Ookami to Koushinryou - Volume 1 - Chapter 1-6

PROLOGUE

In this village, when the ripened ears of wheat sway in the breeze, it
is said that a wolf runs through them.
This is because one can make out the form of a running wolf in
the shifting stalks of the wheat fields.
When the wind is too strong and the stalks are blown over, it is
said that the wolf has trampled them. When the harvest is poor, it is
said that the wolf has eaten it.
It was a nice turn of phrase, but it had a troublesome aspect that
flawed it, she felt.
Still, lately it was a popular sort of expression, and there were few
remaining who wielded it with the sort of familiarity or awe it had
held in the past.
Although the autumn sky that was visible between the swaying
stalks of wheat had not changed in hundreds of years, conditions
below that sky had indeed changed.
The villagers who tended the wheat as the years passed lived for
seventy years at the most.
Perhaps it would be worse for them to go centuries without
changing.
Maybe that is why there is no need for them to honor the ancient
agreement, she thought.
In any case, she knew she no longer had a place here.
The mountains that rose in the east caused the clouds over the
village to drift mostly north.
She thought of her homeland beyond those drifting clouds and
sighed.
Returning her gaze from-the sky to the fields, her eyes fell upon
her magnificent tail, which twitched just past her nose.
With nothing better to do, she set to grooming it.
The autumn sky was high and clear.
Harvest time had come again.
Many wolves were running through the wheat fields.

"So that's the last, then?"
"Hm, looks like .. . seventy pelts, on the nose. Always a
pleasure."
"Hey, anytime. You're the only one who'll come this far into the
mountains, Lawrence. I should be thanking you"
"Ah, but for my trouble I get truly fine pelts. I'll come again."
The usual pleasantries concluded, Lawrence managed to leave
the village just around five o'clock. The sun was just beginning its
climb when he left, and it was midday by the time he descended
from the mountains and entered the plains.
The weather was good; there was no wind. It was a perfect day
for dozing in the wagon as he crossed the plains. It seemed absurd
that only recently he had felt the chill of the approaching winter.
This was Lawrence's seventh year as a traveling merchant,
and his twenty-fifth since birth. He gave a huge yawn in the
driver s box.
There were few grasses or trees of any notable height, so he had
an expansive view. At the very edge of his field of vision, he could
see a monastery that had been built some years earlier.
He didn't know what young noble was cloistered in this remote
location. The masonry of the building was magnificent, and unbelievably
it even had an iron gate. Lawrence seemed to remember
that roughly twenty monks lived there, attended to by a
similar number of manservants.
When the monastery had first been built, Lawrence had anticipated
fresh clientele; the monks were somehow able to secure
supplies without employing independent merchants, though, so
his dreams were fleeting.
Admittedly the monks lived simply, tilling their fields, so trade
with them would not be especially profitable. There was another
problem in that they would probably solicit donations and leave
their bills unpaid.
As far as simple trade went, they were worse partners than outand-
out thieves. Still, there were times when trade with them was
convenient.
Thus Lawrence looked in the direction of the monastery with
some small regret, but then his eyes narrowed.
From the direction of the monastery, someone was waving
at him.
"What's this?"
The figure did not look like a manservant. They wore dark
brown work clothes. The waving figure was covered in gray clothing.
His deliberate approach likely meant some hassle, but ignoring
him could make matters worse later. Lawrence reluctantly
turned his horse toward the figure.
Perhaps having realized that Lawrence was now headed his
way, the figure stopped waving but made no move to approach.
He appeared to be waiting for the cart's arrival. It would hardly
be the first time that a Church-associated person demonstrated
arrogance. Lawrence was in no mood to take every such insult
personally.
As he approached the monastery and the figure became clearer,
Lawrence muttered in spite of himself:
"... a knight?"
He at first dismissed the idea as ridiculous, but as he drew
nearer he saw that it was unmistakably a knight. The gray clothing
was in fact silver armor.
"You, there! What's your business here?"
The distance between them was still too far for conversation,
which is why the knight yelled. He apparently felt no need to introduce
himself, as if his position were obvious.
"I am Lawrence, a traveling merchant. Do you require my
service?"
The monastery was now directly in front of him. He was close
enough to count the number of servants working in the fields to
the south.
He also noted that the knight in front of him was not alone.
There was another one past the monastery, perhaps standing
guard.
"A merchant? There's no town in the direction you came from,
merchant," said the knight haughtily, sticking out his chest as if to
display the golden cross that was engraved there.
But the mantle draped over his shoulders was gray, indicating a
knight of low rank. His blond hair looked freshly cut, and his
body did not look as if it had been though many battles; so his
pride most likely came from being a new knight. It was important
to deal with such men carefully. They tended to be excitable.
So instead of replying, Lawrence took a leather pouch out of his
breast pocket and slowly undid the twine that held it closed. Inside
were candies made of crystallized honey. He plucked one out
and popped it in his mouth, then offered the open bag to the
knight.
"Care for one?"
"Mmm," said the knight, hesitating momentarily before his desire
for the sweet candy won out.
Still, perhaps because of his position as a knight, a considerable
amount of time passed between his initial nod and when he actually
reached out and took a honey drop.
"A half-days travel east of here there's a small village in the
mountains. I was trading salt there."
"Ah. I see you've a load in your cart. Salt as well?"
"No, but furs. Look," said Lawrence, turning around and removing
the tarp that covered his load, revealing a bundle of magnificent
marten pelts. A year's salary of the knight before him was
paltry compared with its worth.
"Mm. And this?"
"Ah, this is wheat I received from the village."
The sheaf of wheat in the corner of the mountain of furs had
been harvested in the village where Lawrence had traded his salt.
It was hardy in cold weather and resisted insects. He planned to
sell it in the northwest, where crops had sustained heavy frost
damage.
"Hm. Very well. You may pass."
It was a strange way of speaking for someone who'd summoned
him over so high-handedly earlier, but if Lawrence were to meekly
say, "Yes, sir," now, a fine merchant he'd be.
"So, what occasions your post here, sir knight?"
The knight's brow knitted in consternation at the question and
furrowed still deeper as he glanced at the bag of honey drops.
He was well and truly caught now. Lawrence undid the bag's
string closure and plucked out another sweet, giving it to the
knight.
"Mmm. Delicious. I should thank you."
The knight was being reasonable. Lawrence inclined his head
gratefully, using his best trader's smile.
10
"The monks have caught wind of a big pagan festival that's approaching.
Thus the increased guard. Do you know anything of
this festival?"
If his face had betrayed any hint of his disappointment at the
explanation, calling it a third-rate performance would have been
generous. So Lawrence only affected a pained expression and answered,
"Sadly, I know nothing." This was of course a huge lie, but
the knight was just as mistaken, so there was nothing for it.
"Perhaps it truly is being held in secret, then. Pagans are a cowardly
lot, after all." The knight was so mistaken it was amusing,
but Lawrence merely agreed and took his leave.
The knight nodded and thanked him again for the honey
drops.
Undoubtedly they had been delicious. Most of a knights money
went to equipment and lodging; even an apprentice cobbler lived
a better life. It had surely been a long time since the knight had
eaten anything sweet.
Not that Lawrence had any intention of giving him another
piece.
"Still, a pagan festival, they say?" Lawrence repeated the knight's
words to himself once the monastery was well behind him.
Lawrence had an inkling of what the knight was talking about.
Actually, anyone from this area would know about it.
But it was no "pagan festival." For one thing, true pagans were
farther north, or farther east.
The festival that happened here was hardly something one
needed knights to guard against.
It was a simple harvest festival, of the sort to be found nearly
anywhere.
True, this area's festival was somewhat grander than the typical
celebration, which is probably why the monastery was keeping
an eye on it and reporting to the city. The Church had long been
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unable to keep control over the area, which undoubtedly made it
all the more nervous about goings-on.
Indeed, the Church had been eager to hold inquisitions and
convert heathens, and clashes between natural philosophers and
theologians in the city were far from rare. The time when the
Church could command the populaces unconditional submission
was vanishing.
The dignity of the institution was beginning to crumble — even
if the inhabitants of the cities said nothing, all were gradually beginning
to realize it. In fact, the pope had recently had to petition
the monarchs of several nations for funds when tithes had come
in below expectations. Such a tale would have been preposterous
even ten years before.
Thus the Church was desperate to regain its authority.
"Business everywhere will suffer," said Lawrence with a rueful
smile, popping another honey drop into his mouth.
The western skies were a more beautiful golden hue than the
wheat in the fields by the time Lawrence arrived in the plains.
Distant birds became tiny shadows as they hurried home, and
here and there the frogs sang themselves to sleep.
It appeared that the wheat fields had been mostly harvested, so
the festival would undoubtedly begin soon — perhaps even as
soon as the day after tomorrow.
Before Lawrence lay the expanses of the village of Pasloe's fertile
wheat fields. The more abundant the harvest, the more prosperous
the villagers. Furthermore, the noble who managed the
land, one Count Ehrendott, was a famous area eccentric who enjoyed
working in the fields himself. Naturally the festival also enjoyed
his support, and every year it was a riot of wine and song.
Lawrence had not once participated in it, though. Unfortunately,
outsiders were not permitted.
12
"Ho there, good work!" Lawrence called out to a farmer driving
a cart heaped high with wheat in the corner of one of the fields. It
was well-ripened wheat. Those who had invested in wheat futures
could breath a sigh of relief.
"What's that?"
"Might you tell me where to find Yarei?" Lawrence asked.
"Oh, Yarei'll be over yonder — see where the crowd is gathering?
That field. It's all youngsters at his place this year. Whoever s
slowest will wind up being the Holo!" said the farmer goodnaturedly,
his tan face smiling. It was the kind of guileless smile
a merchant could never manage.
Lawrence thanked the farmer with his best trader's smile, and
turned his horse toward Yarei's place.
Just as the farmer had said, there was a crowd gathering within
its confines, and they were shouting something. They seemed to
be making sport of the few who were still working the field, but
it wasn't ridicule at their lateness. The jeering was part of the
festival.
As Lawrence lazily approached the crowd, he was able to make
out their shouting.
"There's a wolf! A wolf!"
"A wolf lies there!"
"Who will be the last and catch the wolf? Who, who, who?" the
villagers shouted, their faces so cheerful one wondered if they
were drunk. None of them noticed Lawrence pulling his cart up
behind the crowd.
What they so enthusiastically called a wolf was in fact not a
wolf at all. Had it been real, no one would have been laughing.
The wolf was the harvest god, and according to village legend,
it resided within the last stalk of wheat to be reaped. Whoever cut
that stalk down would be possessed by the wolf, it was said.
"It's the last bundle!"
13
"Mind you, don't cut too far!"
"Holo flees from the greedy hand!"
"Who, who, who will catch the wolf?"
"It's Yarei! Yarei, Yarei, Yarei!"
Lawrence got off his wagon and peered at the crowd just as Yarei
caught the last bundle of wheat. His face was black with sweat
and soil as he grinned and hefted the wheat high, threw his head
back, and howled.
"Awooooooo!"
"It's Holo! Holo, Holo, Holo!"
"Awooooooo!"
"Holo the wolf is here! Holo the wolf is here!"
"Catch it, now! Catch it quick!"
"Don't let it escape!"
The shouting men suddenly gave chase after Yarei.
The god of the bountiful harvest, once cornered, would possess
a human and try to escape. Capture it and it would remain for
another year.
None knew if this god truly existed. But this was an old tradition
in the area.
Lawrence had traveled far and wide, so he put no stock in the
teachings of the Church, but his faith in superstition was greater
even than that of the farmers here. Too many times had he
crossed mountains only to arrive in towns and find the price of
his goods dropping precipitously. It was enough to make anyone
superstitious.
Thus he didn't bat an eye at traditions that true believers or
Church officials would've found outrageous.
But it was inconvenient that Yarei was this year's Holo. Now
Yarei would be locked in a granary stocked with treats until the
festival was over — close to a week — and would be impossible
to talk to.
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"Nothing for it, I suppose . .." said Lawrence, sighing as he returned
to his wagon and made for the village head's residence.
He had wanted to enjoy some drinks with Yarei and report on
the events at the monastery, but if he didn't sell the furs that were
piled high in his wagon bed, he wouldn't be able to pay for goods
purchased elsewhere when the bills came due. He also wanted to
sell the wheat he'd brought from the other village and couldn't
wait around for the festival to end.
Lawrence talked briefly of the midday happenings at the monastery
to the village head, who was busy with festival preparation.
He politely declined the offer to stay the night and put the village
behind him.
Years before the Count began to manage the region, it had suffered
under heavy taxes that drove up the prices of its exports.
Lawrence had bought some of this unfavorably priced wheat and
sold it for but a meager profit. He hadn't done it to win favor with
the village, but rather because he simply didn't have the resources
to compete with the other merchants for the cheaper, finer grain.
Nevertheless, the village was still grateful for his business then,
and Yarei had been the middleman for the deal.
It was unfortunate that he couldn't enjoy a drink with Yarei,
but once Holo appeared Lawrence would soon be chased out
of the village as the festival came to its climax. If he'd stayed the
night, he wouldn't have been able to stay long. As he sat on
his wagon, Lawrence felt a sense of loneliness at being excluded
thus.
Nibbling on some vegetables he'd been given as a souvenir, he
took the road west, passing cheerful farmers returning from their
day's work.
Having returned to his lonely travel, Lawrence envied the farmers
with their friends.
15
Lawrence was a traveling merchant and twenty-five years old. At
twelve he'd apprenticed under a relative, and at eighteen he set out
on his own. There were many places he had yet to visit, and he felt
that the true test of his mettle as a trader was yet to come.
Like any number of traveling merchants, his dream was to save
enough money to open a shop in a town, but the dream still
seemed distant. If he could seize upon a good opportunity it
might not be so, but unfortunately the larger traders seized such
opportunities with their money.
Nevertheless, he hauled loads of goods across the countryside
in order to pay his debts in a timely fashion. Even if he saw
a good opportunity, he lacked the wherewithal to seize it. To a
traveling merchant, such a thing was as unreachable as the moon
in the sky.
Lawrence looked up at the moon and sighed. He realized such
sighs were more frequent lately, whether as a reaction to years of
frantic trading simply to make ends meet, or because recently he'd
gotten slightly ahead and was thinking more about the future.
Additionally, when he should have been thinking about little
else besides creditors, payment deadlines, and getting to the next
town as quickly as possible, thoughts chased one another through
his head.
Specifically, he thought of the people he'd met in his travels.
He thought of the merchants he had come to know when visiting
a town repeatedly on business and the villagers he had become
acquainted with at his destinations. The maidservant he'd
fallen for during a long stay at an inn, waiting for a blizzard to
pass. And on and on.
In short, he longed for company more and more frequently.
Such longing was an occupational hazard for merchants who
spent the better part of a year alone in a wagon, but Lawrence had
16
only recently begun to feel it. Until now, he'd always boasted that
it would never happen to him.
Still, having spent so many days alone with a horse, he started
to feel that it would be nice if the horse could speak.
Stories of carthorses becoming human were not uncommon
among traveling merchants, and Lawrence had since the beginning
laughed off such yarns as ridiculous, but lately he wondered
if they could be true.
When a young merchant went to buy a horse from a horse
trader, some would even recommend a mare with a completely
straight face, "just in case she turns human on you."
This had happened to Lawrence, who'd ignored the advice and
bought a sturdy stallion.
That same horse was working steadily in front of him even now,
but as time passed and Lawrence grew lonely, he wondered if he
mightn't have been better off with a mare after all.
On the other hand, that horse hauled heavy loads day in and
day out. Even if it were to become a human, it seemed impossible
that it would fall in love with its master or use its mysterious powers
to bring them good fortune.
It would probably want to be paid and given rest, Lawrence
mused.
As soon as this occurred to him, he felt that it was best if a horse
stayed a horse, even if it did make him selfish. Lawrence smiled
bitterly and sighed as if tired of himself.
Presently he came to a river and decided to make camp for the
night. The full moon was bright, but that did not guarantee that
he wouldn't fall into the river — and if that happened, calling it a
"disaster" would be an understatement. He'd have to hang himself.
That kind of trouble he didn't need.
Lawrence pulled back on the reins, and the horse stopped at the
17
signal, heaving two or three sighs as it realized its long-anticipated
rest was here.
Giving the rest of his vegetables to the horse, Lawrence took a
bucket out of the wagon bed and drew some water from the river,
setting it before the animal. As it happily slurped at the bucket,
Lawrence drank some of the water he'd gotten from the village.
Wine would've been nicer, but drinking without a partner only
made the loneliness worse. There was no guarantee he wouldn't
get staggering drunk, either, so Lawrence decided to go to bed.
He'd halfheartedly nibbled on vegetables most of the way, so he
had only a bit of beef before hopping back in the wagon bed. Normally
he slept in the hempen tarp that covered the bed, but tonight
he had a wagonload of marten pelts, so it would be a waste
not to sleep in them. They might make him smell a bit beastly in
the morning, but it was better than freezing.
But jumping right into the pelts would crush the wheat sheaf,
so in order to move them aside, he whisked the tarp off the
wagon bed.
The only reason he didn't shout was because the sight that
greeted him was flatly unbelievable.
"
Apparently, he had a guest.
"Hey."
Lawrence wasn't sure his voice actually made a sound. He was
shocked and wondered if the loneliness had finally broken him
and he was hallucinating.
But after he shook his head and rubbed his eyes, his guest had
not disappeared.
The beautiful girl was sleeping so soundly it seemed a shame to
wake her.
"Hey, you there," said Lawrence nonetheless, returning to his
senses. He meant to inquire what exactly would motivate some-
18
one to sleep in a wagon bed. In the worse case, it might be a village
runaway. He didn't want that kind of trouble.
".. . hrm?" came the girl's defenseless response to Lawrence,
her eyes still closed, her voice so sweet that it would make a
poor traveling merchant — accustomed only to the brothels of
the cities — lightheaded.
She had a terrifying allure despite her obvious youth, nestled
there in the furs and illuminated by the moonlight.
Lawrence gulped once before returning to reason.
Given that she was so beautiful, if she was a prostitute, there
was no telling how much he could be taken for if he was to so
much as touch her. Considering the economics of the situation
was a tonic far more effective than any prayer. Lawrence regained
his composure and raised his voice once again.
"Hey, you there. What are you playing at, sleeping in someone's
cart?"
The girl did not awaken.
Fed up with this girl who slept so obstinately, Lawrence grabbed
the pelt that supported her head and jerked it out from under her.
The girl's head flopped into the gap left by the pelt, and finally he
heard her irritated squawk.
He was about to raise his voice at her again, but then he froze.
The girl had dog ears on her head.
"Mm . . . hah ..."
Now that the girl seemed to be finally awake, Lawrence summoned
his courage and spoke again.
"You there, what are you doing, climbing in my wagon bed?"
Lawrence had been robbed more than once by thieves and bandits
as he crossed the countryside. He considered himself bolder
and more courageous than the average person. He wasn't one to
quail just because the girl in front of him happened to have the
ears of an animal.
19
Despite the fact that the girl hadn't answered his questions,
Lawrence did not pose them again.
This was because the girl, slowly awakening before him and
entirely naked, was unspeakably beautiful.
Her hair, illuminated by the moonlight in the wagon, looked as
soft as silk and fell over her shoulders like the finest cloak. The
strands that fell down her neck to her collarbone drew a line so
beautiful it put the finest painting of the Virgin Mary to shame;
her supple arms were so fine they seemed carved from ice.
And exposed now in the middle of her body were her two small
breasts, so beautiful they gave the impression of being carved
from some inorganic material. They gave off a strangely vital
scent, as if housed within her arresting charm was a warmth.
But such a fascinating spectacle could just as soon go awry.
The girl slowly opened her mouth and looked skyward. Closing
her eyes, she howled.
"Auwoooooooooooo!"
Lawrence felt a sudden fear — it blew through his body like
a wind.
The howl was the song a wolf would use to call its comrades, to
chase and corner a human.
This was no howl like Yarei had uttered earlier. It was a true
howl. Lawrence dropped the bite of beef from his mouth; his
horse reared, startled.
Then he realized something.
The moonlit girls form — with the ears on her head. The ears
of a beast.
". .. Hmph. 'Tis a good moon. Have you no wine?" she said, letting
the howl fade away, drawing her chin up, and smiling slightly.
Lawrence came back to himself at the sound of her voice.
What was before him was neither dog nor wolf. It was a beautiful
girl with the ears of such an animal, though.
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"I have none. And what are you? Why do you sleep in my cart?
Were you to be sold in town? Did you escape?" Lawrence meant
to ask as authoritatively as he could, but the girl did not so much
as move.
"What, so you have no wine? Food, then . . . ? My, such waste,"
said the girl unconcernedly, her nose twitching. She spied the bit
of beef Lawrence had almost eaten earlier, snapping it up and
popping it into her mouth.
As she chewed it, Lawrence did not fail to note the two sharp
fangs behind the girl's lips.
"Are you some kind of demon?" he asked, his hand falling to the
dagger at his waist.
As traveling merchants often needed to convert large amounts
of currency, they often carried their money in the form of items.
The silver dagger was one such item, and silver was known as a
holy metal, strong against evil.
However, when Lawrence put his hand to the dagger and
posed his question, the girl looked blankly at him, then laughed
heartily.
"Ah-ha-ha-ha! Me, a demon now?"
Her mouth thrown open wide enough to drop the piece of meat,
the girl was so adorable as to be disarming.
Her two sharp fangs only added to her charm.
However, being laughed at made Lawrence angry.
"H-how is that so amusing?"
"Oh, it's amusing, it is! That is surely the first time I've been
called a demon."
Still giggling to herself, the girl picked up the meat again and
chewed it. She did have fangs. Add in her ears, and it was clear
enough that she was no mere human.
"What are you?"
"Me?"
21
"Who but you would I be talking to?"
"The horse, say."
tt »
When Lawrence drew his dagger, the girl's smile disappeared.
Her red-tinged amber eyes narrowed.
"What are you, I say!"
"Drawing a blade on me now? How lacking in manners."
"What?!"
"Mm. Ah, I see. My escape was successful. My apologies! I had
forgotten," said the girl with a smile — a completely guileless and
charming smile.
The smile didn't particularly sway him, but nevertheless Lawrence
somehow felt that pointing a blade at a girl was an unseemly
thing for a man to do, so he put it away.
"I am called Holo. It has been some time since I've taken this
form, but, well, it is quite nice."
As the girl looked herself over approvingly, Lawrence was so
caught on the first half of what she'd said that he missed the second
half.
"Holo?"
"Mm, Holo. A good name, no?"
Lawrence had traveled far and wide over many lands, but there
was only one place where he'd heard that name.
None other than the harvest god of the village of Pasloe.
"What a coincidence. I also know of one that goes by Holo."
It was bold of her to use the name of a god, but at least this
told him that she was indeed a girl from the village. Perhaps she'd
been hidden, raised in secret by her family, because of her ears
and fangs. That would fit with her claim to have "escaped successfully."
Lawrence had heard talk of abnormal children like this being
born. They were called demon-children, and it was thought that a
22

devil or spirit had possessed them at birth. If the Church discovered
them they — along with their families — would be burned
at the stake for demon worshipping. Such children were thus either
abandoned in the mountains or raised in secret.
But this was the first time Lawrence had ever actually seen such
a child. He had always assumed they would be disgustingly bestial,
but judging from appearance alone, this one was a plausible
goddess.
"Oh, ho, I have never met another Holo. Whence do they
hail?" As the girl chewed the meat, it was hard to see her trying
to deceive anyone. It seemed possible that having been raised
in confinement for so long, she really did believe herself to be
a god.
"It is the name of this area's harvest god. Are you a god?"
At this, the girl's moonlit face was slightly troubled for a moment
before she smiled.
"I have long been bound to this place and called its god. But I
am nothing so great as a deity. I am merely Holo."
Lawrence guessed that this meant she'd been locked away in
her home since she was born. He felt a certain sympathy for
the girl.
"By 'long,' do you mean that you were born here?"
"Oh, no."
This was an unexpected answer.
"I was born far to the north."
"The north?"
"Indeed. The summers there are short and the winters long. A
world of silver."
Hole's eyes narrowed as she seemed to gaze into the distance,
and it was hard to imagine that she was lying. Her behavior as
she reminisced about the lands of the north was too natural to be
an act.
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"Have you ever been there?"
Lawrence wondered if she was counterattacking, but if Holo
was lying or merely repeating things she'd heard from others, he
would have been able to tell immediately.
His travels as a merchant had in fact led him to the far north
before.
"I've been as far as Arohitostok. The year-round blowing snow
is terrifying."
"Hm. Haven't heard of it," replied Holo, inclining her head
slightly.
He'd expected her to pretend to have knowledge. This was
strange.
"What places do you know?" he asked.
"A place called Yoitsu."
Lawrence forced himself to say, "Don't know it," to quell the
unease that rose within him. He did know of a place called Yoitsu,
from an old story he'd heard at an inn in the north.
"Were you born there?" he asked.
"I was. How is Yoitsu doing these days? Is everyone well?" Holo
asked, slumping slightly. It was such a fleeting gesture that it
couldn't be an act.
Yet Lawrence could not possibly believe her.
After all, according to the story, the town of Yoitsu had been
destroyed by ursine monsters six hundred years ago.
"Do you remember any other places?"
"Mmm . . . it's been so many centuries . . . ah, Nyohhira, there
was a town called Nyohhira. It was a strange town, with hot
springs. I would often go to bathe in them."
There were still hot springs in the north at Nyohhira, where
royalty and nobility often visited.
But how many people in this area would even know of its
existence?
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Ignoring Lawrence's confused reverie, Holo spoke as if she were
even now relaxing in the hot water, then suddenly she sneezed.
"Mm. I do not mind taking human form, but it is unavoidably
cold. Not enough fur," said Holo, laughing and hiding herself
again in the pile of marten pelts.
Lawrence couldn't help laughing at her appearance. There was
something that still worried him, though, so he spoke to Holo as
she snuggled into the fur pile.
"You said something about changing forms earlier — what was
that about?
At his question, Holo poked her head out of the pile.
"I meant just what I said. I haven't taken human form in some
time. Charming, no?" she said with a smile. Lawrence couldn't
help agreeing, but he kept a straight face as he replied. The girl
could make him lose his composure, that was certain.
"Aside from a few extra details, you're a human. Or what else?
Are you a dog turned human, like the stories of horses turning
human?"
Holo stood at the slight provocation. Turning her back to him,
she looked over her shoulder at him and responded steadily.
"You can doubtless tell from my ears and tail that I am a proud
wolf! My fellow wolves, the animals of the forest, and the people
of the village all acknowledge me. It is of the white tip of my tail
that I am proudest. My ears anticipate every misfortune and hear
every lie, and I have saved many friends from many dangers.
When one speaks of the Wisewolf of Yoitsu, they speak of none
other than me!"
Holo sniffed proudly but soon remembered the cold and dove
back under the furs. The tail at the base of her back was indeed
moving.
Not just ears, then — she had a tail as well.
26
Lawrence thought back on her howl. It was a true wolf's howl,
unmistakably. Was this then truly Holo, wolf-god of the harvest?
"No, it can't be," muttered Lawrence to himself as he reconsidered
Holo. She seemed unconcerned about him as she narrowed
her eyes in the warm furs. Seen thus, she was rather catlike, although
that was not the issue at hand. Was Holo human or wasn't
she? That was the question.
People who were actually possessed by demons didn't fear the
Church because their appearance was different — rather they
feared it because the demon within them could cause outward
calamities for which the Church made it widely known the penalty
was death at the stake.
But if Holo was instead a transformed animal like in the old
tales, she might bring good fortune or perform miracles.
Indeed, if she was the Holo, god of the harvest, a wheat trader
could ask for no finer companion.
Lawrence turned his attention back to Holo.
"Holo, was it?"
"Yes?"
"You said you were a wolf."
«T 1• J » I did.
"But all you have are a wolf's ears and tail. If you are truly a
transformed wolf, you should be able to take a wolf's form."
Holo stared absently for a while at Lawrence's words before
something seemed to occur to her.
"Oh, you're telling me to show you my wolf form."
Lawrence nodded at the truth of the statement but was in fact
mildly surprised.
He had expected her to either be flustered or to flatly lie.
But she had done neither, instead looking simply irritated.
This expression of irritation was far more persuasive than the
27
clumsy lie — the assurance that she could transform — that he
expected.
"I don't want to," she said plainly.
"Why not?"
"Why do you want me to?" she shot back, pouting.
Lawrence winced at her retort, but the question of whether
Holo was human or not was an important one to him. Recovering
from his stumble, Lawrence put as much confidence as he
could muster into his voice, trying to regain the conversational
initiative.
"If you were a person I would consider turning you in to the
Church. Demons cause calamity, after all. But if you are really
Holo, god of the harvest, in human form, then I needn't turn
you in."
Were she genuine, well — tales of transformed animals acting
as envoys of good fortune still remained. Far from turning her in
as a demon, he would happily offer her wine and bread. If not, the
situation would be different.
As Lawrence spoke, Holo wrinkled her nose, and her expression
grew darker and darker.
"From what I have heard, transformed animals can change to
their original forms. If you are telling the truth, you should be
able to do so as well, yes?"
Holo listened with the same irritated expression. At length she
sighed softly and slowly extracted herself from the pile of furs.
"I have suffered many times at the hand of the Church. I'll not
be given over to them. Yet —"
She sighed again, stroking her tail as she continued. "No animal
can change its form without a token. Even you humans need
makeup before you can change your appearance. Likewise, I require
food."
"What kind of food?"
28
"Only a bit of wheat."
That seemed more or less reasonable for a god of the harvest,
Lawrence had to admit, but her next statement brought him up
short.
"That, or fresh blood."
"Fresh . .. blood?"
"Only a bit, though."
Her casual tone made Lawrence feel that she couldn't be lying;
his breath caught, and he glanced at her mouth. Just a moment
ago, he'd seen the fangs behind those lips bite into the meat he'd
dropped.
"What, are you afraid?" said Holo at Lawrences trepidation as
she smiled ruefully. Lawrence would've said "Of course not," but
Holo was clearly anticipating his reaction.
But soon the smile disappeared from her face, and she looked
away from him. "If you are, then I'm even more disinclined to."
"Why, then?" Lawrence asked, putting more strength into his
voice, feeling that he was being made sport of.
"Because you will surely quake with fear. All, be they human or
animal, look on my form and give way with awe, and treat me as
special. I have tired of this treatment."
"Are you saying I would be afraid of your true form?"
"If you would pretend to be strong, you might first hide your
trembling hand!" Holo said, exasperated.
Lawrence looked down at his hands, but by the time he realized
his mistake it was too late.
"Heh. You're an honest sort," said an amused Holo, but before
Lawrence could offer an excuse, her expression darkened again
and she continued, quick as an arrow. "However, just because you
are honest does not mean I should show you my form. Was what
you said before the truth?"
"Before?"
29
"That if I am truly a wolf, you would not give me over to the
Church."
"Mm .. ."
Lawrence had heard that there were some demons capable of
illusions, so this was not a decision he could make lightly. Holo
seemed to anticipate this and spoke again.
"Well, I have a good eye for both men and beasts. You are a man
who keeps his word, I can tell."
Lawrence was still unable to find his tongue at the mischievous
Hole's words. He certainly could go back on his word. He was
understanding more and more that she was toying with him, but
there was nothing he could do about it.
"I'll show you a bit, then. A full transformation is difficult. You'll
forgive me if I only do my arm," said Holo, reaching down into
the corner of the wagon bed.
For a moment Lawrence thought that it was some sort of special
pose she had to assume, but he soon realized what she was
doing. She was picking a grain of wheat from the sheaf in the
corner of the wagon.
"What are you doing with that?" asked Lawrence without
thinking.
Before he could even finish the question, Holo popped the
grain of wheat in her mouth and, closing her eyes, swallowed it
like a pill.
The shell of the unhusked kernel was not edible. Lawrence
frowned at the thought of the bitter taste in his mouth, but that
thought soon vanished at the sight that came next.
"Uh, uughh . .." Holo groaned, clutching her left arm and falling
onto the pile of furs.
Lawrence was about to say something — this could not be an
act — when a strange sound reached his ears.
30
Sh-sh-sh-sh. It was like the sound of mice running through the
forest. It continued for a few moments, then ended with a muffled
thud, like something treading on soft ground.
Lawrence was so surprised he could do nothing.
The next moment, Hole's formerly slim arm had transformed
into the forepaw of some huge beast and was totally unsuited to
the rest of her body.
"Mm . .. whew. It really doesn't look very good."
The limb appeared to be so large that she would have trouble
supporting it. She rested the giant leg on the pile of furs and
shifted herself to accommodate it.
"Well? Do you believe me now?" She looked up at Lawrence.
"Uh . . . er ..." Lawrence was unable to reply, rubbing his eyes
and shaking his head as he looked and looked again at the sight
before him.
The leg was magnificent and coated in dark brown fur. Given
the size of the leg, the full animal would be huge, roughly as big as
a horse. The paw ended in huge, scythe-like claws.
And all that grew from the girl's slender shoulder. It would be
strange to think it wasn't an illusion.
Unable to believe it, Lawrence finally took a skin of water and
doused his face with it.
"Aren't you the doubtful one. If you still think it's an illusion, go
ahead and touch it," teased Holo, smiling, curling the giant paw
in a come-hither motion.
Lawrence found himself irritated, yet still he hesitated. Besides
the sheer size of the limb, it also gave off a certain ineffable sense
of danger.
It was the leg of a wolf. I've dealt with goods called Dragon
Legs, Lawrence told himself, irritated at his cowardice. And just
before his hand could touch it.
31
"Oh —" said Holo, seeming to remember something. Lawrence
snapped his hand back.
"Wha —! What is it?"
"Mm, oh, nothing. Don't be so surprised!" said Holo, now
sounding annoyed. Adding embarrassment to his fear, Lawrence
became angrier and angrier at what he felt was his failure as a
man. Getting hold of himself, he reached out once again.
"So, what happened?"
"Mm," said Holo meekly, looking up at Lawrence. "Be gentle,
will you?"
Lawrence couldn't help stopping his hand short at her suddenly
endearing manner.
He looked at her, and she looked back, grinning.
"You're rather charming, aren't you?" she said.
Lawrence said nothing as he made sure of what his hand was
feeling.
He was irritated at her half-teasing manner, but there was another
reason he failed to reply.
It was of course because of what he was touching.
The beast-leg that thrust from Holo's shoulder had bone as
thick and solid as a tree's limb, wrapped in sinew that would be
the envy of any soldier, and covering that, a magnificent coat of
brown fur, from the base of the shoulder all the way down to the
paw. Each pad of the paw was the size of an uncut loaf of bread.
Past the soft pink toes was something denser — the scythes of her
claws.
The leg was solid enough, but those claws were anything but
illusory. In addition to the not warm, yet not cold sensation peculiar
to animal claws, Lawrence felt a thrill at the sensation that
these were not something that he should be touching.
He swallowed. "Are you really a god . . . ?" he murmured.
"I'm no god. As you can tell from my forepaw, I am merely
32
bigger than my comrades — bigger and cleverer. I am Holo the
Wise wolf!"
The girl who so confidently called herself "wise" looked at Lawrence
proudly.
She was every bit a mischievous young girl — but the aura that
the beast-limb exuded was not something a mere animal could
ever manage.
It had nothing to do with the size of the thing.
"So, what think you?"
Lawrence nodded vaguely at her question. "But.. . the real
Holo should be in Yarei now. The wolf resides in the one who
cuts the last wheat stalk, they say .. ."
"Heh-heh-heh. I am Holo the Wisewolfl I know well my own
limitations. It is true that I live within the wheat. Without it,
I cannot live. And it is also true that during this harvest I was
within the last wheat to be harvested, and usually I cannot escape
from there. Not while any were watching. However, there is an
exception."
Lawrence listened to her explanation, impressed with her rapid
delivery.
"If there is nearby a larger sheaf of wheat than the last one to be
harvested, I can move unseen to that wheat. That's why they say it,
you know, the villagers. 'If you cut too greedily, you won't catch
the harvest god, and it will escape.'"
Lawrence glanced at his wagon bed with a sudden realization.
There was the sheaf of wheat — the wheat he'd received from
the mountain village.
"So that is how it was done. I suppose one could call you my
savior. If you hadn't been there, I would never have escaped."
Although Lawrence could not qiute bring himself to believe
those words, they were lent persuasion when Holo swallowed a
few more wheat grains and returned her arm to normal.
33
However, Holo had said "savior" with a certain distaste, so
Lawrence decided to get even with her.
"Perhaps I should take that wheat back to the village, then.
They'll be in a bad way without their harvest god. I've been friends
with Yarei and others in Pasloe for a long time. I'd hate to see
them suffer."
He concocted the pretense on the spot, but the more he thought
about it, the truer it seemed. If this Holo was the real Holo, then
wouldn't the village begin suffering poor harvests?
After a few moments his ruminations ended.
Holo was looking at him as if stricken.
"You . .. you're jesting, surely," she said.
Her suddenly frail mien rocked the defenseless merchant.
"Hard to say," Lawrence said vaguely, trying to conceal his internal
conflict and buy some time.
Even as his head filled with other concerns, his heart grew only
more uneasy.
Lawrence agonized. If Holo was what she claimed to be, the
god of the harvest, his best course of action would be to return
her to the village. He had long associated with Pasloe. He did not
wish them ill.
However, when he looked back at Holo, her earlier bravado was
entirely gone — now she looked down, as apprehensive as any
princess in an old knight tale.
Lawrence grimaced and put the question to himself: Should I
return this girl to the village, even though she clearly does not
want to go?
What if she is the real Holo?
He mulled the matter over in a cold sweat, the two questions
battling in his mind.
Presently he became aware of someone looking at him. He
34
followed the look to its source and saw Holo gazing at him beseechingly.
"Please, help me . .. won't you?"
Unable to stand the sight of Holo so meekly bowing her head,
Lawrence turned away. All he saw, day in and day out, was the
backside of a horse. The life left him completely unable to resist a
girl like Holo looking at him with such a face.
Agonizingly, he came to a decision.
He turned slowly back toward Holo and asked her a single
question.
"I must ask you one thing."
". . . all right."
"If you leave the village, will they still be able to raise wheat?"
He didn't expect Holo to answer in a way that would weaken
her own position, but he was a merchant. He had dealt with any
number of dishonest negotiators in his time. He had confidence
that if Holo attempted to lie, he would know.
Lawrence readied himself to catch the prevarication he was
sure would come, but come it didn't.
When he looked at her, she wore an expression completely different
from what he had seen so far; she looked angry and near
tears as she stared into the corner of the wagon bed.
"Er . .. what's wrong?" Lawrence had to ask.
"The village's abundant harvests will continue without me," she
spat, her voice surprisingly irate.
"Is that so?" asked Lawrence, overwhelmed by the piercing anger
that emanated from Holo.
Holo nodded, squaring her shoulders. She gripped the furs
tightly, her hands white from the effort.
"Long did I stay in that village; as many years as I have hairs
on my tail. Eventually I wished to leave, but for the sake of the
35
villages wheat I stayed. Long ago, you see, I made a promise with
a youth of the village, that I would ensure the village's harvest.
And so I kept my promise."
Perhaps because she couldn't stomach it, she did not so much as
look at Lawrence as she spoke.
Earlier her wit and words had been quick and easy; now she
stumbled uncertainly.
" I . . . I am the wolf that lives in the wheat. My knowledge of
wheat, of things that grow in the ground, is second to none. That
is why I made the village's fields so magnificent, as I promised.
But to do that, occasionally the harvest must be poor. Forcing the
land to produce requires compensation. But whenever the harvest
was poor, the villagers attributed it to my caprices, and it has
only gotten worse in recent years. I have been wanting to leave. I
can stand it no longer. I long ago fulfilled my promise."
Lawrence understood Hole's anger. Some years ago, Pasloe had
come under the care of Count Ehrendott, and since then new
farming techniques had been imported from the south, increasing
yield.
Holo thus felt that her presence was no longer necessary.
Indeed, the rumor was proliferating that not even the god of the
Church existed. It was not impossible that a countryside hamlet's
harvest god had gotten wrapped up in such talk.
"The villages good harvests will continue. There will be a poor
yield every few years, but that will be their own doing. And they'll
overcome it on their own. The land doesn't need me, and the
people certainly don't need me either."
Getting her words out all in one breath, Holo sighed deeply and
fell over on the pile of furs yet again. She curled up, pulling the
furs around her and burying her face in them.
He could not see her face to make certain, but it seemed not
36
impossible that she was crying. Lawrence scratched his head, unsure
of what to say.
He looked helplessly at her slender shoulders and wolf ears.
Perhaps this was how a real god acted: now full of bluster
and bravado, now wielding a sharp wit, now showing a childish
temper.
Lawrence was at a loss at how to treat the girl now. Nevertheless,
he couldn't very well remain silent, so he took a new approach.
"In any case, setting aside the question of whether or not that's
all true .. ."
"You think me a liar?" snapped Holo at his preamble. He faltered,
but Holo seemed to realize that she herself was being too
emotional. She stopped, abashed, and muttered a quick "Sorry,"
before burying her head in the furs again.
"I understand your resentment. But where do you plan to go,
having left the village?"
She did not answer immediately, but Lawrence saw her ears
prick at his question, so he waited patiently. She had just delivered
a significant confession, and Lawrence expected that she simply
couldn't face anyone for a moment.
At length, Holo guiltily looked into the corner of the wagon
bed, confirming Lawrences suspicions.
"I wish to return north," she said flatly.
"North?"
Holo nodded, turning her gaze up and off into the distance.
Lawrence didn't have to follow it to know where she was looking:
true north.
"My birthplace. The forest of Yoitsu. So many years have passed
that I can no longer count them. . . . I wish to return home."
The word birthplace left Lawrence momentarily shocked, and
37
he looked at Hole's profile. He himself had not visited his hometown
once since embarking on the life of a wandering merchant.
It was a poor and cramped place of which he had few good
memories, but after long days in the driver's seat, sometimes lonelineness
overcame him and he couldn't help thinking fondly of
the place.
If Holo was telling the truth, not only had she left her home
hundreds of years ago, but she'd endured neglect and ridicule at
the place in which she'd settled....
He could guess at her loneliness.
"But I'd like to travel a bit. I've come all the way to this distant
place, after all. And surely much has changed over the months
and years, so it would be good to broaden my perspective,"
said Holo, looking at Lawrence, her face a picture of calm. "So
long as you'll not take me back to Pasloe or turn me in to the
Church, I'd like to travel with you. You're a wandering merchant,
are you not?"
She regarded Lawrence with a friendly smile that suggested
she'd seen right through him and knew he would not betray her.
She sounded like an old friend asking a simple favor.
Lawrence had yet to determine whether or not he believed
Hole's story, but as far as he could tell, she was not a bad sort. And
he'd begun to enjoy conversing with this strange girl.
But he wasn't so won over by her charm as to forget his merchant's
instincts. A good merchant had the audacity to face a god
and the caution to doubt a close relative.
Lawrence thought it over, then spoke quietly.
"I cannot make this decision quickly."
He expected complaint but had underestimated Holo. She
nodded in comprehension. "It is good to be cautious. But I never
misread a person. I don't believe you're so cold as to turn someone
away."
38
Holo spoke with a mischievous smile playing across her lips.
She then turned and hopped back into the pile of furs, albeit without
the sulkiness she'd shown before. It seemed as though she was
saying, "Enough talk for today."
As she'd derailed of the conversation yet again, Lawrence could
only grin in spite of himself as he watched Holo.
He thought he could see her ears moving, then her head popped
out and she looked at him.
"Surely you'll not tell me to sleep outside," she said, obviously
aware that he could do no such thing. Lawrence shrugged; Holo
giggled and returned to the fur pile.
Seeing her like this, Lawrence wondered if her actions earlier
were something of an act, as if she were trying to play the part of
the imprisoned princess.
Nevertheless, he doubted that her dissatisfaction with the village
or her desire to return home were lies.
And if those weren't lies, then he must believe that she was the
real Holo, because a mere demon-possessed girl would not be
able to make it all up. Lawrence sighed as he realized that more
thought would not yield any new answers; he decided to go to
sleep and leave further ruminations for the morrow.
The furs that Holo slept in belonged to Lawrence. It was ludicrous
to think that their owner would forgo their comfort and
sleep on the wagon's driving bench. Telling her to move over to
one side, he, too, snuggled into the fur pile.
From behind him, he heard the quiet sounds of Hole's breathing.
Although he'd told her he couldn't make a quick decision,
Lawrence had already decided that as long as Holo had not made
off with his goods in the morning, he would travel with her.
He doubted that she was that sort of troublemaker — but if she
was, he thought, she would surely make off with his entire load.
He looked forward to the next day.
39
After all, it had been a long time since he'd slept beside another.
It was impossible to be unhappy with her slightly sweet scent
piercing the strong-smelling furs.
The horse heaved a sigh, as if reading Lawrence's simple
thought.
Perhaps horses really could understand humans and simply
preferred not to speak.
Lawrence grinned ruefully and closed his eyes.
Lawrence rose early the next morning. He was like most merchants
who awoke early in order to extract the most profit from
the day. However, when he opened his eyes to the morning mist,
Holo was already up, sitting next to him, and rummaging through
something. For an instant Lawrence wondered if his estimation of
her had been wrong, but if so, she was truly audacious. He raised
his head and looked over his shoulder, and it appeared she had
gone looking for clothes among his things and was just now tying
her shoes.
"Hey, now! Those are mine!"
Even if it wasn't actual theft, even a god shouldn't be rummaging
around through other people's things.
Holo turned around at Lawrences rebuke, but there was not so
much as a trace of guilt on her face. "Hm? Oh, you are awake.
What think you of this? Does it look good?" she asked, completely
unconcerned as she spread her arms. Far from chastened, she
seemed actually proud. Seeing her like this made the uncertain,
overwrought Holo of yesterday seem like something out of a
dream. Indeed it seemed that the real Holo, the one he'd have to
contend with from here on out, was this impudent, prancing
thing.
Incidentally, the clothes she now wore were Lawrence's best,
the one outfit he reserved for negotiations with rich traders and
40
the like. The top was an indigo blue shirt underneath a threequarters-
length vest. The trousers were a rare combination of
linen and leather, with a skirt that wrapped fully around her lower
body, tied with a fine sheepskin sash. The boots were a rare prize,
made of tanned leather and triple-layered, good even in the snowy
mountains. Over all this she wore a bearskin greatcoat.
Merchants take pride in their practical, dignified clothing. To
buy these Lawrence had saved gradually beginning in his apprenticeship
— it had taken him ten years. If he showed up to a negotiation
wearing these with a nicely groomed beard, he would have
most people at a disadvantage.
And Holo now wore those garments.
He couldn't find it in himself to be angry with her, though.
All the clothes were clearly too big for her, which made it all the
more charming.
"The greatcoat is black — my brown hair looks lovely against it,
eh? These trousers, though — they get in the way of my tail. Might
I put a hole in them?"
The trousers she spoke of so lightly had been made by a master
craftsman only after significant effort on Lawrence's part. A
hole would likely prove impossible to repair. He shook his head
resolutely.
"Hrm. Well, fortunately they're still large. I'll find a way to make
them work."
Holo seemed not to harbor the faintest concern that she would
be asked to take the clothes off. Lawrence didn't think she was
likely to run away while wearing them, but nevertheless he rose
and regarded her. If she were to go a city and sell them, they would
fetch a tidy amount of gold.
"You're a merchant through and through, that's sure enough. I
know just what you anticipate with that expression on your face,"
said Holo, smiling. She jumped lightly down from the wagon.
41

Her movement was so unassuming and natural that he had no
reaction. If she'd run just then, he would have been unable to
pursue.
Or perhaps he didn't react because he didn't believe she
would run.
"I'll not run. If that had been my aim, I'd have gone long since."
Lawrence glanced at the wheat sheaf in the wagon bed, then
looked back at the smiling Holo. She took the bearskin cloak off
and tossed it back in the wagon; evidently the cloak, which had
been made for Lawrence's height, was too big for her. She was
even smaller than he'd realized yesterday, having seen her only in
the dim moonlight. Lawrence was on the tall side, but even so she
was fully two heads shorter than him.
Then, as she verified the fit of the rest of the clothes, she spoke
offhandedly. "So, I wish to travel with you. May I?"
She smiled but did not seem to flatter. If she'd tried to flatter
him, Lawrence felt there might have been reason to refuse her,
but she simply smiled happily.
Lawrence sighed.
She didn't seem to be a thief, at least. He couldn't let his guard
down, but it wouldn't hurt to let her come along. And sending her
away would only make the constant loneliness harder to bear.
"This must be some kind of fate. Very well," Lawrence said.
Holo did not appear especially overjoyed — she merely smiled.
"You'll have to earn your keep, though. The life of a merchant
isn't easy. I expect the god of abundant harvests to bring an abundant
harvest to my coin purse."
"I'm not so shameless as to thoughtlessly freeload. I'm Holo the
Wisewolf, and I have my pride," said Holo sullenly. Lawrence was
not so blind as to think she wasn't making a show of childish indignation,
though.
Sure enough, Holo chuckled. "Though this proud wolf made a
43
bit of a spectacle of herself yesterday," she said self-deprecatingly,
as if her flustered demeanor reflected her true feelings. "In any
case, it is good to meet you . . . er ..."
"Lawrence. Kraft Lawrence. When I'm working I go by Lawrence."
"Mm. Lawrence. I shall sing your praises for all eternity," said
Holo with chest thrust forward, her wolf ears pricking up proudly.
She seemed oddly serious. It was difficult to tell if she was being
childish or cunning. She was like the ever-changing mountain
weather.
Apparently that ever-changing mood was part of her craftiness.
Lawrence hastily revised his opinion and offered his hand from
the wagon bed. It was the proof that he'd truly acknowledged her
presence as a companion.
Holo smiled and took his hand.
Her hand was small and warm.
"At any rate, it will soon rain. We should make haste."
"Wha .. . ? You should have said so sooner!" exclaimed Lawrence
— loudly enough to startle the horse. The previous night
hadn't brought so much as a hint of rain, but looking up at the sky
he could indeed see clouds beginning to gather. Holo chuckled at
him as he hurriedly made preparations to depart. She scampered
on board the wagon, and it was obvious enough from the ease
with which she rearranged the slept-in furs that she would be
more handy than some fresh-faced apprentice child.
"The river is in a foul temper. 'Twould be best to cross a short
distance from here."
After Lawrence roused the horse, collected the bucket, and took
the reins in hand, Holo joined him in the driver's seat.
It was too big for one person, but slightly too small for two.
But to ward off the chill, too small was just right.
With the neigh of a horse, the pair's strange travels had begun.
44

CHAPTER WO

The rain was a true downpour. The threatening storm finally
caught up with Lawrence and Holo, but fortunately they caught
sight of a church through their rain-blurred vision and hurried
into it. Unlike the monastery, the church survived on tithes from
travelers and pilgrims who would stay the night and pray for a
safe journey, so Lawrence and Holo were greeted warmly, without
so much as a single fell glance.
Nonetheless, a girl with wolf ears and a tail would hardly be allowed
to walk into a church. Holo thus covered her head and face
in a hood, and they spun the lie that she was Lawrence's wife,
whose face was badly burned.
He knew Holo was snickering to herself beneath the veil, but
she understood her relationship with the Church, so her performance
was good enough. That she had suffered many times at the
hands of the Church was surely no lie.
Even if she weren't a demon, but an animal incarnation, that
was little distinction as far as the Church was concerned. To the
Church, all spirits besides the god it worshipped were anathema,
tools of evil.
But it was through the gates of that church that the two passed
easily and rented a room, and when Lawrence returned to the
room after attending to his soaked wagonload, he found Holo,
naked to the waist and wringing out her hair. Water fell in
great, undignified drops from her beautiful brown locks. The
floor was already full of holes, so a little bit of water wouldn't
hurt — Lawrence was more concered with the problem of averting
his eyes.
"Ha-ha, the cool water soothes my burns, it does," said Holo,
indifferent to Lawrence.
Pleased by their lie or otherwise, Holo smiled. Brushing aside
the hair that stuck to her face, she swept it up and back in a grand
motion.
The boldness of the gesture was undeniably wolflike, and it was
not hard to see that the wet hair, disarrayed as it was, resembled
the stiff fur of a wolf.
"The furs will be all right, surely. They were good marten skins,
and martens live in the mountains, mountains where my kind live
as well."
"Will they sell high?"
"I hardly know. I'm no fur merchant, am I?"
Lawrence nodded at the entirely reasonable answer, then began
to disrobe and dry his own clothes.
"Oh, that's right," he said, remembering. "What shall we do with
that wheat sheaf?"
He finished wringing out his shirt and was about to do the same
with his trousers when he remembered Hole's presence; he looked
to her and discovered that she was now quite naked and wringing
her own clothes free of water. Feeling somehow vexed, he ventured
to strip nude and do the same.
"Mm, what do you mean, 'what?'"
"I mean, shall we thresh it, or shall we leave it as it is? Assuming
the talk of you residing in the wheat is true, that is."
48
Lawrence was teasing Holo, but she only cracked a slight
smile.
"As long as I live, the wheat will neither rot nor wither. But
should it be burned, eaten, or ground into the soil, I will likely
disappear. If it's in the way, you could thresh it and keep it safe
somewhere; that might be better."
"I see. I'll thresh it and put the grains in a pouch, then. You
should hold it, right?"
" 'Twould be a boon. Still better to hang it 'round my neck,"
Holo said.
Forgetting himself for a moment, Lawrence glanced at Hole's
neckline, but hastily looked away.
"I'd hoped to sell some of it elsewhere, though. Could we set
aside a bit for sale?" Lawrence asked after he'd calmed himself.
He heard a rustling, and turned to see that it was Hole's tail
waving wildly. The tail's fur was very fine, and shed water readily.
Lawrence frowned as his face was dampened by the flying drops,
but Holo seemed not the least bit contrite.
"Most of the crops grew well because of the region. They'll soon
wither — that's the point. No use taking them elsewhere."
Holo looked thoughtfully at the clothes she'd finished wringing
out, but as she had nothing else to change into, she put the wrinkled
items back on. Since they weren't cheap like what Lawrence
wore, they shed water well. Lawrence thought the situation rather
unreasonable but said nothing and changed back into his own
damp, wrinkled clothes, then nodded to Holo.
"Let's go dry ourselves in the great room. With this rain,
there should be plenty of other people gathering around the
furnace."
"Mm, a good idea, that," said Holo, covering her head with the
thin cloak. Once covered, she giggled.
"What's so funny?"
49
"Heh, I would never have thought to cover up my face because
of burns."
"Oh? What would you have done?
"The burns would become part of me, just like my ears or tail.
Proof of my uniqueness."
Lawrence was somewhat impressed with her statement. Nonetheless
he wondered uncharitably if she'd feel the same way if she
were actually injured.
Holo interrupted his reverie.
"I know what you are thinking," she said.
Underneath the cloak, she smiled mischievously. The right corner
of her mouth curled up in a smirk, showing a sharp fang.
"Want to injure me and see for yourself?"
Lawrence was not entirely disinclined to respond to her provocation,
but he decided that if he actually reacted and drew his
dagger, things could really get out of hand.
It was possible that she meant it. More likely, though, it was just
her mischief-loving nature.
"I'm a man. I could never injure such a beautiful face."
Hearing him say so, Holo smiled as if having received a longanticipated
gift and drew playfully near to him. A sweet scent
swirled vaguely around him, rousing Lawrences body. Completely
indifferent to his reaction, she sniffed him, then drew
slightly back.
"You may have been caught in the rain, but you still smell foul.
A wolf can tell these things."
"Why, you —"
Lawrence threw a half-serious punch, but Holo moved adroitly
aside and he hit only hair. She laughed, cocking her head and
continuing.
"Even a wolf knows to keep its coat clean. You're a good man,
aye, but you need to keep neat."
50
He didn't know whether she was joking or not, but hearing it
from a girl like Holo made it impossible to deny. For as long as he
could remember, Lawrence maintained his appearance only insofar
as it would help his professional negotiation, with no thought
given to whether it would appeal to a woman.
Had his negotiation partner been a woman, he might have
taken the trouble, but unfortunately, he had not once met a female
merchant.
He didn't know how to answer, so he simply turned around and
fell silent.
"The beard, though, is quite nice."
The medium-length beard that grew from Lawrence's chin had
always been well-received. Lawrence accepted the compliment
gracefully, turning back to face her, somewhat proudly.
"I daresay I'd prefer it a big longer, though."
Long beards were not popular among merchants. The thought
automatically occurred to Lawrence, but Holo drew a line from
her nose across her cheeks with her index finger, continuing
her jape.
". .. Like so, like a wolf."
Lawrence was now finally aware that he had been made sport
of. He ignored her and walked toward the room's door, even as he
felt childish for doing so. Holo giggled and followed. Truthfully,
he was not actually angry with her.
"There will be many people around the furnace. Best not to let
anything slip."
"I am Holo the Wisewolf! Long ago I traveled clear to Pasloe in
human form. Worry not!"
The churches and inns far from the cities were important sources
of information to a merchant. Churches in particular attracted all
kinds of people. An inn might house poor travelers and grizzled
51
merchants, but churches were different. One might find anyone
from master brewers to wealthy nobles in a church.
The church Lawrence and Holo had stopped in housed twelve
guests. A few looked to be merchants; the others were of various
professions.
"Aha, so you're here from Yorenz, then?"
"Yes. I delivered salt from there to my customer and got marten
furs in trade."
Most of the guests sat on the floor in the main hall, taking their
meals or picking fleas from their clothing. One couple monopolized
the bench in front of the furnace. Despite being a "great
hall," it was not particularly spacious, so no matter where one was
in the crowded room, the generously stoked fireplace would dry
one's clothes. The couple's clothes did not appear wet, so Lawrence
imagined they were probably wealthy, and having made
generous donations to the church could be here as they pleased.
Lawrence was not wrong; he pricked up his ears to listen for a
point in the couples conversation where he could enter and waited
for his chance.
The wife had gone silent, possibly because of the exhausting
journey, and her middle-aged husband welcomed conversation.
"Still, going all the way back to Yorenz, isn't that rather
arduous?"
"That depends on how canny the merchant."
"Oh ho, interesting!"
"When I bought the salt in Yorenz, I paid no money. Rather, I'd
already sold a measure of wheat to a different branch of the same
company in another city — but when I sold the wheat, I took no
payment; neither did I pay for the salt. So I completed two separate
deals with no money exchanged."
This system of barter had been invented by a mercantile nation
in the south about a century earlier. When Lawrence's master had
52
explained it to him, he'd agonized over the concept for two weeks
before finally understanding. The man in front of him had apparently
never heard of it himself and appeared similarly unable to
grasp it, hearing the explanation but once.
"I see . . . what a strange contrivance," he said, nodding. "I live
in the city of Perenzzo, and my vineyard has never employed such
a method when selling our grapes. Will we be all right?"
"This barter system was invented by merchants who needed a
convenient way to deal with people from many different lands. As
the owner of a vineyard, you'd need to be careful not to let vintners
claim your grapes to be poor and buy them cheaply."
"Yes. We have such arguments every year," said the man with a
smile — but to the accountants he employed, the red-faced arguments
they had with sly vintners were no laughing matter. Most
vineyard owners were noble, but almost none of them took a personal
hand in the farming or sale of their product. Count Ehrendott,
who managed the region surrounding Pasloe, was highly
eccentric in this regard.
"Lawrence, was it? Next time you're in Perenzzo, do come by
for a visit."
"I shall, thank you."
As was common among the nobility, the man did not give his
own name, assuming his name would already be known. It was
seen as plebeian to give one's own name.
Undoubtedly if Lawrence were to visit Perenzzo and ask after
the master of the vineyard, it would be this man. Had this been
Perenzzo, though, a man of Lawrence's stature would find it
practically impossible to simply arrange an audience with him.
Churches were therefore the best place to establish such connections.
"Well then, as my wife appears tired, I'll take my leave of you."
"May God allow us to meet again," said Lawrence.
53
It was a standard phrase within the Church. The man rose from
his chair and, along with his wife, gave a polite nod before leaving
the hall. Lawrence, too, vacated the chair the man had requested
that he bring over from the corner of the room. He then
returned the chairs the couple had occupied to the corner.
The only people who sat on chairs in the great hall were nobility,
knights, and the wealthy. Most people disliked all three.
"Heh-heh, you're not a man to be trifled with, master!"
Once Lawrence had cleared the chairs and returned to Hole's
side in the middle of the hall, a man approached them. Given his
dress and affect, he, too, was a merchant. His bearded face looked
young. He had probably not been working on his own very long.
"I'm merely a traveling merchant like any other," said Lawrence
shortly. Beside him, Holo straightened. The hood over her head
shifted slightly; only Lawrence would know that it was her ears
pricking.
"Far from it, master. I'd been wanting to speak with him for
some time but couldn't find the opportunity. Yet you slipped right
in. Thinking that it's traders like you that I'll be going up against
in the future, why, it's hard not to despair."
The man grinned as he spoke, revealing a smile that lacked one
front tooth, giving it a certain charm. Perhaps he'd pulled the
tooth on purpose to lend his foolish smile persuasion. As a merchant,
he'd know how to use his appearance to best effect.
Lawrence realized he'd better not be careless.
Nonetheless, he himself had struck up conversations just like
this one when he was starting out, so he held a spark of empathy
for the man.
"That's nothing — when I was starting out, all the established
merchants seemed like monsters to me. Half of them still do. But
I'm still eating. You just have to keep at it."
54
"Heh-heh, it's a relief to hear you say so, sir. Oh, by the way, I'm
Zheren — and you've probably figured it out, but I'm just starting
out as a merchant. Begging your indulgence, sir!"
"I'm Lawrence."
Lawrence remembered that when he himself had just started
out, he'd also tried to strike up conversations like this one and gotten
frustrated by the cold responses. Now on the receiving end of
a solicitous young merchants conversation, he understood those
cold responses.
A young merchant just starting out had nothing to share and
could only receive.
"So, then . . . is this your companion?"
It was unclear whether Zheren broached the subject because he
truly had nothing to share or if he'd committed the common beginner's
mistake of trying to gain without offering anything in
return. If this had been a conversation between veterans, they
would already have traded information on two or three locations
by this point.
"My wife, Holo." For a moment Lawrence hesitated, wondering
if he should use a false name, but ultimately decided there was
no need.
Holo bowed slightly in greeting as her name was mentioned.
"My, a wife and a merchant both?"
"She is an eccentric and prefers the wagon to the village home."
"Still, covering your wife in a cloak this way, she must be very
precious to you."
Lawrence had some grudging respect for the man's charisma;
perhaps he'd been the town rogue. For his part, Lawrence had
been taught by his relatives that it was best not to say such
things.
"Heh-heh, but it is a man's instinct to want to see hidden things.
55
God has led us together here. Surely you can let me have a look
at her."
What shamelessness! thought Lawrence in spite of the knowledge
that Holo was not actually his wife.
But before Lawrence could take the man to task, Holo spoke.
"The traveler is happiest before the journey; the dog's bark
fiercer than the dog itself, and a woman most beautiful from behind.
To show my face in public would dash many dreams, and
thus 'tis something I cannot do," she said, smiling softly underneath
the veil.
Zheren could only grin, chastened. Even Lawrence was impressed
with her lilting eloquence.
"Heh-heh . . . your wife is something else, master."
"It's all I can do to avoid being quite henpecked."
Lawrence was more than half-serious.
"Yes, well.. . it's certainly providential that I've met the both of
you. Can you spare a moment to hear my tale?" said Zheren. Silence
descended as he flashed his grin that was one tooth short
and moved closer to the pair.
Unlike typical inns, churches only provided lodging — not food.
However, the hearth could be used for cooking, provided one
gave the proper donation. Lawrence did so and placed five potatoes
into a pot to boil. Naturally the firewood for cooking had to
be purchased as well.
It would take time for the water to boil, so Lawrence threshed
the wheat that housed Holo and found an unused leather pouch
to keep it in. Remembering that she'd said she wanted to keep it
around her neck, Lawrence took a leather strap and attended to
the hearth. Altogether the potatoes, firewood, pouch, and strap
came to a significant cost, so he mused over how much to charge
her as he brought the potatoes back to the room.
56
Because his hands were full, Lawrence couldn't knock on the
door — but Hole's sensitive wolf ears could identify his footfalls.
When he entered the room, however, her back was turned to him
as she sat on the bed, combing her tail fur.
"Hm? Something smells good," she said, raising her head. Evidently
her nose was as sensitive as her ears.
The potatoes were topped with goat cheese. Lawrence would
never have indulged in such luxury had be been alone, but now
that he was in a party of two, he decided to be generous. Holos
happy reaction made it entirely worthwhile.
Lawrence set the potatoes on the table beside the bed, and Holo
immediately reached out to help herself. Just before she could
grab a potato, Lawrence tossed the pouch full of wheat to her.
"Wha . . . oh. The wheat."
"And here's a strap, so you can work out a way to hang it around
your neck."
"Mm. My thanks. But this takes precedence," she said, tossing
the wheat aside with surprising nonchalance, then licking her
lips and reaching for a potato. Apparently eating was a priority
for Holo.
Once she had a potato in hand, she immediately broke it in half.
Her face fairly glowed with delight at the steam that rose from the
food. With her tail wagging back and forth she looked undeniably
canine, but Lawrence was sure that if he pointed it out she'd be
irritated, so he said nothing.
"So wolves find potatoes delicious, do they?"
"Aye. It is not as though we wolves eat meat year-round. We eat
tender buds from trees. We eat fish. And the crops that humans
raise are better still than tree buds. Also, I rather like the human
habit of putting meat and vegetables to a fire."
It is said that a cat's tongue cannot stand hot food, but wolves
did not appear to have this problem. Holo held half of the potato
57
in her hand and popped the entire piece into her mouth at once
after blowing on it two or three times. Lawrence felt that she'd
bitten off more than she could chew, and indeed she soon appeared
to choke. Lawrence tossed her a water-skin, and with it
Holo managed to get the potato down.
"Whew. Rather surprising, that. Human throats are so narrow.
It's rather inconvenient."
"Wolves swallow things whole, right?"
"Mm. Well, we lack this, so we cannot chew at our leisure."
Holo pulled at the edge of her lips; presumably she was talking
about her cheeks.
"But I've choked on potatoes in the past, it's true."
"Oh ho."
"I suppose potatoes and I are ill-fated."
Lawrence resisted telling her that it was her gluttony that boded
ill, not potatoes.
"Earlier," he began instead, "you said something about being
able to tell when someone is lying?"
Upon hearing the question, Holo turned to face him mid-bite,
but suddenly looked aside and moved her hand.
Before Lawrence could ask what was wrong, her hand stopped,
frozen in midair as if she'd grabbed something.
"There are still fleas."
"It's that nice fur of yours. I bet it's a lovely bed for them."
Transporting fur or woven goods often involved smoking the
fleas out of them, depending on the season. Lawrence spoke from
experience, but Holo seemed quite shocked, and thrust out her
chest as she spoke proudly.
"Well, it's a credit to your eye for quality that you can tell as
much, then!" she said haughtily. Lawrence decided to keep his
thoughts to himself.
"So is it true that you can tell truth from lies?"
58
"Hm? Oh, more or less." Wiping off the hand that had grabbed
the flea, Holo turned her attention back to the potato.
"So, how good at it are you?"
"Well, I know that what you said about my tail just now was not
meant as praise."
Lawrence, stunned, said nothing. Holo giggled happily.
"It's not perfect, though. You may believe me or not... as you
wish," said Holo impishly, licking cheese from her fingers.
She'd gotten the better of him again, but if he were to react, that
would only give her another opportunity. Lawrence composed
himself and tried again.
"So let me ask you this — was the lad's story true?"
"The lad?"
"The one who spoke to us by the furnace."
"Oh. Heh, lad,' you say."
"Is something funny?"
"From where I stand you're both but lads."
If he tried a comeback she'd only toy with him more, so Lawrence
stifled the reply that rose within him.
"Heh. I daresay you're a bit more grown than he, though. As for
your lad, it seems to me he is lying."
Lawrence calmed himself; this confirmed his suspicions.
During their conversation in the hall, the young merchant
Zheren had spoken to Lawrence about an opportunity for profit.
There was a certain silver coin in circulation that was due to be
replaced by a coin with a higher concentration of silver. If the
story was true, the old silver coins were of poorer quality than
their replacements, but their face value would be the same. However,
when being exchanged for other currencies, the new silver
coins would be worth more than the old. If one knew in advance
which coin was due to be replaced, one could buy them up in
bulk, then exchange them for the new coins, thus realizing what
59
amounted to pure profit. Zheren claimed that he knew which coin
among all those circulating in the world would be replaced, and
would share the information in exchange for a piece of the profit.
Since Zheren would certainly have made the same offer to other
merchants, Lawrence could not simply swallow the story whole.
Holo stared into space as if thinking back on the conversation,
then popped the piece of potato into her mouth and swallowed
it.
"I don't know which part is a lie, though, nor do I understand
the finer points of the conversation."
Lawrence nodded and considered. He had not actually expected
that much from Holo.
Assuming that the transaction itself wasn't a lie, Zheren must be
lying about the coins, somehow.
"Well, currency speculation isn't rare in and of itself. Still. . ."
"You don't understand why he's lying . .. no?"
Holo plucked a bud from the surface of her potato and ate the
rest. Lawrence sighed.
He had to admit that she'd long since gotten control of him.
"When someone's lying, what's important is not the content of
the lie, but the reasoning behind it," she said.
"How many years do you think it took me to understand that?"
"Oh? You may have called that Zheren person a lad, but you're
both the same to me," said Holo proudly.
In times like these, Lawrence wished Holo did not look so frustratingly
human. To think that the youthful Holo had long understood
the principles that he had suffered so much to grasp was
too much for him to take.
"If I were not here, what would you do?" asked Holo.
"First I'd work out whether it was true or not, then I'd pretend
to believe his story."
"And why is that?"
60
"If it's true, I can turn a profit just by going along with it. If it's a
lie, then someone somewhere is up to something — but I can still
come out ahead if I keep my eyes and ears open."
"Mm. And given that I am here, and I've told you he's lying,
then . . ."
"Hm?"
Lawrence finally realized what had been eluding him. "Ah."
"Heh. See, there was nothing over which to agonize so. Either
way you'll be pretending to accept his proposal," said Holo, grinning.
Lawrence had no retort.
"I'll be taking that last potato," said Holo, snatching the potato
from the table.
For his part, Lawrence was too abashed to even split the potato
he held in his hand.
"I am Holo the Wisewolf! How many times longer do you think
I have lived than you?"
Lawrence's mood only worsened with her concern for his
feelings. He took a vindictive bite out of his potato.
He felt like an apprentice traveling with his teacher all over
again.
The next day was beautiful with clear autumn skies. The church
awoke still earlier than the merchants, so by the time Lawrence
rose, the morning routine was already finished. Lawrence anticipated
this and was unsurprised, but when he went out to the well
to wash his face, he was shocked to see Holo walking out of the
worship hall with the members of the Church. She had her head
bowed and was wearing her cloak, but even so she stopped frequently
to chat pleasantly with the churchgoers.
The sight of the devout chatting with the god of the harvest
whose existence they refused to acknowledge was amusing,
though Lawrence lacked the nerve to find it so.
61
Holo took her leave from the congregation and quietly approached
a dumbfounded Lawrence. She clasped her small hands
together in front of her chest and spoke.
"Lord, grant my husband courage."
The well water was chilly due to the approaching winter; Lawrence
poured it over his head anyway and pretended not to hear
Hole's laughter.
"It's gotten a bit more important, the Church has," said Holo.
Lawrence shook his head to clear it of water, just as Holo had
done with her tail the previous day. "The Church has always been
important."
"Hardly. It was not so when I came through here from the
north. They'd always be going on about how the one god and
his twelve angels created the world and how humanity was but
borrowing it. Nature is not something created, though. Even then,
I thought to myself, 'When did these people learn to tell such
jokes?'"
This centuries-old harvest god was talking like a natural philosopher
criticizing the Church, which made it all the more amusing.
Lawrence dried off and dressed. He wouldn't forget to leave a
coin in the tithe-box that was prepared there. One was expected
to leave money in the box if one used the well, and the people of
the church would be checking. Anyone who failed to leave a donation
would have unlucky things said about him. The constantly
traveling Lawrence needed all the luck he could get.
Nonetheless, what he tossed in the box was a worn, blackened
copper coin that could barely be counted as money.
"I suppose this is a sign of the times, then .. . much has
changed."
Presumably she referred to her homeland, given the desolate
expression on her face.
"Have you yourself changed?" asked Lawrence.
62
". . ." Holo shook her head wordlessly. It was somehow a very
childish gesture.
"Then I'm sure your homeland hasn't changed, either."
Despite his youth, Lawrence had endured much. He'd been to
many nations, met many people, and gained a wide variety of experiences,
so he felt qualified to say as much.
All traveling merchants — even those who had run away from
their homes — couldn't help holding their homeland dear, since
when in a foreign land, one could only trust one's countrymen.
Holo nodded, her face emerging slightly from underneath the
cloak.
" 'Twould be a disgrace to the name Wisewolf to be comforted
by you, though," she said with a smile, turning and heading back
toward their room. She gave him a sidelong glance that could've
been interpreted as gratitude.
As long as her attitude was that of a very sly, very old person,
Lawrence could cope.
It was her childish side that he found difficult.
Lawrence was twenty-five. If he lived in a town he'd be married
and taking his wife and children to church. His life was half over,
and Holo's childish demeanor penetrated his lonely heart.
"Hey, what keeps you? Hurry!" shouted Holo, looking over her
shoulder at him.
It had been a mere two days since Lawrence met Holo, but it
felt like much longer.
Lawrence decided to accept Zheren's offer.
However, Zheren could not simply rely on Lawrence's word and
hand over the information; neither could Lawrence afford to pay
up front. He would have to sell his furs first. Thus the two men
decided to meet in the riverside city of Pazzio and sign a formal
contract before a public witness.
63
"Well then, I'll be on my way. When you arrive in Pazzio, find a
tavern called Yorend; you'll be able to contact me there."
"Yorend, is it? Very well."
Zheren smiled his charming smile again as he took his leave,
hefting his burlap sack of dried fruit over his shoulder as he
walked on.
Besides actual trading, the most important task that faced a
young merchant was exploring the many regions, becoming familiar
with the locals and their goods, and making sure his face
was remembered. To accomplish this, it was best to carry something
well-preserved that could be sold at churches or inns and
used as an excuse for conversation, like dried fruit or meat.
Lawrence watched Zheren, feeling a certain nostalgia for the time
before he'd acquired his wagon.
"Are we not going with him?" Holo asked as Zheren's form disappeared
into the distance. Having checked to see that there was no
one around to see her, she was grooming her tail fur.
Possibly because she had to cover her ears with the cloak, she
did not bother combing her fall of chestnut hair, merely tying it
back with a length of hempen rope. Lawrence felt that she could
at least comb it, but he had no comb to offer. He resolved to acquire
a comb and hat when the arrived in Pazzio.
"It rained all day yesterday, so he'll make better time on foot
than we can on the wagon. There's no need for him to slow down
on our account."
"True, merchants are always on about time."
"Time is money."
"Ho-ho! An interesting saying. Time is money, is it?"
"As long as we have time, we can make money."
" 'Tis true. Though it's not how I think," said Holo, casting a
glance to her tail.
64
Her magnificent tail was long enough to hang past the back of
her knees. The abundant fur would probably fetch a good price if
shorn and sold.
"I imagine the farmers you watched over for so many centuries
were mindful of time."
As soon as Lawrence said it, he realized he probably shouldn't
have. Holo glanced at him as if to say "I'll let you have that one,"
smiling impishly.
"Hmph. At what have you been looking? The farmers care nary
a whit for time. It's the air they're mindful of."
"I don't follow you."
"They wake in the dawn air, work the farm in the morning air,
pull the weeds in the afternoon air, twist rope in the rainy air.
They worry over their crops in the windy air, watch them grow in
the summer air, celebrate the harvest in the autumn air, and in the
winter air they wait for spring. They think not of time — like me,
they note only the air."
Lawrence couldn't say that he understood all of what Holo said,
but there were parts he followed. He nodded, impressed, which
seemed to satisfy Holo; she puffed up her chest and sniffed
proudly.
The self-proclaimed Wisewolf evidently didn't feel the slightest
need for humility.
Just then, a person who seemed to be another traveling merchant
came across the road.
Although Hole's ears were hidden by the cloak, her tail was in
plain view.
The passerby stared at Holos tail, although he didn't speak.
In all likelihood he didn't realize it was a tail. Lawrence imagined
that if it were him, he'd wonder what kind of fur it was and
how much it was worth.
65
Still, when it came to keeping a straight face, that was a separate
matter entirely.
"You're quick enough, but you lack experience."
Apparently having finished her grooming, Holo tucked her tail
back underneath her skirt and spoke. The face underneath the
cloak was that of a girl barely in her mid-teens, which showed occasional
glimpses of someone much younger.
Yet her words had the air of someone much older.
"Still, one will grow wiser with age."
"How many hundreds of years do you think it will take?" Lawrence
headed off her attempt to tease him.
Surprised, she laughed loudly. "Ah-ha-ha-ha! You are rather
quick, aren't you?"
"Perhaps you're just old and slow."
"Heh-heh. Do you know why we wolves attack people in the
mountains?"
Lawrence was unable to keep up with Hole's sudden segue, so
he could only answer with a confused, "Er, no."
"It is because we wish to eat human brains and gain their knowledge."
Holo grinned, baring her fangs.
Even if she was joking, Lawrence shivered unconsciously, his
breath catching.
A few seconds passed; he realized he'd lost.
"You're still a pup. Hardly a match for me."
Holo sighed. Lawrence gripped the reins tightly and stifled a
frustrated expression.
"Still, have you ever been attacked by wolves in the mountains?"
It was a strange feeling being asked such a question by a girl
with ears, fangs, and a tail. He was having a conversation with
a wolf — the same wolf whose presence in the mountains he
feared.
66
"I have. Perhaps . . . eight times."
"They're quite difficult to handle, are they not?"
"They are. Wild dogs I can handle, but wolves are a problem."
"That's because they want to eat lots of humans, to get
their —"
"I'm sorry, all right? So stop."
The third time Lawrence had been set upon by wolves, he was
part of a caravan.
Two of the men in the caravan had been unable to clear the
mountains. Their cries echoed in Lawrences ears even now.
His face was expressionless.
"Oh .. ."
Apparently the perceptive wisewolf had figured it out.
"I am sorry," said a contrite Holo, slumping, almost shrinking.
Lawrence had been attacked by wolves many times. With the
memories of the encounters swirling in his head, he was in no
mood to answer.
Splish, splosh, went the horses hooves in the muddy road.
". .. Are you angry?"
Such a crafty wolf — she must have known that if she asked like
that, he'd be unable to truthfully answer that he was angry.
So he answered. "Yes, I'm angry."
Holo looked up at Lawrence in silence. When he looked back at
her out of the corner of his eye, he saw her pouting — it was
charming enough that he almost forgave her.
"I am angry. No more jokes like that," he finally turned to her
and said.
Holo nodded resolutely and looked ahead. She now seemed
quite meek.
After a period of silence she spoke again. "Wolves live only in
the mountains, but dogs have lived with humans. That's why
wolves make tougher opponents."
67
He probably should have ignored her, but doing so would make
later conversation difficult. He turned slightly in her direction
and gave a sign that he was listening.
"Hm?"
"Wolves only know that they are hunted by humans, and that
they are terrifying creatures. So we are always thinking about
what to do when they enter our forest."
Holo stared straight ahead as she spoke, as serious as Lawrence
had ever seen her.
He didn't think she'd made that story up; he nodded, slowly.
But there was something in her vagueness that worried him.
"Did you ever —"
But Holo stopped him before he could continue. "There are
some things I simply cannot answer."
"Oh." Lawrence chided himself for speaking without thinking
ahead. "Sorry."
Holo then smiled. "Now we're even."
A twenty-five-year-old was not, it seemed, a match for a
Wisewolf.
There was no further conversation, but neither was there any
bad air between the two. The horse plodded along, and soon the
day had passed and night fell.
A merchant never continued his travels after dark when it had
rained. If the wagon became stuck in the mud, seven times out of
ten it meant that the goods would have to be abandoned.
To turn a steady profit as a traveling merchant one had to minimize
losses, and the road was full of dangers.
Holo suddenly spoke, nestled in the fur pile beneath a sky she'd
promised would be clear the next day.
"The worlds we live in, you and I, are very different," she said.
68

CHAPTER THREE

9

The river Slaude meanders slowly across the plains. It it said to
trace the path left behind by a giant snake that slithered from the
mountains to the west through the plains to the eastern sea, and
its wide, slow path is an essential transportation route for the
region.
Pazzio is a large port town situated near the midpoint of the
river. Not far upstream lie large fields of wheat; still farther are
thickly forested mountains. Logs are floated downstream yearround;
barges carrying wheat or corn, depending on the season,
navigate up and down the river. That alone would be enough to
ensure the town's prosperity, but because there are no bridges
across the Slaude, its ferries make it a natural gathering place.
It was past afternoon but not yet dusk; Lawrence and Holo arrived
during the busiest time of the day.
Pazzio's trade had grown since the town recovered its autonomy
from the monarchy — now merchants and aristocrats ruled
it. Consequently, there were heavy tariffs levied on goods entering
the town, but there were no immigration checks or demands
for identification. Had it been a castle town, the opposite would
be true, and Holos nonhuman status would be a problem.
"Have they no king here?" was Hole's first utterance upon
arriving in the city.
"Is this your first time coming to a city of this size?"
"Times surely change. In my day, a city this large would have
been ruled by a king."
Lawrence felt a slight sense of superiority — he'd been to cities
many times the size of Pazzio. He tried not to let it show lest Holo
point it out. And in any case, he'd been just as naive when he first
started out.
"Heh. I'll just say that your intentions are admirable,"
quipped Holo.
Apparently Lawrence had been a bit careless about hiding his
thoughts.
Although Holo's attention was focused on the many shops that
lined the road, she'd still noticed his expression. Had it just been
a lucky guess? The idea that she could discern his thoughts so
easily was unsettling and far from funny.
"This isn't... a festival, is it?"
"If it were a Church celebration day, the streets would be so
crowded we couldn't pass through them. Today, though, there's
still space."
"Ho. Difficult to imagine that," said Holo with a smile, leaning
out of the cart and scanning the merchant stalls they passed.
She looked every bit the country bumpkin on her first visit to
the town, but Lawrence suddenly thought of something else.
"Hey."
"Mm?" was her only reply as she continued to stare at the many
vendors.
"Will it be all right, not covering your head?"
"Huh? Head?"
"I know it's festival time in Pasloe right now, so most of the vil-
72
lagers will be drinking and celebrating — but not all of them, and
some of the ones who don't may be visiting Pazzio right now."
"Oh, that," said Holo, sitting back down in the wagon, suddenly
irritated. She looked back at Lawrence, her cloak just barely covering
her ears. "Even if they could see my ears, nobody would
notice. They've all long forgotten about me."
There was such vehemence in her voice it was a miracle she
didn't shout. Lawrence reflexively raised his hands as if calming
a startled horse. Holo was no horse, but it seemed to have some
effect.
She snorted derisively and pulled the cloak down, facing ahead
and pouting.
"You lived there for hundreds of years — surely there are
some legends passed down about you. Or did you never take
human form?"
"There are legends. And sometimes I'd appear as a human."
"So there are stories about you appearing as a human?"
Holo gave Lawrence a belabored sidelong glance, sighed, then
spoke. "As far as I remember, it went something like this. She
looks like a beautiful girl of about fifteen. She has long, flowing
brown hair and wolf ears, along with a white-tipped tail. Sometimes
she would appear in this form, and in exchange for keeping
her appearance a secret, she promises a good harvest."
Holo regarded Lawrence flatly with a look that said, "Happy?"
"Well, it sounds like you pretty much told them everything
about yourself. Is that really okay?"
"Even if they were to see my ears or tail, they would doubt —
just as you did. They'll never realize the truth."
Holo slipped her hand underneath the cloak and fussed with
her ears, perhaps because they pushed against the inside of the
fabric uncomfortably.
73
Lawrence looked sideways at her. He wanted her to be more
careful, but if he said as much she would surely get genuinely
angry.
It seemed that discussion of Pasloe was taboo. He felt better
when he considered that the legends of Holo made no mention
of her actual facial features, only identifying her by her ears and
tail. As long as she kept those concealed, she would go unnoticed.
Legends were just legends — it was not as if she were on a Church
wanted poster.
A few moments after Lawrence resolved not to press the matter,
Holo appeared to be considering something. At length, she
spoke.
"Hey.. ."
"Mm?"
"Even . .. even should they see me, they won't know who I
am .. . will they?"
Her mood had changed completely from before; it was almost
as if she wanted to be discovered.
But Lawrence was no fool. He stared expressionlessly forward
at the horse. "It is certainly my hope that they won't," he answered.
Holo smiled slightly, almost ruefully. "You needn't worry."
Once Holo started looking happily at the stalls again, Lawrence
realized she'd been speaking to herself as well as him.
There was no need to press the matter, however — Holo was
quite stubborn.
Lawrence couldn't help smiling at Holo now. She'd cheered up
completely and was excitedly looking at the delicious fruits they
passed.
"There's quite a collection of fruit! Are they all picked nearby?"
"It's because Pazzio is the gateway to the south. When the sea-
74
son's right, you can even see fruit from regions nearly impossible
to visit."
"There is much fruit in the south, and good."
"Surely you have fruit in the north as well."
"Aye, but it's tough and bitter. To make it sweet it must be dried
and cured. We wolves can't do such work, so we have to take it
from the villages."
Lawrence would've expected birds, horses, or sheep to be more
likely targets for wolves. It was hard to imagine them driven by a
desire for something sweet. Perhaps a bear — bears often took
the leather bags filled with grapes that hung from the eaves of
houses.
"I would think wolves would prefer spicy things. It's bears that
crave sweets."
"We don't like spicy food. Once we found red fang-shaped fruit
among the cargo of a shipwreck. We ate it and regretted it loud
and long!"
"Ah, hot peppers. Expensive, those."
"We dunked our heads in the river and decided humans were
terrifying indeed," said Holo with a chuckle, enjoying the memory
for a moment as she gazed at the stalls. After a time, her smile
faded, then finally reappeared as she sighed. The pleasure of nostalgia
is never without its companion, loneliness.
Lawrence was trying to decide what he should say when Holo
seemed to perk up.
"If it's red fruit we're talking about, I'd rather have those," she
said, tugging on his clothing and pointing out a stall.
Beyond the stream of passing people and wagons, there was a
stall with a generous pile of apples.
"Oh, those are fine apples."
"Are they not?" Holo's eyes glittered beneath the cloak. He
75
wondered if she noticed that her tail was swishing back and forth
underneath her skirts. Perhaps she really did like apples. "They
look rather toothsome, no?"
"Indeed."
What Holo was hinting at was clear enough, but Lawrence pretended
not to notice.
"Now that I think of it, I had a friend who invested more than
half his worth in apples. I'm not sure where they were from, but if
they turned out like these, he's surely doubled his money." Lawrence
sighed regretfully. "I should've done the same."
Holos expression shifted as if to say "that's not the point I was
trying to make," but again Lawrence pretended not to notice.
"Hmph. Well. .. that's most unfortunate," Holo replied.
"But the risk was very high. If it were me, I would've transported
them by ship."
"A ... ship, you say?" As they talked, they continued to move
along the road with the clop-clopping of the horse's hooves as accompaniment.
Holo was becoming anxious. She clearly wanted
the apples, but was just as clearly loath to say so, hence her agitated
responses to Lawrences comments.
"You see, a group of merchants will sometimes pool their money
to hire a ship. The amount of money they raise determines the
amount and type of cargo, but unlike land transport, if there is an
accident you may lose lives as well as money. Even a strong wind
can put you in danger. However, there is profit to be had. I've
twice traveled by sea this way, so ..."
"Mm . . . ah ..."
"What's wrong?
They passed the apple booth, and it began to recede behind
them.
There is nothing more fun than knowing the heart of another.
Lawrence smiled his best merchant smile.
76
"Right, so about shipping..."
"Mm . . . apples . . ."
"Hm?"
" I . . . I w a n t . . . I want apples.. .."
Lawrence thought she'd be stubborn until the end, but since
she'd finally admitted her desire, he decided to go ahead and
treat her.
"Earn your own food, why don't you." Holo glared at Lawrence
as she munched away on an apple; he made a show of shrugging
helplessly.
She'd been so charming when she finally gave in and admitted
her desire that Lawrence had generously given her a silver trenni
coin of considerable value. She'd returned with more apples than
she could carry. She appeared not to know the meaning of the
word restraint.
By the time her face and hands were sticky with juice, well into
her fourth apple, she got around to complaining again.
"You .. . munch .. . earlier, you . .. mmph . .. pretended like
you didn't. . . chomp . . . notice!"
"It's amusing knowing what someone else is thinking," said
Lawrence to Holo as she ate the apple down to its core.
Thinking he'd have one for himself, Lawrence reached back to
the pile of apples in the wagon bed, but Holo slapped his hand
away even as she started on her fifth apple.
"Mine!"
"Hey, I paid for them."
Hole's cheeks were stuffed; she waited until she had finished
swallowing to reply.
"I'm Holo the Wisewolf! I can make this much money any time
I want."
"Don't let me stop you. I'd planned to use that money for lodging
tonight."
77
"Mmph ... grm .. .But, I . . . munch ..."
"Answer once you're done eating, please."
Holo nodded and didn't speak again until her stomach contained
no less than eight apples.
Did she still intend to have dinner after all that?
". .. Whew."
"You certainly ate a lot."
"Apples are the devil's fruit, full of tempting sweetness as
they are."
Lawrence couldn't help laughing at her overstatement.
"Shouldn't a wisewolf be able to conquer temptation?"
"While one may lose much because of avarice, nothing was ever
accomplished by abstinence." The sight of Holo licking her fingers
clean of the sweet juice strengthened her argument. If it
meant missing such pleasure as this, asceticism was the height
of folly.
All this was merely academic, of course.
"So, what was that you were going to say earlier?"
"Hm? Oh, yes. I've no money and no immediate means to earn
money, so as you do business I'll just put a few words in to help
you bring in more profit. Agreed?"
No merchant worth his salt simply answers "agreed" when so
asked. It's common sense to refrain from answering until making
sure of the other party's intentions. A verbal contract is still a contract
and must be honored, come what may.
Thus Lawrence didn't answer right away. He didn't understand
what Holo was getting at.
"You'll soon be selling the marten furs, yes?" As if guessing at
the reason for his hesitation, Holo turned to the wagon bed behind
them.
"Today, hopefully. No later than tomorrow."
"Well, I'll try to say something to bring your profit up, if I can.
78
I
• ;"
Whatever the difference I make, I keep," she said, licking her little
finger clean as if it were nothing.
Lawrence mulled it over. Holo seemed confident that she could
sell the marten pelts higher than he could. Wisewolf or no, he had
seven years of experience as a traveling merchant. He wasn't such
a weak dealer that a few words tossed in from the side would
bring up his prices, and there was no guarantee the buyer would
accept such prices.
Yet his curiosity at exactly how she would attempt this farce
overpowered his doubt that it would actually happen, so in the
end he said, "Agreed."
"It's done, then!" replied Holo, burping.
"But this isn't just limited to our pelts. You're a merchant, too —
there may be no chance for me to talk up our price."
"How modest of you."
"Wisdom is knowing thyself first."
The statement would've sounded better had she not said it
while casting her gaze longingly back toward the remaining pile
of apples.
The pelts' destination was the Milone Company, a brokerage
house that acted as an intermediary for a variety of goods. The
Milone Company was the third-largest house in the city; the two
above it were local businesses that had their headquarters in Pazzio.
The Milone Company was headquartered in a mercantile nation
far to the south and run by a powerful trader of noble lineage; the
Pazzio location was a branch.
Lawrence had chosen the Milone Company over the local brokerages
because it would pay higher commodity prices in order
to best its competitors and also because, having so many branches
in different places, it could provide valuable information.
His aim was to dig up information akin to the story he'd heard
from the young merchant Zheren. Who better to ask about cur-
80
rency exchange than traders who routinely crossed borders to do
business?
After securing lodgings for the two of them, Lawrence trimmed
his beard and set out.
The Milone Company was the fifth building from the docks and
the second-largest shop in the area. It had a huge gate that faced
the docks to accommodate wagon traffic, which made the shop
seem even bigger at a glance. Commodities of all kinds were piled
around the gates, as if to show off the company's prosperity. It
might have been their peculiar way of competing with the local
businesses, which could trade on their long-standing local connections
and didn't need flashy displays to prove they were turning
a profit.
Lawrence stopped his wagon at the loading area, and presently
an employee came out to meet them.
"Welcome to the Milone Trading Company!"
The smart-looking man tasked with unloading had a neatly
trimmed beard and hair. Normally a trading company's unloading
dock was a chaotic swirl of banditlike men shouting this way
and that — Milone was an exception.
"I've sold wheat here before, but today I have furs to sell. Will
you take a look?"
"Yes, yes, but of course! The man inside and to the left will be
happy to see you."
Lawrence nodded and with a flick of the reins drove the
wagon inside. Around the area were stacked all sorts of goods —
wheat, straw, stones, timber, fruit, and more. The staff was quick
and efficient, which is how the Milone Company was successful
even in foreign countries, a fact that would impress any traveling
merchant.
Even Holo seemed impressed.
"Ho there, sir, where are you headed?"
81
The two were watching the busy loading and unloading in the
shop but stopped at the sound of the voice. They looked in its direction
and saw a large man with steam rising from his suntanned
body. He didn't seem like the man Lawrence had been directed to
find, but he was certainly huge.
"Is he a knight?" Holo said under her breath.
"We're here to sell furs. I was told to come to the left side of the
shop." Lawrence met the man's eyes and smiled.
"Right, then, I'll just take your horse. This way, if you please."
Lawrence did as he was told and angled his horse toward the
man. The horse snorted. Apparently he sensed the man's vitality.
"Ho-ho, a good horse, sir! He looks stout of heart."
"He works without complaint; I'll say that much," said Lawrence.
"A horse that complains — now that would be something
to see!"
"You're not kidding."
The two men laughed, and the worker led Lawrences horse inside
the unloading area, and after hitching him to a sturdy wooden
fence, called out.
The person that answered was a man who looked more fit to
be carrying a quill and ink than hay bales. He seemed to be the
buyer.
"Kraft Lawrence, I presume? We thank you for your patronage."
Lawrence was used to being greeted politely, but he was impressed
that the man knew his name before Lawrence had given
it. He'd last visited the company during a winter three years ago,
selling wheat. Perhaps the man that now greeted Lawrence in the
entryway still remembered him.
"I'm told you've come to sell furs today." The buyer skipped over
the usual pleasantries about the weather and jumped straight to
82
the heart of the matter. Lawrence coughed slightly and shifted
into his trader persona.
"Indeed I have. These are the very ones, here in the back of the
wagon, seventy total." He hopped down from the wagon and invited
the buyer to view the furs. He was followed by Holo, who
jumped down from the wagon a moment later.
"Ho, these are good marten furs indeed. The year has been a
good one for crops, so marten fur is scarce."
About half the marten fur that reached the marketplace came
from farmers who hunted in their free time. When the harvest
was plentiful, they were too busy to hunt, and marten fur was
scarcer. Lawrence decided to push his position.
"You only see furs this fine once every several years. They were
drenched with rain on the way here, but look — they've lost none
of their luster."
"'Tis a fine luster, to be sure, and with good lie. What of
their size?"
Lawrence pulled a largish pelt from the bed and offered it to the
buyer, since it was generally prohibited for people other than the
owner of the goods to touch them.
"Oh, ho. They're not lacking in size. You said you had seventy?"
He didn't ask to see all the pelts; he was not so unrefined. Here was
the challenge of trade — there was no buyer that would not want
to see each pelt, but likewise was there no seller that would want
to show each.
This was the intersection of vanity, propriety, and desire.
"Well, then . . . Sir Lorentz . . . ah, my apologies, Sir Lawrence,
you've come to trade with us because you sold wheat here in
the past?"
The same name was pronounced differently in different nations.
It was a mistake Lawrence himself made often enough, so
83
he forgave it with a smile and produced a wooden abacus from
his pocket, which the man looked at. Different regions and nations
had different ways of writing numbers, and because nothing
was harder than trying to puzzle through these differences, merchants
hardly ever wrote figures down while negotiating. Moving
the wooden beads of the abacus would make the numbers completely
clear, although one still had to be mindful of exactly what
currency was being counted.
"I can offer . . . say, one hundred thirty-two silver trenni"
Lawrence pretended to think on the matter for a moment. "You
don't see furs like these often. I brought them to you because I've
done business with you in the past, but.. ."
"We certainly appreciate your business."
"For my part I'd like to continue our association."
"As would we, I assure you. In light of friendly relations, then,
what say you to one hundred forty?"
It was a somewhat transparent exchange, but within the mutual
deception was truth — which made the dealings more interesting.
One hundred forty trenni was a good price. It wouldn't be wise
to push past that.
But just when Lawrence was about to say "It's done, then,"
Holo — who'd been silent up until that point — tugged slightly
on his sleeve.
"Excuse me a moment," said Lawrence to the buyer, then leaned
down, putting his ear level with Hole's hood.
"I don't quite know — is that a good price?"
"Quite good, yes," said Lawrence simply, smiling to the company
representative.
"Well then, do we have an agreement?" It seemed the buyer
was ready to conclude the deal. Lawrence smiled and was about
to reply.
84
"Wait just a moment."
"Wha — " said Lawrence, without thinking.
Before he could say anything further, she kept speaking — just
like a canny merchant would.
"One hundred forty trenni, you said, yes?"
"Uh, er, yes. One hundred forty in silver trenni pieces," answered
the representative, a bit taken aback by the sudden question from
the up-to-now silent Holo. Women were rare in places of trade —
not unheard of, but rare.
For her part, Holo either didn't know or didn't care; she spoke
as freely as she pleased. "Ah, perhaps you didn't notice?"
The buyer, quite taken aback, looked at Holo. He seemed not
to understand what she was getting at; Lawrence didn't know,
either.
"My apologies, but have I overlooked something?" The buyer, a
merchant from a neighboring country, looked to be roughly the
same age as Lawrence. He was a veteran of countless negotiations,
who'd dealt with innumerable parties in his career.
It was to his credit that despite his experience, he appeared to
be sincerely apologizing to Holo.
Of course it was far from surprising that he was taken aback.
Holo had effectively asked him if he knew what he was looking
at.
"Mm. I can see you're a fine merchant, so surely you pretended
not to notice? I can see I won't need to hold back with you." Holo
grinned underneath her cloak. Lawrence nervously hoped she
wasn't showing her fangs, but more than anything he wanted to
know what she was doing.
The buyer had been accurate and honest. If Holo was telling
the truth, then Lawrence himself had also missed an important
detail.
Which was impossible.
85
"My intention is anything but, I assure you. If you'll kindly
point out what you're speaking of, we will be happy to adjust the
price appropriately . .."
Lawrence had never seen a buyer act so meekly. To be sure, he'd
seen them pretend meekness, but this was no act.
Hole's words had a strange weight, and her delivery was
perfect.
"Master," she said to Lawrence. "It's not polite to make sport of
people."
It was hard to tell whether she called him "master" to mock him
or because it was appropriate to the situation, but in either case, if
he bungled his response here, he knew he'd hear about it later. He
frantically groped for a response.
"Th-that was certainly not my aim. But perhaps you should be
the one to tell him."
Holo grinned a lopsided grin at Lawrence, flashing a fang.
"Master, pass me a fur, if you please."
"Here."
It struck Lawrence as silly that he had to exert himself to maintain
his dignity in the face of being called "master." Holo was the
only master here.
"Thank you, master. Now, if you please, sir .. ." said Holo, turning
to the buyer and showing him the fur. At a glance its lay, size,
and luster did not seem to merit an increased price. Even if she
were to talk up the lay as being especially fine, the buyer would
unavoidably ask to examine the fur more closely, and would inevitably
find flaws. The price was unlikely to drop, but the relationship
between buyer and seller would suffer.
"These are fine furs, as you can see," Holo said.
"I quite agree," replied the buyer.
"You won't see their like in many years. Or perhaps I should put
it this way — you won't smell their like in many years."
86
Hole's words froze the air in an instant. Lawrence had no idea
what she was talking about.
"'Tis a scent, but to miss it you'd need to be blind!" Holo
laughed. She was the only one. Lawrence and the buyer were too
stunned to be amused.
"Well, a smell is worth a thousand words. Would you care to
sample the scent?" Holo handed the pelt to the buyer, who took it
and looked uncertainly toward Lawrence.
Lawrence nodded slowly, hiding his confusion.
What was the point in smelling the pelts? He had never heard
of such a thing in all his dealings.
Neither had the buyer, surely, but he had no choice but to placate
his vendors. He slowly brought the fur up to his nose and
sniffed.
At first, his face showed a mixture of confusion and surprise.
He sniffed again, and only the surprise remained.
"Oh? Smell something, do you?" Holo said.
"Ah, er, yes. It smells like fruit, I'd say."
Lawrence looked at the fur in surprise. Fruit?
"Fruit indeed. Just as fur is scarce this year because of the harvest,
so did the forest overflow with fruit. This marten was scampering
about in that same forest until just a few days ago, and it ate
so much of that plentiful fruit that the scent suffused its body."
The buyer sniffed the fur again. He nodded, as if to say "true
enough."
"The truth is that while the fur's luster might be better or worse,
it generally changes little. Does the problem not come, then, when
the fur is made into clothing, when it is actually used? Good fur
is durable; bad fur soon wears thin."
"True, as you say," said the buyer.
Lawrence was astonished. How much did this wolf know?
"As you can tell, this particular fur has the sweet scent of a
87
marten that has eaten very well indeed. It took two strong men to
pull the hide clear of the body, it was so tough."
The buyer tugged on the fur experimentally.
He couldn't pull too hard on goods he hadn't yet purchased,
though — something Holo knew full well.
She was a perfect merchant.
"The fur is as strong as the beast itself was, and will keep the
wearer as warm as a spring day, shedding rain from dawn 'til
dusk. And don't forget the scent! Imagine coming across a perfumed
piece of clothing like this among coats made from nosewrinkling
marten fur. Why, 'twould sell so dear your eyes would
pop out."
The buyer was indeed imagining the scenario, gazing off into
the distance. When Lawrence thought about it, he could see that
the goods would sell high — or perhaps, he could smell as much.
"So, what do you think would be a fair price, then?"
The buyer snapped out of his reverie and straightened himself,
then played with some figures on his abacus. The beads flew back
and forth with a pleasant tak-tak-tak sound, finally displaying a
figure.
"What say you to two hundred trenntf"
Lawrence's breath caught in his throat. One hundred forty
pieces was already a respectably high price. Two hundred was unimaginable.
"Mmm," Holo murmured to herself. He wanted to beg her to
stop — this was going too far, but she was implacable.
"How about three pieces for each fur — two hundred ten in
total?"
"Er, well. .."
"Master," she said to Lawrence. "Perhaps we should try elsewhere
—"
"Uh, no! Two hundred ten pieces, then!" said the buyer.
Hearing this, Holo nodded, satisfied, and turned to her "master."
"You heard the man, master."
She was definitely teasing him.
The tavern called Yorend was on a slightly removed alleyway, but
it looked well-kept enough. Local craftsmen appeared to make up
the bulk of its clientele.
Lawrence found himself suddenly tired when they arrived at
the Yorend tavern.
Holo, on the other hand, was quite energetic, probably because
she'd managed to outwit two merchants at once. The hour was yet
early, so the tavern was mostly empty, and their wine was out very
quickly — Holo drained hers in one huge draught, while Lawrence
was content to nurse his.
"Ah, wine!" said Holo, belching a fine belch. She lifted her wood
cup and ordered another round, which the tavern girl acknowledged
with a smile.
"What troubles you? Aren't you going to drink?" said Holo,
munching away on some fried beans.
She didn't seem to be particularly dizzy with success, though,
so Lawrence decided to broach the subject directly.
"Have you ever worked as a merchant?"
Holo, still munching the snack and holding her refilled glass,
smiled ruefully. "Oh, I'm sorry, have I injured your pride?"
Naturally, she had.
"I don't know how many deals you've done in your life, but I
watched countless transactions when I was in the village. Long
ago, I once saw a man use that technique — I didn't invent it myself.
When was that, anyway . .. ?"
Lawrence didn't speak, but his eyes held the question: Is that
true? Holo looked slightly troubled as she nodded, and Lawrence
sighed even as he felt somewhat relieved.
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"I really hadn't noticed, though. Last night when I slept in the
furs, I didn't smell any fruit."
"Oh, that. That was from the apples we bought."
Lawrence was speechless. When had she pulled that trick?
And suddenly, he felt a chill of worry.
It was fraud!
"It's his own fault for being tricked," said Holo. "He'll be impressed
once he figures it out."
".. . You may have a point."
"There's no point in being angry when you've been tricked. A
real merchant knows to be impressed."
"That's quite a sermon. You sound like a wizened old trader."
"Heh. And you're just a babe in arms, yourself."
Lawrence had to laugh. He shrugged as he drank his wine. It
had a keen taste to it.
"All this aside, did you do as you were supposed to?" Holo was
talking about the Zheren matter.
"I asked around the Milone Company to see if anybody knew
about nations that would be issuing new silver currency, but they
didn't seem to be hiding anything. As long the information isn't
something that needs to be monopolized, they'll normally share
it. Makes for good business relations."
"Hm."
"But chances for this kind of deal aren't common. That's why
we're involved."
It wasn't vanity. It was reality. In currency speculation, prices
either rose, fell, or held steady. Even if the details became complex,
all one had to do was turn it over in one's head until one hit
upon the solution.
Once the proposed deal was reduced to the party that would
gain and the one that would lose, there were few decisions to
make.
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However . ..
"Still, whatever the trick, as long as we can avoid getting fleeced
and come out ahead, we'll be fine. "
Lawrence drank some wine and popped some beans into his
mouth — Holo was paying, so he decided he might as well take
advantage of it.
"I don't see the owner anywhere. I wonder if he's out," he said.
"Zheren did say we could contact him through the bar. He must
be on good terms with the establishment."
"Well, traveling merchants usually base their operations out of
either a tavern or a trading house. In fact, I've got to get to a trading
house later on. And the owner really isn't around, is he?" said
Lawrence, scanning the tavern yet again. It was a fairly spacious
establishment, with fifteen round tables; only two other people —
craftsmen from the look of them — were in the tavern.
He couldn't very well just go talk to them, so he asked the girl
when she brought them another round of wine along with some
roasted herring and smoked mutton.
"The owner?" said the girl as she set the wine and food on the
table. Her arms were very slender; Lawrence wondered where she
got the strength to handle the heavy food. "He's gone to buy ingredients
at the marketplace," she continued. "Do you have some
business with him?"
"Could you possibly tell him we're trying to get in touch with a
man named Zheren?"
If they didn't know Zheren here, that was fine, too. Many merchants
used taverns as convenient points of contact, so a misunderstanding
was entirely possible.
But it turned out to be unnecessary concern on Lawrence's part.
The girl's eyes brightened immediately at the mention of Zheren.
"Oh, Mr. Zheren? I know of him."
«T-\" Do you?
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"He normally comes soon after sundown. Feel free to stay here
until then."
She was a shrewd girl indeed, but she had a point. It was an
hour or two until dusk, which would be just enough time to enjoy
a nice leisurely drink.
"We'll take you up on that, then," said Lawrence.
"Do enjoy yourselves!" said the girl with a bow, then turned to
attend to the taverns other two patrons.
Lawrence drank from his cup of wine. Its tart scent wafted
across his nose, fading to sweetness on his tongue. Some liquors,
like rum, traded on their intensity, but Lawrence preferred the
sweetness of wine or mead. Sometimes he'd have cider just for a
change.
Beer was good, too, but its flavor depended on the skill of the
craftsman and the tastes of the person drinking it. Unlike wine,
whose quality depended entirely on price, a beer's deliciousness
was unrelated to its cost, so merchants tended to avoid it. There
was no way to know if the particular brew would suit your taste
unless you were from the region or town — so when he wanted to
appear local, Lawrence would order beer.
Lawrence thought on this when he noticed that Holo, sitting
opposite him, had stopped eating. She appeared to be deep in
thought. Lawrence spoke up to get her attention, but she was slow
in answering.
". .. That girl, she's lying," she finally said, once the girl had
disappeared into the kitchen.
"Lying how?"
"Zheren doesn't necessarily come in here every day."
"Hm." Lawrence nodded, looking into his wine cup.
"Well, I hope we'll see Zheren soon, as she says."
The girl's lie meant that she was already in touch with Zheren. If
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not, things would be complicated now for both Lawrence and the
mysterious young merchant.
"As do I," said Holo.
The reason for the lie was unclear, though. It could be that she
was able to call Zheren anytime she wanted and simply wanted to
keep Lawrence and Holo at the table and ordering wine for a little
while longer. Merchants and traders told lies large and small all
the time. Worrying over every single one would soon drive one to
distraction.
So Lawrence wasn't particularly worried, and he imagined Holo
was the same.
And other than Hole's delight at the honeycomb-shaped honeyed
stew, the sun set without incident, and soon customers began
filtering into the tavern.
Among them was Zheren.
"I rejoice at our reunion!" said Zheren, raising his wine cup. It
knocked against Lawrence's with a pleasant klok. "How fared
your furs?"
"They fetched a good price — as you can tell from the wine."
"I envy you! I daresay you had an angle?"
Lawrence didn't reply immediately, instead taking a drink of
wine. "That's a secret."
Holo was busily devouring the beans, possibly to hide her
smirk.
"Well, in any case, I'm glad you were able to sell them for a good
price. For my part, more capital means more profit."
"Just because I have more capital doesn't mean I'll be increasing
my investment."
"Say its not so! I've prayed for your good fortune in anticipation
of just that!"
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"Then you've been praying at the wrong place. You should've
just prayed for me to up my investment."
Zheren gazed upward, his face a mask of exaggerated tragedy.
"So, to business, then," said Lawrence.
"Ah, right." Zheren composed himself and looked at Lawrence,
but looked briefly to Holo as well, as though he knew she, too,
was a figure not to be underestimated.
"In exchange for selling me the information of which silver currency
is due to become purer, you want a portion of the profit I'll
make. Does that sum it up?"
"Indeed."
"Is this story of a purer coin true?"
Zheren faltered slightly at the directness of the question. "Well,
I'm predicting it based on information I got from a small mining
town. I think it's trustworthy, but. . . there are no guarantees in
business."
"True enough."
Lawrence nodded, satisfied at seeing Zheren cringe. He brought
some stew to his lips and continued.
"If you'd told me it was a sure thing, I'd have had to walk away.
Nothing is more suspicious than a guarantee."
Zheren sighed in relief.
"So, what would you want for a percentage?"
"Ten trenni for the information, plus ten percent of your
profit."
"That's a very conservative demand given the potential gain."
"It is. If you should take a loss, I won't be able to compensate
you. If I had to, all my assets would be forfeit. So I'll take ten percent
of whatever you make, but if you take a loss, I'll refund you
the information fee, and no more."
Lawrence mulled the issue over, his mind long since fuzzy
from liquor.
94
Zhereris proposal boiled down to roughly two possibilities.
The first was that he, Lawrence, would sustain a loss, and Zheren
would use that for his own gain.
The second was that Zherens proposal was basically sound.
However, thanks to Holo, he knew that Zherens claim that the
currency in question would rise in value owing to an increased
silver content was a lie. If so, Zheren planned to profit from Lawrence's
loss, but Lawrence didn't yet know how.
Given this, Lawrence began to wonder if Hole's estimation of
Zheren was mistaken after all. It didn't make sense that Zherens goal
was the paltry information fee.
But it wouldn't matter how much time he spent thinking about
it. Only when he got the information from Zheren would he be
able to get a fresh perspective.
If it became obvious that he would sustain a loss, he could just
get his information fee back. With a little bit of speculation he
could dodge any problems, and now his interest in whatever
Zheren was planning was greater than ever.
"That sounds good enough to me."
"Oh, er, thank you very much!"
"Just to confirm, you want ten trenni to provide me with the
information, and ten percent of my earnings. However, if I lose
money, you'll return the fee to me, and you won't be liable for
further losses."
"Yes."
"And we'll sign a contract to this effect before a public witness."
"Yes. As for the settlement day, can we make it three days before
the spring market? I expect the currency to change within
the year."
The spring market was still half a year out. It was enough time
for the currency to settle into its new value, be it up or down. If
it actually rose, there would be an accompanying increase of
95
confidence in the currency, and people would be happy to do
business using it. Its market value would rise rapidly. Those who
sold it impatiently would lose out.
"That will do. It should be sufficient time."
"In that case, I look forward to seeing you at the public witness's
office early tomorrow morning."
There was no reason to refuse. Lawrence nodded, and raised his
cup. "To profit for both of us!"
At the sight of both men raising their cups, the listless Holo
scrambled to get her cup in her hand.
"To profit!"
There was a pleasant klok as the cups knocked against each
other.
The public witness, just as the name implies, is a public service for
providing witnesses for contracts. However, just because a contract
was signed before a public witness, the town guard would
not necessarily catch someone who breached it. Even the monarchy,
in charge of the public good as it was, would not do that.
Instead, the offending party's identity would be spread around
by the public witness. This was fatal to a merchant. For larger
deals, this was even truer — a merchant with a bad reputation
wouldn't even be able to deal with traders from foreign countries,
at least not in that particular city.
The consequences weren't particularly effective for people who
were going to retire from trading, but as long as they planned to
continue as a merchant, the incentive was enough.
It was before such a public witness that Lawrence signed the
contract, paid Zheren the ten trenni, and received the information
without incident. Lawrence and Holo then parted ways with
Zheren and headed into the town marketplace. The empty wagon
96
would only cause problems in the crowded town center, so they
left it at the inn and went in on foot.
"This is the silver the boy mentioned, yes?" Holo held a silver
trenni. It was the most widely used currency in the region because
among the hundreds of different kinds of currency in the world,
it was one of the most trusted, and also simply because this town
and the region around it were within the nation of Trenni.
Nations that did not have their own currency were doomed to
either collapse or become client nations of larger powers.
"It's a well-trusted coin in this region," said Lawrence.
"Trusted?" Holo looked up at Lawrence as she played with the
coin on which the profile of the eleventh ruler of Trenni was engraved.
"There are hundreds of currencies in the world, and the amount
of gold or silver in each varies constantly. Trust is an important
part of currency."
"Huh. I only knew of a few different kinds of money. It used to
be that business was done in animal skins."
Lawrence wondered exactly how many hundreds of years ago
she was talking about.
"So, how about it? Have you worked something out now that
you know which coin he was talking about?"
"Well, there are several possibilities."
"For example?" asked Holo as they walked past the stalls in the
marketplace. She stopped suddenly, and a big man who had the
look of a worker about him bumped into her. He was just about to
shout at her when Holo looked up from underneath her cloak
and apologized. The man reddened and managed to say, "W-well,
be more careful."
Lawrence silently resolved not to be swayed by this particular
tactic of Holo's. "What's wrong?" he asked.
97
"Mm. I want to eat one of those."
Holo was pointing at a bread stall. It was just before midday, so
fresh-baked bread was lined up in neat rows. In front of a stall, a
maid was buying more bread than she could possibly eat, probably
for the midday meal of some craftsman and his apprentice.
"You want some bread?"
"Mm. That one, there, with the honey on it."
Holo indicated some long, thin loaves that were being showily
displayed from the eaves of the stall. The honey-drizzled bread
was popular in most places. Lawrence seemed to remember
that the tradition was started in a certain city where a baker
had hung the loaves from the eaves of his shop as he drizzled
them with honey as a way to attract customers. The tactic had
been so successful that fights broke out among the people who
wanted to buy the bread, and the bakers union had made it official
policy that all honey bread would be henceforth hung from
the eaves.
The bread did look delicious, but Lawrence couldn't help grinning
at Holo's sweet tooth showing itself yet again.
"You have money," he told her. "Go ahead and buy some if
you want."
"I don't imagine bread and apples are far apart in price.
Will you carry the mountain of bread I'll bring back with me?
Or shall I ruin the baker's day by asking him for so much
change?"
Lawrence finally understood. All Holo had were silver trenni
coins — each of which was worth far more than it took to buy a
loaf of bread. She'd bought more apples than she was able to carry
with a similar coin.
"All right, all right. I'll give you a smaller coin. Here, hold out
your hands. One of these black coins should get you one loaf."
Lawrence took the silver coin from Hole's hands and replaced
it with several brown and black copper ones, pointing at the coin
he wanted her to use.
Holo scrutinized the currency carefully. "You'd best not be
cheating me," she said suspiciously.
He thought about kicking her, but Holo soon turned on her
heel and headed for the baker's stall.
"Always with the quick tongue," retorted Lawrence, but in truth
he couldn't claim he wasn't enjoying himself.
When he saw Holo walking back, her face the very picture of
contentment as she sank her teeth into the bread, he couldn't
help laughing.
"Don't bump into anybody else," Lawrence said. "I don't want to
have to deal with a fight."
"Don't treat me like a pup, then."
"Its hard to see you as anything else when your mouth is covered
in sticky honey."
a »
For a moment Lawrence thought she was sulking in anger, but
the aged wolf was not so easily provoked.
"Am I charming, then?" She looked up at Lawrence with her
head cocked slightly, whereupon he slapped her on the head. "You
certainly can't take a joke," she grumbled.
"I'm a very serious person," said Lawrence.
Her faintly flustered demeanor went unnoticed.
"So, what was it you were thinking about?"
"Oh, right, right." It was better to bring up the previous topic of
conversation than stay in this uncomfortable territory. "So, back
to the trenni coin. Zheren may well be telling the truth."
"Oh?"
"There are reasons to raise the silver content. So ... here, take
99
this coin, a silver firin. It's from a nation three rivers south of
here. Its got a respectable silver content and is quite popular in
the marketplace. You could say it's the trenni's rival."
"Huh. Seems one thing never changes: a nation's power is
in its money." The always-quick Holo munched away on her
bread.
"Exactly. Nations do not always fight through strength of arms.
If your country's currency is overwhelmed by a foreign coin,
you've been just as thoroughly conquered. All the foreign king
needs to do is cut off your supply of money, and your marketplace
will die. Without money, you can neither buy nor sell. They control
your economy."
"So they're increasing the silver content in order to gain advantage
over their rival," said Holo, licking her fingers after finishing
the bread.
Having come that far, Lawrence imagined that Holo might realize
she had something to say.
"I suppose my ears aren't completely omniscient." Evidently
she did.
"It's entirely possible that Zheren wasn't actually lying," agreed
Lawrence.
"Mm. I quite agree."
She was being so reasonable that Lawrence found himself
taken aback. Even though she'd admitted she wasn't perfectly accurate,
he fully expected her to angrily chide him for doubting
her senses.
"What, did you think I was going to be angry?"
"I surely did."
"Well, I might be angry at thatl" she said with a mischievous
smile.
"In any case, Zheren might not have been lying."
"Hmm. So where are we going now?"
100
"Now that we know which coin to look into, we're going to
look into it."
"So, to the mint?"
Lawrence couldn't help laughing at her naive question, which
earned him a sharp, angry look. "If a merchant like me showed up
at the mint, the only greeting I'd get would be the business end of
a spear. No, we're going to see the cambist."
"Huh. I guess there are things even I don't know."
Lawrence was understanding Holos personality better and better.
"Once we're there, we'll see how the coin has been performing
recently."
"What do you mean?"
"When a currency's value changes drastically, there are always
signs."
"Like the weather before a storm?"
Lawrence smiled at the amusing analogy. "Something like that.
When the purity is going to increase a lot, it increases a little at a
time, and when it s going to drop, it will drop gradually."
"Mmm . .."
It didn't seem like Holo fully understood, so Lawrence launched
into a lecture, sounding for all the world like a determined schoolteacher.
"Currency is based on trust. Relative to the absolute value of
the gold or silver in them, coins are obviously more highly valued.
Of course, the value is set very carefully, but since what you're
actually doing is arbitrarily assigning a value to something with
no inherent worth, you can think of it as a ball of trust. In fact,
as long as the changes to a coin's purity aren't large, they're impossible
to detect. Even a cambist has difficulty with it. You have
to melt the coin down to be sure. But because a currency is based
on trust, when it gains popularity its actual value can exceed its
face value — or do the opposite. There are many possible reasons
101
for changes in its popularity, and one of the biggest is a change
in the gold or silver purity of the coin. That's why people are so
sensitive to changes in a currency — so sensitive that even changes
too small to detect with eyeglasses or a scale can still be considered
major."
He finished his lengthy digression. Holo stared off into the distance,
appearing to be deep in thought. Lawrence suspected even
the canny Holo wouldn't understand everything from the first
explanation. He prepared himself to answer her questions, but
none were forthcoming.
When he looked more carefully at her face, she seemed not to
be trying to piece things together in her head, but rather as if she
was confirming something.
He didn't want to believe it, but she may well have understood
perfectly the first time.
"Hmph. So when whoever makes the coins wants to change the
purity, first they'll make a minute change to see what the reaction
is, then they'll adjust it up or down, yes?"
Having an apprentice like this was certainly a mixed blessing. A
superior apprentice was the pride of any merchant, but humiliation
lurked.
Lawrence hid the frustration he felt — it had taken him a full
month to understand the concept of currency valuation. "Y-yeah,
that's about right," he answered.
"The human world certainly is complicated." Despite the admission,
her comprehension was terrifyingly quick.
As the two conversed, they approached a narrow river. It wasn't
the Slaude that flowed by Pazzio, but rather an artificial canal that
diverted water from the Slaude, so that goods coming down the
river could be efficiently transported into the city center without
having to bring them ashore first.
To that end, rafts were constantly floating along the river, tended
102
by boatmen whose voices as they shouted at one another were
now audible.
Lawrence was headed for the bridge that spanned the canal.
Cambists and goldsmiths had long situated their businesses on
bridges. There they would set up their tables and their scales and
do business. Naturally, they were closed on rainy days.
"Oh ho, it's quite crowded," remarked Holo as they reached the
largest bridge in Pazzio. With the sluice gates closed, flooding was
impossible, so a bridge far larger than could ever be constructed
over an ordinary river connected both sides of the canal, with
cambists and goldsmiths packed elbow-to-elbow along its sides.
All were highly successful, and the cambists in particular were
kept busy changing money from lands near and far. Next to them,
the goldsmiths busied themselves with their jewelry and alchemy.
There were no crucibles for melting metal, but small jobs and orders
for larger ones were common. As one would expect from a
place where the bulk of the city's taxes were levied, the place fairly
smelled of money.
"There are so many; how does one choose?"
"Any merchant worth his salt has a favorite cambist in each
town. Follow me."
They walked up the congested bridge, Holo scurrying to keep
up with Lawrence.
The bridges were crowded with passersby even in the best of
times, and even though it was now illegal everywhere, the apprentices
of the cambists and goldsmiths would jump from the
bridge on errands for their masters, turning the milieu carnivalesque.
The liveliness inevitably resulted in fraud — and it was
always the customers who risked being cheated.
"Ah, there he is." Lawrence himself had been swindled many
times in the past, and only once he'd made friends with certain
money changers had it stopped.
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His favored cambist in Pazzio looked a bit younger than him.
"Ho, Weiz. It's been a while," said Lawrence to the fair-haired
cambist, who was just finishing business with another customer.
Weiz looked up at the mention of his name and smiled broadly
upon recognizing Lawrence. "Well, if it isn't Lawrence! It has indeed
been a while! When did you get into town?"
The association between the two professionals had been long. It
was like a friendship, formed not out of kindness but necessity.
"Just yesterday," replied Lawrence. "Took a detour from Yorenz
to do some business."
"You never change, old friend. You look well!"
"I'm all right. How about yourself?"
"Hemorrhoids, my friend. Finally caught the curse of our trade!
It's not pleasant."
Weiz spoke with a smile, but it was the unpleasant proof of the
true cambist. Sitting all day in one place so as not to miss a customer,
nearly all of them suffered from hemorrhoids eventually.
"So, what brings you here today? Coming by at this hour means
you must have need of my services, eh?"
"Yeah, actually, I have a favor to ask . .. uh, are you all right?"
asked Lawrence. As if coming out of a dream, Weiz looked back
to Lawrence from somewhere else. His eyes soon drifted away to
elsewhere, though.
He was looking at the figure next to Lawrence.
"Who's the girl?"
"Picked her up in Pasloe on my way here."
"Huh. Picked her up, you say?"
"Well, more or less. Wouldn't you say?"
"Mm? Mm .. . might not be quite the word for it, but more or
less, I'll allow," said Holo with some reluctance, pausing her curious
glancing here and there to answer Lawrence.
"So, what's your name, miss?"
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"Mine? Tis Holo."
"Holo, eh? Good name."
Weiz grinned shamelessly; Holo returned it with a notaltogether-
displeased smile that Lawrence did not particularly
appreciate.
"Well, if you have nowhere in particular to go, why not work here?
I just happen to find myself in want of a maid. Someday you might
follow in my footsteps, or perhaps even become my bride —"
"Weiz, I've come for a favor," said Lawrence, cutting him off.
Weiz looked suitably offended.
"What? Have you already had your way with her?" Weiz had
always had an indelicate manner of speaking.
Far from having "had his way with her," Lawrence found himself
being toyed with by Holo, so he answered with an emphatic
negative.
"Well, then, you should let me have a go," snapped Weiz, looking
to Holo and smiling sweetly. Holo fidgeted nervously, occasionally
pausing to say things like "Oh, my," an affectation
Lawrence failed to find amusing.
Naturally, he concealed his irritation. "We'll discuss that later.
Business first."
"Hmph. Fine, then. What do you want?"
Holo snickered.
"Have you any recently minted trenni coins? If you can, I'd like
the three most recently issued coins."
"What, do you know something about the purity changing?"
Weiz knew his business — he'd immediately realized what
Lawrence was up to.
"Something like that," said Lawrence.
"Well, watch yourself, friend. 'Tisn't so easy to get ahead of the
crowd," said Weiz — which meant that even the cambists hadn't
heard of any imminent changes.
105
A
"So, do you have any or don't you?"
"I do indeed. There's a new coin came out just last month, at
Advent. Then the one before that.. . here it is."
Weiz produced four coins from slots in the wooden box behind
him and gave them to Lawrence. The year of issue was carved in
the wood.
There was no visible difference between any of the coins.
"We handle money all day and haven't noticed anything. They're
cast in the same mold, using the same ingredients. The lineup of
artisans at the mint hasn't changed in years. There've been no
coups, and there's no reason to change the coin," said Weiz.
The weight and color of the coins had already been scrutinized,
but Lawrence still held them up to the sun and looked at them
carefully. It seemed there really hadn't been any change.
"It's no use, friend. If you could tell just by looking, we'd have
noticed long ago," said Weiz, his chin in his cupped hands. "Give
it up," he seemed to be saying.
"Hm. What now, I wonder," said Lawrence with a sigh, returning
the coins to Weiz's outstretched palm. They made a pleasant
clinking sound as they fell.
"Don't want to melt them down, eh?" said Weiz.
"Don't be ridiculous. I can't do that," Lawrence retorted.
Melting down currency was a crime in any country. Weiz
laughed at the preposterous notion.
However, Lawrence was now at a loss. He'd been sure that if
there had been any change in the coin, Weiz would've had some
idea of it.
What to do?
It was then that Holo spoke up.
"Let me see them," she said, at which point Weiz looked up and
gave her his best smile.
"Oh, certainly, certainly," he said, handing the coins over —
107
though when she reached out to take them, he took her hands,
not letting go for some time.
"Oh, sir, you're such a cad!" said Holo with a smile, to shattering
effect. Weiz reddened and scratched his head.
"Can you tell something?" Lawrence asked, ignoring Weiz. He
doubted even Holo would be able to discern the purity of a coin.
"Well now, let's see," she said.
Just when he wondered what she would do, Holo brought the
hand that contained the money to her ear and shook it, jingling
the coins.
"Ha-ha, now that's impossible," said Weiz with a grin.
It was said that master money changers with decades of experience
could tell a coin's purity just by listening to its sound, but
that was mostly legend. It was like saying a merchant's goods
would always appreciate.
But Lawrence wondered. Holo had a wolf's ears, after all.
"Hmm," said Holo once she was finished. She chose two coins
and returned the rest to the money changing table.
She jingled those two coins together, then repeated the process
with different combinations of coins, a total of six times to check
all possible combinations. Then she spoke.
"I cannot tell," she said.
Perhaps possessed by the memory of how bashful Holo had
been when he'd grabbed her hands, Weiz put on an expression of
sympathy so exaggerated it was hard not to wonder if he'd ever
return to normal. "Oh, too bad! Too bad, indeed!" he said.
"Well, we've wasted enough of your time," said Lawrence. "We'll
have a drink sometime."
"Indeed! That's a promise — a promise, you hear me!"
Overpowered by Weiz's vehemence, Lawrence promised, then
the pair put the cambist's stall behind them.
108
Nonetheless, Weiz waived enthusiastically at them as they left.
Holo looked back several times and waved shyly in return.
Once the crowds closed around them and Weiz could no longer
be seen, Holo looked ahead again. She burst into laughter.
"He's an interesting sort!"
"For a matchless philanderer, I suppose so." It wasn't a lie, but
Lawrence felt he had to take Weiz down a notch anyway. "So,
what about the silver purity? Has it risen or fallen?" he asked,
smiling down at Holo. Her grin disappeared and she seemed
surprised.
"You've gotten quite good at ferreting the truth out, haven't
you?"
"I'm the only one who knows about those ears of yours, after all.
I know I saw them twitch."
Holo chuckled. "Can't let my guard down."
"But what surprised me is that you didn't say anything about it
there. Your lie was unexpected."
"Whether or not he would've believed me, aside, we don't know
what the other people nearby would've done. The fewer people
as know a secret, the better, no? I suppose you can consider it
compensation."
"Compensation?" Lawrence parroted back. He wondered what
he'd done that merited compensating.
"You were a bit jealous back then, no? This is in exchange
for that."
Lawrence's expression stiffened at Holo's teasing glance.
How had she known? Or was she just a little too good at luring
him into tipping his hand?
"Oh, don't worry about it. All men burn with foolish jealousy."
It was painfully true.
"But women are fools to take delight in it. This world is full of
109
fools no matter where you look," said Holo, drawing slightly
nearer to Lawrence.
It seemed that Holo had experience with romance as well as
matters mercantile.
She chuckled. "Though to me, you're both just lowly humans."
"Yet here you are, in human form. Best not bare your fangs now,
in front of your beloved wolves."
"Ha, a flick of my lovely tail charms human and wolf alike!"
Holo put a hand on her hip and swayed insouciantly. Somehow
Lawrence got the feeling that she wasn't lying.
"Joking aside," she said, to Lawrence's relief, "it was just a bit,
but the new coins have a slightly duller sound."
"Duller?"
Holo nodded. A duller sound meant that the silver purity had
dropped. A small change was hard to discern, but if the purity
dropped enough for the silver coins to become visibly darker,
any plebian could tell the difference in sound. If what Holo said
was true, it could be a sign that the trenni was going to become
less pure.
"Hmm . . . but if that's true, it's reasonable to assume that Zheren
was lying all along," said Lawrence.
"I wonder. The boy will have to return your ten trenni, depending
on how this plays out."
"I'd gotten that far. If he'd just wanted to swindle some money
by selling bad information, he'd have done it at the church without
going to all the trouble of meeting at a bar."
'' 'Tis a puzzlement."
Holo laughed, but in his mind Lawrence was frantically trying
to figure out the situation.
But the more he thought about it, the stranger it got. What was
Zheren planning? He was unquestionably planning something. If
Lawrence could figure out the motive, he knew he might be able
110
to profit as well. That's why he'd taken this risk in the first place,
but the fact that he still hadn't the faintest idea of Zheren's true motivation
bothered him.
How did anyone make money from a drop in silver price
and coin purity in the first place? All he could think of was
long-term investment. If gold or silver fell from a high price to
a low, you could sell at the high price, then buy up exactly
what you sold after it fell. You'd end up with exactly as much
gold as you started with, plus the difference in price. Speculation
on gold and silver was always fluctuating. If you waited for
it to return to its original price, you could realize a profit in
the end.
However, he didn't have time for that kind of long-term planning.
For one thing, half a year simply wasn't enough time.
"Well, Zheren brought me the deal, so he must have something to
gain. He must"
"Assuming he's not some kind of fool," added Holo.
"He did mention not being responsible for losses. Which
means .. ."
"Heh-heh," Holo began to laugh.
"What?"
"Heh. Ha-ha. Ha-ha-ha! You've been taken, my friend!"
Lawrence turned to Holo, startled. "Taken?"
"Oh, yes."
"For . .. what? The ten trennit"
"Hee-hee-hee. Forcing money out of someone isn't the only
kind of swindle."
Lawrence had heard of and seen many scams in his seven years
of experience, but he had trouble understanding what Holo was
talking about.
"What a scam! A plan where his opponent may or may not
gain, but he is guaranteed to never lose!"
Ill
Lawrence's head swirled, white-hot. He nearly forgot to breathe.
Soon the blood rose to his face.
"That boy will never lose. In his worst case, his profit is zero. If
silver drops, all he does is return your money to you. If it rises, he
gets part of whatever you make. It's a business that requires no
capital. Even if no profit appears, he'll be fine."
Lawrence was overwhelmed by exhaustion. To have been had
by such a frivolous scheme!
But it was true. He had been the one whod sworn there was
some larger ulterior motive. A traveling merchant so used to
using every trick he could would naturally assume so. And so
he had.
Zheren had predicted a profit was almost sure to appear.
"Heh. Humans are pretty smart," said Holo, as though they
were talking about somebody else's problem. Lawrence could
only sigh. Fortunately, he hadn't yet gone out of his way to invest
in trenni. All he had risked was what he had on hand. There was
nothing in the contract he had with Zheren about how many he
was obligated to purchase. All he could do now was pray there
were no fluctuations in the marketplace. He could then point out
Zheren's lie, and there'd be nothing stopping him from getting his
ten silver pieces back. Naturally if the price dropped, he'd be able
to regain them legitimately, so losing only a single piece to him
felt downright inexpensive.
When a merchant let his guard down, normally he lost everything.
But here, all Zheren had really done was hurt Lawrence's pride.
He slumped a bit before Holo, who snickered at him out of the
corner of her mouth.
"Although . .." Holo began.
Lawrence looked at her beseechingly, as if to say, there's more?
Holo looked back predatorily.
112
"Isn't it quite common for the silver purity to drop slightly?"
Suspecting that his redemption might start with this, Lawrence
forced himself to straighten his leaden back. "No, normally the
purity is controlled with extreme care."
"Hm. And yet out of nowhere, there's a deal that hinges on the
purity of silver coins. Can that just be chance, I wonder?"
"Uh ..."
The grinning Holo seemed to be enjoying this state of affairs.
No — she was definitely enjoying it.
"Now, you being in that village, at that time, with that sheaf of
wheat — that was chance. There is nothing so hard as discerning
chance from fate. It's harder than romance for a shut-in."
"That's a strange analogy," was all Lawrence could answer.
"You're lost in the maze of your own thoughts. When that happens,
you need a new perspective. When I'm hunting prey, sometimes
I'll climb a tree. The forest looks different from on high. For
example" — said Holo the Wisewolf with a crooked grin that
bared her left fang — "what if the person who's planning something
isn't that kid?"
"Oh . .."
Lawrence felt like he'd been struck over the head.
"There's no reason Zheren's profit had to come from you. For example,
perhaps he was hired by somebody else, and those wages
motivated him to pull you into the strange deal."
Though she was fully two heads shorter than him, Holo seemed
a giant.
"If you're looking at a single withered tree, it can seem like a
grievous wound to the forest. But from the forest's perspective,
that tree's remains will nourish other plants, acting for the good
of the whole forest. If you change your perspective, a situation
right in front of you can reverse itself. So — have you seen anything
new?"
113
For a moment, Lawrence suspected that Holo already knew
something, but from her tone it seemed that she was not testing
him but rather was genuinely trying to help. Nothing was more
important to a merchant than knowledge. But such knowledge
was no mere commodity to be priced.
The situation before him. His knowledge of that technique.
Lawrence thought — thought about it from a different perspective.
Zheren, the only man he'd talked to directly — what if Zheren's
gains were coming not from Lawrence, but from some other
party?
Lawrence's breath caught in his chest the instant the thought
came to his mind.
If that were indeed the case, he could think of only one possible
explanation.
He'd heard the setup from another traveling merchant when
they drank together in another town. The sheer scope of the tale
was so huge he'd assumed it was yet another tavern-story.
Still, the story could conceivably explain why someone would
do something so apparently meaningless as buying up a depreciating
silver currency.
He could also see why Zheren would be lying even as he signed a
contract before a public servant, and would use his influence in a
tavern, acting in a way that didn't make sense for a swindler.
Zheren had been trying to lend the transaction as much credibility
as he could in order to tempt Lawrence into buying up silver
coins.
If Lawrence was right, Zheren had been hired by another party
to buy up silver coins. Whoever it was wanted to collect silver as
discreetly as possible.
The best way to collect a particular currency without attracting
any attention would be to hire merchants to do it for you, appeal-
114
ing to their self-interest. Merchants who stood to turn a profit by
buying up silver currency would not want to share information
with others and would naturally be extremely careful. Then, you
could just wait for an opportune moment and smoothly take over
the collected currency, accomplishing your goal without influencing
the marketplace or tipping anybody off.
It was a common technique for buying up a commodity in advance
of a higher price.
The really clever part of this plan was that if the silver currency
fell, the merchants would want to unload their silver in order to
minimize their losses. This would make taking over their silver
holdings far from difficult, and pride would keep the merchants
who'd sustained losses from admitting that they'd invested in silver
currency.
It was a perfect plan for colleting coinage without anyone
knowing.
The massive scale of the plan could yield obscene profits. At
least, the profits mentioned in the stories about such plans were
stupendous.
Lawrence chuckled in spite of himself.
"Heh. You've figured something out, have you?" said Holo.
"Let's go."
"Hm? Uh, where?"
Lawrence had already started jogging away. He turned to Holo,
impatient. "The Milone Company. That's how the plan works. The
more depreciating silver currency that can be bought up, the
more profit there will be!"
Once he'd discovered the motivation behind someone's plan, he
could profit from it.
And the bigger their plan, the better.
115

The whole of the Milone Company went from shocked to vigilant
upon Lawrence's visit. Unsurprisingly—as Lawrence proposed
that together they deal with the plot behind Zheren's swindle. If
Lawrence had found Zheren's initial proposal difficult to believe,
the Milone Company found Lawrence's scheme that much harder
to swallow.
And of course there was the matter of the furs. They weren't so
angry as to have it color future transactions, but the supervisor
did smile ironically upon seeing Lawrence.
Even so, what spurred the Milone Company into tentative action
was seeing the contract that Lawrence had signed with Zheren
before the public witness, proving that they could investigate the
deal as much as they wished before proceeding.
Lawrence also asked them to check into Zheren's background,
impressing upon them that this was no simple fraud.
If they did so, the Milone Company would naturally have to
wonder why the plan was so intricate for a mere swindle. They'd
want to investigate it simply for their own future reference,
Lawrence anticipated — and he was right.
After all, if everything Lawrence said was true, the Milone
Company stood to reap enormous profit.
The Milone Company, like any company, was ever-watchful for
a chance to get ahead of its competitors. Lawrence's expectation
that they would overlook a proposal's shadiness if it promised sufficient
gain was correct.
Having sparked an initial interest in the plan on their part,
Lawrence's next task was to prove Zherens existence. He and Holo
hurried to the Yorend tavern that evening and informed the barmaid
that they wished to meet with Zheren. As expected, Zheren
did not frequent the place every night, and the barmaid told Lawrence
that he'd not yet come by that particular day. But at length
as the sun sank low Zheren arrived.
Lawrence made idle merchant chatter about this subject and
that, and all the while a Milone employee sat at a nearby table,
eavesdropping. In the days to come, the Milone Company would
investigate Zheren and determine whether Lawrence's proposal
was true or not.
Lawrence believed that Zheren had to have the support of a powerful
merchant. If that was true, it would be easy for the Milone
Company to trace.
There was, however, a problem.
"Will we be in time?" Holo asked upon returning to their inn
that evening.
Just as Holo suggested, the problem was time. Even if Lawrence's
expectations were correct, depending on circumstances
they could miss the chance to realize any gain. No — there would
be profit either way, but perhaps not enough to induce the Milone
Company to act. Without them, it would be difficult for
Lawrence to turn a profit on his own. On the other hand, if the
Milone Company moved quickly, the potential gain would be
stunning.
120
Both his own plan and the plan he suspected Zheren of being a
part of depended on time.
"We should have enough time. That's why I came to the Milone
Company in the first place."
By candlelight, Lawrence poured some wine he'd bought at the
tavern into a cup. He looked down into the cup briefly before
draining half of it in one go. Holo was sitting cross-legged on the
bed; she drank her cup dry and looked at Lawrence.
"Is this company really so capable?" she asked.
"Doing business in foreign countries requires very keen ears —
hearing merchants talking in a bar or customers in the marketplace.
If they weren't much better at collecting information than
their competition, they'd never be able to open up branches in
foreign countries, much less have those branches flourish. The
Milone Company is very good at this sort of thing. Investigating
someone like Zheren is child's play for them."
Lawrence poured more wine for Holo — at her urging — as he
spoke. By the time he finished, Holo had already drained her cup
again. It was astonishing.
"TH Tu h1- .»
"What is it?" Holo asked, staring listlessly off into the distance.
At first Lawrence thought she must have been pondering something,
but soon it was clear that she was merely drunk.
"You've had quite a bit," he said.
"The charms of wine are many."
"I suppose this is a good vintage. Normally I never drink anything
so fine."
"Is that so?"
"When there's no money, I'll drink wine thick with grape drippings,
wine so bitter it can't be drunk without adding sugar, honey,
or ginger to it. Wine transparent enough to see the bottom of the
cup is a true luxury."
121
Hearing this, Holo looked vaguely into her cup. "Hm. And I
thought this was normal."
"Ha! Well, you're higher and mightier than I."
Holo's expression stiffened. She set her cup down on the floor,
then immediately curled up into a tight ball on the bed.
Her reaction was so sudden that Lawrence could only look on
in shock. He assumed that it wasn't simply because she was now
sleepy.
"What's wrong?" he asked, not having the faintest idea what her
problem was, but Holo's ears didn't so much as twitch.
He said nothing more as he racked his brain trying to figure
out her problem, and finally hit upon it — the conversation he'd
had with her when they'd first met.
"Are you angry because I said you have more status than
I do?"
When Lawrence had demanded to see Holo's wolf form, she'd
said she hated being feared.
She also despised being celebrated as some kind of deity.
Lawrence remembered a song he'd heard from a traveling
minstrel. It claimed that the reason a god needed a festival every
year was because it was lonely.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."
Holo didn't move.
"You're a ... how shall I say it? You're nothing special — wait,
no, that's wrong. You're not a commoner. Ordinary? No, that's
not i t . . ."
Lawrence became more and more agitated as he failed to find
the right words.
All he wanted to say was that Holo wasn't special, but he simply
couldn't articulate that.
As he continued to cast about for something to say, Hole's ears
finally pricked, and he heard her snicker slightly.
122
Holo rolled over and smiled indulgently at Lawrence. "How
inarticulate. You'll never attract a female that way."
"Urgh."
Lawrence immediately remembered a time when he had stayed
over at a certain inn, waiting for a blizzard to pass, and become
taken with a girl there. She flatly rejected him, for no reason other
than the one Holo gave: he was desperately inarticulate.
The sharp-eyed wolf soon discerned this. "I was right, eh?" she
chuckled. "Still, that was . . . immature of me."
Lawrence softened at Hole's apology, and he offered his own
again. "Sorry."
"I do truly dislike it, though. Younger wolves were friendly
enough, but there was always a line. Weary of it, I left the forest. I
suppose" — Holo looked off into the distance then down at her
hands again — "I was looking for a friend."
Holo gave a self-deprecating smile.
"A friend, eh?"
"Mm."
Lawrence would have thought this topic unpleasant for her, but
Holo's answers had been strangely upbeat, so he asked the question
that was on his mind.
"And did you find one?"
Holo smiled bashfully and did not immediately answer.
Given her expression, her answer was obvious. She smiled as
she was thinking of the friend she'd made.
"Yes."
But Lawrence didn't find her happy nodding at all funny.
"He's a fellow from the village of Pasloe," she continued.
"Oh, the one whose wheat you borrowed?"
"Mm. He's a bit foolish, but very cheerful. He wasn't the least
bit surprised when he saw my wolf form. I suppose he is a bit
odd, but a good fellow nonetheless."
123
To hear her speaking as though of a loved one, Lawrence wrinkled
his nose but hid it behind his wine cup — he didn't want her
to see.
"He really is a fool though. Sometimes I'm at a loss."
Holo spoke happily, seeming slightly bashful to be discussing
the past. She no longer looked at Lawrence but hugged her tail,
playing absently with its fur.
Suddenly she let out a childish giggle and tumbled back on the
bed, sounding for all the world like a child sharing a secret with a
friend.
She was probably just tired, but to Lawrence's eyes it seemed as
though she had left him behind and was letting her memories
flood over her.
That was no reason to rouse her, though, so with a small sigh,
he drained his wine cup.
"Friends, eh?" he murmured, then placed the cup on the table
and stood. He walked over to the bed and drew the blanket up
over Holo.
Her cheeks were slightly flushed as she slept innocently, but the
longer he looked at her the more clouded his thoughts became, so
he turned his back to her and headed for his own bed.
But as he blew the tallow candle out and lay down, he felt a
certain regret.
He wished he'd claimed a lack of money and gotten a room with
a single bed.
Lawrence sighed more deeply this time as he faced away
from her.
If his horse had been there, it probably would've sighed at him,
too, he thought.
"We accept your proposal," said the head of the Milone Company's
Pazzio branch, Richten Marheit, in an even tone. It had
124
been only two days since Lawrence had come to the Milone
Company with his proposal. The company was indeed very efficient.
"I am very grateful. May I assume that you've discovered who is
backing Zheren?"
"He has the support of the Medio Company. I hardly need mention
that they're the second-largest company in the city."
"The Medio Company, eh?"
Based in Pazzio, Medio had many branches. They were the largest
agricultural broker in Pazzio, particularly for wheat, and were
all the more impressive for having their own ships with which to
move their product.
Yet something stuck in Lawrence's mind. The Medio Company
was large, but he'd expected Zheren's backer to be even larger —
perhaps a nobleman.
"We believe there is a still-larger figure behind the Medio Company.
With their resources alone, it would probably be impossible
to enact the plan you've described. There is probably a nobleman
operating behind the Medio Company, but there are many such
figures who deal with them, and we've been unable to narrow it
down to a single person. But as you yourself said, it won't matter
as long as we're first to act."
Marheit smiled slyly, showing a confidence borne of having the
immense resources of the Milone Company to call on, the likes of
which Lawrence could barely imagine. Their main branch was
patronized by none but royalty and high priests. They had nothing
to fear from a deal like this.
It was important for Lawrence not to betray any temerity. In
negotiation, showing weakness or servility was tantamount to
losing. He had to be bold.
He replied in an even tone.
"Well, then, shall we discuss how to split the profits?"
125

It went without saying that these negotiations would give rise to
his dreams.
Seen off by all the employees of the Milone Company branch except
the boss, Lawrence left humming a tune, unable to suppress
his happiness.
He'd proposed that the company give him five percent of
its profits from the currency exchange. This was a mere onetwentieth
of its take, but Lawrence couldn't stop smiling.
After all, if the Milone Company moved as he suggested, the
amount of trenni silver that could be bought up was not one or
two thousand, but rather two or three hundred thousand. If — as
the rough estimates suggested — they exacted a ten-percent return
from the deal, Lawrence's share could exceed a thousand
coins of pure profit. If he topped two thousand coins, and wasn't
too extravagant, he would be able to set up a shop in a town
somewhere.
However, when compared to the gain the Milone Company was
anticipating, the profit made from unloading the silver coin was a
mere bonus. They moved as a company, so such profits were insignificant.
Lawrence could never actually hold that kind of gain. It was
simply too huge and would never fit in his purse — but if the Milone
Company could realize the profit, Lawrence would be owed
a significant debt and, once he opened his shop, could make a
large profit on that loan.
So it was no surprise that he was humming so cheerfully.
"You seem pleased," said Holo, finally at the end of her patience
as she walked beside him.
"I'd like to see the man who wouldn't be pleased at a time
like this. This is the greatest day of my life." Lawrence gestured
127
expansively. The gesture matched his mood — as if he were ready
to catch anything in those outstretched arms.
The shop he'd long dreamed of opening was right before him.
"Well, I'm glad it's going so well," said Holo listlessly, her
mood in stark contrast to Lawrence's. She covered her mouth
with her hand.
It was nothing — she was merely hungover.
"I told you to go sleep in the hotel if you're feeling unwell."
"I was worried you'd get sucked into something unsavory unless
I came with you."
"What do you mean?"
"Why, precisely what I said . . . urp'.'
"Honestly — just bear up a little longer. There's a shop ahead.
We'll rest there."
"... All right." Holo nodded with a vulnerability that seemed
deliberate and grabbed hold of his outstretched arm. Wisewolf
or not, one could hardly accuse her of having any self-restraint.
Lawrence, at a loss, muttered "honestly," again. Holo had no
response.
The shop they entered was a tavern attached to a small inn.
Though it was ostensibly a drinking establishment, it specialized
in light meals and morning to night had a constant stream of
merchants and travelers that used it as a rest stop. It was about a
third full when they entered.
"Juice for one — any kind's fine — and bread for two," said
Lawrence.
"Coming right up!" said the shopkeeper behind the counter
cheerfully, then repeated the order to the kitchen.
Lawrence listened to the shopkeeper as he led Holo to an
empty table inside the tavern.
Hole's manner was more kitten than wolf as she sprawled over
128
the table. The walk from the Milone Company exacerbated the
fatigue of the alcohol working its way through her system.
"Your tolerance is far from weak — you drank a lot yesterday."
said Lawrence.
Holo's ears pricked under her hood at Lawrence's statement,
but she seemed to lack the energy to look at him.
"Uugh," she groaned.
"Here y'are, apple juice and two servings of bread."
"The bill?"
"You'll pay now, then? It comes to thirty-two lute"
"One moment, please," said Lawrence, opening the coin purse
that was attached to his waist and rummaging inside it. As he
collected the black coins that could easily be mistaken for bronze,
the shopkeeper noticed Holo's condition and smiled ruefully.
"A hangover, eh?"
"Too much wine," said Lawrence.
"Such are the mistakes of youth! It's the same with drinking as
it is with anything else — there's a price. Plenty of young merchants
stagger out of here with pale faces."
Any traveling merchant had indeed experienced this a few
times. Lawrence himself was guilty of it on any number of occasions.
"Here you are, thirty-two lutes"
"So it is. You should rest here awhile. I take it you couldn't make
it all the way back to your own inn?"
Lawrence nodded, at which point the shopkeeper laughed
heartily and retreated behind the counter.
"Have some juice," said Lawrence. "It was pressed at just the
right time." Holo raised her head lethargically. Her features were
so fine that even her pained expression had a certain charm. No
doubt Weiz would've been happy to take the day off to nurse her
129
back to health. Even the slightest smile from her would've been
thanks enough. Lawrence chuckled at the thought as Holo sipped
the juice and regarded him strangely.
"Whew . . . I've not been hungover in centuries," sighed Holo
after drinking half the juice and regaining a bit of vigor.
"A hungover wolf is a sad sight indeed. I suppose I can imagine
a bear drinking too much, but a wolf. . ."
Bears often took bags rilled with fermenting grapes hanging
from the eaves of buildings. They had to be fermented to make
wine, and as they did, they exuded a sweet scent.
There were even stories of bears making off with such bags only
to later collapse drunkenly in the forest.
"It was probably bears I drank with the most in the forest," said
Holo. "There was a bit of tribute from humans, too."
The idea of bears and wolves drinking wine together sounded
like something out of a fairy tale. What would the Church make
of this if they overheard?
"No matter how many times I'm hungover, though, I never
seem to learn."
"Humans are the same way," said Lawrence to the ruefully grinning
Holo.
"Now that you mention i t . . . what was I going to say? I had
something to tell you, but now it's gone. I feel like it was something
rather important, too .. ." said Holo.
"Well, if it's that important, you'll remember eventually."
"Mmm . . . I suppose. Ugh. It's no good. I can't remember," she
said, slumping back down on the table and closing her eyes.
She had probably felt like this all day. The shopkeeper hadn't
said it, but it was a good thing they weren't about to depart. The
wagon's shaking wouldn't make her feel any better.
"Anyway, all we have to do is leave the rest to the Milone Com-
130
pany. 'Good things come to those who wait,' after all. Just rest
until you feel better."
"Ugh . . . it's so undignified," said Holo, sounding even more
pathetic than before — she would likely feel ill for some time yet.
"I suppose you'll be off all day, then."
"Mm . . . it's pathetic, but you're right," she answered, still
sprawled on the table, opening a single eye to look at Lawrence.
"Did you have plans of some kind?"
"Hm? Well, I was thinking of doing some shopping after checking
in with the Company."
"Shopping, is it? You can go on your own. I'll rest here awhile
then return to the inn on my own," said Holo, raising her head
and sipping the apple juice again. "Or what — did you want me to
come along?"
Her teasing was by now standard, almost a greeting; so Lawrence
simply nodded.
"Oh, you're no fun," Holo pouted at Lawrences tranquility. Sipping
perfunctorily at her drink, she must have expected him to
become flustered, but even Lawrence could maintain his composure
at times.
Lawrence couldn't help smiling down at Holo again as he
chewed on a piece of bread.
"I was thinking of buying you a comb or a hat," he said. "Perhaps
some other time."
Holo's ears twitched underneath the cloak.
".. . Just what are you planning?" she asked, her eyes halflidded,
but watching Lawrence carefully nonetheless.
Lawrence could hear the swish, swish of her restlessly twitching
tail. Apparently she was worse than he expected at hiding her
thoughts.
"What a way to talk."
131
"As the saying goes, one has to be even more careful with meat
in ones mouth than with meat that's about to be taken away."
Hearing Holo's bitter words, Lawrence drew close to her face
and whispered into her ear.
"If you're going to act the prudent wisewolf, at least do something
about your restless ears and tail."
Surprised, Holo felt for her ears. "Oh!" she said.
"That should make us even," said Lawrence with a hint of arrogance.
Holo glared at him, thin-lipped and frustrated.
"You've got such lovely hair, it seems a shame for you not to
have a comb for it," he continued briskly.
He was happy having finally gotten the best of her, but
if he pushed, it was quite possible she'd put him in his place
again.
However, upon hearing Lawrence's words, the bored-looking
Holo sniffed and sprawled across the table once more. "Oh, you're
talking about my hair," she said shortly.
"All you do is bind it back with a hempen string. You don't even
comb it."
"My hair isn't important. A comb would be nice, though — for
my tail." A swish, swish sound could be heard after she spoke.
"... Well, if you say so."
Lawrence did think that her flowing, silken hair was beautiful,
and hair of any kind that was so long was very rare. It was
difficult for anyone other than nobility to be able to wash their
hair in hot water daily, so having such long, beautiful hair was a
mark of high birth.
So like anyone else, Lawrence had a weakness for a girl with
long, beautiful hair. Holo's hair was so lovely that few among even
the nobility could match it, yet she seemed not to understand its
value at all.
If she were to hide her ears with a veil rather than a heavy cloak
132
and wear fine robes instead of the rough clothes of a traveling
merchant, she'd be the equal of any maiden from a minstrel's
poem — but Lawrence shied away from saying so.
There was no telling how she'd react, after all.
"So, then."
"Hm?"
"When will you buy this comb?"
Holo looked up at Lawrence from her prone posture on the
table, her eyes shining with a certain anticipation.
"I thought you didn't need one," said Lawrence without rancor,
his head cocked slightly.
"I never said that. I would like a comb. A fine-tooth one, if
possible."
Lawrence didn't see the point of buying a comb if it wouldn't be
used to comb hair. In his mind, a fine brush of the sort used by
weavers would be best for her tail.
"I'll buy you a brush. Shall I introduce you to a good weaver?"
It was best to leave fur to experts with specialized tools, after all.
Lawrence was only half-serious, but when he finished speaking
and looked at Holo, his voice caught.
She was angry — so angry she was gnashing her teeth.
"You . .. you would treat my tail as a simple piece of fur?" she
said, her intonation flat — surely not because she was afraid
that talk of tails would be overheard by the other patrons.
Lawrence winced at her vehemence, but Holo looked as unwell
as she had all day. There was a limit to how much she could
counterattack.
"I cannot take this anymore," she said.
Lawrence suspected that her threats were empty.
He imagined that she might try crying, so he nonchalantly
drank some apple juice. "What, are you going throw a tantrum
now?" he asked, a note of accusation in his voice.
133
Naturally his resolve would waver if she actually burst into
tears, but he didn't say this.
Perhaps chastened by his words, or possibly for some other
reason, she opened her eyes slightly to regard Lawrence then
looked away.
Her childish demeanor was rather charming. With a small
smile, Lawrence mused that it would be nice if she were always
like this.
Holo was silent for a moment. Then, in a small voice, she said,
"I can't take it. I have to vomit."
Lawrence almost tipped the cup of apple juice over as he
scrambled to his feet and called out for the shopkeeper to bring
a bucket.
Well after the sun had set in the west and the clamor from outside
his window had subsided, Lawrence looked up from the desk.
Pen in hand, he raised both arms and stretched expansively. His
back popped gratifyingly, and he turned his head left and right
to work out the kinks in his neck, which also popped.
He looked back down to the desk. On it was a sheet of paper
with simple plans for a shop — the town it would be situated in,
the goods it would sell, and plans for its expansion. Written separately
were construction costs, plans for securing citizenship, and
a variety of other anticipated expenditures.
It was a plan for realizing his dream — to own a shop.
Even a week ago, this remained only a fantasy, but since
Lawrence had made his deal with the Milone Company, it suddenly
felt much more imminent. If he could bring in two thousand
trenni, then after selling some ornaments and jewels that
amounted to his savings, he would be able to open his shop.
Lawrence would be a traveling merchant no longer, but a town
merchant.
134
"Mmph .. . what's that sound?"
While Lawrence had been absorbed in gazing at the picture of
the shop he'd drawn, Holo had at some point awoken. Her eyes
were still blurry with sleep, but she appeared mostly recovered.
She looked at Lawrence, blinked a few times, and dragged herself
out of bed. Her eyes were slightly swollen, but she looked well
enough.
"How do you feel?"
"Better. A bit hungry, though."
"If your appetites back, you must be fine," said Lawrence, smiling
and indicating the bread on the table. It was dark rye bread —
the worst, cheapest bread you could get, but Lawrence enjoyed its
bitter flavor and bought it frequently.
Unsurprisingly, Holo made her displeasure with the bread
known after a single bite but ultimately gave up, since there was
nothing else to eat.
"Is there anything to drink?"
"The water jug's right there."
Holo checked to see that the jug actually contained water and,
after taking a drink, moved next to Lawrence as she munched
away on the bread.
"... A drawing of a shop?"
"My shop."
"Oh ho, not bad," said Holo, looking intently at the paper as
she ate.
When traveling in a country whose language he didn't speak,
Lawrence would use drawings to make deals. Sometimes he
simply couldn't remember the name of a particular commodity,
and interpreters were not always available. Hence, most traveling
merchants were good at drawing. Whenever Lawrence turned
a healthy profit, he would draw a picture of his future shop. It
made him feel even better than drinking wine.
135
And while he had confidence in his drawing abilities, it was
nice to be praised.
"What's this writing?"
"Location and expense planning. I don't expect it to go exactly
like this, of course."
"Hmm. You've drawn parts of a city, too, I see. What city is it?"
"None in particular — just an idealized city for my shop."
"Ho-ho. You've been very detailed here — I suppose you're
planning to open it soon, then?"
"If the deal with the Milone Company goes well, I will probably
be able to."
"Hm." Holo nodded, not looking terribly excited at the idea.
She popped a piece of bread into her small mouth, then walked
back over to the table. Lawrence imagined that the ensuing gulping
sound was her finishing the water.
"It's every traveling merchant's dream to have a shop. I'm no
different."
"Heh. I know. You've even gone so far as to sketch out your
ideal city, so you must have done this many times before."
"When I draw it, I feel that it will happen someday."
"An artist I knew long ago said something like that — that he
wanted to paint all the scenes he saw before him." Holo bit into a
second slice of bread and sat on the corner of the bed. "I doubt the
artist would have fulfilled his dream even now, but it seems that
yours is getting closer."
"Indeed. When I think about it, I can hardly stay still — I want
to run around the Milone Company, swatting the ass of every employee
I see."
It was a bit of an exaggeration, but far from a lie. Perhaps that
was why Holo refrained from making fun, simply chuckling and
saying, "I hope your dream comes true, then."
136
She continued. "Still, is having a shop such a good thing? Can't
you do well as a traveling merchant?"
"If you profit, sure."
Holo cocked her head slightly. "What else would there be?"
"A traveling merchant might make the rounds between twenty
or thirty towns — if you don't keep moving, you won't make any
money at all. Most of your year is spent on a wagon." Lawrence
sipped a bit of wine from the cup on the table. "The life being
what it is, you don't really make any friends — just business associates."
Hearing his explanation, Holo seemed to realize something
and to regret asking the question.
She really is a good sort, Lawrence thought, and he continued,
hoping to assuage her regret. "But if I could open a shop, I'd become
a true citizen of a town. I could make friends, and it would
be simple to search for a wife. It would be a great solace to me to
know where I would be buried when I die. Though finding a bride
who'll stay beside me even in death . . . that will take some luck."
Holo laughed slightly.
Among traveling merchants, the act of going to a new city to
dig up new goods was known as "searching for a wife," as it carried
the sense of going to find something rare and valuable.
In reality, though, simply opening up a shop did not guarantee
that one would be close to the citizens of the town.
Nonetheless, being able to stay on the same piece of land for a
long time was every merchant's dream.
"It will be bad for me if you open a shop, though," said Holo.
"Why's that?" said Lawrence, turning around. Although her
smile had not disappeared, it was tinged with sadness.
"If you open a shop, you won't want to leave it. I'll have to either
travel alone or find a different companion."
137
Lawrence then remembered that Holo had said she wished to
travel the world for a while then return to her homeland in the
north.
But she had her wits. She had the money she'd made from the
fur sale. Surely she would be fine on her own.
"You could travel alone, though, right?" Lawrence had no particular
agenda behind the words, but upon hearing them, Holo
silently looked down as she ate her bread.
"I'm tired of being alone," she blurted out, looking suddenly
childish as she swung her legs — which didn't quite reach the
floor — over the edge of the bed. She fell back and seemed so
small that even the flickering candlelight threatened to swallow
her.
Lawrence recalled the time Holo had so fondly reminisced
about her friend from centuries earlier.
Dwelling so nostalgically on the past proved she was lonely. He
remembered how she looked then, curled up as if to protect herself
from a storm of isolation.
Lawrence chose his words very carefully to avoid hurting her
feelings — she didn't often show this side of herself. "I expect
I'll stay with you until you're back home in the north country,
though."
He had little choice but to say as much, but nonetheless Holo
looked up with an expression that said "Really?" in a rather humble
manner. Lawrence carefully concealed the excitement he felt
and continued.
"Even when the money comes in I won't be able to open up a
store right away."
"Truly?"
"Why would I lie?" said Lawrence. He couldn't help smiling bitterly;
Holo, too, smiled, but in relief. The slight downward cast of
her eyes made her seem somehow tinged with loneliness. Law-
138
rence was struck with the incongruous realization that her eyelashes
were really quite long.
"So come on, don't make that face," he added.
A city merchant would probably have been able to come up
with something more effective to say, but unfortunately Lawrence
was always traveling and forced into a life absent of women.
Still, Holo looked up and smiled slightly. "Mm-hm," she assented
with a nod.
Seeing such a small girl so meek made her seem almost fleeting
somehow. The wolf ears she normally held so high lay flat and
directionless, and her proud tail curled up uncertainly next to
her body.
It was suddenly silent.
Lawrence continued to watch Holo, who seemed unable to return
his gaze.
She glanced at him just once, then quickly looked away. Lawrence
felt he'd seen this before. Sifting through his memories, he
realized it had been the apple incident, shortly after they'd arrived
in Pazzio.
She'd wanted apples then — what did she need now?
Understanding another person's desire was a singularly important
skill for a merchant.
Lawrence took a deep breath and stood. Surprised by the sudden
noise, Holo's ears and tail twitched, and she regarded Lawrence.
Flustered by his sudden approach, she looked away.
She reached her hands out to him as he stood before her —
tremulously, almost frightened.
"Was it crying in your sleep that made your eyes red?" Lawrence
took her hand and sat beside her. He pulled her close and
held her gently.
"When I . . . "
"Hm?"
139
"When . . . when I open my eyes, they're gone. Yue, Inti, Paro,
and Myuri. . . they're all gone. They're nowhere."
She was talking about her dream. Lawrence stroked her head
softly as she sniffled. The names she'd mentioned must have been
her wolf friends, perhaps even fellow wolf-gods — but he was far
from insensitive enough to ask.
"I — I can live for centuries. So I thought I would go traveling.
I was sure, so very sure, that I'd see them all again. But.. . they
were gone. There was no one."
Hole's hand trembled as she grasped Lawrence's shirt. Lawrence
himself didn't want to be plagued by such dreams.
If he were to return to his hometown, not a soul would remember
him — sometimes he had similar nightmares.
There were tales of merchants who'd left their homeland and
not returned for twenty or thirty years. They would finally return
home to find their village simply gone. It might have been razed
to the ground in a war or stricken by plague or famine — there
were any number of possible reasons.
This is why traveling merchants dreamed of owning a shop.
A shop meant a home, making a place for oneself.
"I don't want to open my eyes and find no one there . .. I'm
tired of being alone. It's cold. It's . .. lonely."
Lawrence remained silent at her outpouring of emotion, only
stroking her head. She was so distressed that anything he said
would likely fall on deaf ears, and he couldn't think of anything
appropriate to say anyway.
He himself had been assailed by the winds of loneliness when
riding his wagon or entering a new town.
There was nothing one could do in such times — nothing one
could hear and find consoling. The only thing to do was find
something to grab hold of and wait out the storm.
Holo continued to cry.
140

Lawrence held her, and at length the waves of emotion subsided
and she let go of his clothes, looking up at him.
He let go of her, and she sat up, still sniffling.
". . . How humiliating," said Holo, her nose and eyes still red
but her voice calm.
"Traveling merchants have dreams like that, too," said Lawrence.
Holo giggled shyly and sniffled through her stuffed-up nose.
"Your face is a mess. Hang on."
Lawrence stood and took the paper from the desk. The drawings
and figures on the sheet were dry, so he thought it would be
okay for her to blow her nose on it.
"But... this is your . . ."
"I always throw them away when I'm done. The deal isn't even
finished yet — it's too early to be optimistic," said Lawrence with
a smile.
Holo returned his smile and took the paper. After blowing
her nose mightily on it and wiping her eyes, she looked much
better. She sighed and took a deep breath, then looked sheepish
once more.
Seeing her like this, Lawrence wanted to embrace her again but
refrained. Holo was herself again, and he would likely be made
light of.
"I'm in your debt now," she said, picking up the now-crumbled
bread and eating it. It was unclear whether or not she'd discerned
his thoughts.
Relieved in any case that he hadn't been chided, he watched her
as she finished eating and yawned, dusting her hands free from
crumbs. She was probably tired from crying.
"I'm still sleepy. Can you sleep?" she asked.
"Soon, yes. Staying awake any longer would be a waste of candlelight."
142
"Heh, spoken like a true merchant," said Holo, smiling as she
sat cross-legged on the bed, then lay down.
After taking one last look at her, Lawrence blew the candle
out.
Darkness fell instantly. As his eyes were still used to the light, it
seemed pitch-black. The weather was clear and the stars were out.
He couldn't yet see the faint light that filtered through the wooden
window. As he waited for his eyes to adjust, Lawrence felt his way
to his own bed beneath the window in the corner of the room,
careful not to trip over Hole's bed on his way.
Finally he made it and, after feeling the edge of the bed, lay
down on it. In the past, Lawrence had bruised himself by carelessly
flinging himself toward the bed and accidentally hitting the
edge. He'd learned to be careful.
But there was no way for him to be prepared for what
awaited him.
As he started to lie down in the bed, he realized someone was
already in it.
"Wha — what are you —"
"Don't be such a prude," said Holo in an irritated voice that was
nonetheless flirtatious.
Lawrence let himself be pulled down, and Holo pressed herself
against him.
Unlike before when he'd held her gently, this embrace was tight.
He felt her unmistakably soft body.
Lawrence's rising heartbeat could not be controlled. He was a
healthy man, after all. He'd embraced her tightly almost before he
realized it.
". .. Can't breathe . .." came Hole's constricted voice. He returned
to his senses and relaxed his arms but did not let go of her.
She made no move to push him away.
Instead, she drew close to his ear and whispered.
143
"Have your eyes adjusted yet?"
"What do you —"
— Mean, he was about to say, but Holo cut him off with a finger
pressed to his lips.
"I finally remembered what I was going to say to you."
Her whispering voice was itchy. Itchy, indeed — though her
sweetly intimate tone was gone, replaced by an alarming edge to
her voice.
"Its a bit late. There are three people outside the door. I doubt
they are guests."
Lawrence finally realized that Holo was already wearing her
cloak. She rummaged around quietly, and soon all of Lawrences
belongings appeared on his chest.
"We're on the second story. Fortunately there is no one outside.
Are you ready?"
Growing excited in a completely different sense now, Holo got
up. Lawrence pretended to draw the blanket over himself, and put
on his clothes. Just as he was affixing his silver dagger to his waist,
Holo spoke loudly, her voice purposely carrying beyond the
closed door.
"Come, see my body 'neath the moonlight!"
As soon as she finished, Lawrence heard a window clatter open.
Holo perched on the windowsill and jumped down without hesitation.
Lawrence scrambled after her, putting his foot on the sill.
He didn't hesitate, either — because behind him came the sound
of the door being pried open, followed by heavy footsteps.
He felt unpleasantly weightless for a moment, but his feet soon
collided with the hard ground.
Unable to bear the force of the impact, Lawrence landed in a
squatting position.
He was lucky not to have broken his leg, but Holo still laughed
loudly at him, although she did extend her hand.
144
"We'll have to run. We've no time to collect the horse."
A stunned Lawrence glanced back at the stables. The horse had
been strong and cheap but more importantly was the first thing
he'd ever bought.
Part of him wanted to make a break for the stables, but prudence
told him not to. Holo's course of action was the right one.
Lawrence clenched his teeth and restrained himself.
"They will gain nothing by killing your horse; we'll wait for
things to calm before retrieving it, yes?" said Holo by way of consolation.
Lawrence could only hope that it was true. He nodded
and took a deep breath, grabbing her outstretched hand and pulling
himself up.
"Oh, also -"
Holo took the pouch that hung from her neck and undid the
string that bound it closed. She poured roughly half of the wheat
it contained into her hand.
"Just in case. You should take some, too," she said, casually
thrusting the grains into the pocket on his chest without waiting
for his reply. They felt warm; it was probably Holo's body heat.
After all, it was the wheat in which she lived.
"Right, now let's run."
Holo smiled as though speaking with a trusted friend. Lawrence
was about to reply but simply nodded his head and dashed
with her toward the town in the night.
"So, what I was going to say to you was this — if the Milone
Company could check up on that boy, surely the reverse is true.
His backers were bound to be alerted. If they discover we're gone
to another company with a deal, they'll try to silence us, no?"
The only light on the cobbled path was the moon, but it was
enough to see by. They continued to run without spotting another
person, then turned down an alley.
Lawrence could barely see anything in the darkness there. Holo
145
led him on, tugging on his hand as she ran, Lawrence stumbling
after her.
They ran near an intersection and saw a group of men behind
them, shouting. He caught the words "Milone Company" among
their shouts.
They, too, knew that the only place Lawrence and Holo would
find sanctuary was the Milone Company.
"Oops. I don't know the way," said Holo, still pulling on Lawrence's
hand as they came to a fork. Lawrence looked up and
checked the moon's position and phase and mentally roughed out
a map of Pazzio.
"This way."
They ran down the western fork. This part of Pazzio was old.
Buildings were constantly being rebuilt, and the road wound
through them like a snake. But Lawrence had visited Pazzio many
times. Furtively checking their position against the main road
as they went, the pair came closer and closer to the Milone
Company.
But their opponents were no fools.
"Stop. There's a guard."
They needed only to turn right at this intersection, follow the
road to its end, then turn left. Four blocks later, they'd be at the
Milone Company. There should still be men loading and unloading
wagons at this hour. If they could make it there, the thugs
wouldn't be able to touch them. In a city of commerce, the best
security was the wealth implied by the signboard of a large
business.
"Teh. We're so close."
"Heh-heh. I've not hunted in many years, but this is my first
time being hunted."
"This is no time for jokes. Oh, well, we'll have to take the long
way around."
146
Lawrence backtracked to the original road, turning right along
it. He decided that they'd take an alley after the next block and
circle around to the Milone Company.
But he was stopped after he made his first right turn.
Holo grabbed his shirt and pushed him against the wall.
"Did you find them? They should be close by! Find them!"
The current of fear that ran through him was worse than when
he'd been chased by wolves in the forest. Two men came dashing
violently out of a nearby alley. If Holo hadn't stopped, she and
Lawrence might have run right into them.
"Damn. There are too many of them. And they know the area."
"Mmm .. . 'tis a bad situation," said Holo. Her hood was down,
exposing her wolf ears as she scanned left and right.
"Shall we split up?"
"Not a bad idea, but I've a better one."
"Which is?"
Footsteps could be heard nearby. Undoubtedly every main road
now had a guard on it. They'd be cornered as soon as they tried to
use one.
"I'll head down the main road and draw them off. Then you can
take the chance to — "
"Wait. You can't -"
"Now you listen. If we split up, you're the one that will be caught.
On my own, I won't be caught, but you will. And when that happens,
who is going to go to the company? Shall I show them my
ears and tail and beg for your rescue? Well?"
Lawrence had no retort. He had already informed the Milone
Company about the depreciating trenni silver. They might even
abandon him and Holo both. Should that happen, his only recourse
would be to play himself as a trump card and threaten to
invest in their opponent.
And only he could conduct those negotiations.
147
"Either way it's no good. If the Milone Company sees your ears
and tail, they may turn you over to the Church. And I needn't
mention the Medio Company."
"So all I need do is avoid capture? And should I be caught,
I'll just hide my ears and tail for a day while you come to rescue
me."
Perhaps because of her bravado, Lawrence wanted to stop her
from doing this that much more. She smiled up at him.
"I'm Holo the Wise wolf. Even if my ears and tail are discovered,
I'll pretend to be a mad wolf, and none will want to come near
me." She grinned, showing her fangs.
Yet all Lawrence could think of was embracing the sobbing
girl who spoke of loneliness, with her impossibly slight form. He
couldn't imagine turning her over to these hired thugs.
Still smiling, Holo continued. "Your dream is to own a shop, is
it not? And just a moment ago I said I was in your debt. Are you
trying to make a dishonorable wolf of me?"
"Don't be foolish! If you're caught, you'll be killed! What honor
is there in that? I'll wind up owing you a debt I can never repay!"
raged Lawrence, his voice low.
Holo smiled thinly and shook her head. She poked him lightly
in the chest with her slender forefinger. "Loneliness is a deadly
illness. We are even."
Lawrence had no words at the sight of her calm, grateful smile.
Holo took advantage of the silence and continued. "Besides,
you're a quick thinker and clever — I promise. I trust you. I know
you'll come for me."
She quickly embraced the silent Lawrence and then slipped free
of his grasp, dashing away.
"There they are! On Loinne Road!"
As soon as Holo ran out of the alley, the shouts could be
heard, and the pursuers' footsteps grew distant.
148
Lawrence clamped his eyes shut for a moment, the forced them
open and ran. If he missed this chance, he might never see Holo
again. He quickly ran down the dark alley — stumbling a few
times, but always moving forward. He crossed the wide road and
entered another alley, heading west. The commotion continued,
but his opponent could not afford to make noise for long lest
they alert the town guard.
He continued running, sprinting again across the main road,
and heading down another alley. He needed only to turn right,
then left on the next main road, to reach the Milone Company.
"Just one? There should be two!"
Lawrence heard the voice come from behind him. Had Holo
been captured? Did she escape? If she'd escaped, that was fine.
No — he hoped desperately that it was so.
He jumped onto the moonlit boulevard and turned immediately
left. Soon he heard voices behind him. "There he is!"
Ignoring them, he sprinted with all his strength, hurling himself
against the gates of the Milone Company's loading area.
"I'm Lawrence — I came earlier today! Help! I'm being
pursued!"
Wakened into action by the commotion, the men on duty
opened the iron gate.
Immediately after Lawrence disappeared behind it, a group of
men carrying wooden staves rushed up to the gate.
"Wait, you! Give that man to us!" said one of them, hitting the
gate with his stave. The men began trying to use force to pull the
gate open.
But those who held the gate closed on the opposite side were
used to long days of loading and unloading. The gate would not
open so easily.
A bearded man on the far side of middle age emerged from
within the company building. "Scum!" he roared. "Whose house
149
do you think this is? It is the Milone Company's Pazzio branch,
owned by the honorable Marquis Milone, recognized by His
Grace, the thirty-third Archduke of Raondille! Anyone within
these walls is a guest of the Marquis! Know that when you strike
these gates, you strike His Grace's throne!"
Cowed by the mans grand speech, the attackers faltered. Just
then, the whistle of the city guard sounded.
The men seemed to realize this was their chance to escape. They
soon scattered.
Within the gates, everything was still for a while. At length, the
sounds of footfalls and guard whistles faded, and the man who'd
delivered the impressive speech finally spoke up again.
"That's quite a commotion so late at night. What's going
on here?"
"My humblest apologies, sir. I offer my deepest gratitude for
your sanctuary."
"Save your thanks for the Grand Marquis of Milone. What did
they want?"
"I expect they were from the Medio Company. Undoubtedly
they are displeased with the deal I've struck with your
company."
"Oh ho. You're a merchant who'll take risks. I haven't seen
many of your kind lately."
Lawrence wiped the sweat from his forehead and smiled. "It's
my partner that's the reckless one."
"Must be rough."
"I don't want to think about it, but that same partner may have
been captured. Would it be possible for me to speak with the
branch manager, Sir Marheit?"
"We're a foreign company. Raids and arson are a fact of life
for us. He's already been contacted," said the man with a hearty
laugh.
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It drove home to Lawrence how formidable the man who ran
this operation must be.
Perhaps they really would be able to guarantee his safety.
Uncertainty swirled in his mind, but Lawrence soon composed
himself. He would get them to guarantee not only his safety, but
his profit, too.
His pride as a merchant and his debt to Holo, who'd taken such
a risk for him, demanded no less.
Lawrence took a deep breath.
"Anyway, come inside, will you? Even wine gets better with
time," said the man. Lawrence, thinking about Holo as he was,
found it hard to calm himself.
Still, the old man was used to situations like this, and seeing
Lawrences agitated state, he offered some consolation. "In any
case, if your partner's all right, he'll come here, eh? As long as you
give us his name and description, we'll shelter him even if the
Church itself comes after him!"
It was an exaggeration, but it put Lawrence at ease.
"My thanks. Surely. . . no, without question she'll come. Her
name is Holo. She's a small girl, and wears a hood over her head."
"A girl, eh? Is she a beauty?"
Lawrence understood that the man was asking in order to ease
his fears, so he smiled and answered. "Of ten people, all of them
would turn to look at her."
"Ha-ha-ha! That's something to look forward to, then," laughed
the big man heartily, and he led Lawrence into the company
building.
"Eight or nine out of ten of them will be Medio men."
Although he had probably just been awakened, Marheit's manner
was no different than it had been earlier in the day as he
skipped the pleasantries.
151
"I agree. They have discovered that I came to you for assistance
with my plan for the silver coin and are trying to stop us."
Lawrence didn't want his agitation to be obvious, but he
couldn't help worrying about Holo as he talked. Holo being who
she was, he thought there was a chance she'd escaped, but it was
best to assume the worst. In any case, he needed guarantees of
both his and Hole's safety as fast as he could get them.
And for that, he needed the Milone Company.
"I believe my companion may have been captured. If so, it seems
obvious to me that negotiations will be impossible. Will the Milone
lend its aid?" asked Lawrence, only avoiding leaning over
the table with effort. Marheit seemed deep in thought and did
not face Lawrence.
Finally he looked up, slowly.
"You say your companion may have been captured?"
"Yes."
"I see. After the commotion here, I sent some of my men to follow
them. They reported seeing a girl taken, apparently against
her will."
Despite more than half-expecting Marheit's words, Lawrence
felt them grab hold of his heart and shake him desperately.
He swallowed his shock and managed to get some words out.
"That is probably my companion, Holo. She acted as a decoy so I
could make it here."
"I see. But what would make them want to capture your
partner?"
Lawrence had to almost physically restrain himself from
shouting. He couldn't afford to lose his temper in the presence of
a man like Marheit. "I expect it's because we joined with your
company in trying to thwart their plans."
Marheit's countenance remained impassive in spite of Law-
152
rence's heated response. He stared down at the table and appeared
deep in thought. Lawrence, distressed, couldn't help bouncing his
leg impatiently. He was about to jump up from the chair and begin
shouting when Marheit spoke again.
"It's a bit strange, though, don't you think?"
"What's strange?!" demanded Lawrence, finally jumping out of
his chair, causing Marheit to blink rapidly for a moment before
regaining his composure.
Marheit reached his hand out to his distressed visitor. "Please
calm yourself. Something is strange about all this."
"What's strange about it? Just as your company was able to easily
check up on Zheren, it was simple for the Medio Company to
see if anybody was interfering with their plan!"
".. . True, given that their headquarters are here ..."
"So what is strange?"
"Indeed, I understand now. This truly is strange," said Marheit.
Lawrence had no choice but to hear him out. "I was thinking,
how did they come to realize that you were conspiring with our
company?"
"Surely because I came here frequently. Also, if they noticed
that you'd started collecting trenni silver, all they'd have to do is
put two and two together."
"That is the strange part. You're a traveling merchant, after
all — visiting us several times to negotiate is entirely natural."
"But if they linked that to your company's interest in trenni
silver and the fact that I'm the one Zheren contacted . . ."
"No, it's still strange."
"Why?"
Lawrence did not understand. Impatience colored his voice.
"Naturally, the point at which we started gathering trenni silver
was after we finished negotiating with you. Consider this, Mr.
153
Lawrence: 'I cannot say how it will happen, but if you collect
trenni silver your profit is guaranteed.' We certainly wouldn't do
anything based on that alone, would we?"
«rp , » T-true . . .
"The fact that we are indeed collecting trenni silver means we
understand the entirety of this opportunity. Undoubtedly the
Medio Company also knows this. There's simply no reason to take
you as hostages."
"Surely you don't mean —"
Marheit nodded, his face expressing sad regret. "I do. We already
have all the information we need to turn a profit. What
happens to you now is not our concern."
Feeling dizzy, Lawrence listed to one side. It was true. Lawrence
was a single traveling merchant; no one was looking out for him.
"I hope you will understand how difficult it is for me to say this.
But we've already invested a significant amount of capital based
on the information you brought us. The profit will be immense. If
we must choose between bearing your grudge or giving up the
return, then . . ." Marheit sighed. "I'm sorry, but I must choose the
former," he said quietly. "Still. . ."
Lawrence didn't hear what Marheit said after that. In some
small corner of his mind, he wondered if this was what it felt
like to meet with bankruptcy. His arms, legs — indeed, his entire
body — felt frozen. He wasn't even sure if he was still breathing.
He was now, as of this moment, abandoned by the Milone
Company.
Which meant Holo had also been abandoned; Holo, who'd
given herself up to let him escape believing that Lawrence would
be able to negotiate her rescue with the Milone Company.
Lawrence recalled the expression on her face when she spoke
of returning to the north country.
When hostages had outlived their usefulness, their subsequent
154
prospects were clear. Men were sold to slave ships and women to
brothels. Although Holo had her wolf ears and tail, there were
rich eccentrics who collected such "demon-possessed" girls. Undoubtedly
the Medio Company knew one or two such collectors.
Lawrence thought of Holo being sold — he thought of how a
wealthy, demon-obsessed collector would treat such a girl.
No. He would not allow it.
Lawrence straightened himself in the chair and immediately
began thinking. He had to save her.
"Please wait," he said after several moments. "If your company
has come to this conclusion, surely the other side has done so
as well."
The Medio Company wasn't run by fools. They had gone after
Lawrence and his companion and had dispatched many men to
do it, even risking confrontation with the town guard.
"Yes. That is what struck me as so strange. I hadn't finished
speaking, you see — if the need arises, I will bear the grudge that
you would harbor toward the company."
Lawrence now remembered that Marheit had ended his statement
with a "still" and hung his head in red-faced shame.
"I can see that your companion is very precious to you. But
letting your emotions dull your thinking is misplacing your
priorities."
"My apologies."
"Not at all — if my wife were in danger, I, too, would likely find
it impossible to calm myself," Marheit said, smiling.
Lawrence saw this and bowed his head again, though his heart
thudded at the word "wife." He realized that if Holo were a mere
traveling companion, he would not be so upset, and Holo herself
would not have sacrificed herself to help him escape.
"Back to the problem at hand, then. Our opponent is a canny
company that will not easily be thwarted. You and your partner
155
have no theoretical value to them, yet they've targeted you —
there must be a reason. Do you have any idea what it might be?"
Lawrence did not have any such idea.
When he thought the situation through, though, he realized
that there must be some special reason for them to be captured.
He mulled it over.
There was only one possibility.
"No, that can't be . . ."
"Have you thought of something?"
Lawrence had immediately dismissed the possibility when it
first occurred to him. It simply couldn't be — yet it was the only
thing he could think of.
"The profit before us is almost unimaginable. We need only realize
it. If you've thought of something, no matter how trivial,
please tell me."
Marheit's request was entirely reasonable, but Lawrences realization
was not something to be shared lightly.
Lawrence thought about Holo, who was undeniably not human.
Most people would call her a demon. Such "demons" were
either hidden away at home or given over to the Church. Neither
was any way to live. Once the Church cast its eye on such a person,
he or she would certainly be executed.
Holo was indistinguishable from such a possessed individual.
The Medio Company could use her to blackmail the Milone
Company.
If the Milone Company did not want it revealed to the Church
that they'd had dealings with someone possessed by a demon,
they would have to withdraw.
If it came to an Inquisition, the Medio Company could righteously
accuse the Milone Company and Lawrence of having entered
into an evil contract with a demonic entity. It went without
saying that Holo would be burned at the stake.
156
Yet Lawrence still found himself skeptical.
Who had discovered Hole's wolf's ears and tail, and when?
Given Hole's normal appearance, it wasn't something easily
discernible. He believed that no one except himself knew the
truth of her identity.
"Mr. Lawrence," said Marheit, putting an end to Lawrence's
musings. "Have you thought of something?"
Lawrence couldn't help nodding at Marheit's patient question,
which meant he would now have to divulge the truth. But if the
real reason for their pursuit was something else, he would have
exposed Hole's secret for naught.
In the worse case, the Milone Company could turn the tables
on the Medio Company by accusing them of using a demon girl
to blackmail them.
If that happened, there would be no hope for Holo.
Marheit gazed seriously across the table.
Lawrence saw no avenue of escape.
But they were interrupted.
"Excuse me," said a Milone Company representative, entering
the room.
"What is it?"
"We just received a letter. It regards our current situation."
The employee held out a neatly sealed envelope. Marheit took it
and flipped it over. The sender's name was missing, but it did have
a destination.
" 'To the wolf.. . and the forest in which it resides?'"
In that instant, Lawrence realized he'd been right.
"I'm sorry, but might I look at that letter first?"
Marheit looked at Lawrence dubiously but at length nodded
and handed the envelope over.
Lawrence thanked him and, taking a deep breath, broke
the seal.
157
There was a letter inside and a bit of what might have been
Holo's brown fur.
The letter was brief.
"We have the wolf. The Church's doors are always open. If you
don't want the wolf in your home, shut your doors and keep your
family inside."
There was no longer any room for doubt.
Lawrence returned the letter to Marheit. "My companion,
Holo, is the wolf-god of the harvest," he said in a wrung-out
voice.
Marheit's eyes opened as wide as they ever got.
158

CHAPTER FIVE

Marheit was everything one would expect from a trader who'd
opened a branch in a foreign land.
Though initially shocked by Lawrence's revelation, he soon
calmed himself and began to think the situation through. He
uttered not so much as a single word of blame for Holo, who'd
been captured, or Lawrence, who'd made his escape. He was entirely
focused on protecting the interests of the Milone Company
and extracting any available profit from the situation.
"There's no doubting the threat implied by this letter. They wish
you, Mr. Lawrence, to know that if you don't want your partner
given up to the Church you must stay inside and not interfere."
"They must want us to keep out of their way until their plan for
the trenni silver is concluded, but that doesn't mean they won't
still turn Holo in when they're through."
"Quite right. Furthermore, we've already invested quite heavily
in the coin. Pulling out now means our losses would be huge
because the trenni is guaranteed to depreciate."
In such a situation, there was essentially no choice at all.
They could sit and await ruin, or they could strike.
The former was hardly an option.
"I suppose this means we have no choice but to strike first," said
Lawrence.
Marheit took a deep breath and nodded. "However, merely rescuing
your companion won't be enough. Even if we hide her here,
once the Church gets involved, we'll have no choice but to roll
over and let them have their way. She can't hide as long as she's in
this city."
"What if we flee the city entirely?"
"It's a great plain as far as the eye can see, and even if you reached
another city, there's a chance you could be extradited. Then there'd
be no hope for you at all."
They were cornered. Even meek compliance with the Medio
Company's demands would probably still result in Holo being
delivered to the Church. There was no reason for them to avoid
ruining a foreign company — in fact, the fewer competitors they
had, the better.
Yet striking first carried with it a host of difficulties. No —
"difficult" was the wrong word. Every possibility available to them
was the height of recklessness.
"Is there nothing we can do?" mused Marheit as if talking to
himself. "At this rate, we won't even be able to avoid unfounded
accusations, to say nothing of actually making a profit."
Lawrence felt as if he were sitting on a carpet of needles as he
listened to Marheit speak, but he bowed his head and listened —
he would do whatever it took to bring about a favorable result.
Merchants lacked the pride of knights or nobility. They were prepared
to lick a stranger's boots if it meant coming out ahead.
So Lawrence did not hear sarcasm or scorn in Marheit's words,
simply analysis. He had clearly summarized the situation they
now faced.
"You're saying we need some kind of card we can play
against them."
162
"You could put it that way. But even if we invest more capital, it's
meager compared with what they stand to gain from trenni silver.
So the problem can't be solved with money. We could report their
abduction of your companion to the Church, but that would
cause problems for you, and you might even deliver an unfavorable
testimony about our company."
"That... is quite possible."
There was no point in lying, so Lawrence told the truth. He
simply couldn't cut Holo loose, but if he did, unquestionably that
would solve the problem.
Marheit was undoubtedly aware of that fact. If it came down
to it, he would certainly try to persuade Lawrence to take that
option, though unsuccessfully. Lawrence knew he would choose
death with Holo first.
Though naturally he hoped he wouldn't have to.
This left him no alternative but to come up with some kind of
plan to alter this indefensible position.
"All I can think of," Lawrence interjected, "is to finish negotiating
the trenni silver deal and use the resulting profit as a
trump card."
Marheit s eyes went wide at Lawrences proposal. He didn't want
to lose the Milone Company's profit — that almost-magical return
made possible by exploiting a depreciating currency — any
more than Lawrence wanted to lose Holo.
Such opportunities came around only once in a great while.
That was what made Lawrence's proposed trump card so potent.
If it came down to it, the Medio Company would happily
turn Holo over rather than lose the profit.
Still — or perhaps because of that — Marheit covered his eyes
in worry. Losing that opportunity would be like losing a child.
This magical trading partner could bring them staggering
gains.
163
That partner was none other than the King of the Kingdom of
Trenni.
"The greatest gain that can be extracted from trenni silver is
securing special privileges from the king. According to our research,
the finances of the royal family are in decline. In other
words, if this deal succeeds, we'll have substantial favor with the
royal family. Abandoning that.. ."
"Abandoning it for my companion makes no sense at all," said
Lawrence.
"Are you suggesting that they purchase it from us?"
Lawrence nodded. He had heard of deals on this scale before
but had never been involved with one. He had no assurances that
it could actually be done, but his long experience as a merchant
suggested that it could.
"If it comes down to a choice between destroying the Milone
Company or obtaining special privileges from the king, perhaps
we could simply have them pay the equivalent value."
Lawrence was speaking off the top of his head, but it seemed
plausible.
The idea that you could make money from a depreciating currency
by collecting as much of it as possible was predicated on
the presupposition that the same Kingdom of Trenni that minted
the coins would be willing to buy up the currency.
They would do so because after recalling the currency, they
could melt it down. They would then mint more coins with a
lower silver content, resulting in more physical currency. If ten
coins became thirteen coins, that meant a gain of three coins.
This was the best way to increase immediately available funds,
but it hurt the nation's credibility, which would result in a loss
over the long term. For the royal family to be willing to do this
implied that it was in dire financial straits. What was worse, if
164
they didn't have enough of the crucial coin, diluting it wouldn't
create the extra funds the nation needed for breathing room.
The Medio Company was trying to assemble a large amount of
trenni silver to exploit this opportunity. Depending on the circumstances,
they might attempt to collect all of the trenni silver
circulating in the marketplace.
Then they would go to the king, and say something like "If you
will agree to the price we set and give us certain considerations,
we will sell you the currency."
With a few exceptions, a king was a king only because his fortune
or lands were greater than those of other nobility — and because
he had garnered the support of the population who did not
question his legitimacy. But simply being the monarch did not
guarantee perfect control over the lands of the kingdom. The
royal family could not simply control assets administered by other
nobility.
Thus, the assets of royalty were not appreciably more significant
than those of the various nobles. What made them special were
the assorted duties that fell under royal prerogative: authority
over mines, mints, tariffs, market administration, and so on.
While such authority didn't bring with it automatic gains, if one
knew how to manipulate the authority, it was like shaking money
out of a tree.
In all likelihood, the Medio Company wanted control over one
of these domains. Precisely which one was unclear, but if whatever
they were planning was successful, they stood to gain a major
advantage for their business.
What Lawrence brought to the Milone Company was a proposal
to snatch this opportunity away. They aimed to collect
more trenni silver than the Medio Company and negotiate with
the king first.
165
From the king's perspective, dealing with two companies competing
for the same privileges would be troublesome. Thus, if he
were to deal with anyone, it would be with a sole company.
If the Milone Company could conclude the negotiations first,
it would be impossible for the Medio Company to secure any
privileges.
Those privileges were entirely unique.
For the Medio Company's part, if said privileges were something
that could be simply purchased, they would pay any price.
The Milone Company was no different, but held by the scruff of
the neck as they now were, they would have to be content with
moderate compensation.
"Still... if they play their card, it won't just destroy this
branch — we'll be burned at the stake. Will they deal with us?"
Now was the time for nerve. Lawrence leaned forward and
murmured, "Surely the king would be troubled to learn that
the company with which he was dealing was to be burned as
heretics."
Marheit gasped at the realization. The Church's authority surpassed
even national borders. Its power was significant even
within mighty empires, to say nothing of small kingdoms like
Trenni.
And in any case, the king of Trenni was having financial difficulties.
The last thing he would want was trouble with the
Church.
"If we can sign a contract with the king, the Medio Company
won't be able to touch us. Even if they try to turn us over to the
Church, the king will not be pleased with the company that
brought such trouble down upon him."
"I see. Still, they won't just stay silent. They might just try to
bring us down with them."
"True."
166
"So in addition to the price for the privileges we'll hand over,
we'll be demanding your companion."
"Yes."
Marheit stroked his chin, his face expressing admiration. He
looked down at the table. Lawrence knew what Marheit was going
to say next. He took a deep breath and gathered his wits in
anticipation of his answer. This unique plan could break the deadlock
and bring both Lawrence and the Milone Company great
profit.
But it had its difficulties.
If Lawrence couldn't overcome those difficulties, he would either
have to cut Holo loose or be burned alongside her by the
Church.
The former would not happen — not ever.
Marheit looked up.
"Hypothetically, it's a sound strategy. But I'm sure you realize
it will be nearly impossible to execute."
"You're talking about how we'll surpass the Medio Company,
yes?"
Marheit put his hand to his chin and nodded.
Lawrence was prepared for this. "As far as I can tell, the Medio
Company has not yet collected a significant amount of silver."
"And your basis for saying so is . . . ?"
"My basis is that they didn't immediately turn Holo over to the
Church upon capturing her. If they already had enough silver,
they would've gone directly to the Church in order to destroy us.
Instead, they're trying to prevent us from moving, probably because
they're concerned that in the time it would take for the
Church to conclude our trial and sentencing, we would reach an
agreement with the king. To put it another way, they think you've
already collected enough silver to begin negotiations. It shows
they have no confidence in their own position."
167
Marheit listened with eyes closed. Lawrence took a breath and
continued.
"Also, I don't think the Medio Company wants anyone to know
they are collecting trenni silver — this helps them take advantage
of the kings weak position. From the standpoint of a nobleman
dealing with the king, it shows consideration for the king's position
and their relationship in the future to say that he just happened
to have a large amount of silver on hand, no matter how
transparent the lie. But to have people like Zheren target traveling
merchants and suck us into the deal, I think their aim is to begin
by having merchants gather the silver for them, then buy it up at
the opportune moment. Even if they suspect Zheren's motives, if
someone's willing to buy the currency, they'll be happy to sell.
This is all speculation on my part, but I don't think I'm wrong. If
the Medio Company started buying trenni silver in bulk, every
company in the area would notice the strange trend in the coin,
and we'd be far from their only problem."
Marheit nodded slowly. "Given all that, this may be possible,"
he murmured reluctantly, his eyes still closed.
The speculation was plausible, but it was still mere speculation.
Perhaps they hadn't turned in Holo because they didn't wish to
provoke the main branch of the Milone Company.
For whatever reason, the Medio Company was hesitating.
Given that hesitation, Lawrence and his partners had no choice
but to take advantage.
"All right, we'll assume the Medio Company is not prepared to
move. Based on that assumption, what action do you suggest, Mr.
Lawrence?"
Lawrence took those words at face value. He couldn't afford to
show any weakness.
He took a deep breath and spoke. "I will find Holo, rescue her,
and we'll run until the negotiations are finished."
168
Marheit's breath caught. "You can't be serious."
"Escape may be impossible, but we'll buy you some time. Use it
to gather as much silver as you can and conclude the negotiation."
"It's not possible."
"So you're going to turn Holo in, then? I'll be forced to publicly
denounce the Milone Company."
It was an unmistakable threat.
Marheit's mouth gaped at Lawrence's near-betrayal, stunned.
The fact remained, though, that even if they chose to sacrifice
Holo, the Milone Company had a contract with her and Lawrence.
If it came to a Church trial, the company had perhaps a
four-in-ten chance to be judged blameless, and even then, heavy
fines would be levied. It went without saying that Lawrence would
testify against the Milone Company.
Marheit agonized.
Lawrence took the opportunity to push.
"With the Milone Company's help, we should be able to escape
for a day or two. She is a wolf spirit, after all. If she sets her strength
to escape, none will be able to catch her."
Lawrence had no idea if that was true, of course, but it sounded
convincing.
"Mm . . . hm ..."
"Holo was caught because she acted as a decoy. If we hadn't had
a destination and sought only escape, that would've been easy.
Might I ask how long your company will need to assemble sufficient
coin to command the king's attention?"
"... How much time, you say?"
Though Marheit appeared overwhelmed by Lawrence's bravado,
his mind was racing at the possibilities. His gaze flicked
around the room, and it was clear he was deep in thought.
Lawrence thought that if he could rescue Holo cleanly and the
169
Milone Company was willing to help, he'd be able to stay on the
run for an even two days.
Pazzio was an old city. There were many buildings, and the
roads and alleyways were complex. If one wanted to hide, there
were innumerable places to do so.
Assuming he was running from only the Medio Company,
Lawrence believed he could stay hidden.
Marheit opened his eyes. "If we send a rider to Trenni now, he'll
make it there by sunset if all goes well. Assuming we can commence
negotiation immediately, he'll return here by dawn tomorrow.
Longer negotiation will lengthen his stay."
"Can you send a rider immediately? You haven't confirmed the
amount of silver you have."
"There's a limit to how much coin we can house, so we can
place a rough estimate on how much we'll be able to collect. As
long as we have that much by the day of the actual transaction,
we'll be fine."
Even if they negotiated optimistically, there would be no problem
as long as the currency was assembled by the day of the
settlement.
The idea was sound enough in theory, but it took a big merchant
to actually accomplish such reckless dealing. Additionally, they
had to be able to offer enough capital that the king would think
he couldn't afford to depend solely on his own resources. Using a
mere approximation of available monies to carry out such negotiations
was the height of recklessness, but the very fact that Marheit
was proposing the idea lent it credence, Lawrence thought.
"We wanted to negotiate only after we discovered who was
backing the Medio Company, which would reveal their funding.
Then we'd be able to both preempt their deal and estimate our
own. But we've neither time to think nor to look for more information."
170
Though he knew it was impossible, Lawrence worked the problem
around in his head and came up with nothing. He sighed as
if to voice his powerlessness.
He had to keep looking ahead. He straightened himself and
regarded Marheit.
"Can you reach a fast settlement with the king?"
Lawrence would have to run whether or not negotiations were
speedy. He was powerless to change the situation but would feel
better knowing.
"If the Milone Company wills it, negotiations will be brief."
Lawrence couldn't help chuckling bitterly, but Marheit certainly
sounded reliable.
He reached out with his right hand. "I imagine you know where
Holo is, then?" he asked, as though inquiring about the weather.
"We are the Milone Company."
Lawrence shook Marheit's hand, glad to have chosen the right
company to deal with.
"Assassination of our employees and arson of our facilities are
facts of daily life for us. That's why we make it a point to know the
city better than anyone. We have contingencies for any emergency.
Even if a legion of knights should storm the city walls, we'll
survive. But we do have a rival."
"The Church?"
"Indeed. The Church, like us, has a far-reaching presence. Their
front-line missionaries are especially like us in this regard, exceeding
even our abilities. You're aware of this, no doubt."
"They are ubiquitous and elusive, yes."
"Should the Church launch a search in earnest, you must not
run before thinking — stay hidden in one place. Of course we
hope to have the deal concluded by then. The password will be
'Pireon, numai.'"
171
"Two great gold coins, then?"
"It seemed auspicious. I shall pray for your success."
"I understand. Your hopes will be well met."
Lawrence shook Marheit's hand again, then climbed into the
cart. The cart was completely unremarkable, the kind you'd see
anywhere, but it had a roof that made it impossible to see who
was riding within. This was not, however, to help Holo escape,
but rather to deliver Lawrence to Holo. In fact, it was less about
delivering Lawrence than it was about hiding his whereabouts.
Agents of the Milone Company had caught wind of the commotion
the previous day and had followed the thugs without
knowing at the time what was going on. Just as they'd learned
where Holo was being held, they assumed that the Medio Company
had people watching them as well. There was no such thing
as too much caution.
Merchants would try to deceive each other just as soon as look
at one another — all the more so when they weren't looking.
Together with another Milone employee that was riding along,
Lawrence dismantled the floorboards of the carriage and looked
down at the slowly passing cobblestones.
"Once I've descended, I should touch the right-hand wall and
go forward, right?"
"Your destination is at the end. If all goes well, a hatch will open
above you. Should you hear the word 'racche,' please wait for the
escort to arrive. If you hear 'peroso,' though, make your escape
with Holo along the planned route immediately."
"The good outcome and the bad, eh?" said Lawrence.
"Easy to understand, isn't it?"
Lawrence gave a wry grin and nodded his comprehension.
"We'll be there soon."
Immediately after the Milone employee spoke, the horseman
on the driver s seat knocked on the wall. It was the stop signal.
172
The carriage braked to the sound of neighing horses as the
driver shouted angrily at someone. Lawrence jumped down
through the hole left by the missing floorboards and pushed aside
a large stone at his feet. Beneath the stone was a dark hole. Lawrence
jumped into it immediately and landed on his feet with
a splash. Having confirmed their passenger's safe drop-off, his
companions above slid the stone back into place, returning the
passage to total darkness.
A few moments later, the carriage resumed its advance as
though nothing had happened.
"I'm surprised they're so prepared," said Lawrence, halfshocked
as he put his hand to the wall on his right and walked
slowly forward.
The tunnel had once been used to carry water, but since water
pipes now connected the marketplace, it was no longer used.
That's as much as Lawrence knew about it, but the Milone
Company's knowledge of the system was complete, and they had
dug unauthorized extensions to the tunnels to connect various
buildings.
The Church also excelled at such subterfuge. It was said they
would use the digging of graves as a pretense to construct secret
underground passageways to be used for spying on heretics and
evading taxation. The Church was powerful, which meant it had
many enemies. Escape routes were always useful.
Large towns that housed main branches of the Church or companies
like Milone were so riddled with passageways that they
were scarcely different from fell catacombs where demons lived.
It was like making your living on a spider's web, a merchant had
once said to Lawrence.
Lawrence now understood the terrifying truth of that
statement.
The tunnel was dark and clammy but still better than some
173
of the alleys he'd walked down, which meant it was wellmaintained.
This reassured Lawrence. The Milone Company was powerful.
"Ah, here it is."
Lawrence heard the echoes of his splashing footfalls and realized
he'd reached the end. He reached out and soon felt the wall.
A traveling merchant was used to being attacked by wild dogs
on moonless roads. Lawrence was confident that if the worst
happened and he had to run down this tunnel, he'd be able to find
the wall.
Above and to the right, there was supposedly the warehouse
of a general store with connections to the Medio Company. This
was where Holo was being held. Directly above Lawrence was
their temporary base of operations, and apparently they'd secretly
constructed a path between the two. The degree of preparation
was chilling, but it might also have been built to facilitate the company's
expansion into other lands, Lawrence reminded himself.
A distant bell sounded from somewhere. It was the signal to
open the marketplace. It was also the signal to begin the plan,
so undoubtedly all hell was breaking loose above him. If they
couldn't free Holo in the time between now and the bell that
signaled the beginning of work, they would be in real trouble —
the general goods merchant would return to his warehouse.
He might have been a Medio protege, but bills came due
whether or not he was housing a hostage. Commerce never
stopped, after all.
The problem was the number of people guarding Holo. If their
opponents used too many people, it would be obvious to the
Milone Company, but if they used too few, it wouldn't be an effective
guard. Lawrence hoped they had allocated people with
the intention of keeping Hole's location secret their top priority.
174
The more people there were, the worse the fight would be. The
attackers wouldn't be holding ropes and blindfolds, but edged
weapons and clubs.
This would further complicate an already difficult situation,
and Lawrence desperately wanted to avoid that.
Lawrence wondered how much time had passed while he'd been
thinking. He was calm initially, but his legs now shook enough to
splash the water around him. He was deeply troubled. He tried to
calm his trembling legs, to no avail.
He tried stretching, but it only exacerbated his worry and made
his heart pound harder.
He looked up, hoping the trapdoor above him would open
soon.
Suddenly he froze, stricken with fear.
Had he come to the wrong place?
"S-surely not," he answered himself, making sure that it was the
correct dead end.
Just then, he heard a voice above him.
"Racche," it said, immediately followed by the sound of floorboards
cracking free of a foundation.
"Racche," said the voice again, to which Lawrence said, "Numai!"
"Pireon," came the reply, along with a blaze of light as the
floorboards slid aside.
"Holo!" exclaimed Lawrence in spite of himself when he saw
her face.
Unmoved, Holo said something to the person standing next to
her. She looked back down at Lawrence.
"How am I to get down there if you don't make way?"
It wouldn't be wrong to say Holo was her usual self, but when
he heard her speak, Lawrence realized he wanted to see her
happy face and hear her lively voice.
175
He did as Holo suggested and stepped aside, waiting for
her to descend — yet what filled his heart was not satisfaction at
seeing her face, but rather disappointment at missing her joyful
voice.
Of course, he knew it was nothing more than wishful thinking
and said nothing, but once Holo descended and looked up to
receive a bundle from above, paying him not the slightest heed,
the discontent in his heart grew stronger.
"What are you daydreaming about? Here, this is for you. Take
it, and let's go."
"Wha - oh."
Lawrence held the bundle that was shoved at him and headed
down the tunnel as if pushed. Something jingled in the bundle —
they must have stolen some valuables to give the appearance
of thieves. Soon another person descended from the trapdoor,
whereupon it shut. The tunnel was completely dark again. That
was the signal to move. Lawrence said nothing to Holo and began
walking.
They would turn right at the end of the passage, feeling along
the left-hand wall until reaching its end. They would then climb
out of the tunnel and into the carriage that awaited them there to
be taken to another underground passage.
Walking the tunnel wordlessly, they finally reached their
destination.
Lawrence climbed the ladder that had been prepared and
knocked three times against the ceiling.
If the escort failed to make the rendezvous, they would have
to take a different route — but just as the possibility crossed
Lawrences mind, a hole opened in the ceiling, and immediately
above it sat the carriage.
After confirming each others identities with an exchange of
"Pireon," "Numai," Lawrence crawled up into the carriage.
176

"Looks like you made it safely," said the Milone employee as he
pulled Holo up. He was understandably surprised to see her wolf
ears. "Business is full of surprises," he said with a smile, sliding the
large cobblestone back into its original position.
"There was another with us," said Lawrence.
"He'll be collecting the ladder and emerging elsewhere," said
the employee. "Once he's delivered the information about those
Medio rascals to our friends, he'll leave the city."
The almost frightening efficiency was due to their daily execution
and refinement of plans and counterplans. Once the employee
replaced the carriage floorboards, he said a quick "good
luck to you" and took Lawrence and Holo's bundles before exiting
the cart. At the employee's signal, the driver started the carriage
moving. So far, everything was going according to plan.
Everything except for Holo's reaction, that is.
"I'm so glad you're all right," was all Lawrence could manage.
He could say no more to Holo, who sat opposite him, unfolding a
strip of cloth that had been around her neck in an attempt to
cover her ears.
She only replied after finishing a few adjustments to the fit of
her makeshift hood. "It's good that I'm all right, is it?"
Lawrence wanted to say yes, but the words caught in his throat.
Holo was glaring at him as if she were about to bite his head off.
Perhaps she wasn't well.
"Say my name, then!"
If she could shout like that, she wasn't in the condition Lawrence
feared. Still, her vehemence made her seem twice her normal
size, and he flinched at it.
"Uh .. . Holo?"
"Holo the Wisewolf!"
It sounded almost like a threatening growl, but Lawrence had
no idea what she was angry about. If she wanted an apology, he
178
was ready to apologize a hundred times over. She'd been a decoy
for him, after all.
Or had something happened to her that she couldn't say?
"I can remember every single person that's ever shamed me in
my life. And now I must add another name to that list. Yours!"
Something had happened to her. Still, her anger seemed different
from the manner of girls he'd seen in villages that had been
taken by thugs or brigands. And if he said something foolish, it
would only be throwing oil on the fire of her rage.
Thus the silence grew longer; and perhaps the silence itself began
to irk her because she rose from her seat and closed in on
Lawrence.
Her white, clenched fists trembled.
There was nowhere for Lawrence to run. Holo stood directly in
front of him.
Their heads were at the same height, which lent Hole's level
gaze an incredibly penetrating quality. She opened her small fists
and grabbed the chest of Lawrence's shirt. Her strength matched
her appearance — Lawrence hadn't imagined her grip would be
so weak.
Again he noticed how long her eyelashes were.
"You told me, didn't you — you told me you'd come for me."
Lawrence nodded.
"And I . . . I utterly believed that you would come .. . grrh .. .
just thinking about it is infuriating!"
Just then, Lawrence came to a sharp realization, as if waking
from a dream.
"You're a man, aren't you? You shouldVe been in the front,
fighting tooth and nail! But you were in that hole in the ground —
you let me make a fool of myself —"
"But you're unhurt, right?" asked Lawrence, interrupting her.
Holo sneered at him, displeased.
179
She hesitated for some time before finally nodding, as if forced
to drink something very unpleasant.
Holo had probably been blindfolded. She may have mistaken
whoever came to her aid for Lawrence and said something meant
for him alone. That was probably why she felt — and blamed him
for — such needless shame.
The realization made Lawrence happy. He knew that if he'd
been the one to rescue her, she would have shown the expression
he longed to see.
Slowly putting his arms around Holo, who was still gripping his
shirt, he drew her closer. Holo resisted a bit, irritated, but soon
relented. The once angry-looking ears that were clearly visible
underneath her makeshift hood now drooped. A mildly sulky expression
replaced her original anger.
Though he might travel the world and amass a great fortune,
the one thing Lawrence could never have was right here.
"I'm glad you're all right," he said.
The eyes that had flashed in anger only a moment earlier
threatened to close. Holo nodded, her lips slightly pouting.
"So long as you carry that wheat with you, I'll not die." Holo
poked his breast pocket without moving his arms away. "For a
girl, there is a kind of suffering no easier than death."
Lawrence took Holo's hand, and Holo drew near to him, resting
her chin on his shoulder. He felt her weight intensely, heavier
than a burlap sack full of wheat.
"Heh. I'm so lovely that even human males fall for me. Not that
a one of them is fit to be my mate," said Holo mischievously.
When she finally released Lawrence, she wore her usual grin.
"If they tried to touch me, I'd just remind them that they might
lose a limb, or worse — they'd pale at that, oh yes! Hee-hee-hee,"
she chuckled, her sharp fangs visible behind her pink lips. It was
true; anyone would falter at such a sight.
180
"But there was an exception," she added, her delight vanishing.
This was a new anger, a quiet anger, Lawrence thought.
"Who do you think was there among those who captured me?"
Her expression was the height of disgust. She bared her fangs
slightly in rage, and Lawrence unconsciously let go of her hand.
"Who was there?" he asked.
Who was it who could so enrage Holo? Perhaps someone from
her past.
Holo wrinkled her nose as Lawrence considered. She spoke.
"It was Yarei. You remember him, no doubt."
"That -"
Cant be, he was going to say — but Lawrence never got that far
because something else suddenly occurred to him.
"That's it! The figure backing the Medio Company is Count Ehrendott!"
Holo had been ready to vent her spleen at Lawrence, but now
her eyes widened in surprise at his outburst.
"As someone with huge tracts of wheat, he can request payment
in whatever coin he wants! And if he could arrange favorable
duties for his wheat, it would be like a gift from heaven to
the Medio Company, the count, or even the villagers! Of course!
And that explains why there was someone there who knew you
were a wolf!"
Holo looked at Lawrence blankly, but Lawrence didn't notice
her as he leapt up to the window that faced the carriage drivers.
He opened the small window, and one of them leaned down to
listen.
"Did you hear what I just said?"
"I did indeed."
"The one backing the Medio Company is Count Ehrendott. The
count and the merchants that deal with his wheat are the reason
silver is being collected. Please inform Mr. Marheit."
181
"It shall be done," he said, then jumped immediately off the carriage
and took off running.
Lawrence imagined that the horses carrying the negotiators
bound for Trenni had already left, but if the negotiations were at
all prolonged, they would be able to propose additional conditions.
Knowing the source of the Medio Company's silver meant
it might be possible for a company with the reputation and resources
of Milone to snatch the deal right out from under them.
If he'd figured this out earlier, perhaps Hole's capture could
have been avoided and this entire transaction could have gone
much more smoothly.
It frustrated Lawrence to think about it, but there was nothing
to do about it now. It was good they'd discovered the truth when
they had.
"... I do not follow you."
Lawrence returned to his seat, arms folded as the possibilities
raced through his head, when he heard Hole's complaint. That's
when he realized he'd cut her off mid-sentence.
"Explaining it all could take some time. Let's just say that your
information was the key to figuring everything out."
"Huh."
Lawrence knew that it would not take much effort on Holos
part to understand what was going on, but she didn't seem inclined
to bother.
Holo simply nodded her head, uninterested, and closed
her eyes.
She seemed irritated at the sudden change of subject.
Lawrence chided himself for finding her sulking as charming
as he did.
It might have been a trap she'd set for him, after all, to demonstrate
how irritated she was at the interruption.
182
"I'm sorry I interrupted you," said Lawrence by way of an honest
apology.
She opened a single eye briefly to glance at him, then brushed
off his apology with a small "It's nothing."
Undaunted, Lawrence continued speaking. Holo was either
childish or cunning — one extreme or the other.
"Yarei should still be locked away in the storehouse for the harvest
festival. If he's in the city, that means he's involved in the deal.
He's acquainted with the merchants that buy wheat from the village,
and the village leader trusts him to do the dealing. Also, the
bulk of the wheat sales are conducted immediately after the festival,"
said Lawrence.
Her eyes closed, Holo seemed to consider this, finally opening
both eyes at length. Her mood appeared to have brightened.
"He must have heard my name from that boy Zheren. That Yarei
was wearing clothes far too fine for any village and thought rather
highly of himself."
"He must be deeply connected to the Medio Company. Did you
talk to him?"
"Just a bit," said Holo. She rid herself of the last of her anger
with a sigh. Perhaps it was the recollection of her conversation
with Yarei that had angered her so.
Lawrence wondered what he could have possibly said to her.
Holo had no love for the villagers, that was true enough, but she
had decided to leave. He didn't think her grudge went any further
than that.
As Lawrence pondered these things, Holo spoke.
"I don't know how many years I lived there. Maybe as many as
there are hairs on my tail."
Hole's tail swished beneath her coat.
"I am Holo the Wisewolf. In order to provide the greatest
183
harvest, there were years I had to let the land rest, so there were
seasons of meager harvest, too. Still, the fields I lent my aid
should've been more productive than others over time."
This was the second time she'd explained this, but Lawrence
nodded for her to continue.
"The villagers did treat me as the god of the harvest — but not
out of respect. It was akin to a desire to control me. Do they not
chase after the person who cuts the last sheaf of wheat, after all?
Do they not bind him with rope?"
"I've heard they lock the harvester away in the storehouse for
a week with treats to eat and all the tools they'll use in the following
year."
"The pork and duck were tasty, 'tis true."
It was an amusing reflection. The tales were apparently true —
tales of people locked up for a week only to be relased with no
recollection of having eaten all the food. And the perpetrator sat
right in front of him.
The vague fear that accompanied these stories now possessed a
concrete form: the image of Holo in her wolf form, devouring
duck and pork.
"Still," said Holo seriously as she set out to explain the reason
for her anger. Lawrence composed himself.
"What do you think Yarei said to me?" Holo bit her lip, momentarily
at a loss for words. She rubbed the corner of her eye
with her finger and continued. "He said he heard my name from
Zheren, and it made him wonder. I . . . it is pathetic, but I was so
happy to hear that.. ."
Hole's head hung low, and tears overflowed from her eyes.
"Then he told me that the days when they had to worry about
my mood were over. That they need no longer fear my fickle
nature. That since the Church was already after me, they should
just hand me over and be done with the old ways for good!"
184
Lawrence knew about Count Ehrendott's exchanges with natural
philosophers and how he'd introduced new agricultural techniques
to boost crop yield.
Even the most devout prayer must eventually show results, or
the spirit or god responsible will be discarded, and people will
begin to find the idea of depending on their own efforts much
more appealing. If new farming methods brought prosperity
where prayer failed, it was not surprising that the people would
start to believe that the god or spirit to whom they prayed was
capricious, unreliable.
Lawrence himself sometimes ascribed the vicissitudes of fortune
to some inscrutable god.
But the girl before him was not what came to mind.
She had said her reason for staying in the village was that she
got along with the villagers, that her friend from long ago had
asked her to see to the harvest. She had always meant for the fields
to prosper. But after she oversaw the land for centuries, people
began denying her existence, and now to hear that they wished to
be rid of her — how must that feel?
Tears fell freely from Hole's eyes. Her face showed a mixture of
frustration and sorrow.
She'd said she hated being alone. When a god forced people to
worship it, perhaps it was only out of loneliness.
If Hole's predicament elicited such wild-eyed notions in Lawrence,
it was hardly surprising it also made him want to wipe her
tears away.
"It doesn't really matter, in the end. I want to return to the
northland, so I must leave one way or another. If they have no
love for me, I'll simply kick the dust from my hind legs and
leave. 'Twill be a cleaner break that way. Still... I can't just leave
it like this."
She seemed to have stopped crying, but Lawrence could still
185
hear her sniffing as he stroked her head gently. He smiled as
broadly as he could manage and spoke.
"I — no, we — are merchants. As long as we profit, we triumph.
We laugh when money comes in, and cry only in bankruptcy.
And we will laugh" he said.
Holo glanced up momentarily, then down again, tears falling
from her eyes once more. She nodded, then looked back up. Lawrence
wiped her tears away a second time, and Holo took a deep
breath. She wiped the lingering tears from the corners of her eyes
almost violently.
For several moments afterward, her long, damp eyelashes
sparkled.
Holo sighed. "... I feel better."
She smudged away the final remnants of tears with one hand
and, looking sheepish over her outburst, lightly punched Lawrence
in the chest with a small fist.
"It's been centuries since I've had a proper conversation. My
emotions are far too fragile. I've cried before you twice now, but
I would have done it even if you had not been here. Do you understand
what I'm saying?"
Lawrence raised his hands and shrugged. "You're telling me not
to misunderstand."
"Mm-hm."
Holo happily rubbed her balled-up fist around on Lawrence's
chest.
She was being almost unbearably dear just then, and Lawrence
couldn't help but tease her a bit.
"I only brought you along to help me make money anyway.
Until the Milone Company concludes its negotiations, our job is
to escape. Having someone crying and carrying on in the middle
of that is just a burden. So regardless of who was crying in front
of me, I'd -"
186
Lawrence could proceed no further with his jape.
Holo looked at him as if stricken.
"... That's not fair" he grumbled.
"Mm-hm. Female privilege."
Lawrence poked her head lightly for being so shameless.
The window by the drivers seat opened, as if the driver had
been waiting for the opportune moment. He smiled reluctantly.
"We have arrived. Are you quite finished with your conversation?"
"We surely are," said Lawrence with affected enthusiasm as he
removed the carriage floorboards. Beside him, Holo snickered
madly.
"It's true, then, that people who bring talk of profit are rather
odd," said the driver.
"What, you mean my ears?" said Holo mischievously.
The driver laughed — she'd gotten the better of him. "It makes
me want to return to my traveling merchant days, looking at
you two."
"I wouldn't if I were you," said Lawrence, shoving the stone and
confirming the tunnel was the right one. He then climbed back
into the carriage to let Holo go first. "You might end up running
into someone like her."
"Ah, but a wagon bench is too wide for just one. I'd wish to be
so lucky!"
Lawrence chuckled; nearly any merchant would feel the
same way.
Without another word, he descended into the tunnel. Had he
continued, he was sure he'd embarrass himself. And in any case,
Holo awaited him.
"Surely 7 am the unfortunate one, to be picked up by the likes
of you!" said Holo there in the darkness once the driver replaced
the stone and drove away with a quiet rumble.
187
Lawrence thought about how to turn the tables while the sound
of a horse's neigh echoed faintly above them, but ultimately decided
that no matter what he said, Holo would win in the end. He
gave in.
"You're too clever by half."
" 'Tis what makes me so charming," said Holo, as if it were the
most obvious thing in the world. What could he say to that?
No, it's because I'm always searching for a retort that I fall into
her trap, he thought to himself.
He decided to take the most unexpected route.
Lawrence coughed quietly.
Then he looked away. "Well. . . yes, you're quite charming," he
said in the shiest, most bashful tone he could manage.
There was no way she would anticipate such an answer, he was
certain.
He forced himself not to laugh in the darkness. As he expected,
she was silent.
Now, for the finishing blow, he thought.
As he turned to face her, the softest sensation filled his hand.
His mind went blank at the realization that it was Hole's small,
impossibly soft hand.
".. . I'm so happy."
Lawrence's heart couldn't help stirring at those sweet, reticent,
girlish words. As if to punctuate it, her hand squeezed his ever
so slightly, as if she were embarrassed with her admission of
happiness.
So it was Holo who dealt the finishing blow.
"You really are an adorable boy," she said, amused at her own
joke — which was even more irritating. Lawrence wasn't angry
with her for saying so, but rather himself for giving her the
chance.
188
And yet he didn't think of letting her hand go, which felt somehow
pathetic — and Hole's holding his hand made him feel unreasonably
pleased.
"Too clever by half," he murmured to himself.
It was quiet in the tunnel.
Then it filled with the echoes of Hole's giggling.
189

CHAPTER SIX

Holo stopped short, surely not because of the rat that scampered
away with a squeak at her feet.
There in the inky darkness, Lawrence turned to Holo. He
wouldn't lose her, as even now he held her hand.
"What is it?"
"Do you not feel a stirring in the air?"
Lawrence wasn't sure where exactly in the city they were, but
the scent of clean water in the air suggested that it was somewhere
near the marketplace. He could at least tell that they were well
away from the river that flowed alongside the city.
It was easy to imagine the countless people and horse-drawn
carts passing above them. A bit of movement in the air was hardly
surprising.
"Isn't it coming from above?" he asked.
"No . .." said Holo. He could tell she was glancing this way
and that. But they were in a tunnel — there were only two directions
to go.
"If I had whiskers I would be able to tell.. ."
"Are you sure it's not your imagination?"
"No . .. there's a sound. I can hear it. Water? The sound of
splashes —"
Lawrence's eyes widened at his instinctive thought — they were
being pursued.
"It's from ahead. This won't do. We must retreat."
Before Holo could finish, Lawrence had turned on his heel and
began running. Holo scrambled to follow him.
"There are no forks in this path, yes?"
"The path we were taking was direct. Going the other way,
there's one branch. Take that, and it becomes a complicated
labyrinth."
"I don't know that even I could keep from getting lost here .. .
whoops!" said Holo as she stopped in her tracks again. Their
hands came apart at the sudden stop, and Lawrence stumbled. As
he hurried to turn around, it seemed like Holo was facing back
the way they'd came.
"You, cover your ears."
"What? Why?"
"Even if we run, they'll catch us. They've loosed the hounds
on us."
If they were being pursued down a straight path by well-trained
hounds, it was hopeless. Holo could see quite well in the dark, but
the dogs had their noses and ears. They had no weapons with
which to fend the beasts off save the silver dagger Lawrence always
carried.
They did have something rather houndlike, though — Holo
the Wisewolf.
"Heh. So foolish-sounding, that baying," said Holo. Lawrence
could now faintly hear the hounds cries.
It may have only been the overlapping echoes, but from the
sound, Lawrence guessed there were at least two animals.
What was Holo planning?
194
"I'm not certain what I'll do if they're too stupid to understand
this. Anyway, cover your ears!"
Lawrence did as he was told and plugged his ears. He'd figured
it out — Holo was going to howl.
Holo took a long, deep breath. It lasted so long Lawrence began
to wonder where all that air was going. There was a brief pause,
and then she unleashed an earth-shaking howl.
"Awooooooooooo!"
The force of the great noise was enough to send shivers down
his hands and set the skin on his face trembling. It seemed as
though the tunnel was about to collapse.
The wolf-howl was enough to strike fear into the heart of the
strongest man. Lawrence forgot it was Holo howling and curled
up into a ball.
The merchant remembered being chased across the plains by
packs of wolves. They possessed overwhelming numbers, knowledge
of the terrain, and physical strength no human could hope
to match. They would bring all three to bear and attack — and
the howl was the signal. That was why some villages, when
stricken with plague, would imitate a wolf's howl to drive away
the disease.
Holo coughed, jaggedly. "Ugh . . . my throat.. ." Lawrence
heard her coughing once the howl had subsided and took his
hands down from his ears. It wasn't surprising that such a great
howl from such a small throat came with a price.
"An apple . . . I want an apple . . . koff—"
"You can have as many as you want once we're free. What of
the hounds?"
"They turned tail and ran."
"Then we should do likewise. They'll know where we are now."
"Do you know the way?"
"More or less."
195
Before starting to run, Lawrence held his hand out to Holo,
who gripped it firmly.
Ensuring that they wouldn't be separated, Lawrence ran. It was
about then that he heard the voices of their pursuers.
"Still, how did they find us?" Holo asked.
"I doubt they knew exactly where we were. They probably came
underground after being unable to find us above and then happened
to run into us."
"Ah."
"If they knew exactly where we were, they would've cornered us
by now... ."
"I see. You're quite right."
Directly ahead of them muffled voices could be distinguished,
then a faint ray of light penetrated the dark tunnel. It was where
they had first entered the passage.
Lawrence had never been so optimistic as to think that the Milone
Company would come to their rescue.
He drew a sharp breath as the realization washed over him like
a splash of cold water and quickened his pace.
Then a voice echoed down the passage.
"The Milone Company has betrayed you! There's no point in
runnin'!"
As if to avoid the voices, they turned down the single branch,
and from behind them came the same words. Lawrence ignored
them and continued to run, but Holo was uneasy.
"Sounds like we've been sold out."
"And for a high price, no doubt. As long as you're here, the
Milone Company will lose a branch, at the very least."
"... I see. That's a high price, indeed."
If they were truly betrayed, Marheit would've been forced to
put the entire branch on the line. If he'd really done so, he
must've been planning to keep the branch's money and escape
196
by himself to some far-off land. But it seemed unlikely that the
huge Milone Company would let that happen, nor did he take
Marheit for the kind of man to run.
Which meant their pursuers were simply lying on the spot —
but to someone unused to such tactics, like Holo, it could be
effective.
Holo nodded her head to indicate understanding, although her
grip on his hand grew faintly tighter.
"Right, we turn right here."
"Wait —"
Lawrence stopped immediately after rounding the corner.
At the end of the slightly winding tunnel a lantern swayed.
"There they are!" cried a voice.
Lawrence immediately took Hole's hand again and ran back
along the path they'd first taken. Their pursuers broke into a run
as well, but their footfalls did not reach Lawrences ears.
"Do you know —"
"— the way? I do, it's all right," said Lawrence impatiently, but
not because he was out of breath. The paths were strangely complicated,
and all he could remember from what the Milone employees
had told him were the paths that connected the entrance
and exit.
It wasn't a lie to say he knew the way, but it wasn't the truth,
either.
If which way to turn left or right, and after how many intersections,
then it was true. If not, it was a lie.
His head filled with strange illusions that threatened to blank
everything out — the sound of a column of mice running
through the forest — tripping over the rubble of a crumbled
stone wall. Traveling merchants had to remember complicated
figures about how much they owed and how much they were
owed, so they tended to have confidence in their memory. But
197
Lawrences confidence lasted for only a moment after he asserted
it.
The twisting tunnels were just too complicated.
"Another dead end?"
They'd gone a short distance after turning right at a T-junction
before reaching the end. Lawrence kicked at the wall, breathing
heavily. His actions made his worry clear, but Holo, her breathing
also ragged, simply squeezed his hand tighter.
The Medio Company had apparently decided it was important
to capture both of them — and they'd sent ample manpower to
accomplish it.
Their footfalls and shouted voices echoed through the halls.
They were so many that even Holo couldn't be sure of their
number.
The companions' anxiety made them imagine a great swarm of
men pursuing them, more numerous than ants.
"Damn. We'll have to head back. I don't remember anything
else."
If they pushed ahead into unknown passages, there would be
no going back.
Lawrence's memories were already quite shaky, but seeing Holo
nod her assent, he didn't say so, not wanting her to feel any more
uncertain.
"Can you still run?" he asked.
Lawrence was a hale and hardy traveling merchant, and despite
his fatigue, he knew he could still run — but Holo could only nod
her head in answer.
Perhaps her human body wasn't as capable as her wolf form.
"Just a bit," she said hastily as she gasped for air.
"Let's find a place to . .." Lawrence began. He was going to say
"rest," but he caught Hole's glance and the word never got out of
his throat.
198
Her pupils glowed keenly in the darkness, every inch the forest
predator scanning its surroundings.
Heartened to have someone like Holo as his companion, Lawrence
quieted his breathing and listened carefully.
Crunch, crunch came the sound of their pursuer's cautious
footsteps.
From where Lawrence was standing, it sounded as if they were
coming from a passage that led off to the right some distance
ahead.
The path they'd taken was now directly behind them. If they
doubled back on it, many possible paths branched off of it. They
hoped to guess the timing and run back, then escape down one of
those paths
Crunch, crunch, came the sound as the footsteps grew closer.
There was still a wall between them and the source of the noise,
which was encouraging, but the footfalls were incessant — it was
as though the Medio men were purposefully causing a commotion
as they talked in some kind of incomprehensible code.
Lawrence felt as though they'd already fallen into the trap, and
their pursuers needed only to toss a net out to capture them.
He gulped painfully, gauging the timing for their sprint.
He hoped to run as soon as there was another shout from the
Medio Company people.
It was not a long wait.
"Ah, ah . . ."
Another sound came from the direction of the footsteps. A
sneeze.
Lawrence took this as a blessing from the gods and grabbed
Hole's hand tightly in preparation to run.
"Ah-choo!"
It sounded as though whoever sneezed realized his mistake and
tried to muffle the sound with a hand.
199
But it was more than enough for the two to begin their flight.
They turned left at the first junction.
Just then, something black crossed in front of their faces.
Lawrence realized it was no mere rat when Holo began to
growl.
"Rrrrrr."
"Wha — shit! Here! They're here!"
A small, almost child-sized clump of darkness wove this way
and that before Lawrence. He felt something hot on his left cheek.
He realized it was a knife wound when he put his hand to it and
felt the warm wetness there.
When he realized that Holo had abandoned escape and even
now had her teeth in the arm of their knife-wielding attacker,
Lawrence, too, lost control.
Strengthened by hauling loads heavier than themselves over
mountains and across plains, traveling merchants had fists as
hard as silver.
Lawrence put all his strength behind his right fist as he punched,
hitting the man Holo was attacking square in the face at a slightly
upward angle.
There was an awful squishing sound, as though a frog had just
been stepped on, as Lawrence's fist connected.
With his other hand, Lawrence reached out for Holo and
snagged the back of her shirt, pulling her back to him.
The shadow that the fist had struck tumbled slowly backward.
There was no time to say anything — Lawrence took off running,
trying to find a different path.
But he soon realized that the sneeze had been a ploy to flush
them out.
As the body hit the ground with a whump, Lawrence felt a
shock, as if the blood in his veins suddenly reversed direction.
200
The moment they tried to turn, a blade thrust directly into
Lawrence.
"O holy God, forgive me my sins .. ."
Hearing his opponent's words, Lawrence realized this man intended
to kill him.
There in the darkness, his assailant held his breath, surely thinking
he had in fact slain his target.
But the gods had not yet abandoned Lawrence. The knife found
purchase in his left arm, just above his wrist.
"Before you think about your sins," said Lawrence, raising his
leg and delivering a vicious kick to the mans thigh, "regret your
daily deeds!"
The man dropped soundlessly, and Lawrence grabbed Hole's
sleeve with his right hand and sprinted past him.
The sounds of the Medio Company closing in echoed all
around them.
They veered down a path to the left, then went immediately
right — but not because of some plan or because Lawrence remembered
the way.
They simply ran. Stopping was not an option. Lawrence's left
arm felt heavy, as if it were sinking into a swamp, and it burned
as though impaled on a piece of red-hot iron. His left hand was
cold, perhaps from the blood that flowed freely from the wound
in his arm.
He would not be able to run much farther. Lawrence had been
wounded several times in his travels. He knew the limits of his
own body.
It was hard to tell how far they'd come in the darkness. The confused
echoes of their pursuers eroded his fading consciousness
like rain over grasslands.
When even their pursuers started to sound distant, he had no
201
energy left with which to worry about Holo. He didn't know how
long he'd be able to keep going.
"Lawrence."
When he heard someone calling his name, he wondered if it
was the Grim Reaper already.
"Lawrence, are you all right?"
He returned to himself with a start, realizing that he was leaning
against the wall of the tunnel.
"What a relief. You weren't moving when I called to you."
". .. Ugh. I'm okay. Just a little sleepy," Lawrence said.
Lawrence wasn't sure if he succeeded in smiling. An irritated
Holo hit him in the chest.
"Pull yourself together! We're almost there."
". . . We're almost where?"
"Did you not hear me? I said I can smell the warmth of the sun
ahead. There must be a way to the surface close by."
Lawrence had no memory of hearing this at all, but he nodded,
righting himself, and staggered forward. He realized his arm had
been bandaged with cloth.
". . . This bandage?"
"I tore my sleeves off to patch you up. You didn't notice?"
"Uh, no, of course I noticed. I'm fine." Lawrence made sure to
give a reassuring smile; Holo said nothing. When they continued
walking, though, she led the way.
"Just a bit farther. We'll take this passage, then turn right. . ."
she began, taking Lawrences hand — but then stopped short. He
could tell why.
More footsteps behind them.
"Hurry, hurry," said Holo hoarsely. Lawrence quickened his
pace, feeling near the end of his strength.
Although their pursuers were getting closer, they were still
202
some distance off. As long as they could climb to the surface,
Lawrence imagined they would be able to convince the citizenry
to help them, given his condition.
The Medio Company probably wouldn't want a scene in front
of so many witnesses.
As long as she took the opportunity to contact the Milone Company,
Holo's escape would be enough. The top priority now was
to meet with the Milone people again and restrategize.
Lawrence mulled this over as he heaved his body forward,
though it seemed to grow heavier by the second. At length, just as
Holo said, he saw light ahead.
The light shone from the upper right down to the left. The footsteps
behind them grew closer, but it looked as if they were going
to make it.
Holo pulled harder on Lawrences arm to hurry him forward;
he tried his best to keep up.
At the end of the path, they turned right.
"It goes to the surface — just a little farther!"
Vitality had returned to Holo's voice, and Lawrence pressed
forward, encouraged.
The prey had escaped the hunter by the slimmest of margins.
Of that much Lawrence was certain.
That is, until he heard Holo's voice on the verge of tears.
"N-no ..." she said.
Lawrence looked up.
Even when he looked down, the light stung his eyes, which had
adjusted to total darkness. It took him a few moments to focus,
but once he did, he understood the reason for Holo's dismay.
Perhaps it was left over from when these tunnels supplied water.
There was an unused well there with light stabbing down
through a round opening in the ceiling.
203
But the hole in the ceiling was too high. Lawrence stretched
and could just barely touch the ceiling, but the well opening was
even higher than that.
Without a rope or a ladder, it was simply impossible for the two
of them to escape.
Lawrence and Holo fell silent, despairing like loan sharks looking
down the long path to heaven.
Then, as if to confirm that they were well and truly cornered,
the source of the footsteps behind them rounded the corner.
"Found them!" a voice cried, at which point the pair finally
looked back.
Holo looked up at Lawrence, who drew his dagger with his
good right hand, and with a movement so slow it was as if he were
underwater, blocked the path between her and their pursuers.
"Back up."
Lawrence planned to advance, but his legs had no more
strength left in them. He was rooted to the spot, unable to take
another step.
"You cant — you're through!" said Holo.
"Hardly. I can still move," Lawrence managed in a nonchalant
tone. Turning to look at her over his shoulder would've been impossible,
though.
"Fool, you don't need my ears to know that's a lie," snapped
Holo. Lawrence ignored her and fixed his gaze straight ahead.
He saw five Medio men at a glance. Each wielded a knife or
staff, and more footsteps signaled reinforcements on the way.
Despite their overwhelming advantage, the five men did not
converge, choosing instead to stop at the corner and scrutinize
the pair.
Lawrence imagined they were waiting for backup, though five
men were more than sufficient to take both him and his com-
204
panion. Lawrence was obviously in no shape for a fight, and Holo
was just a girl.
But the men held fast, and at length more arrived. The first five
looked back, then stepped aside.
"Ah —" Holo made a sound as a figure rounded the corner.
Lawrence, too, nearly spoke.
The man rounding the corner was none other than Yarei.
"I wondered, given the description we got," he said. "But to
think it really was you, Lawrence."
Unlike the residents who lived within the city walls, or the
dusty, sweaty merchants that traveled between them, Yarei wore
the colors of the sun and the earth and looked almost sad as he
spoke.
"I'm just as surprised," said Lawrence. "Most of Pasloe thinks
only of sickle or hoe at the mention of metal — to think they'd be
involved in such a grand silver scheme."
"There are few who understand this transaction," said Yarei, as
if it wasn't his village at all, which was understandable given his
attire. The depth of his connection with the Medio Company was
self-evident in its color and texture.
A humble farmer would never be able to afford such finery.
"Let's catch up later, shall we? We've no time for it now."
"Come now, Yarei — I came all the way to your village and still
wasn't able to see you."
"Ah, but you met someone else, didn't you?" Yarei glanced past
Lawrence to Holo behind him. "I wouldn't have thought it possible,
but she really is right out of the fairy tales. The wolf-spirit
incarnate, responsible for harvests great and poor."
Lawrence felt Holo flinch but didn't turn to look at her.
"Hand her over," Yarei demanded. "We'll give her to the Church
and put the old ways to rest forever!" He took a step forward.
205
"Lawrence, if we have her, we can destroy the Milone Company.
Then once we've abolished the wheat tariff, the wheat of our village
will be hugely profitable, and we who sell it rich men. Nothing
is so profitable as an untaxed commodity."
Yarei was two paces from them when Holo grabbed Lawrence's
shirt. Despite his dizziness, he could feel her hands trembling.
"Lawrence, our village still remembers that you bought wheat
from us when we were suffering under heavy taxation. It would
be no trouble to give you purchasing priority now. And we're
friends, nay? Surely as a merchant you can figure gain and loss."
Yarei's words sank slowly into Lawrences consciousness. Selling
untaxed wheat would be like plucking gold from the stalks. If he
took Yarei up on his offer, his fortunes would surely rise. When
he'd saved enough, he could open a shop in Pazzio — and with
those wheat options as his weapon, he'd continue to expand his
business.
Yarei promised the fulfillment of his dreams.
"Oh, I can figure gain and loss all right," said Lawrence.
"Ho, Lawrence!" said Yarei brightly, his arms wide in welcome.
Holo tightened her grip on Lawrences shirt.
Lawrence used the last of his strength to turn back to Holo,
who looked up at him.
Her amber eyes saddened as she looked at him; she soon
closed them.
Lawrence slowly turned back around.
"However, a merchant must always honor his contracts,"
he said.
"Lawrence?" asked Yarei suspiciously.
Lawrence continued. "As fate would have it, this strange girl I've
picked up wishes to return to the northlands. I have a contract to
accompany her there. Breaking that contract is something I cannot
do, Yarei."
206
"You —" a shocked Holo began as Lawrence stared down
Yarei.
Yarei shook his head in disbelief, sighing deeply, then looked
at Lawrence. "In that case, I have no choice but to fulfill my
contract."
He raised his right hand, and the gathered Medio henchmen,
who'd only watched until that point, took aggressive stances.
"I'm sorry our friendship was a short one, Lawrence."
"A traveling merchant is always saying good-bye," replied
Lawrence.
"You can kill the man. Bring the girl alive." Yarei's voice was
cold now, like a different person entirely. The Medio lackeys
advanced.
Lawrence held the dagger fast in his right hand, but he was still
unable to take a step either forward or back.
If he could somehow buy them just a bit more time, the Milone
Company might yet come to their rescue. He clung to that hope
as he waved the dagger about clumsily.
In that moment, Holo flung her arms around him.
"H-Holo, what are you —"
Her slender arms held him fast, then forced him to the
ground.
He wondered where she'd gotten this sudden strength, but
then realized it was probably because he had no power left to
resist.
Holo couldn't actually support his weight, so Lawrence half-fell
backward, landing on his rear. The impact dislodged the knife
from his hand.
Lawrence reached for the dagger and tried to get up, but he
couldn't manage it. Unable to support even his outstreched arm,
he fell forward.
"Holo . . . the dagger ..."
207
"That's enough."
"Holo?"
She gave no response save putting her hand to Lawrence's outstretched
arm.
"This may hurt a bit. Please bear it."
"What -"
Lawrence failed to utter another word before Holo undid the
bandage on his left arm and sniffed at the exposed wound.
Suddenly his memory returned. He recalled their conversation
when they first met, when he made her prove she was truly
a wolf.
He remembered her nonchalant reply.
To assume her wolf form, she needed either a bit of
wheat o r . . .
. . . Fresh blood.
"What are you doing! Hurry, take them!" Yarei shouted, and the
Medio henchmen — whose advance had been stalled by Hole's
strange actions — regained their senses and began to close in.
Holo closed her eyes, bared her fangs, and sank them into Lawrence's
wound.
"Sh-she's drinking his blood!"
Holo opened her eyes slightly at the shout and glanced at
Lawrence.
He couldn't have conjectured as to his own expression, but
Holo seemed to smile sadly at him.
After all, only a demon would drink blood.
"Don't fall back! She's only a possessed girl! Get her!" Yarei's
exhortations were no use; the men were frozen in their tracks.
Holo slowly pulled her mouth back from Lawrence's arm; her
transformation had already begun.
"I'll always . .." she began as her long hair began to stir, trans-
208
forming into animal fur. Her arms, visible through her torn
sleeves, took the form of wolf paws.
"I'll always remember that you chose me."
She cleaned the blood from the corner of her mouth with her
bright red tongue rather than her hand, an image that lingered
with Lawrence.
"Lawrence —" she said, standing and facing him. She had a
small, sad smile on her face as she spoke her final words.
"Please don't look at me."
Her body grew up and out rapidly to the sound of tearing fabric,
brown fur nearly exploding through it. Her wheat pouch fell
to the ground among the tatters of clothing.
Lawrence automatically reached out for the wheat in which
Holo lived. When he looked back up, a massive wolf stood before
him.
Its paws were tipped with scythelike claws, and its teeth were so
large that the shape of each fang was clearly visible. It looked capable
of eating a man in a single bite.
The wolf was so massive that the very air around it felt heavy
and hot — as if one might melt by mere proximity. In spite of
that, its eyes were cool and calculating.
There was no escape.
Every man in the tunnel came to the same conclusion at once.
"Aaaaauuggh!" The single cry was the trigger. Most of the assailants
dropped their weapons and ran. Two men hurled their
weapons at the wolf, mostly out of terror.
The beast moved its muzzle adroitly, picking up each iron
weapon in turn and crushing it between massive jaws.
This was a god.
In the northlands, the word "god" was used to describe anything
beyond a human's ability to engage.
209

Lawrence had never understood that definition until now —
and now he understood it all too well.
There was nothing anyone could do to this wolf. Nothing
at all.
"Guh -"
"Wha -"
The two that threw their weapons made strangled exclamations
that were barely worthy of the term.
The wolf swatted them aside with a massive paw, then ran forward,
seeming almost to slide over the ground.
"None of you will leave here alive!" a low, bestial voice echoed.
The sounds of claw striking iron mingled with the cries of the
felled as Lawrence frantically tried to right himself.
But the massacre ended in an instant.
The wolf paused, and the voice of perhaps the last man left alive
was audible.
"G-gods are always like that. . . always . . . unfair . . ." It was
Yarei's voice.
There was no response but the sound of the colossal wolf
opening its jaws. Lawrence cried out.
"Holo, no!"
There was a snap, surely those same jaws closing.
The image of Yarei's torso in Hole's fangs came unbidden to
Lawrences mind. It was unthinkable that Yarei could escape. He
was a bird with no chance to avoid the hound's attack.
But after a few moments of silence, Holo turned around in the
narrow passageway, and her teeth were not smeared with the
blood Lawrence expected.
Instead, an unconscious Yarei dangled helplessly from her
fangs.
"Holo . . ." Lawrence murmured her name in relief, but Holo
merely dropped Yarei to the ground and did not look at him.
212
A low voice sounded.
"The wheat..."
The growl suited the great body, and Lawrence cringed to
hear it.
He knew it was Holo, but he couldn't help himself. If she
looked straight at him, he didn't know if he'd be able to stay
composed.
The wolf demanded his awe.
"The wheat — bring it to me," repeated Holo. Lawrence nodded
and held out the pouch of wheat in his hand.
Just then, Lawrence felt a heavy pressure, and his body recoiled
from it.
When he saw Holo's lip curl over her fanged jaw, he realized
he'd made a terrible mistake.
"That is your answer. Now, the wheat —"
Although he knew that Holo intended to take the wheat and
leave, her words, as if by some strange magic, compelled his arm
to reach out and hand it over.
But he lacked the strength to support the arm or even to hold
the pouch.
First the pouch fell from his limp hand to the ground, then his
arm collapsed against him.
He wouldn't be able to pick it up again.
Lawrence looked at the pouch in despair.
"/ thank you for taking care of me," said Holo as she approached,
deftly picking up the small bag in her massive jaws.
Those amber eyes never once glanced at Lawrence as she backed
up one, two, three steps, then turned dextrously in the small tunnel
and began to walk away.
The white-tipped tail that was Holo's pride and joy caught his
eye. It was magnificent as it waved sadly and receded down the
passage.
213
Lawrence shouted. His voice was so weak it could barely be
considered a shout, but he sounded with all his remaining
strength.
"W-wait!"
Holo kept walking.
Lawrence despised himself for recoiling at her approach earlier.
How many times had she said that she hated when people regarded
her with fear.
But his body had reacted instinctively. Humans couldn't
help that they feared the unknown, and so he had cowered before
Holo.
Still, Lawrence thought. Still, he called out her name.
"Holo!" shouted his hoarse voice.
It was useless, he realized — and just then, Holo stopped.
This was his chance. If he couldn't change her mind here, he
would never see her again.
But what to say? Scenarios flitted in and out of his mind.
He couldn't convincingly claim he wasn't afraid of her. Her
form still terrified him. But he wanted to stop her. He couldn't
find the words to express the conflict he felt.
His mind worked frantically. No doubt Holo would've mocked
him for being inarticulate as he tried to put together the words
that would bring her back.
"How. .. how much do you think the clothes you destroyed
cost?" was what he finally came up with. "I don't care if you're a
god or not.. . I'll see you pay me back! You earned but seventy
silver pieces — that's not nearly enough!"
He yelled at her, trying to sound angry — no, he was genuinely
half-angry.
He knew that begging her not to go would be pointless. As he
was still terrified of her form, he could only conjure this single
reason to prevent her going.
214
The grudge a merchant will bear over money is deeper than a
valley, and a merchant collecting a debt is more persistent than
the moon in the night sky.
Lawrence put as much venom into his words as he could to
convey that. He was not telling her that he didn't want her to
leave. He was telling her that leaving would be pointless.
"How many years do you think it took me . . . to save up that
much money? I'll follow you . . . I'll follow you all the way back to
the northlands, if I have to!"
Lawrence's voice echoed through the underground tunnels for
a while before finally fading.
Holo stood there awhile, then flicked her large tail.
Was she going to turn around?
Lawrence's strength finally failed him, and he collapsed to the
ground even as his chest filled with a nervous impatience.
Holo began walking again.
Her paws pattered softly against the floor of the passage:
tupp, tupp.
Lawrence felt his vision grow dim.
I'm not crying, the merchant told himself as his consciousness
sank into eternity.
215

EPILOGUE

Lawrence stood in utter darkness. Where he was and what he was
doing there he did not know.
Darkness hung in every direction, but strangely, he could see
his own body.
He wondered where he was.
As he pondered it, he caught a flash of something out of the
corner of his eye.
He turned to face it reflexively, but there was nothing. He
rubbed his eyes, thinking it had been his imagination, when
again the shape flitted across the corner of his vision.
Was it a flame?
He turned again to face it and this time managed a good view
of the shape.
It was a chestnut-brown something, waving.
He stared at it, finally realizing that it was no flame.
It was fur. It was a long clump of brown fur that waved.
And it was tipped with a white tuft.
Lawrence's eyes widened and his breath caught. He sprinted
toward it.
That tail — that white tuft —!
It was Holo. There was no mistaking Hole's tail.
It grew smaller as it waved, and Lawrence called out for it as
he ran with all his might.
But no sound issued from his mouth, and the distance to Holes
tail never diminished.
His feet seemed to grow heavier, which frustrated him. He gritted
his teeth and, even as he realized the futility of it, stretched out
his right hand.
Hole's tail abruptly disappeared.
At that moment, Lawrence blinked and looked up at an unfamiliar
ceiling.
"Ugh -"
He sat up with a start and pain immediately shot through his
left arm. For a moment he was confused, but the pain brought
his memories back in a rush.
The Medio Company pursuing him. His arm being stabbed.
Being cornered.
And Holo leaving him.
Remembering her tail waving forlornly as she receded, Lawrence
sighed.
Trapped in a body that could sit up only with effort, he wondered
if there was anything else he could have said to her.
The question loomed in his mind, dwarfing the more immediate
issue of where he was.
"Ah, so you're awake, are you?"
Lawrence turned to face the unexpected voice, and saw Marheit
in the doorway.
"How are your injuries?" Marheit walked toward Lawrence,
documents in hand, and opened the window beside the merchants
bed.
"Better . . . thanks to you."
A pleasant breeze blew in through the window, carrying sounds
220
of hustle and bustle from which Lawrence inferred that he was in
a room at the Milone Company.
Which meant they had come to his rescue after all.
"I must apologize for putting you in such danger through our
ineptitude."
"No, no, my companion was the cause of all this originally."
Marheit nodded at Lawrence's words and paused, seeming to
choose his next statement carefully.
"Fortunately you were never discovered by the Church, and
the disturbance happened underground. If the Church had seen
your companion's true form, well. . . it's quite possible the entire
company would've been burned as heretics."
"You saw her true form?" Lawrence asked, stunned.
"Indeed. The people we sent to rescue you returned with a report
that there was a giant wolf that said it wouldn't hand you
over until I came personally."
There was no reason for Marheit to lie. Which meant that after
Lawrence lost consciousness, Holo returned to him.
"What of Holo, then? Where is she?"
"She's gone on to the marketplace. She was quite impatient
and said she needed traveling clothes," said Marheit lightly, not
knowing the circumstances — but Lawrence guessed that Holo
planned to set off on her own.
She was probably on her way to the northland even now.
The thought left a hole in Lawrence's heart but perversely also
helped him feel that he could now make a clean break.
The days they had spent together had been nothing more than
a strange coincidence.
Lawrence forced himself to consider it thus, bringing himself
back to the mindset of a merchant.
Aside from Holo, there was another important implication in
Marheit's words.
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"You said Holo went to the marketplace. Does that mean negotiations
with the Medio Company went well?"
"Yes. Our messenger returned from the Trenni castle this
morning, concluding negotiations with the king. We've obtained
the considerations that the Medio Company so desperately
wanted, and they seem to have acknowledged their defeat.
Everything has gone very smoothly," said Marheit, pride filling
his voice.
"I see. That's good to hear.... So I've slept for a full day then,
have I?"
"Hm? Oh, yes, yes you have. Would you care for some lunch? I
was just in the kitchen, and I doubt they've turned off the stoves
yet, so you could have something hot."
"No, that's quite all right. Could I perhaps hear the final results
of our negotiation?"
"Yes, of course."
Lawrence found it slightly odd that someone from the south
wasn't forcing food on him. Perhaps if he'd been from this area,
Marheit would've been more insistent.
"The amount of silver we collected came to 307,212 pieces. The
king plans to significantly cut the silver content of these coins, so
he agreed to pay an amount equivalent to 350,000 pieces."
It was a staggering figure. Lawrence was not thinking about
the absolute numbers, though — he was busy figuring his own
approximate gain.
He was contractually entitled to five percent of the Milone
Company's profit. Lawrence estimated it would come out to
something in the neighborhood of two thousand silver pieces.
It would be enough for him to fulfill his dream, to open his
own shop.
"According to our contract with you, Mr. Lawrence, we owe you
five percent of our profit. Is that correct?"
222
Lawrence nodded, and Marheit nodded back.
Marheit then handed Lawrence a single sheet of paper. "Please
confirm this," he said.
Lawrence didn't hear him.
An unbelievable figure was written on the paper.
"Wha . . . what's . .."
"One hundred and twenty pieces — five percent of our profit,"
said Marheit coolly.
Yet Lawrence did not become angry. The paper made it clear
what had happened to the gain they'd expected.
"The cost of transporting the coins, the transfer fee when the
king paid us, the silver tax, and the cost of processing the contract.
His advisers undoubtedly put him up to it. They knew they
would have to give up those special privileges but wanted to limit
their losses on the silver exchange as much as they could."
Looking at the details, he could see that the king had very cleverly
exploited his position to get as much money back from the
Milone Company as he could.
In addition to requiring that the company pay for the collection
and transport of the coins, he made them remit the silver coins
directly rather than using a note of exchange. The transportation
had been hugely expensive, running into the tens of thousands
of pieces after including horses, lockboxes for the money, and
guards.
The king had even charged them an exorbitant amount for the
drawing up of the contracts.
Though the signer on the Milone side was a wealthy merchant
of noble descent from the south who operated his own branch of
a large company, he was far from a king. There was no question of
who held the upper hand. The Milone Company had to simply
accept the charges.
"We calculate that our final profit was twenty-four hundred
223
pieces, five percent of which we're remitting to you as per our
agreement."
Lawrence had schemed like a man possessed, been stabbed in
the arm . . . for one hundred twenty silver coins.
When he considered that if he hadn't gotten involved in this
business, Holo might not have left him, the only figures he saw in
his mind were red. It simply hadn't been worth one hundred
twenty coins.
But a contract was a contract. He had no choice but to accept it.
Sometimes there were gains in life, and sometimes there were
losses. It was a simple reality of being a merchant. He supposed
that he should be happy not to have lost his life and to have come
out one hundred twenty silver pieces ahead.
Lawrence slowly nodded.
"This was not something we expected. The outcome is regrettable,"
said Marheit.
"Unexpected outcomes are part and parcel of business," replied
Lawrence.
"It is generous of you to say so. However," said Marheit, getting
Lawrence's attention again — Marheit's tone had brightened
for some reason. "Unexpected situations can also work out happily.
Here."
Lawrence accepted a second sheet of paper from Marheit, his
eyes flicking over its contents.
He immediately looked back up at Marheit in shock.
"The Medio Company badly wanted those special privileges,
and they knew the silver theyd collected was going to depreciate
rapidly soon, so it was like holding on to debt. They expected
they'd be able to turn a profit with that tariff authority, and they
would do anything to get it. They made us an offer almost immediately."
224
The document in Lawrences hand stated that his share of the
profit from this exchange was one thousand silver pieces.
"A thousand pieces . . . is this really acceptable?"
"It is a trifle," said Marheit with a smile. The Milone Company
had no doubt made much more than that, but Lawrence was not
so rude as to ask the exact figure. After all, being offered an extracontractual
amount like this was like picking up a bar of gold on
the street.
Contracts were the core of commerce — monetary exchanges
without them might as well have been nonexistent.
"Also, we've taken care of the fees for your convalescence, and
we'll handle the care of your horse and wagon."
"Was my horse unhurt?"
"Yes — it seems even the Medio Company didn't find much
worth in him as a hostage."
Lawrence couldn't help smiling at Marheit s hearty laugh.
This was all far better treatment than he had any right to
expect.
"We'll discuss the payment details and so on another day, then,
shall we?" said Marheit.
"That will be fine. Thank you so much, truly."
"Hardly; the pleasure is all ours. It is a small price to pay to
remain in the good graces of a merchant of your ability, Mr.
Lawrence."
Marheit looked at Lawrence with eyes that rarely missed a calculation,
and he smiled his best merchant's smile — probably on
purpose.
Still, the fact remained that Lawrence had received a thousand
silver pieces from the branch supervisor of the huge company.
They clearly thought of him as a person with whom a good relationship
was important.
225
A mere traveling merchant like Lawrence should be pleased
by that.
He nodded and thanked Marheit from his bed.
"Oh, I suppose I should ask," said Marheit, "do you wish payment
to be in silver? If you would prefer a different commodity,
that can be arranged."
A thousand coins would be heavy and would bring no particular
benefit for the weight. Lawrence considered Marheit's proposal,
thinking about the amount he'd been promised and the size
of his wagon, and a single item came to mind.
"Have you any pepper? It's light and compact, and as winter
falls, its price will surely rise as meat becomes more available."
"Pepper, you say?"
"Is there a problem?" asked Lawrence, seeing Marheit chuckle.
"No, not at all. I recently read a play we received from the south,
and that reminded me of it."
"A play?"
"Indeed. A demon appears before a wealthy merchant and says,
'Bring me the most delicious, succulent human you can, or I'll
devour you.' Not wanting to die, the merchant presents the demon
with the youngest, most beautiful maids in his house, and
the plumpest footmen. But the demon shakes his head in disapproval."
"I see."
"So the merchant scatters money throughout the city, searching
for a suitable person. Finally he finds a handsome young monk
who smells of milk and honey. He throws gold at the monastery
to buy the lad and brings him before the demon. But the boy
says, 'Oh ye demon who fights the gods, the most savory human
in the land is not I.'"
Lawrence was completely absorbed in the tale. He nodded
wordlessly.
226
;' "The most succulent human is before your very eyes — he has
carried spices day in and day out in his quest for money, and his
fattened soul is perfectly seasoned,"' continued Marheit cheerfully,
gesturing expansively as he related the tale. In the end, he
even imitated the wealthy merchant's terrified face before catching
himself and grinning sheepishly.
"It's a religious play that the Church uses to preach moderation
in commerce," he explained. "That's what I remembered. Pepper
is surely appropriate for a merchant about to make his fortune,
I think."
Lawrence couldn't help smiling at the amusing tale and Marheit's
praise. "I hope I soon have a body suffused with spices myself!"
he said.
"We'll look forward to that, and to many fruitful dealings in the
future, Mr. Lawrence," said Marheit, and the two smiled at each
other again.
"I'll see to your pepper. In the meantime, I have work to do . . ."
Marheit backed toward the exit.
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
"Perhaps that's your companion," said Marheit, but Lawrence
was confident that such a thing was impossible.
Marheit left the bedside to open the door, and Lawrence, his
head on a pillow, looked out the window.
He could see the blue sky.
"Overseer, sir. We've received this bill —" Lawrence heard the
door open and a reserved voice speaking to Marheit, along with
the sound of a slip of paper being handed over.
It was undoubtedly some urgent business. Lawrence looked up
at the small clouds in the sky and wondered when he would be
able to have his own shop.
He soon heard Marheit speak.
"This is definitely addressed to our company, but. .."
227
Lawrence looked back over at Marheit, who was looking
at him.
"Mr. Lawrence, a bill s come for you."
The names of Lawrence's many trading partners and the debts
he owed flashed through his mind.
He tried to think of which among them had an approaching
settlement date, but in any case the amount of time he would remain
in a given city was uncertain. Even if there'd been a settlement
date yesterday, he couldn't think of anyone that would hold
a traveling merchant to such a strict time frame.
And who would even know he was here?
"Could I see it, please?" he asked.
Marheit took the bill from his subordinate and brought it to
Lawrence.
Lawrence took it and skipped past the standard contractual
section, coming to the details at the end.
He thought that if he could see what the bill was for, it might tell
him who it was from.
But the items on the bill did not ring any bells.
"Hmm . .." Lawrence said, cocking his head curiously, but suddenly
he sat bolt upright.
Marheit, shocked, tried to say something, but Lawrence ignored
him and ran for the door, pushing it open and ignoring the pain
in his left arm.
"Urn, excuse me —"
"Let me by!" shouted Lawrence, and the shocked employee
made way. Lawrence ignored the strange look he received and ran
down the hallway before stopping.
"Where's the loading dock?" he demanded.
"Er, follow this hall to the end, turn left, and it'll be —"
"Thanks," said Lawrence shortly, dashing off.
228
The rather expensive bill crumpled in his hand as Lawrence ran
as fast as his strength would allow.
It was the contents of that crumpled bill that had Lawrence in
such a state.
The date on the bill was today, and it included items from a
Pazzio textile merchant and a fruit seller.
There were two high-quality women's robes with silk sashes, a
pair of traveling shoes, a tortoiseshell comb — and a large amount
of apples.
In total it all came to a hundred and fifty silver pieces, and the
apples in particular were far too numerous for one person to
carry.
Despite that, there was no entry on the bill for the use of a horse
or cart.
There was an obvious conclusion.
Lawrence arrived at the loading dock.
Mountains of products of every sort were lined up, with everything
from goods brought from afar to exports about to leave. The
dock overflowed with the horses and the shouts of people — the
chaotic scene was just another day at the prosperous Milone
Company.
Lawrence scanned the surroundings for what he knew must be
there.
The large loading area was filled with horses and carts. Lawrence
ran around, even slipping on a clump of scattered hay, before
catching a glimpse of his own familiar horse and wagon and
approaching it.
The other people working in the loading area looked at him
strangely, but Lawrence took no notice of them, fixated on just
one thing.
In front of a wagon bed piled high with apples, a small figure
229
held a beautiful piece of fur in her hand, combing it with a tortoiseshell
comb.
She wore an obviously expensive robe and a hood pulled low
over her head. After a time, she ceased her combing and sighed.
Not turning toward Lawrence, the figure in the seat of the
wagon spoke. "I wouldn't wish you to come to the northern forests
simply to collect on a debt."
Lawrence couldn't help laughing at her sullen tone.
He approached the seat, and though Holo stubbornly refused
to look at him, he extended his right hand.
Finally she glanced at him, and although she soon returned her
gaze to the tail in her hands, she reached out to him.
Lawrence took her hand, and she finally relented to a smile.
"I'll return home only after I've paid my debt."
"But of course!"
Holo's hand gripped Lawrences very, very tightly.
It seemed as though the travels of this strange pair would last a bit
longer.
That is to say, the travels of the wolf and the spice.
230

AFTERWORD

Since I began entering writing contests with prize money involved,
I've never been able to stop thinking about winning the
grand prize.
Then, I think about using the prize money to buy stocks, increasing
my investment, and pretty soon I'm daydreaming about
ruling the world with my vast wealth.
Lately I've made enough money that I can order an extra-large
bowl of soba from the soba stand without worrying about it.
My name is Isuna Hasekura.
Recently winning the silver medal of the 12th Dengeki Shosetsu
Prize is an honor roughly equivalent to winning the moon
in the sky. I couldn't believe it. I had three different dreams in
which I got a phone call that they'd mixed me up with somebody
else.
When I started editing the manuscript, I had two dreams that
I'd missed the deadline.
I have no idea how many times I dreamed that I was wealthy
enough to rule the world.
In fact, as I write this afterword, I'm wondering even now
whether this is a dream or reality.
To the pre-readers, editors, and prize selection committee
members that opened the door to this world of dreams, I give my
most humble thanks. Also to the people at the prize-acceptance
party who raised their voices in support; and most especially to
Mitsutaka Yuki-sensei, who gave me a silver wolf accessory in
connection with the Spice and Wolf title, I want to say thank you
so much. The little silver wolf is even now enshrined by my computer.
I must also thank Ju Asakura-sensei for the gorgeous illustrations.
They captured my characters perfectly. I hope my thanks
are as great as my surprise at seeing them.
To all the people, things, and events responsible for putting me
in the position I'm in today: Thank you so much.
It is my intention to put forth every effort to ensure that I never
wake from this fleeting dream.
—Isuna Hasekura
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