Spice and Wolf - Volume 1 - Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

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 Zheren’s 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.

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.

“Huh.”

“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.”

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 it…”

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, Holo’s ears finally pricked, and he heard her snicker slightly.

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 Holo’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.”

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 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?”

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 one-twentieth 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 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.

Holo’s manner was more kitten than wolf as she sprawled over 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 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 filled 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 it…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 Company. ‘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 Lawrence’s 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 half-lidded, 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.”

“As the saying goes, one has to be even more careful with meat in one’s 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 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.

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.

“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 appetite’s 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.

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.”

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.”

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. Lawrence 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?”

“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.”

Holo’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.

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.”

“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 Holo’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 Holo’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.

“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.

“It’s 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 Lawrence’s 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.

“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 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.

“Tch. 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.”

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.

“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 Wisewolf. 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.

Lawrence clamped his eyes shut for a moment, then 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 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 man’s 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.

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 Lawrence’s 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.

“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 Holo’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 Lawrence’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. 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?”

“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 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 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 Lawrence’s 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.

Yet Lawrence still found himself skeptical.

Who had discovered Holo’s wolf’s ears and tail, and when?

Given Holo’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 Holo’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.

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.