothing around him. It was quiet without so much
as a hint of an animal in the area.
As he dried his clothes, Lawrence wondered if Holo was all
right, thinking of the robe she had taken off.
Such thoughts did him no good, he realized, but he couldn't
help himself. His was the sin of helplessness, he felt.
He kept watch over the plains as the drizzle continued to fall.
How long had he stared at the unmoving scenery? His clothes
were mostly dry. The first log he had set fire to was now ash.
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Perhaps he would go check on her.
The seductive thought began to fill his mind.
There was a change in his field of vision. He rubbed his eyes.
There was no mistaking it. It was a person.
"Holo!" he shouted, standing in spite of himself and grabbing
Hole's now-dry clothes as he began to run. He would not possibly
encounter anybody else in a place like this.
But as he ran out in the rain, he soon realized that it was not
Holo.
There were three human forms, and they were on horseback.
"Mr. Lawrence, is that you?"
Apparently they had heard Lawrence's voice as he called out.
And, when they called his name, Lawrence realized they were
from the Remelio Company.
But what where they doing here?
"Mr. Lawrence, are you all right?"
He had no recollection of any of their faces. One had a bow at
his back, a sword hung from the belt of another, and the third
carried a long spear. Their faces and postures showed that they
were more used to travel than a town merchant like Liebert, and
they wore rain gear as though they were used to it and were ready
to fight at a moment's notice.
"We heard from Mr. Liebert — we couldn't just stay at the
company — so we came out and waited at the edge of the forest.
Thank goodness you're — "
The words cut off there.
The men, perhaps slightly older than Lawrence, had caught
sight of the robe that he held.
It was Hole's and thus on the smallish side and obviously for
a woman.
The obvious conclusion was not a good one.
They must be thinking he held on to the robe as a last memento,
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that she had met with tragedy. They had surely heard him call out
Hole's name before.
As Lawrence expected, they looked at him sympathetically.
He tried to think of how he might clear up the misunderstanding
when he noticed something strange.
The three men had simultaneously taken a deep breath, and
Lawrence caught a glimpse of something like relief on their faces.
No doubt not a one of them thought this showed, but his merchant's
eye caught it. They were probably glad that Lawrence had
not succumbed to despair and become impossible to manage.
"And your things?"
If they felt pity for this poor man whose beloved companion
had been killed by wolves, the point for broaching the subject
had passed. If they dwelt on the topic too long, there was no telling
when his emotions would explode. It was often the strangely
composed ones who were dangerous.
Knowing it would be foolish to try and explain the misunderstanding,
Lawrence merely gestured behind him.
"Over there. The horse, as well."
"I see. Let's take some shelter for a bit."
The tone was casual, but the three men's expressions were tight
as they dismounted.
They were probably wondering if they were going to find the
girl's wolf-mauled body.
Lawrence turned on his heel to lead them to his horse.
Some moments later, his mind went blank from shock.
"I won't ask you not to think badly of us," came a calm voice.
Lawrence's left arm was twisted from behind, and a spear
pointed at his flank. There was a sword at his throat.
The droplets that ran down his face were not only rain.
"...So the Remelio Company is betraying me?" Lawrence
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somehow managed to ask, stifling the cry as he felt his shoulder
twisted.
It was luck that kept him from dropping Hole's clothes.
"It's insurance."
The sword at his throat was pulled away so that he could be
tied up.
The men confiscated Hole's robe and bound Lawrence up like
apiece of luggage.
"It weighed heavy on us to hear there would be a girl with you,
so that's lucky, anyway."
The expressions of relief earlier were because Holo had not
been there.
The men had known that if someone tried to be a hero, they
would not pass the day without seeing blood.
"I know it will sound like an excuse, but we're on the brink
here. We have to eliminate any danger we can."
The Remelio Company clearly assumed that Lawrence planned
to blackmail them. Even if they did manage to come back from
the edge of bankruptcy by smuggling gold, anyone who knew
that fact had as good as a knife to the company's throat.
I would never do something so stupid, Lawrence thought to
himself, but then he realized he had been thinking of it just a
moment ago.
A large enough amount of money could cloud anyone's eyes.
Those who chose the path of the merchant knew this.
"You can keep the robe."
Hole's clothing was tossed at Lawrence's bound hands.
Lawrence grabbed at the robe with all his strength, somehow
sealing away his anger at this betrayal.
The fact that they had tied him up meant that he was not going
to find himself impaled on a blade immediately. He could not get
235
himself killed for pointless resistance. However, it was plain to
see that the men had no intention of letting him live, either.
They were probably wondering whether to simply leave him in
the cold or in the forest, where the wolves might come. It was a
reasonable question, as far as it went.
But there was something important the men had overlooked.
They thought Holo was dead.
If Lawrence could rejoin her, all kinds of revenge became
possible.
He could not die here. He had to repay this betrayal.
The anger was a cold stone in his gut as Lawrence feigned meek
resignation.
"Don't think it doesn't wound me that I can't say we'll meet
again."
Lawrence's forehead burned at the man's casual speech, but he
bore it silently, not looking over his shoulder.
"It's depressing to think about what happens next."
"Hey," interrupted another of the Remelio Company men, as if
to warn off unnecessary chatter.
What could possibly be depressing now at this last stage?
It was something that Lawrence mustn't hear apparently, even
though he was about to die.
"C'mon, let us talk. I can't just keep quiet. You're the same,
right?"
The one being addressed was at a loss for words for a moment.
Lawrence ignored his own rage in order to listen.
What were they talking about?
"But that's the girl this guy had with him. Who cares if he
hears-"
It can't be, his heart cried out within him.
"See, look —"
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The man in front of Lawrence delivered a vicious kick to him at
the same time that another punched his face.
Lawrence's head swam from the brutal shock, and when he
came to, he was lying prostrate on the ground.
He couldn't tell whether the blockage in his nose was mud or
blood. All he felt was a terrible fury that raced through him.
His vision sparkled from the shock, and he wasn't even sure
what had happened to his body.
But he heard every word that was said.
"What if we just tie her up like this poor bastard? The wolves
will just finish them off for us."
"Don't be stupid. Who knows what kind of pagan magic she
used to get the sheep through that forest unharmed. We could
blindfold her, tie both hands, and leave her here, and they'd still
survive. And then we'd be the ones in trouble. But... it's depressing,
I'll say that. Won't be able to eat for a while if we lay a hand
on the girl, that's for sure."
They were clearly talking about Norah.
They were talking about killing her.
If the Remelio Company's solution to the risk of blackmail was
murder, they could not very well let Norah live, either.
They would probably pass the checkpoint on the way to Ruvinheigen
and then kill her after handing off the sheep to another shepherd.
Norah was the only shepherd whose presence in this area wasn't suspicious,
so they could not kill her until after the checkpoint.
"Shouldn't we finish this guy off?"
"What, you wanna do it?"
"Hey, the less killing the better, as far as I'm concerned."
"I'm with you."
"We've got the horse, so let's go. If we don't hurry, we'll catch it
from Mr. Liebert."
237
Their footsteps receded only to be followed by the sound of
horses' hooves.
After that, all Lawrence could hear was the sound of the drizzle.
Pathetically, he began to cry.
The sin of helplessness.
Lawrence squeezed his eyes shut.
If only he were as strong as Holo, he would not have had to leave
her to face danger alone, and he would not have to be resigned to
this betrayal, to say nothing of having to listen while his enemies
plotted the murder of the girl he himself had hired.
Norah was not like Holo. She didn't have pagan magic or any
special powers. If sliced with a sword, her skin would split and
her blood would flow.
Enek might be of some help, but it was a faint hope. No matter
how gallant a dog, he would be helpless in the face of a surprise
attack.
Lawrence wanted to at least spare Norah this.
He thought of her when they had spoken on the hill overlooking
Lamtra.
She was smarter and tougher than she looked, and she knew
her shepherding days were over. She had pinned her hopes on
this unusual job.
She wanted to become a dressmaker after the severe life of the
shepherd. It must have seemed a nearly impossible dream.
How much the possibility that it might come to pass must have
thrilled her heart!
It was, of course, a fool's errand letting one's heart go aflutter at
a mere hope, but for one's demise to be brought through treachery—
that was another matter.
Norah would do the job given her. She had to receive her
compensation.
This was true of Lawrence himself as well, of course, and once
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he reunited with Holo, he had the hope of exacting as much retribution
as he wanted.
However, Norah's journey would end at the tip of a sword.
Using his maddening frustration as fuel, Lawrence forced
his prostrate body to move. His hands were still bound behind
his back, but by putting his face against the ground, he brought his
knees under him to his chest, and in one movement, he raised his
head and righted himself.
Apparently one nostril was blocked with mud and the other with
blood. He snorted violently to clear his nose and then inhaled the
cold air to cool his head — not that his head became any cooler.
He stood and began to walk unsteadily. He did not notice that
his bound hands still held Holo's clothing until he came to the
spot where his horse had been taken from him.
The fire had been kicked apart and scattered, but there were
still some red glowing embers.
Lawrence left Holo's clothing where it wouldn't get wet and
took a deep breath.
Then, he sat down very carefully next to the largest ember,
checking his orientation to it several times.
He paused to ready himself.
Throwing himself down, Lawrence pressed his bound wrists
against the hot coal.
The rope crackled as it burned, and a terrible heat assaulted his
wrists. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw to withstand
the pain.
The next moment, his hands were suddenly free.
He had loosened his bonds.
Lawrence stood immediately and looked at his wrists. There
were a few burns but nothing serious.
He was not so stupid as to grab the nearest handy stick and go
chasing after his betrayers.
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He knew that waiting for Holo was his best and only option. A
simple traveling merchant was powerless alone.
A merchant did not have pride the way a knight or a townsperson
did. He was prepared to lick anybody's boots if it meant
turning a profit.
So whence came this feeling of humiliation?
Lawrence stood rooted to the spot and looked up at the sky.
The leaves on the trees shielded him from the rain and made
him think of whatever cosmic force it was that allowed him only
to crawl in the dirt; he couldn't bear it and looked down.
His eyes landed upon the robe Holo had worn.
Once again, he shed tears at his own helplessness.
"A tearful reunion, eh?"
Eventually unable to contain himself, Lawrence had run
through the rain and encountered Holo just as he was running
out of breath.
Holo was in her human form, uninjured and looking much the
same as when they had parted ways. The knees of her trousers
were dirty; perhaps she had tripped somewhere along the way.
"You look terrible," she said with an amused smile.
"We are betrayed."
"I'm not so naive as to think you saw that and fell," said Holo
with a sigh. "I cannot say it didn't occur to me. They were from
the company, yes?"
Her lack of surprise or shock suggested that she had vaguely
anticipated betrayal, but since the entire plan was founded on
mutual trust, she could not easily suggest the possibility. For
Lawrence's part, even if he had been told in advance, he would
not necessarily have known what to do. It was an unmistakable
reality that nothing could happen without the Remelio Company's
cooperation.
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Holo smiled briefly and drew close to Lawrence, sniffing as
she took his hands. She seemed to notice the burns. "Honestly, I
would Ve found you soon enough. You didn't have to do this."
She twitched her nose again, then stuck her hand into Lawrence's
coat, pulling her robe out.
Holo seemed surprised and wiped her face against the cloth.
Her drizzle-soaked face was much improved.
She giggled. "You are a strange one, protecting my clothes with
your life."
Hole's tail bristled in contrast to her delighted expression upon
seeing the folded robe.
When she looked back at Lawrence, she still smiled, and he
could have melted into her burning red eyes.
"There is something I need to say. I must be completely frank,"
she said, her fangs showing when she flashed a grin. "I may have
to kill someone," she said, then continued before Lawrence could
interrupt.
"I thought that if this plan didn't go well, I'd no longer be able
to travel with you. The thought made me dreadfully lonely. Thus,
I bore it. I let things go peaceably, I came along with you quickly,
and I put up with things because I thought we'd soon be sipping
hot potato soup in front of the fireplace. I am the Wisewolf of
Yoitsu, Holo. I can forget the pride of a youngster if need be..."
Lawrence looked down at the mud on Hole's knees.
It had been no normal wolf in the forest, and it had not been
after the sheep. There were few possibilities.
A territorial dispute.
Given that, the actions Holo took to "let things go peaceably"
became clearer and clearer.
A wisewolf would never stumble clumsily over a stone, dirtying
her knees.
"No, listen. That was all well and good. I am Holo the Wisewolf.
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If I am made to act like a mere dog, I — I shall still not be angry.
But what is this? This soaked mouse standing in front of me, face
swollen, covered in mud? Has my companion been so foolish as
to trip and fall? And with burns on his wrists! Oh, indeed. Before
me is a fine fool, who doesn't give a second thought to his own
appearance but protects my robe against the rain with his life.
A dunce indeed! I've no idea what to do with such unbelievable
softheartedness."
Holo gave her whole speech in one long breath, then inhaled
deeply as she rubbed her eyes. "Well, then. I take it we're off to
Ruvinheigen?" she said, suddenly back to her normal self.
Her arms and legs were covered with scratches and trembled.
Lawrence didn't think it was because of the cold. This was Holo
when she was truly angry.
"If we go now, we can enter the city under cover of darkness.
The master always takes responsibility for betrayal. This is the
truth of the world."
Holo thrust her robe back at Lawrence, then untied the opening
of the leather pouch around her neck, and popped a few grains of
wheat into her mouth. There was no hesitation.
"Wait, there's Liebert and Norah," interjected Lawrence, now
that he finally had an opportunity to speak.
Hole's eyebrows shot up. "Think it through. Betrayal demands
revenge. Sin must have punishment. But plunging in without
thinking will give us no satisfaction. We can't be satisfied until
we've taken everything from them. Do you not agree? Consider.
If we attack the lot that came for you, dealing with the gold afterward
becomes difficult. But we'll go first to the master's house
and make him good and sorry, then strike at the ones who so
happily betrayed you. Then, we have but to butcher the sheep,
take the gold, and go wherever we may please. I daresay this is
the best plan."
242
Despite her anger, Hole's mind was as clear and agile as ever.
Her plan almost entirely eclipsed Lawrence's.
However, there was a reason he had to abandon this excellent
plan.
"I feel the same way, but we must first get to Liebert — and
quickly."
"You have a better plan?" asked Holo after gulping down the
grains of wheat.
Her expression was unreadable, and Lawrence got the feeling
that if he misspoke here, he would feel the full force of whatever
swirled behind that mask.
Nonetheless, he could not abandon Norah.
"The Remelio Company plans to murder Norah."
Holo smiled thinly. "Yes, and those fools planned to kill you as
well, yet you lived. She, too, may survive, don't you think?"
"If you go to save her, she will definitely be safe."
"Is that so?"
Lawrence found himself faintly irritated at Hole's mischievous
look.
Why was she acting like this?
Time was short. If Norah and Liebert ran through the night,
they might make it through the checkpoint to Ruvinheigen
before dawn. And if it came to that, Norah would be killed
shortly thereafter.
The probability was high.
"You could defeat a hundred armed men in a flash, could you not?"
asked Lawrence impatiently, but Holo only shook her head slowly.
"That is not the problem."
Then what is the problem, Lawrence wanted to say.
"I am a wolf. The girl is a shepherd. We are eternal antagonists."
For just a moment, Lawrence wondered why Holo was dragging
that out again now, but then he realized something important. .
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If Holo attacked Liebert and the others in her wolf form, it was
quite possible that Norah would try to protect them.
In that case, there was a risk that Liebert would kill Norah, so
could Holo explain that she was only there for the Remelio men?
Would Norah even accept that?
If she didn't, Holo would wind up playing the villain.
Even in the best of times, Holo hated shepherds. It was obvious
that she did not want to go to such lengths just to save Norah,
and Lawrence couldn't force her to.
"I know there's nothing in it for you — far from it, in fact. But
can I not ask this of you? An innocent person is about to die, and
I can't just turn the other way."
Holo looked askance irritably as Lawrence tried to convince
her. She was the only one who could save Norah.
"I'll owe you some thanks, of course."
Holo twitched one ear and looked at him.
"...What sort of thanks?"
"As long as you don't say anything like 'In exchange for her
life,' I'll give you whatever I can," said Lawrence, trying to strike
out the possibility of Holo making such a demand.
Upon hearing his words, her face turned severe; she had probably
been planning to do just that.
"Please. You're the only one."
Hole's face stayed as irritated as ever as she lazily waved her
sodden tail with discontent. She held her leather wheat pouch in
her hand and folded her arms, exhaling whitely in the cold air.
"Holo..."
Lawrence knew there was a limit to what he could do. Moreover,
Holo had endured humiliation in order that his gold smuggling
could proceed. She had dirtied her knees and been made,
she said, to act like a dog — he could imagine any number of
awful appearances that might have been forced on her.
244
Then having endured that humiliation, she finds that her partner
has been betrayed and made to look like a fool.
He couldn't criticize her and was already thankful that she was
willing to assume her wolf form and strike at the Remelio Company.
Asking for any more was the height of selfishness.
Holo exhaled a puff of air.
She smiled, looking almost resigned.
"Come now, don't use that voice with me," she said, heaving a
sigh. "Here, take this. Also, I suppose I'd best take off my clothes.
It would be troublesome to arrange for new ones."
"You'll do it?"
"There is a condition," said Holo as she undid the sash that held
her trousers up. Her expression was unreadable.
Lawrence gulped and waited.
"You'll understand if I don't guarantee the lives of those who
bother me."
If Norah took Holo for an enemy and protected Liebert and
company, she would be spared no mercy, in other words.
He couldn't tell if she was joking or not.
No — she was surely serious.
Holo had spoken without particularly looking at Lawrence.
Her breathing was neither fast nor slow.
Lawrence mustered all of his business cunning in response.
"Very well. I trust you."
Puffs of white vapor appeared as Holo laughed as if giving in.
"You've gotten quite clever. Exactly what sort of troublesome fellow
am I traveling with?"
She shook her head lightly and quickly took off her blouse and
trousers. She then kicked off her shoes roughly and, after collecting
them, tossed them at Lawrence.
"What, no words of admiration yet?" she said, putting a hand
to her hip, turning around, and looking over her shoulder.
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It was a small price to pay.
"It's a magnificent tail," Lawrence said.
"Mm, that was a bit monotone, but I suppose it will do."
Holo turned to face him. "Now, then, be so kind as to close
your eyes."
She had no problems being nude, but evidently she did not
want him to witness her transformation.
Lawrence had no desire to oppose Holo on this. His feelings
on the matter were complicated as he well knew from the Pazzio
incident.
He closed his eyes and waited.
Soon there was a murmuring sort of rumble, like a great throng
of mice running, and it was followed by the sound of something
growing larger. Then he heard the shifting of something huge
waving to and fro in the air and finally the heavy footfalls of a
large animal.
Lawrence felt hot breath on his face.
When he opened his eyes, there was a gigantic mouth directly
in front of him.
"If you'd flinched, I was thinking of eating your headfirst."
"Well, it is fairly frightening," answered Lawrence honestly as
Hole's red-tinged irises seemed to stare right through him.
He trusted her, after all.
Perhaps she smiled a bit with her well-fanged mouth. There
was a slight snarl.
"Shall I carry you in my mouth or on my back, then?"
"Spare me your mouth, please."
"You might find it surprisingly comfortable."
"I might be tempted by the warmth and find myself in your
stomach."
"Hee-hee-hee. Come, on my back now. Grab on to my fur; it
won't hurt. Hold on as tightly as you need."
246

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hole's body had a mysterious heat to it, like standing by a
campfire.
Lawrence faltered a bit at her intimidating aura, which seemed
to make even the rain move aside, but once he had roughly
wrapped up her clothes and slung them under his arm, he did as
he was told and, grabbing her fur, climbed atop the great wolf.
She had an animalistic scent to her, unlike a human, but it was
distinctly Holo nonetheless.
"If you fall, I'll snatch you up in my jaws."
"I'll make sure not to."
He could tell that she smiled.
"You know — "
"What?"
"/ truly hate shepherds."
For a moment, Lawrence didn't know why she bothered repeating
this, but when he realized it was simply her true feelings, he
pointed one thing out.
"Norah knows that whether this job succeeds or fails, she'll
have to give up shepherding."
Lawrence felt a low rumbling; Holo was growling.
"By way of thanks, you'd best buy me more honeyed peach preserves
than I can possibly eat."
Then Lawrence was assaulted by a terrible sensation that he
was about to slip off as, beneath him, Hole's huge body began
to run.
He held on to her fur for dear life, pressing himself down, desperate
not to fall off the wisewolf, who accelerated with shocking
force. The wind in his ears sounded like a rushing, flooding
river.
But he also felt something else from the huge body that had left
him so terrified when he had first seen it — it filled him with an
indistinct warmth.
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Hole's endurance was infinite, and she could run faster than any
horse, but even so, they were unable to put the forest behind them
until the sun was beginning to set.
Her feet bit into the earth and the landscape grew dimmer,
as though candles were being put out one by one. The rain was
relentless, and Hole's breath trailed behind them like a cloud.
Soon they found the road to Ruvinheigen. Holo turned right
with no hesitation and gathered still more speed.
Occasionally, while on her back, Lawrence could hear a sound
distinct from her breathing; perhaps it was her growling.
She had said she might kill someone.
At the time, Lawrence had thought she planned to stop just
short of killing anyone.
If not, there was no "might" about it. There was not a human
alive who could survive Hole's claws and fangs.
"Hey" came Hole's sudden voice. There was too much tension
in her voice for it to be idle chatter. "We'll be upon them soon. I
don't mind a bit if you stay on my back, but you might not like it.
I'm going to jump clear over them. I'll crouch down right afterward,
so you jump off then."
"Understood."
"If you dillydally, I'll shake you right off."
Lawrence couldn't respond, and Holo plunged ahead, accelerating
with terrifying speed.
He wondered if this was what it would be like to ride an arrow
shot from a bow when he heard Holo take a deep breath.
Then it echoed, a thunderous howl.
Suddenly the steady pounding of Holo's stride ceased.
They were flying.
The only way to come close to the sensation would be to jump
a horse off a cliff— but terrifyingly, the feeling lasted. Lawrence
249
clung to Hole's body as they fell for an agonizingly long time.
Now? Now? Now? Lawrence's mind cried out, wondering when
the landing would come.
When he finally felt the impact of Holo's feet striking the
ground, Lawrence wasn't sure if he was still alive.
He was afraid he would be flung off from the sudden deceleration
when Holo suddenly wheeled around and crouched low.
"Off you go," she said quietly.
Lawrence remembered what he had been told before. The terror
of the leap had not faded, but he managed to climb off Holo's
back and make it to the ground without falling. There was a tiny
moment of relief, then Holo got to her feet.
"Leave the rest to me," she said and dashed off, Lawrence scrambling
to follow her.
Holo leapt into her hunting grounds in a twinkling, and despite
the gathering gloom, Lawrence could clearly see the confusion
caused by the giant wolf appearing in her prey's midst.
There were close to twenty people. The Remelio Company men
raised a cry, and Lawrence somehow saw that Norah was among
them. They had made it in time.
Holo stood in the middle of the maelstrom. Some of the men brandished
long spears, but they might as well have been waving white
flags. With the spear tips pointed high, they flourished the weapons
uselessly back and forth; the extent of their disarray was obvious.
In the middle of all that, something that looked like a ball of
mud would occasionally be sent flying. It was difficult to tell in
the darkness, but they seemed to be people — Lawrence could see
their hands flap wildly as they searched for the ground that had
suddenly disappeared.
If Holo had been seriously striking people with her paws, they
would surely be dead, so perhaps she was batting them aside on
purpose.
250
One man was flung into the air — now two — and the long
swords that were hurled at Holo in panic made high keening
sounds as they were deflected away.
With the darkness beginning to take control, the swords were
hit away from Holo so high and hard that Lawrence's eyes could
not follow them. He got close enough to Holo to hear her breathing
before the swords started to strike the earth near him.
Lawrence could tell they had been hurled quite high because
the swords came down with such force that they buried themselves
up to their hilts in the ground.
The Remelio Company had bet everything on this operation and
had dispatched too many people to kill Lawrence and Norah.
However, the majority of them now lay unconscious, sprawled
on the ground like stunned frogs, occasionally trampled on by
the panicked sheep that ran around in circles.
"Protect the sheep and the shepherd!"
Lawrence drew a sharp breath at the voice.
It was Liebert.
He looked and saw that the young manager was one of the few
taking rational action.
Keeping his panicking horse in check, Liebert waved a spear
and shouted orders from a slight remove.
His timid nature while traveling with Lawrence and the rest
had apparently been an act to get them to lower their guard.
If the man was cunning and careful enough to carry off this
intricate betrayal, he was certainly capable of that much.
"Protect the shepherd! Run! Run!" Liebert called out again.
Even if he planned to kill Norah eventually, she was still critical
for getting the gold through the checkpoint.
Despite the resolute orders and the brave attempts of some
Remelio men to carry them out, in the face of an attack by Holo
obviously designed to smash their hopes, many of the men cried
251
out and took flight. Holo ignored the stout few who still brandished
their swords or spears and chased after the panicked.
It was a devilish tactic.
Once Holo pounced on one from behind, she would roll him over,
then send the poor cowering fellow flying with a flick of her nose.
This all happened so quickly that it seemed it could not last
much longer.
The number of men still standing had been steadily winnowed.
Now it was just Liebert on his horse, a petrified Norah, and
Enek valiantly trying to protect her.
Holo shook her great head.
Something splattered — rain or sweat or blood.
"Sh-sh-shepherd! Protect me! Protect me!" Liebert cried out,
clutching his chest, but it was unclear whether that was because his
heart was on the verge of failure or to protect the gold in his coat.
Liebert screamed, looking not unlike the statues of sinners
suffering in hell that decorated churches, but by some miracle,
he controlled his horse and stayed behind Norah along with her
sheep.
She may have been a shepherd, but Norah was a girl of delicate
build.
The display made Lawrence nauseous — and Liebert had
planned to kill both him and the girl.
Just as Norah was about to crumple from terror, the shepherdess
seemed to remember her duty.
With an uncertain hand, she raised her staff aloft, ringing the
bell at its end, and Enek crouched low, as though ready to receive
directions.
Holo looked at Norah head-on, lowering her huge body like a
loaded catapult.
Lawrence's breath caught. Holo was serious. At this rate, Norah
could be killed.
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Between the darkness and the sudden confusion caused by
Hole's appearance, no one had noticed Lawrence some small
distance away.
He thought if he identified himself, then at least Norah would
recognize the giant wolf as Holo.
There was the risk of tipping Liebert off, but Lawrence was trying
to think realistically.
There was no way that Holo would let him leave unharmed.
Lawrence had to make his presence known.
He was about to shout when —
"Shepherd! I'll give you three hundred lumione to protect
me!"
In the midst of her fright, having raised her staff mostly by
reflex, Norah's expression suddenly changed.
Three hundred lumione could do that to a person.
Norah silenced her bell. Her face began to fill with resolve.
Liebert, with his snakelike cunning, seemed to sense it.
He turned his horse's head around and began to gallop away
at full speed.
Lawrence cried out in a strangled voice.
Norah, true to her profession, swung her staff.
It was too late.
The realization exploded in Lawrence's head as time seemed to
slow down.
Enek and Holo, though their sizes were vastly different,
assumed the same posture, like arrows in a bow the moment
before taking flight.
Norah's staff was still, pointing straight at Holo.
Lawrence thought he heard a bell ring, quietly — ting!
" i"
Lawrence shouted something, but whether it was Hole's name
or Norah's, he didn't know — if it even was a name.
253
His strained eyes watched Enek and Holo for the barest hint of
movement.
Thus, he saw the instant when the gallant sheepdog and the
huge, godlike wolf pounced.
He was sure that in the next instant he would see Enek's body
ripped through by Hole's massive claws before those same claws
were turned on his mistress.
Then those paws would stretch farther out and render their
judgment on another unworthy existence, turning it into a mass
of gore not even fit to be butchered.
Regret.
Lawrence didn't even know what or how he regretted, only that
regret now filled his soul.
And then —
"Enek, wait!"
Those words were like some magic signal, restoring time to its
normal flow.
Hole's huge form leapt through the air like a stone hurled from
a catapult, clearing both the dog and his mistress and landing
among the sheep, which scattered chaotically.
Immediately upon landing, Holo sprung forward after the fleeing
Liebert, whose desire for money had reduced him to a swine.
When the man turned back and saw the wolf pursuing him,
Lawrence caught a glimpse of his pathetic face.
A short scream tore the air, but it was soon silenced.
Holo ran lightly for a few more paces, then stopped.
Norah still held Enek.
However, Lawrence could tell that it wasn't from fright that she
clung to him.
Somehow, Norah knew. She either knew that the giant wolf was
Holo or that it wasn't trying to attack them, but in either case, she
knew not to let Enek give chase.
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She had cast aside her staff—something no shepherd ever
did — and desperately held on to Enek to stop him.
That wasn't fear.
"Norah!" Lawrence shouted and ran toward her, still worried
that she was hurt.
Still restraining Enek, Norah looked up, shocked, and was
doubly so upon seeing Lawrence. She then turned slowly to Holo,
this time unsurprised.
Her aspect suggested that she both did and did not understand.
The emotion in Lawrence's chest practically exploded from his
mouth. "I'm so glad you're all right!"
Norah could see that the giant wolf responsible for all of this
was still unhurt, so she had no idea how to react to these words.
She looked to Lawrence with a dazed expression on her face,
overwhelmed.
"The wolf is Holo. My companion, I mean."
Norah smiled awkwardly; she probably thought it was some
kind of joke.
She gave a little gasp as Holo came bounding up to them. A
pair of legs protruded from Hole's mouth.
"You didn't kill him?"
Lawrence himself had felt a certain homicidal urge when he
had seen Liebert use Norah as a shield. If it had been up to Lawrence,
he would have killed the man.
Given the legs dangling from Holo's mouth, the matter would
seem to be settled, but instead of replying, Holo shook her head
slightly and let the man drop to the ground. Soaked with saliva,
Liebert fell with an unpleasant splat.
"I thought about swallowing him, I'll admit." Holo seemed to
smile. "But gold doesn't agree with my stomach."
She sniffed lightly and inclined her chin toward Liebert.
"Take the gold," she seemed to be saying.
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"I think it was in his coat... Ugh, he's soaked," Lawrence complained,
when a huge snout poked him. He begrudgingly peeled
back Liebert's warm, wet clothes and easily found the bag of
gold.
"There it is. The genuine article," he said upon opening the bag
and seeing the gold grains inside.
"Norah," he said, tossing the bag to the shepherdess.
Holo gave Lawrence an aggravated look, which he ignored.
"The job's still not done. You're the one that has to get that gold
into the city."
The massive wolf heaved a huge sigh. Surprised, Norah glanced
at Holo but then turned back to Lawrence. "B-but... how are you
still alive?"
Lawrence gave a pained grimace. After meeting up with his
comrades, Liebert had sent men back to the forest to "save"
Lawrence.
But those same men had returned without him, which meant
that Lawrence and Holo had surely died.
Lawrence tried to think of where to begin his explanation of
events when he felt the air stir and, looking over his shoulder, saw
Holo raise her front leg and bring it down hard.
"— Urghyaaaaa!"
There was a loud crack, like a thick tree branch breaking, followed
by an ear-splitting shriek that echoed in the darkness.
It seemed excessive to Lawrence, but also well deserved.
After his shriek died down, Liebert — whose left leg had just
been broken by Holo's forepaw — flapped his mouth wordlessly,
eyes open.
"Good evening, Mr. Liebert! And how fare you tonight?"
"Wh-wha... Uh? H-how are youuuugghghh!"
"Holo. Honeyed peach preserves."
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As if by magic, those words dispelled Hole's reinvigorated
anger, and she reluctantly took her paw off the man's broken leg.
"Mr. Liebert. Mr. Liebert! Would you be so kind as to explain
to Norah how while you were getting dressed you, shall we say,
got the buttons wrong, please?"
Liebert wiped the sweat from his forehead, and for a minute,
his merchant sense showed past the terror and pain — it was the
shrewd face of a merchant who understood the situation and was
trying to discern how to save his own life.
"Mr. Liebert!"
"It—it wasn't me! It was Remelio's orders. I told him not to do
it. I told him betrayal would call down God's wrath. I swear, I
was against it — "
"As you can see, this is no ordinary wolf. Think of it as a representative
of almighty God. In other words, lies will not avail
you," said Lawrence.
Liebert's mouth snapped shut, and he looked up at Holo with
despair in his eyes.
Slowly, very slowly, Hole's white breath emerged from between
her teeth.
"I-I-I, I th-thought, I thought we were paying too much compensation.
Remelio, too. At this rate we'd use all the p-profit paying
our debts and have nothing to keep. Remelio told me to do
something about it. I h-had to. I had no choice. Y-you underststand,
don't you? After all, we're both merch — "
He was cut off when Lawrence punched him in the nose.
"I'm nothing like you."
"Ha-ha-ha-ha!" Holo laughed heartily, taking her paw off the
again unconscious Liebert.
"So that is how it is. The Remelio Company had planned to kill
you, Norah. I swear this to you — they betrayed us."
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Norah's expression was blank, but the situation seemed to be
slowly seeping into her head nonetheless.
She looked up slowly at Lawrence.
"B-but, what about the wolves in the forest... ?"
"That was something else," interjected Holo, causing Norah to
give a small yelp of surprise. Hole's voice carried well, after all.
"I am Holo, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu. What was in that forest was
nothing more than a brat whose only redeeming feature was its
sense of territory. I've prudence enough to avoid a pointless fight
over something like that."
Norah listened to Holo with a half-credulous expression, then
smiled helplessly as she slowly let go of Enek. "I don't know why,
Miss Holo, but somehow when you say it, I kind of believe you."
"Incidentally, your dog was never smitten with me. He simply
realized my true form. I thought I should let you know"
"Wha — ?" said Norah, surprised, at which point Enek gave a
single angry bark.
"Now then, Norah, back to the issue at hand," said Lawrence.
He felt bad about changing the subject yet again, but the affair
was not yet settled.
The gold was still in transit, and Lawrence's debt was yet
unpaid. There was also the issue of what to do about the Remelio
Company.
"We're in the middle of a kind of storm right now. However, by
the grace of God, somehow we've recovered the gold. If Liebert
is to be believed, it's worth six hundred lumione. However, if we
can bring it into Ruvinheigen and sell it to a broker, we should get
close to ten times that — six thousand lumione."
Norah seemed to quail at the huge figures, which were so
big that even Lawrence had trouble wrapping his head around
them.
"Six thousand is far more than we could possibly take receipt
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of, and even without facing that danger, we have six hundred in
hand right now. However..."
"How... ever?"
"However, while it is true that it's the Remelio Company's fault
that this plan has been more eventful than anybody would've
liked, it is also true that without their investment, we never would
have been able to buy the gold. And if we take the gold and run,
they will be left ruined, bankrupt immediately. Thus — "
Holo nudged the side of Lawrence's face with her nose and not
in a playful fashion.
Lawrence understood what she was trying to do.
"Thus, I propose the following."
"Now, hold —," Holo began, her tone displeased, but Lawrence
would not yield.
"Holo. We do not live in a fairy-tale world. We cannot simply
take revenge on those who have betrayed us and say, "The end.'
We have to live on after this. And taking revenge for betrayal
only invites more revenge."
"Well, then-"
"Are you going to tell me you'd kill the entire ruined company?"
"In the end, I don't want the bread I buy tomorrow to have been
paid for in blood. There are many ways to end this, but if we want
to have a life tomorrow, we have to choose to do so."
Hole's amber eyes closed.
She looked away.
"If it weren't for you, I'd be freezing to death by the forest right
now. I'm well aware that if you hadn't been here, all would be lost,
and I thank you for hearing my plea. But — "
"Enough. Enough, I say. Ah, my travel companion is tiresome
beyond words!" said Holo, hitting Lawrence's head lightly with
259
her chin. It hurt, but if this satisfied her selfishness, it was a small
price to pay.
"Then here's what I'll have you do."
"You may as well! Let me just say this — /'// carry out whatever
duties your undoubtedly tiresome plan asks of me, so you may as
well ask away."
Lawrence smiled, thankful beyond words, and took a deep
breath before turning back to Norah.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. Here's what I propose we do."
Having listened to the strange exchange between Holo and
Lawrence, Norah straightened herself and looked up.
"I'd like you to decide whether or not to bring the gold into
Ruvinheigen."
"Wha - ?"
It was an obvious question. Without any further risk, she had
six hundred lumione on hand. Of course, six thousand was an
unimaginable gain over that, but it would mean risking her life
again.
"However, if you bring it into Ruvinheigen, the huge profit will
save both us and the Remelio Company."
At this, Norah let slip a small "Oh."
"On the other hand, if you decide to take it, then all of these
fallen men here, along with their families in Ruvinheigen and
the other remnants of the company, will all glimpse hell. Some
of them will not be spared its wrath. But in their hearts, they will
bear a grudge against three demons — that is to say, me, Holo,
and you, Norah."
Even for someone who lived by travel, being the object of such
animosity from so many people could make life far more dangerous.
Business consisted of exchanges between people. The location
of Lawrence, Holo, and Norah would eventually be found
and swords put to their throats.
260
There was another important point to make.
"Of course, if we flee to some foreign land with a foreign
tongue, we can live as though nothing happened. But even living
without the fear of revenge, suppose you came across a slave with
a familiar face being whipped like a workhorse? Would you be
able to sleep that night?"
Lawrence paused, allowing the words to sink in.
"However, I will have the Remelio Company make amends."
Holo grinned unpleasantly.
"We're headed there next. For your part, Norah, please make
your decision by tomorrow morning. If you decide to bring the
gold into Ruvinheigen, we'll meet at the same plaza where we
first discussed this. I'll go into the city first, secure a trustworthy
butcher, and wait by the eastern gate for one day. If you decide
not to bring it in... Hm. Let us meet in Poroson."
This plan did, of course, leave room for another betrayal.
Norah could take all of the gold herself and set off for some
other town.
For all of them to live on without regret, though, it would be
best if she brought the gold into Ruvinheigen so the Remelio
Company could be saved and the money divided equitably.
Lawrence had to consider what to do if Norah were caught at
the checkpoint, though. Without exception, gold smugglers were
executed in the plaza, so he would just have Holo rescue her if
need be. Holo had promised to do as he asked, after all, no matter
how tiresome the task.
Lawrence wasn't particularly trying to give Norah time to
think, but in any case, while waiting for her reply, he went among
the unconscious Remelio men and tied them up. He had no rope,
so he used the sleeves of their coats. Even if the men cooperated
to undo the knots, none of them seemed in any condition to do
anything strenuous.
261
"Well then, Norah. We'll meet again," said Lawrence once he
finished binding the men and had Holo knock out the few who
were regaining consciousness.
He didn't say that to try and persuade her of anything in
particular.
It was merely to ascertain her trust and bring about a favorable
outcome for all.
The moon shone vaguely through the thick clouds.
"M-Mr. Lawrence!"
He stopped as she called his name.
"We-we'll meet again!"
He looked over his shoulder to see her holding her staff.
"We will," he said. "And we'll be rich."
Norah smiled and nodded.
Enek barked and began to round up the sheep.
"Well, now."
After they walked for a while, Lawrence starting thinking about
riding on Holo's back, but she had apparently already anticipated
that and spoke up just in time to cut him off.
"What?" he said, just slightly irritated. He was sure she had
chosen that exact moment on purpose.
"Might I hear the truth now?"
Holo looked at him evenly with her large eyes. Lies would not
avail him — he had told Liebert the same thing.
Lawrence was aware of the pained grimace that distorted his
face.
"Let me keep up the pretense a bit longer."
"Heh-heh. No."
Looking at her happily wagging tail, Lawrence knew she would
keep asking until he relented.
He quickly gave up the deception.
262
"That's not enough gold."
"Oh ho."
"There is no way that's six hundred lumione. It's a hundred, at
best."
"Your share would be used up just paying your debt. If she doesn't
smuggle it in, there'll be no profit at all."
The tip of her big tail brushed against the back of his neck. He
slapped it away; she growled playfully.
"The Remelio Company must be up against the wall. They must
have scraped together a hundred lumione hoping just to get by on
that. Of course, they knew from the start they'd have to pay us
enough to keep our mouths shut, but that's precisely why they got
on board the plan with us in the first place."
And yet Lawrence's position was such that he had no choice but
to trust and rely on that same company.
"Hmph. Still, that was certainly a skillful excuse you gave her.
You're like unto a saint."
"It was mostly sincere."
a •>•>
Holo chuckled through her nose, then stopped, and crouched
down.
"Get on."
"What, no more interrogation?"
"/ tire of your foolishness."
Narrowing her amber eyes, she nudged him with her muzzle.
It was but a light touch, yet Lawrence nearly stumbled and fell,
though his fear at Hole's wolf form was by now entirely gone.
"Still, we're not just saving the Remelio Company out of charity."
"Oh?"
Lawrence grabbed on to Hole's fur and brought his legs up.
"No. We're doing it to make more money for ourselves."
He swung his legs quickly over her back.
263
"More money, eh? I cannot say I follow you."
"Merchants can convert all sorts of things into money. I have to
be of some occasional use."
At first, he thought she was teasing him, but Hole's laugh was
genuine.
"I look forward to observing your skill, sir!"
Holo got to her feet and began to walk, soon breaking into
a run.
The golden moon was occasionally visible in the dark sky.
Perhaps owing to the rain that had fallen since noon, the Ruvinheigen
night was exceptionally quiet.
"... Th-there must be some kind of problem. Right? Like when
you've forgotten to put salt in the soup."
Lawrence knew only too well that merchants were people who,
no matter the circumstance, lived by telling lies.
However, trust was important, even among liars — merchants
were strange creatures indeed.
Lawrence pondered this.
"I-I don't know what Liebert said. I'm sure it sounded like
heaven's own truth, as if he were confessing before an altar. But
it was a lie! He lies about everything! I've been thinking about
firing him — I swear!"
The man's voice was hoarse and difficult to hear through the
emotion, but this was no delicate business negotiation. As long as
Lawrence could understand the gist, it was good enough.
"Mr. Remelio."
"Y-y-yaaagh!"
Remelio gave a short cry because his head was firmly clamped
between Hole's jaws, and he felt her increase the pressure just a bit.
Lawrence and Holo were fortunate that he had been alone in
the office, waiting for his employees to return.
264
Just a moment ago, Holo had jumped over the city walls with
unbelievable ease. Lawrence had planned to reenter the city with
Holo in human form and simply claim they had been waylaid
by bandits, but Holo, who could sense any presence on the other
side of the wall, said simply, "It's safe," and cleared it with a single
leap. It had been so easy that Lawrence wondered if they could
have avoided all this trouble in the first place and smuggled the
gold in themselves.
They entered the city unseen and, once Holo had temporarily
returned to her human form, stole quietly to the Remelio
Company.
Remelio had been expecting the return of his men, so when he
saw Holo and Lawrence, he made quite a face.
He was now tied up and on the floor, head trapped between
Hole's terrifying teeth, looking as though he might die from terror.
It seemed imprudent to let Remelio see Hole's wolf form, but
he and Lawrence both shared the secret of the gold smuggling.
If Remelio wanted to go to the Church with the revelation, let
him — there was a mountain of circumstantial evidence.
No merchant would speak of his opponent's weakness when
his opponent could easily do the same to him.
Also, letting Holo terrify Remelio would make her feel better,
and the overwhelming terror would discourage the master from
trying to exact revenge on them later.
Unsurprisingly, the results had been immense.
"The jaws that now hold your head between their teeth are the
jaws of truth, my friend. If you lie, they will know. Also, this wolf
is hungry from being made to run all night, I hear. If you lie, your
head may just be devoured."
Hole's fangs squeezed just slightly harder against Remelio's
temple.
He couldn't even scream anymore.
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"All right, Mr. Remelio. Know that I have not returned to take
revenge for your betrayal. I've come to talk business."
A bit of light returned to Remelio's eyes at the word business,
perhaps realizing that business was about making deals, and if a
deal could be made there was the possibility that he would not
die here.
"Our negotiations begin now. Feel free to lie in your interest as
much as you wish. However, the wolf here is far more discerning
than I and can see the hidden meaning behind your every word.
If you do anything clumsy, you may wind up a head shorter. Are
we clear?"
With his head stuck in Holo's jaws, Remelio couldn't very well
nod, but he tried to, and that was good enough.
"Then let's begin," said Lawrence frankly. "In the event that
we succeed in the gold smuggling, might I ask you to purchase it
from us at five hundred lumione*."
Remelio's eyes were literally dots.
"We are still accomplices to smuggling. Surely you didn't think
we'd come back to take revenge on you after making off with the
gold?"
The salt-and-pepper-haired Remelio nodded like a chastened
child, at which Lawrence grinned bitterly. "Well, I won't say
there's no chance of that, but no, I don't think so. But if we don't
talk about what to do when we succeed — well, we might wind up
disagreeing, mightn't we?"
Holo chuckled deep in her throat, causing Remelio's head to
quiver along with her mouth; his face tensed in a nervous grin.
"So, I'll say it again. Might I ask you to purchase the gold from
us at five hundred lumione?"
Remelio's face was distorted with despair — he knew how much
the gold bought in Lamtra was really worth.
"I can't possibly do — "
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"Of course, I don't expect it all in cash up front. Let's see. Perhaps
you could write me an IOU?"
In that moment, the master of the Remelio Company showed
the intelligence that had gotten him his position.
He made a pained expression when he understood what Lawrence
was saying and begged for mercy. "F-five hundred, that's
simply — "
"Too much? Well, hmm. In that case, I'll just take whatever
you've hidden away here and sell the gold to someone else." Lawrence
exchanged a look with Holo, then added, "Also, I'll let that
demon there have your life."
Holo hated being called a god, but she apparently didn't mind
being called a demon.
Her tail swished through the air, and she panted dramatically.
All expression drained rapidly from Remelio's face.
If Lawrence's guess was right, it meant Remelio would now do
whatever they asked.
"You see, Mr. Remelio, I don't think it's fair to lose everything
because of a single failure. We can't perfectly predict every price
drop, can we? So I want to give you another chance. But I want
you to be grateful for it, and I want that to take the form of five
hundred lumione. You've built a wonderful company with a magnificent
loading dock in a city like this. If you think in terms of
decades, surely five hundred is a bargain."
Remelio's eyes opened wide, and after a moment, he began
to cry.
If he could rebuild his business, paying five hundred lumione
back over the course of ten years was far from an unreasonable
proposition. A traveling merchant was no match for a trading
company in that regard.
Perhaps those tears were from the prospect of managing a
revived company.
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"So you'll write the note, then? Holo — "
Upon hearing her name, Holo sighed and reluctantly released
Remelio, nudging his head with the tip of her nose.
Lawrence untied the rope that bound Remelio and continued.
"The terms will be yearly installments over ten years. The first
will be ten lumione. The last will be one hundred. You understand,
yes?"
It meant that the debt would increase every year. Added all
up it came to 550 lumione, but that was still an excellent interest
rate.
If Remelio could get his company running successfully again,
it would not be a difficult amount to manage.
"You can write it out at that desk."
Remelio nodded and accepted Lawrence's hand to get to his feet.
His feet were still tied, so he tottered over to the desk and sat.
"S-so, should this be payable to...," began Remelio, turning
around.
Lawrence smiled and answered, "The Rowen Trade Guild."
Remelio grinned almost sadly, realizing he would never be able
to run from this debt.
If Lawrence held the loan personally, then as the years passed
and Remelio gained strength, he could get revenge or default on
the repayment. Also, Lawrence dreaded the thought of having to
return every year to the people who had wronged him in order to
demand his money.
And more important still was the Remelio Company's current
utter lack of assets. No matter how many lOUs he might hold,
Lawrence would see none of this money for a year. Even if the debt
he had originally owed the company was now gone, the profits
from the gold smuggling might be used up compensating Norah
and paying obligations for the Remelio Company's recovery. In
the worst case, Norah might not even get her consideration.
268
But all those problems were solved by having the trade guild to
which Lawrence was attached hold the loan. By selling the IOU
to the Rowen Trade Guild relatively cheaply, he could cut his ties
with the Remelio Company and convert ten years of repayment
into immediate cash.
Also, defaulting on a loan held by a trade guild was like declaring
war on another city. The Remelio Company would never dare
to default.
"You're a formidable man."
"Not as formidable as the wolf," Lawrence answered smoothly.
The wolf found the joke funnier than anyone.
"Now, all we need to do is pray the smuggling succeeds."
269