Spice and Wolf - Volume 13 - Chapter 2

THE WOLF AND THE TWILIGHT-COLORED GIFT

The towns and villages one encountered while traveling were places where a brief, precious rest could be had and necessary supplies gathered.

These were not limited to food and fuel. Components for repairing the wagon and mending clothes were necessary, as well as information on the condition and security of the road ahead.

The more people were traveling, the more things were required and the more work there was to do.

This was doubly true when one’s companion was a selfish princess.

He had come to buy the firewood that was absolutely necessary for keeping warm while making camp on the road, but she merely furrowed her brow.

“…’Tis your coin. Spend it as you will.”

Had she ended her sentence with a rising, interrogative tone, Lawrence could have at least enjoyed being charmingly deceived, but her flatly stated remark gave a rather different impression.

Lawrence found this surprising, but there was no reason to doubt that Holo, his traveling companion, would speak words that were utterly contrary to her true feelings.

“Does it bother you?”

“Not particularly,” said Holo shortly, looking away. She had a kerchief over her head and a cape about her shoulders, a fox-fur muffler around her neck, and gloves of deerskin—every inch the town lass. Moreover, from beneath her kerchief and down her back flowed a fall of beautiful chestnut hair that would have been the envy of any noblewoman. She had beauty that caught the eye of nearly every passerby.

A poet might say that a girl in her teens was at her loveliest, but Lawrence knew the truth of the matter.

Holo was not a town lass, she was not a girl in her teens, and in point of fact was not even a human. Removing her kerchief would reveal wolf ears and beneath her robe was a magnificent tail.

She was a being who had lived in the wheat and ensured its good harvest, and long ago people had revered her as a god. She was centuries old, and her true form was that of a giant wolf.

She was Holo, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu.

Holo thrust out her chest and proclaimed both those names at every opportunity, which only made Lawrence sigh. Calling her a wisewolf always made him feel rather small inside.

“It’s not such a great distance to the next town, and it shouldn’t be too cold. You can manage a couple of days of cold food, can’t you?”

“I told you, spend it as you will.”

“…”

Lawrence and Holo were standing in a shop that sold the fuel travelers needed to provide light and warmth. It was not only travelers, either—all sorts bought the firewood stacked high in front of the shop, as well as the product next to it, which sold as though it would not be outdone.

It was true, though, that compared with firewood it gave a weaker flame, and there was the smell to consider. Given how much more sensitive Holo’s nose was than a human’s, it was no small burden for her to bear.

But—it was so cheap.

Merchants would blind themselves to almost anything if it was cheap enough—yes, and plug their noses, too.

What was it that Holo found distasteful? And what was so much cheaper than firewood? Peat.

“So, what’ll it be, sir? I can’t have you loitering around my shop all day.” The shopkeeper laid a hand on his woodpile beneath the eaves and smiled a rueful smile.

He seemed half-sympathetic to Lawrence’s problem with this finicky traveling companion and half-amused at Lawrence getting what he deserved.

Lawrence himself had felt that way at various points during his travels alone, so he could hardly blame the man. Traveling with a girl as fetching as Holo often earned him the envy of others. If the envy became too much of a problem, though, Lawrence would not be able to make his way as a merchant, so it would not do to appear self-satisfied—especially not when dealing with a nasty fellow like this, who would obviously take special pleasure in watching Lawrence squirm.

Faced with the prideful Holo, arms folded and back to him, looking for all the world like some spoiled noble lady, Lawrence had no choice but to set aside the matter of the fuel.

“My apologies. I’ll come again.”

“Come anytime,” replied the shopkeeper in a flat tone. Only the words themselves were polite. It reminded him of Holo.

Holo, meanwhile, seemed to recover her good cheer as soon as they left the shop. “Food next, aye? Hurry, let us go!” she said, taking Lawrence’s hand and tugging on it as she strode ahead.

From the outside, it would have looked like a traveling merchant had lucked into the attentions of a town lass, but Lawrence only sighed his usual sigh.

When it came to food, convincing Holo of anything was no simple matter—nothing so easy as the argument about fuel.

“’Tis written all over your face, you know,” Holo said with a sly grin, and at the sight of the amber eyes that flashed at him from her upturned gaze, he could not help but stop in his tracks.

This wolf saw through everything.

“The next town will be bigger, I hear. I’ve no intention of insisting on luxury here.”

“Which means you’ll be insisting on luxury in the next town.”

Holo grinned, flashing her teeth, to which Lawrence had no reply.

Either way it would be a battle, so he decided to simply follow Holo’s lead this time. “Well, then, I’ll gladly accept your thrift.”

“Mm.”

For bread, they bought rye instead of wheat, and cheap rye at that, bread that had been bulked up with legumes and chestnut flour. For vegetables, it was turnips and carrots, along with roasted beans. They had their wineskin filled with wine that was not very good, but at least had a good deal of clarity.

It was more reserved than their usual fare, but still cost more than the rock-hard oat bread and sour, pulpy wine Lawrence had eaten in the past.

As Lawrence was doing the buying, he noticed Holo gazing at the dried fruit and roasted seeds. Thinking he had best hurry up before Holo begged him for something else, he handed the shopkeeper a blackened silver coin and received a few coppers in change—and then remembered something.

“Ah, pardon me—might I have the change in those coppers there instead?”

“Those? Oh, the schmie coppers? Passing through the northern forest, are you?”

“Yes. There’s a logging village on the way, if I remember right.”

There were many varieties of the copper coins necessary to buy supplies on the road. As to why that mattered—well, one had only to imagine trying to use one town’s coin in a rival town during a feud.

“It’s probably too small to even be called a village, but this time of year there’ll be more people there, just trying to finish their work before the snows come. Anyhow, this is the exchange rate.”

Anyone making their living by trade needed to have a grasp of the many—even dozens—of coins that circulated through the money changers.

This particular exchange rate was slightly unfavorable, but Lawrence still would not be taking a loss.

He agreed to the exchange and accepted the schmie coppers, which were smaller but thicker, before putting the shop behind him.

“You merchants are a troublesome lot,” said Holo once they’d left.

Lawrence put his hand on Holo’s head. “Not so troublesome as you. Now then, we’ll see to repairing the wagon and gathering some talk about the road ahead…” He ticked off the tasks on his fingers.

Holo looked up at him, childlike. If he ignored her, she would be angry.

Lawrence slumped and gave in. “Yes, and dinner, too.”

“Mm. Nothing like a tavern for hearing about travel conditions. ’Tis a necessary thing.”

It was hard to argue with a wisewolf.

Lawrence ascended the inn’s stairs just as some other travelers were coming down. A man tipped his hat in greeting and gave Lawrence a smile of pained sympathy.

The reason for that smile was quite obvious.

The sun had not even set yet, but Holo’s face was quite red as Lawrence carried her.

“How many times do you suppose I’ve carried a certain wisewolf away after she’s eaten and drunk too much, hmm?”

“Ungh…”

“You’re lucky I don’t make a hobby of usury, else you wouldn’t even have the clothes on your back.”

With effort, he managed to drag Holo back to the room. He laid her on the bed and removed her kerchief and cloak, as had become the usual routine. He was so efficient at it, who would blame him for stripping her naked? Though the thought had occurred to Lawrence several times, he had never once done it.

After all, as she groaned and lay back, Holo’s face was the very image of satiety.

“Honestly,” Lawrence murmured with a smile. A caress of her cheek with his finger was all the satisfaction he needed.

“Now then.” They’d arrived early in the town, and as a result, Holo was passed out from drunkenness earlier than usual. It was still light outside, and with the wooden windows left open, there was light enough to work without candles.

Lawrence set his knife, coin purse, and map on the desk and lazily went about his work.

First came an inspection of his knife, making sure the blade was still keen and the hilt tight. It was mostly used for eating, but during a journey it might well need to cut a man’s skin or kill an animal.

When it came to things that might save his life, it was not an exaggeration to rank the knife above any prayer to God.

As for whether his map was useful or not, it was only marginally better than wearing blinders, but there was nothing to be lost in having even a vague sense of one’s physical surroundings. Especially given that tomorrow they would be passing through a forest that would obscure their view of the horizon.

Lawrence knew from past experience that just having Holo the Wisewolf with him was not a guarantee of easy travel, but at least they would not have to worry about being attacked by wolves. Given that Holo’s true wolf form could easily swallow him in a single gulp, with her at his side, there was no need to fear mere forest wolves.

That point did make him feel a bit better.

When he had traveled alone, whenever he had to pass through areas where wolves, bears, or other dangerous creatures frequently appeared, he carried every ward and charm he could possibly find.

It was said that animals hated the smell of metal, so he wore things made of lead on his body. Likewise it was said noise would keep them away, so he would ring a small bell all day long. He would make a generous tithe to the Church in exchange for a prayer on his behalf. He even ended up buying a charm bearing the name of a famous saint who was reputed to have given sermons to the wolves.

But no matter what he did, the wolves attacked when they pleased.

Despite all the hardship he had endured, Lawrence now found himself a bit saddened at not having to worry about such attacks anymore. Humans were strange creatures indeed.

Nevertheless, it would be best not to encounter them and not to rely overmuch on Holo. Holo, after all, seemed occasionally self-conscious about the fact that she was not human, so it would not do to just send her out to fend off any wolves that appeared.

Lawrence’s attention now fell upon the contents of the open coin purse on the desk, which were the most representative of that which might be used to ward off wolves: The schmie copper pieces, which he had received as change in his various transactions around town.

Small and thick, they were perfect for carving copper off their edges, but unlike other similar coins, whose designs would have been mostly filed off, these were largely intact.

The reason why was in the design of the schmie copper.

Lawrence separated one out from the rest and held it up in his hand, gazing at it. On the red metal disc was carved the image of a single beast.

“So you’re collecting those now, are you?”

Lawrence nearly dropped the coin at the sudden voice. There had been no footsteps nor other signals that she was so close.

Holo burped a wine-soaked burp and draped herself over Lawrence’s back.

“I see you’ve finally recognized how wonderful I am, then. Mm. Aye, ’tis well.”

“Yes, yes, fine. Hey, look out—!”

Lawrence reached out and grabbed the wobbling Holo’s hand, and she smiled, pleased.

Even when she was drunk, Lawrence could not help but redden a bit, when smiled at thusly by a girl like Holo.

“So, what—you need water?”

“Mm…my throat burns…”

It was the usual routine. Lawrence stood from his chair, letting Holo sit instead while he brought her a pitcher of water.

He handed it to her, and she drank noisily, a trickle of water spilling from the corner of her mouth.

Holo claimed that wolves did not have cheeks and that she spilled because she had yet to become accustomed to her human mouth, but Lawrence doubted that. She was probably merely coarse.

“Whew…” She burped again.

“Feel better?”

“Mm…’Twas awfully strong wine, I think. My throat is yet dry,” she said and began to drink again. She was spilling a truly terrible amount.

Lawrence felt like her footman as he offered her a handkerchief, but then he realized something—they had added a large amount of ginger to the wine, in order to cover up its poor quality.

“Even if you were to order finer wine, it would be a waste if you spilled it like that,” Lawrence said, and Holo gave him a look that made him wonder if she had long since gotten over her drunkenness. But then the corner of her mouth curled up. She declined to engage further.

“Come, if you’re feeling better, then move aside. It’s dark, and I need to light a candle.”

Holo glanced back and forth between Lawrence and the desk, then grudgingly stood. However, she seemed to have no intention of returning to the bed, instead sitting herself on the corner of the desk. “What are you doing? Are you insinuating something, huh?”

“What, do you want me to tell you it must be your conscience panging that makes you think so?”

“Hmph. Well, aren’t I a good-for-nothing glutton.” She took another drink from the water jug, then poked him in the temple with it.

He took it without argument and set it on the table. There was no one as unpleasant as a spiteful drunk. Especially when the drunk in question was such a good actor there was no way to be sure just how drunk she was—pursuing conversation with such a person was tantamount to suicide.

Lawrence turned his attention back to the coins before he could blunder into any of her traps.

“We’ll be passing through a village of woodcutters tomorrow. These are to sell there.”

“…Sell?” Holo gave him a dubious look, not unfairly.

After all, it was a copper coin that was on the table—coin used to buy, not sell.

“That’s right. Sell.”

“But…this is currency, is it not?”

“You can sell currency. In the old days…maybe not as old as you, but still old, coins were sold by smiths, who were side by side with the money changers.”

Holo’s eyes were still bleary with wine, but her interest was piqued, and she picked up one of the copper coins to regard it.

“Coins issued by legendary kings or coins circulated near abbeys where saints renowned for their healing powers lived. Coins with holes in them such that they can be strung and worn about the neck are common, too. I’ve even heard of coins being used as hilts on swords.”

The coin Holo held had a ship and a tower carved on it and was from a seaside kingdom. She looked at the obverse and the reverse sides both, holding each up to her chest experimentally.

“That’s a bit small for that—coins made to wear tend to be larger. For you…one about this size would be good, I think.”

Lawrence picked out a coin of about the right size and held it up to Holo’s chest. It was an unremarkable piece of faded silver, but strangely, it looked more like an antique piece of silversmithing when worn by Holo.

Clothes make the man, the old saying went, but in this girl’s case the opposite was true—she made anything look good.

“Heh. So, might we put a hole in this?” Holo burbled as she held the piece up.

Lawrence agonized for a moment but then hardened his heart and took the coin back. “If we do that, it’ll be useless as currency.”

“Hmph.”

“You’ve got that precious wheat about your neck anyway, don’t you? You can’t wear a coin with that.”

Holo looked forlornly at the coin Lawrence had taken back. “Huh?” she asked, her head tilted in confusion.

“There’s a scripture that prohibits usury. It says the practice is like sowing coins into a field.”

Despite her confused look, Holo was still a wisewolf. As soon as she began to think it over, she assumed an air of intellectualism. But the wine caught up to her, and she soon surrendered. “…What does that mean?”

“Coins will not send up shoots, nor blossom into flowers. Moreover, they’re metal, so they’ll poison the soil and make everything else planted there wither. In other words, it prohibits collecting interest and speaks to the evil of money.”

“Mm.” The wolf ears on her head flicked rapidly, and Holo nodded, seeming to accept this explanation. “I can’t have the wheat withering, can I?”

Lawrence had also thought about how it would look on her already-thin physique but had not mentioned that. He only had one life, after all.

“So why will we be able to sell these coins in particular, then?” Holo pointed at the schmie coppers with their wolf designs.

“These? Well…” Lawrence found himself stumbling over his words. But he quickly recovered and gave a good merchant’s answer. “The wolf device on them, you see.”

“Oh? Why’s that, I suppose. It does seem quite clever.” Holo said, pleased, as she picked one of the coins up and turned it over in her palm.

Her good mood did not seem to be from the wine. She did seem very amused by the image of the wolf. And why not? Surely a lonely traveler, far from their home, would be heartened to chance upon a coin with a famous figure from their homeland carved upon its face.

But Lawrence remained purposefully vague. She was so happy, sitting there on the desk with her tail swishing back and forth. There was no need to say it.

“Come, you. What is it?”

The question put Lawrence in a difficult place.

“Courage, perhaps? Or…good fortune? No, this is wolves like me, so…” Holo considered the various possibilities herself.

He could not tell her. He could not tell her that it was a ward against wolves.

“Hmm. And didn’t you say that you’ll be able to sell them in a woodcutters’ village?”

“Y-yes, that’s right.”

“Which means…,” Holo mused, sinking into her own thoughts as a person sinks into water.

Lawrence could only look away and close his eyes. Her second name, Wisewolf, was not merely for show, and as he expected, she seemed to have realized the truth.

Holo’s tail stopped in place, and she placed the coin she had been playing with back down on the desk.

“…Mm. Well, I figured ’twas something of the sort,” she said, seemingly out of consideration for Lawrence.

As though admitting that wolves and humans could not help but be enemies.

“I mean, look, there are bandit ward coins, too, so—”

“Come, you,” said Holo with a lonely sigh and momentary smile. “If you care so much, ’twill only make me feel lonelier,” she said, hopping off the desk and returning to the bed. It was too late to say anything to her. Her body disappeared beneath the covers, followed by her tail.

Lawrence had been careless.

He should have known, he thought and sighed and began to place the sorted coins on the table into different bags.

The next moment, something came to him.

“Hey—that’s right. Of course,” he said, leaning back in the chair so that it balanced on its back legs. He looked back over his shoulder and saw Holo looking at him, apparently wondering what he was talking about.

“Come to think of it, with you along, don’t you suppose we could make a killing on wolf wards?”

Occasionally stubbornness led to a certain wry smile. But a smile was a smile, and sometimes that was enough to clear the skies.

Holo’s ears twitched. “So,” she said, turning over in bed to face him. “What did you have in mind?”

While she could be even more childish and selfish than she looked, she offered Lawrence such a gracious chance to redeem himself that even he could not let it slip away.

No one had a better traveling companion than he did.

“Well, say…,” Lawrence said, his gaze flitting away. “Maybe one could make some noise that would drive them away…?”

“Sometimes high-pitched noises are unpleasant for us…but that’s just as likely to attract their attention as it is to drive wolves away.”

She had a very straightforward point of view.

“What about prayers to God, then?”

“Aye, surely, if that god will give them food every day.”

“What about the talk that they can’t stand the smell of metal?”

“Metal…” Holo sat up as though they had finally hit upon something worth debating. She closed her eyes and tilted her head. “That might have some effect.”

“So a leaden apron might work, then?” Lawrence had seen craftsmen wearing such things.

“Hmmm.”

“I’ve often heard that knights or mercenaries wearing armor are difficult to attack.”

“That’s because of the long spears they carry, though, aye? Those are troublesome even for me. But swords—sometimes I don’t even notice if they’re carrying swords before I leap.”

Every one of her answers was completely reasonable.

Lawrence gave the matter honest thought. “What about something that simply smells bad?”

“Aye. Herbs often have a bitter scent. That might be worst of all.”

Several possible varieties of herbs flitted through Lawrence’s mind. Some of them were quite cheap and might well do the trick.

Given the hour, the sun would soon be setting, but even if the spice shops were closing, their wares would be identifiable from the eaves simply by the scents they gave off.

“Shall we go out? You might walk off a bit of that wine.”

“Mm. Right now?” Holo was surprised at first but soon changed her mind. “Aye, why not?”

“Right.” Lawrence put his things in order and stood, and watching him, Holo smiled. A moment later, she climbed out of bed herself.

“But let’s not hurry, eh?” said Holo as she took Lawrence’s hand.

The western sky was red, but the east had already turned a dark blue. The passersby in the streets wore their scarves up around their mouths, bundled up tightly as they hurried to finish the day’s business and head home.

The barmaid of the tavern, which Holo had been drinking and carousing at not long before, was just then hanging a tallow lamp from the building’s eaves; noticing Lawrence and Holo, she waved.

“…”

When Lawrence looked back at her, Holo’s grip on his hand tightened a little—the usual joke. And anyway, the barmaid hardly had time to show a mere traveling merchant anything more than the usual pleasant greeting. Customers were arriving one after the other, and she hurried inside, as though someone in the building had called to her.

“If anything, I imagine she was greeting us thanks to your drinking habits,” said Lawrence.

“Oh ho. Then she ought to have waved an empty glass instead of her hand.”

“Does that mean I should’ve waved my lightened coin purse?”

“Heh-heh. Yes, just so.”

Such was their banter as they walked through the twilight town.

Lawrence often found summer post-sunset hour to be excessively melancholy, and as such did not like it, but winter’s was just the opposite.

The air was cool and dry, and being covered in the dust of a hard day’s work, delicious food and drink surely awaited them in a warm room somewhere, one that glowed with lamplight. It was no different from Holo’s thinking, and doubtless that feeling was what led her to drag them to taverns and loosen the strings of his coin purse.

Such thoughts occupied Lawrence’s mind as he walked beside Holo, and eventually they came to a certain building. A signboard with an earthen mortar affixed to it hung from the eaves, indicating that it was an apothecary’s shop.

In most towns, herbs and spices fell into the purview of the apothecary.

Various dried herbs of suspicious provenance hung from the eaves in bunches, and inside the cramped little shop were rows of baskets containing even more herbs.

But farther inside, the shopkeeper was bent over, tidying up after the day’s business, and when he noticed Lawrence and Holo, his breath came out in a white puff as he smiled apologetically. “Customers, at this hour? I was just about to close up shop.”

“Could we browse just a bit?”

“So long as you aren’t long,” replied the shopkeeper, arranging the small bottles and casks on a shelf.

“Thank you very much,” said Lawrence with a smile.

Next to him, Holo waited for the shopkeeper to stick his nose back into the shelves before she whispered into Lawrence’s ear, “He was looking at me as he said that.”

“He probably thinks I’m some fool merchant a town girl has tricked into buying a scented sachet or some such thing.” Lawrence shrugged, and Holo stifled a laugh.

“Even if it smells good, it still leaves your belly empty.”

“I figured you’d say that.”

As they chatted, they smelled each of the herbs lined up in front of the shop. Black herbs, blue herbs, deep green herbs, red herbs, yellow herbs. There were even some made from dried flowers or dried fruits, and many that, upon asking the shopkeeper their names, Lawrence discovered he had never heard of before.

For Holo’s part, she delivered her opinions in turn as she sampled the scents. “Good for putting on tough meat. Good for putting in bad wine. Good for putting on burnt bread.” Such harshly scented herbs as these were not good for improving the taste of good food so much as they were for covering up the taste of bad food—or so Holo was saying with much disapproval.

In any case, Holo’s nose and her ability to tell the scents apart was enough to make even the shopkeeper’s eyes go wide in surprise, but it was no shock to someone who knew exactly what she was.

But what did surprise Lawrence was when the impressed shopkeeper, upon recognizing Holo’s magnificent nose, brought out several small baskets for her to sample.

“I’ve a favor to ask, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Holo looked at Lawrence, then back to the shopkeeper.

“This one and this one. Also this and this. Here, too—lately there are rumors of fakes circulating. I’ve been doing an apothecary’s work for thirty years, but sometimes even I find myself fooled by the fakes. I hear sometimes they train dogs to sniff out the scents nearer the fakes, but…would you consider lending me your nose?”

Evidently every business had its troubles.

Holo was obviously displeased, but Lawrence cannily answered the shopkeeper. “This girl once worked in a noble house, whose mistress was a great lover of spices. She naturally developed quite a sense for them working there, you see, and that’s why I keep her near.”

It was a circuitous explanation, but the shopkeeper was no amateur. He nodded immediately. “Do not worry,” he said. “If she can tell the fakes from the genuine article, I’d be prepared to thank her appropriately.”

He placed a weight on one side of a set of scales and then balanced it with an amount of copper coins.

The deal was done.

“Well then, Holo.”

“Er…hmm…good wheat bread, then.”

A bit of red dye would tint the whole barrel, the old saying went. Holo made her request, and Lawrence immediately nodded.

Evidently the spice the shopkeeper had at hand was rather valuable, as the amount he had proposed to Lawrence was a tidy sum. There would be money left over even after buying Holo the bread she craved. He did not mind, as long as the entirety of this unexpected profit was not used up.

“Ah,” murmured Lawrence to himself.

Holo sniffed at a sprig of herb that the shopkeeper gave her and looked up at him. “What makes you say that?” she asked Lawrence.

“Oh, nothing. I just remembered something I need to do. I’ll be right back—just stay here.”

Holo looked none too pleased, but the shopkeeper seemed to be fine with any arrangement that included Holo staying there and sniff testing his wares.

Lawrence lightly patted Holo’s shoulder and walked off without waiting for her to reply.

He walked quickly through the town streets, making for his destination. The streets were more crowde, now, with people hurrying home.

The coins in his coin purse jingled.

Once Lawrence finished his errand, he returned to the shop, where he found Holo and the shopkeeper drinking wine.

He was extolling the virtues of apothecaries as he drank, so evidently the smell-detection work had finished.

The shopkeeper was the first to notice Lawrence, and he emerged from the front of the shop with a great smile on his face, as though he was about to pick Lawrence up in a warm embrace. “Well, well! Your girl’s nose is truly a wonder. Dunking the fake in wine soon revealed the lie! I very nearly took a terrible loss,” he said.

“I’m pleased to hear it. I see you’ve added wine to her payment.”

“It’s nothing compared with the loss I would’ve suffered. And of course, my consideration will be a generous one,” he said and hurried back inside his shop.

Holo was drinking wine with a very satisfied look on her face, and given that she had already been drunk earlier that same evening, the look in her eye was a bit suspicious.

“You’ve drunk too much.”

“Hmm? I’ve finished a hard day’s work! And unlike a certain someone who did nothing but tuck the profit away in their coin purse, I’m quite tired.”

Perhaps angry at having been left behind, she shoved her finger at Lawrence’s chest, and her eyes were surprisingly serious.

In lieu of an apology, Lawrence plucked an herb fragment away from the corner of Holo’s mouth. He sniffed it; it was an herb often said to go well with wine.

“Given that, I suppose you weren’t able to do what we originally came here to do?”

At Lawrence’s words, Holo drank more wine in noisy gulps and replied in an aggrieved tone, “Searching for a scent that wolves don’t like means essentially that I have to put my nose to things I myself hate. Why must I do such a thing, pray tell?”

It was unclear whether she was speaking purposefully or whether it was just the wine, but in any case Holo was clearly upset at Lawrence leaving her behind. Lawrence sighed softly and took the wine cup from Holo’s hand.

She had not been expecting this, evidently, and stared at the wine cup taken from her hand as though it was a truly mysterious thing.

“My wine?” she said, dazed.

She was quite charming when she was like this, but instead of a reply, Lawrence produced something from his breast pocket.

He had not left Holo behind to take care of an errand he’d “forgotten.” His destination had been a money changer or goldsmith or anywhere that an artisan who worked in iron or silver might be found.

Since the shops were largely preparing to close, he’d had to force the issue to get what he needed. And it did not hurt that his request was a simple one.

Lawrence produced the gift and handed it to Holo.

It was a schmie coin, with a hole put in it, hung on a thread.

“Is this…?”

“I can spare a single silver piece. And a dignified image like this one suits you.”

Holo looked closely at the coin, then back up at Lawrence.

Her eyes were moist (perhaps that was the wine), but Lawrence knew he would never forget her shy smile in that moment for as long as he lived.

“Still,” said Holo to Lawrence, “if I wear something like this, it might well keep me from encountering my kind during our travels.”

Given that the schmie coin was used as a wolf ward, Lawrence took Holo’s point. He took the string from which the coin dangled and affixed it about her neck. “Then wear it only when we’re in a town.”

Holo let him do as he wished, putting a question to him as he drew near to pass the thread under her hair. “What do you mean by that?”

The wine-blended scent that tickled Lawrence’s nose was not any spice or oil; it was Holo’s own faintly sweet scent.

He was feeling rather bold. “To keep away the wolves of the towns.”

Holo stiffened in such sudden surprise that Lawrence was glad he had taken her wine cup away.

Her ears pricked up so stiffly that they nearly dislodged her kerchief, and, unable to contain her mirth, Holo doubled over in laughter.

Just then the shopkeeper emerged, bringing their consideration, and his eyes went wide at the scene.

Lawrence gave the man a rueful smile, just as Holo righted herself and took Lawrence’s arm. “Bah-hah-hah-hah. Oh, you’re a fool, you are. A grand fool.”

“Not bad, eh?”

“Keh-heh-heh!” Holo continued laughing and straightened herself. “That was the foulest one today.”

“Foul enough to keep wolves from bothering us?”

Holo grinned.

Lawrence received the payment from the shopkeeper—who was quite taken aback at Holo’s laughter—and returned to him coin enough to pay for the wine Holo had drunk.

The shopkeeper tried to hire Holo on the spot, but of course was turned down. Lawrence led Holo off as they began to walk.

She clung tightly to Lawrence’s arm, still giggling, and did not immediately let go.

It was as the stars were beginning to twinkle in the sky that a memory called to Lawrence. “Oh, that’s right. If it was truly so foul…”

“Hmm?”

“…Then you shouldn’t mind the burning peat so much anymore, eh?”

Holo, already teary-eyed from laughter, chuckled again and took a deep breath. “I concede it! You win.”

At her breast hung the silver schmie piece.

In the twilight, the regal wolf on its face seemed to sigh a long-suffering sigh.

End.