Spice and Wolf - Volume 14 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Finally visiting his old partner in the stables, Lawrence stood in front of the home.

At first, the horse had stuck his nose irritably into the barrel of fodder. But then, slowly, he had raised his head, regarding Lawrence with large black eyes—only to snort petulantly.

“He’s done splendidly. And eaten enough for that, to be sure,” said the stable master with a proud smile, almost as though he were talking about his own horse.

Horses were not cheap. If Lawrence had to leave his in the care of another, it was good that he was being treated as one of the stable master’s own.

“Quite, and I’m always having to bargain with him over how much I have to feed him to get him to walk a few more steps.”

“I see. So you get plenty of negotiation practice while out on the road, eh?” In the cold season, a sunny afternoon like this one put everyone in high spirits.

After both men laughed at the joke, Lawrence mentioned that he expected to be leaving in the next few days, and thus asked that the stable master not rent his horse out to anyone else. “And there’s no need to let him eat too much.”

“Ah, so you’ll have a better place to bargain from on your last day, eh?”

Whether it was just a joke, or a shield to guard against a surprise jab, or (most likely) both, Lawrence laughed and waved his hand lightly. “I’ll leave him to you for the next few days.”

“It’s always a pleasure to take care of a fine horse.”

In the time Lawrence was talking to the stable master, several other people had come and gone looking to rent a horse or leave theirs for a day. Most of them seemed to be known to the stable master, and the apprentices treated them with familiarity. In most shops, the owner dealt only with the regulars, leaving the first-time customers to his apprentices, but a stable was just the opposite. During a journey, one literally entrusted one’s life to a horse, so the stable master had to treat first-time customers with the utmost seriousness. Once trust was established, they would come back.

And just as goods varied from region to region, so did practices from trade to trade.

“I suppose that’s most of the major preparations, then,” said Lawrence as he ticked them off his fingers. Holo had turned away from the horse as he spoke to face Lawrence. Normally her view of the animal was from the driver’s seat, so perhaps it was novel for her to regard him from the front.

The horse, too, seemed to have an opinion on Holo, and the two had regarded each other for a moment.

The stable master had laughed and said that the two seemed to be having some sort of conversation—and perhaps they had. Once Holo had finally stepped back from the horse, Lawrence asked.

“Talking about the state of the world with him, were you?”

“Mm? Oh, aye. We’ve both been put up as collateral before, so we were simply commiserating.”

When a traveling merchant’s tool broke, it was fixed and reused until it was so worn down there was nothing left. Food was eaten crusty and moldy until it simply could not be kept down.

And in Holo’s case, when she bore even a single grudge, she would complain about it a hundred times. Moreover, most of her grudges were not even real grudges.

Lawrence made an exasperated face, at which Holo happily took his arm. She was in good spirits, as though the trouble with Col had been forgotten.

“So, what next? Foodstuffs, mayhaps?”

“I’ve already taken care of our food. All that’s left is fuel, money changing, and perhaps I ought to have my knife sharpened. Anyway, there’s nothing left of much interest to you.”

Lawrence had expected her to make a theatrically bored face, but she did not seem particularly bothered. He had thought she would be angry about the food, but she let it pass.

Of course, even without laying in extra provisions, the wagon bed was already full of all sorts of tasty treats. If he had been using his own wagon and horse, his old partner would probably take one look at the load and neigh an exhausted neigh—My master’s got a swollen head again!

“Still, I think it might be better to wait on fuel and money changing until the map arrives, and we know exactly where we’re going. What say you?”

“Mm? Mm. I was thinking of wandering about a bit just to kill some time, but…,” said Holo, her amber eyes then fixing upon Lawrence with alarming speed, “let’s return to the inn and prepare for another battle!”

Even knowing she was deliberately trying to get a rise out of him, Lawrence was not sure how much of that was a joke. Elsa seemed like she could be counted upon to be reasonable, but if provoked by Holo, her stubbornness might well flare up.

Holo’s expression quickly returned to placidity. Perhaps she regretted having said too much.

Lawrence saw this and decided to leave well enough alone. This, in turn, made him wonder if he was not a little sick himself.

In any case, he thought he might speak to Col before this got out of hand. As the notion occurred to him, Holo stood on tiptoe and grabbed hold of his ear. “Are you thinking of interfering in what I’ve set my mind to, hmm?”

It seemed that wolves could be surprisingly persistent.

They returned to the inn, with Lawrence following Holo up the stairs. As they ascended, Lawrence caught a glimpse of her tail from under her cloak. This always happened whenever she was excited or in high spirits. In her giant wolf form she might have been able to hide it, but in this small body it was terribly clear. She hopped up the last step, and Lawrence sighed a tired sigh.

He did not believe anything he had thought or said was mistaken, and yet still he felt uncertain. That might have been Holo’s aim, but in any case, Elsa did give off a stubborn impression, which frightened him.

Or was it that from the outside, his and Holo’s relationship really did seem so tenuous? He had learned from his business that it was dangerous to ever consider one’s own position as one safe from danger.

His arms folded in thought, Lawrence walked down the hallway as he considered these things. Holo skipped on ahead and put her hand to the room’s door.

It was then that the delighted expression on her face suddenly vanished.

“What’s wrong?” Lawrence asked, just as a voice called up from downstairs.

“Mr. Lawrence!”

He looked back and saw that it was Le Roi.

Holo looked to Lawrence with a face as though she had had cold water dumped on her head, but Lawrence held up his hand to stop her complaint. “Please come alone” was written all over Le Roi’s face.

“Go on in without me.”

Holo’s perception was just as good as any experienced merchant’s, so while she was obviously dissatisfied with the situation, she finally nodded her agreement. “Make it quick,” was all she said, as she did an about-face.

There was no question in her eyes, no sense of “Will you be all right on your own?” Perhaps her head was simply filled with thoughts of Elsa and Col, or perhaps she had come to trust him at least a little bit. Lawrence considered this as he descended the stairs.

Le Roi removed his hat apologetically and bowed.

Lawrence heard the door to his room close—a sound that struck him with loneliness—then addressed Le Roi. “What might be the matter?”

“Yes, well, it’s no great thing…,” he said, only to point farther downstairs. Evidently, he wanted to speak in the inn’s tavern.

Lawrence had no reason to refuse, so he followed the man. While Holo had made no sound at all as she had walked the stairs and hallways of the inn, the floor creaked with every one of Le Roi’s steps.

Surely the reason most kings were fat was to increase the imposition of their appearance.

The time being what it was, when they reached the tavern on the first floor, there was hardly anybody there. Two men who had the look of travelers sat at seats near the entrance, sipping their wine disagreeably and discussing something in low voices.

Lawrence and Le Roi sat in the far corner of the tavern, as far away from the men as possible, and ordered two cups of wine.

The tavern master was so friendly as to be unpleasant. Le Roi looked back and forth between him and Lawrence three times, but asked nothing. Instead, he stared at the brimming cup of wine in front of him and, for the moment, remained still.

When Le Roi finally spoke, Lawrence had brought his cup to his lips three times.

“You have connections with the Delink Company, yes?”

Sitting at the table, Le Roi seemed shrunken in on himself, as though he expected to be scolded. His downcast face and pathetic, upturned eyes contrasted with the strangely accusing tone in his question.

If all of this was a calculated performance, he was a formidable man indeed. And Lawrence could only assume it was a performance.

If such a man got his teeth into him, there would be no escape. His pathetic display was perfect.

“Were you following me?” Lawrence asked, setting his cup down after a fourth sip and glancing over at the tavern keeper, who was writing something in a ledger.

After Lawrence had happened to encounter Luz Eringin in front of Arold’s old inn, he had gotten the sense that someone was hiding in a corner of the street, watching. Assuming that had not been his imagination, it must have been Le Roi, who now sat in front of him.

“Yes. Well, Sir Eringin, actually.”

Lawrence nodded but had absolutely no notion of how much he could trust this answer, given that he now knew that Le Roi was after the library that slumbered in the cellar beneath Elsa’s church in Tereo.

Given that Lawrence had saved Tereo once before, it would not be at all surprising if Le Roi were trying to win him over, thinking to use him as a wedge to pry open Elsa’s mouth.

“Might I ask why?”

At Lawrence’s question, Le Roi swallowed. “I want to borrow money.”

Lawrence was taken aback by the straightforward answer and looked evenly at Le Roi.

The man was clearly skilled at pacing a conversation. Lawrence found himself desperately wishing he had brought Holo along.

“I was following him around, hoping for some opportunity to approach him, when I happened to run into what I saw.”

Lawrence set aside what Le Roi was saying and thought about something else. Le Roi wanted to ask him to introduce him to the Delink Company. “They’re a troublesome lot, that company. Borrowing money from them, it’s…”

That was as far as Lawrence got before Le Roi nodded his clear agreement. “I know. I’ve done occasional business in this town myself. I’m well aware of what sort of company they are.”

Le Roi was, after all, someone who dealt with questionable people like Philon. Warning him was like delivering a sermon to a holy man.

And as Lawrence expected, Le Roi continued. “But that’s the sort of company I want to borrow from, if I can.”

“That sort of company?”

“Yes. The sort that doesn’t care about politics, that’s unmoved by faith. That pursues only profit. I can borrow only from such a place. Of course…” For the first time, Le Roi smiled an unpleasant smile and took a drink of wine.

There was no question this man had gone over his performance many times before, because it was as polished as a brass mirror.

“…if there’s somewhere else that will lend me a thousand silver pieces with no questions asked, that’s a different story.”

Le Roi’s eyes seemed very small, perhaps because his face was so large. At times the impression he gave off was like a small defenseless animal, but now he looked like some sort of insect as it hunted its prey.

A thousand silver pieces was surely just a figure of speech. Given Le Roi’s tone, Lawrence very much doubted whatever he had in mind would not be settled with a mere thousand pieces.

“It’s true I’m passingly acquainted with the Delink Company, but I don’t think they trust me so much that I could get them on board with anything suspicious…”

“I’ll pay you three hundred trenni,” said Le Roi, then closed his mouth tightly shut after the brief words.

Lawrence tried to respond, but finally no words came out from between his opened lips. He had the feeling that Le Roi would have a response ready for any of the objections that came readily to mind. He would have to—three hundred silver pieces was a lot of money.

Lawrence thought for a moment, then spoke. “I’m through risking my life for money.” Just imagining what might ensue if he introduced somebody unreliable to the Delink Company and it happened to turn out badly made Lawrence depressed.

It was not a matter of how much money he was being offered.

He gave Le Roi his final-sounding answer, at which the crafty merchant immediately tried a different tactic. “I heard from Philon that you’re heading north.”

“—!” Lawrence looked up at the ceiling and knew that the battle was already over.

He brought his gaze slowly back down, and Le Roi wore the expression of a man who had placed a foolish bet and won anyway. “There’s something the chain makers say. A chain can’t be stronger than its weakest link.”

That was why Le Roi had been waiting for Lawrence at this inn.

While Lawrence had been out with Holo, he had called on Elsa and Col and wheedled all the information out of them. Even if they had been on their guard about what they said, they would have had no secrets from a man like Le Roi.

And in all likelihood, they had not been particularly guarded around him to begin with.

As though to prove it, Le Roi began to speak in a relaxed tone. “I’m quite sure that nice people with strong feelings about the northlands will be willing to lend more than a little aid in what I’m trying to do.”

Such roundabout words were rarely used in business. They made him sound more like a rebel leader trying to rouse his men to defeat some great enemy.

Le Roi pulled his big hands out from beneath the table and folded them together on top of it. They looked like a big ball of dough ready for baking.

Lawrence realized he was already in the oven. He would have to be careful, otherwise he would wind up with his face red and swollen and full of regret.

“So what is it…you plan to buy with this money?”

This was surely the question Le Roi most wanted Lawrence to ask. It indicated that he was ready to engage in negotiations.

Le Roi smiled, the creases on his thick face deeply shadowed. “A forbidden book.” The short words gave Lawrence a chill. “A forbidden book containing knowledge of banned arts. That’s what I aim to buy.”

The bookseller in front of him had dealings with Philon, a general store owner who supplied mercenaries. Moreover, he had had a relationship with a towering man like Father Franz and was very shrewdly trying to obtain his library. He was greedy, but honest in his greed.

Lawrence could not imagine this was a joke or a lie, or some boring scam.

“Alchemy, then?” Lawrence asked.

His eyes never leaving Lawrence, his opponent shook his thick head, indicating a negative. “A mining technique.”

If this had been a game of cards, this would have been the card that rendered Lawrence’s hand meaningless.

Le Roi continued. “I imagine it would be quite bad if the Debau Company got their hands on it first.”

Lawrence had heard from time to time of revolutionary developments in the fields of shipbuilding and metallurgy. They turned common knowledge upside down and evidently made the impossible possible. If knowledge was a weapon, then they were like magic spells. With such knowledge, a tiny sardine could become a great shark.

Because of this, books containing such techniques and the knowledge of its practitioners were not always used, but instead sometimes hidden away or destroyed, Lawrence had heard. Because, while a crown always stayed on a king’s head, knowledge was like puffs of wool on the wind and could go flying off anywhere.

When it came to mining techniques, which could be used by a select group of individuals to immediately realize vast profits, the tendency of such information to fly was even stronger.

Lawrence found it easy to doubt Le Roi.

But if it were true, and moreover if the information in the forbidden book was truly revolutionary, it could not be allowed into the hands of the Debau Company.

The only people in the northlands who would welcome such a development were the ones who preferred long-tasseled rugs and stone houses to bountiful forests and mountains.

And Holo wanted to nap in the sun of her homelands.

But Lawrence knew he could not act rashly. He reminded himself of that, then spoke. “Let’s hear the details,” he said.

“I look forward to your reply,” said Le Roi before he left the inn, with a bow that made him look like a full wineskin being bent forcibly in half.

The only things left behind were two cups half-full of wine and Lawrence himself.

Now alone, Lawrence noticed the curious gaze of the tavern keeper on him, which he ignored, and looked up at the ceiling.

Having thought over Le Roi’s proposition, he could not imagine it was a trap.

The river that passed through Lenos had two sources. One came from the Debau Company’s base of power, and the other from the northeast region of Ploania. Le Roi claimed that there was a company in a town in that northeast region where the book currently was. It would have been foolish to bother asking, so Lawrence had not bothered inquiring as to the name of the town or the company.

Instead, he had asked how such a book had come to such a place.

Le Roi had simply answered, “There was an old abbey there.”

There was an abbey that, after two centuries of history, was struck by lightning and burned to the ground. But upon hearing of its reputation for piety, a certain lord began construction of a new abbey. Thus, among the rubble of the old abbey was discovered the entrance to a cellar not even the abbot himself had known about, and from it was recovered a mountain of books. Most of them were written in ancient languages, and beginning with the lord’s representative, none of the learned monks could understand them. Finally scholars were called from far and wide and asked for their appraisal, and in the end, most of the books were identified.

But even then a few remained mysteries, most of which were written in languages used by far-off desert kingdoms, and a few others were simply too old. Deciphering them required extreme effort, and the writing of the desert languages was worrisome. If, when translated, it turned out that the books contained something terrible, the abbey’s reputation would sink into the earth.

Regardless of whether he was moved by such talk, the lord sold the volumes to book collectors in order to raise money for the reconstruction. And while the representative could not read them, he still copied the tiles down as best he could to create an index.

Some years later, the lord found himself in financial difficulties after giving a bit too much to the abbey and the Church. And a certain company thereupon made him a loan, taking some of his treasures as collateral. As the company sorted through each one, they came across the book in question. It had no value to the company, but a bookseller would know what it was worth.

And so they had sought the opinion of Le Roi.

The knowledge of the booksellers of the south far outstripped any scholar’s. The scholars had to investigate every single line and word of the huge tome, but the merchants needed only the title and a brief summary. If the scholars knew the contents of a century’s worth of books, the merchants knew the value of a millennium’s.

Seeing the title of books he knew to be forbidden in the index, Le Roi immediately bought the index and began casting as wide a net as he could.

And then one of the volumes was caught.

Having survived because it was written in characters nobody could read, it described terrible techniques. But that was not unusual; such ignorance led to all sorts of mishaps—a cardinal might hang a painting in his chambers, not realizing it was meant as a caricature of the pope.

Le Roi had said that he honestly did not know if the company that currently held the book had realized its true value. From his tone, it was clear that he desperately hoped this was true. And while Le Roi seemed like someone who got easily carried away, he was, in truth, a very practical thinker.

In other words, even if the company did not realize what they had, if Le Roi had figured it out, then it might not be long before someone else did, too.

The information had come to Le Roi via many other people, and any one of those people might let it slip that Le Roi was looking for that book. Any savvy merchant who heard that would conclude that something of interest was happening.

So long as nobody was looking for it, even gold by the roadside would go unnoticed. But once someone was looking for something, it would be found—even if it did not really exist.

Furthermore, Le Roi revealed that he had tried to borrow money from Philon. And Lawrence now knew why that had not worked.

Just as the Beast and Fish Tail had stored up goods as speculation, Philon had done the same thing. That was why Elsa could not spend the night there. He had bought up so much that not only were his storehouses full, but his living rooms as well, so he had no cash on hand with which to make a loan. And even if he had had such cash, he would have used it to buy more goods.

“Can’t blame me for finding the story a little too perfect,” Lawrence murmured to clear his head.

There was a time when he would not have hesitated to take three hundred pieces of silver simply to make an introduction to the Delink Company. But now he had reasons to stay behind at the table when Le Roi left and to hesitate to agree.

For one, there was no guarantee that Le Roi was not connected to the Debau Company. And even if he was not so connected, once he got his hands on the book, it might well have ill effects on the northlands simply by being sold at all.

Essentially, there were times when a book was better off staying on the shelves of some collector who failed to understand its contents.

But if Le Roi’s prayers were in vain, and the company in question managed to obtain a translation of the book, what would happen if they realized the value of its contents? Such an outcome did not seem unthinkable, but nor was it necessarily bound to happen. If a book was favored for whatever reason, of course there would be curiosity about what it contained. If it had not been translated, then the likelier reason by far was that it had simply been at the end of a long line.

Which meant that, so long as Le Roi could be believed, Lawrence ought to help him as much as he could.

But that was not the only problem he faced.

If Lawrence were to introduce Le Roi to the Delink Company, he would then be vouching for Le Roi’s trustworthiness. That was what an introduction was: the introducing party’s guarantee that this person was trustworthy. If the person he introduced was scheming to swindle the Delink Company, the blame would fall on Lawrence, who had made the introduction. And he did not want to imagine what earning the ire of a company like that would mean.

If he got involved in this, he would need to watch Le Roi very closely to make sure the man did not do anything stupid. He might just take the money and run.

If it came to that, it was sure to take quite a bit of time to remedy.

At this juncture, Lawrence did not know which company in which town held the book. But it was undoubtedly not a small company nor a small town, so he knew to narrow it down to larger towns. In which case, that could take well over ten days by horse-drawn wagon. Given the possibilities, it could take close to twenty days each way, if the destination were the capital of Ploania. It could end up wasting a month or even two months of his time.

By that time, the chill of winter would be beginning to thaw, and it would be the beginning of a new year.

The world would be starting to move again, with the snowmelt turning once more its waterwheels.

Lawrence was a traveling merchant who lived in the cycle of the seasons. He was no nobleman who could idle his time away, ignorant of the year. The trade route his master had passed down to him was artfully constructed to take exactly one year. He could afford this fool’s errand to help Holo find her homeland of Yoitsu because it came during the winter, when the whole world slowed.

He wanted to throw everything away for Holo. But even so, it was a simple fact that he could not. Lawrence was a traveling merchant, and such a decision would not affect only him.

There was a village up in the mountain crags that barely made it through each winter—if Lawrence did not come, they would be forced to eat the moss off the very rocks. It was for such reasons that traveling merchants were needed in the world. For every month Lawrence delayed, they had to wait another month for him to bring them food.

That meant he had determined to part ways with Holo once Yoitsu lay before them.

“…”

Lawrence closed his eyes and thought things over again slowly and deliberately.

His promise to Holo was to take her to Yoitsu. Either that or to part ways with her with a smile.

It was not to protect her homeland from all possibility of danger. Holo herself knew that to be impossible.

Lawrence drained his cup with a sigh and stood.

“Once you hear, you want to do something about it”—such had been Hugues’s position, although he had covered his ears to the Debau Company’s schemes. If there was nothing one could do, ignorance was better for one’s peace of mind.

That was certainly the truth.

Although the sound had not bothered him at all when he had walked up with Holo, now that he was alone, the creaking grated on his ears. No doubt his face was creaking just as much, Lawrence mused to himself self-reproachingly, as he stood before the door to the room.

He took a shallow breath and opened it without much hesitation, ready to greet its occupants.

What kept him frozen there in surprise was the simple fact that he did not really understand the scene that greeted him.

“…What are you doing?”

In response to Lawrence’s question, Elsa and Holo merely glanced at him. Only Col’s eyes had any feeling in them, and that feeling was a deep need for rescue.

“Don’t look sideways,” said Holo, pushing his head with her finger, such that it pointed straight forward. Holo stood directly behind him, busily combing his hair with the comb she normally reserved for her own tail. What made Lawrence wonder if they were about to try cutting his hair was the blanket that had been wrapped snugly around Col’s neck.

At a short remove from the two, closer to the wall, was Elsa, attending to some sewing task. Given that Col’s upper body was now wrapped in a blanket, Elsa must have been mending his shirt. Her hand movements were quick and practiced, and when she occasionally shook the shirt out to make certain of her work, it was no longer in its former tattered state.

The optimistic way of viewing the situation was that Holo and Elsa could no longer stand to look at Col’s pathetic state, and they were attempting to do something about it. But Lawrence detected a certain something else in the scene before him.

It was the same thing that had happened at the Beast and Fish Tail. He remembered himself, caught between Holo and the barmaid…

“Mm. Putting your fur in proper order makes you a different lad.”

It was true that the constantly dusty Col looked markedly cleaner. Holo wore a very satisfied expression, her chest thrust out in pride.

But the next person to speak was not Col—it was Elsa.

“It will just be mussed again once he sleeps, so I don’t see how there’s much meaning in it.” They were fitting words from someone who had received the truth of God and taught the path of righteousness to the public.

Elsa seemed to have finished her mending of the piece in her hands. While her face had its usual stoic expression, Lawrence detected a note of satisfaction in the sigh she let slip.

Elsa returned the mended clothing to Col, who tentatively took it and put it on.

“…”

Lawrence heard two silences.

One was that of Col, who stared at his shirt as though he could not believe what he was seeing, and the other was that of Holo, who was deeply unamused.

“No matter how fine the wine, if it’s put in an old, tattered wineskin, it will break and spill. While looking fine isn’t the most important thing, a container needs to be as sturdy as it possibly can be.”

And just as Elsa said, now that he was wearing a well-mended shirt, Col had been transformed from an impoverished, suspicious errant student into a poor-but-trustworthy merchant’s apprentice.

“Of course you can’t simply leave your hair a mess, but that’s easier to put in order than your clothing. And more important even than clothes are your bearing and presence. Your manner of speaking, your etiquette—these all must be good. Of course, compared with strong faith, even that is an unsteady thing. But on that count, I don’t think we need worry.”

Elsa spoke as though she were reciting scripture, but those last words to Col were softer and kinder and came with a gentle smile. Holo flinched away but said nothing more. Col had undoubtedly ended up in this predicament because Holo had earlier insisted that the “manners” Elsa was talking about were not so important.

For someone as inherently carefree as Holo, a bit of fur maintenance was more than enough, and anything more than that was simply affectation. Lawrence himself was a pragmatist and so generally came down more on Holo’s side of things.

But when an untidy impression would harm business, he would gladly tidy himself up. The reason he had left Col alone was, quite honestly, that the boy was not his apprentice and therefore uninvolved in the representation of the business.

Since Elsa’s faith drove her to help as many people as she could, and although she could be a busybody, she was fundamentally helpful. Unfortunately for Holo.

Lawrence had quite forgotten the melancholy he had felt earlier and smiled a long-suffering smile. He decided to speak to Holo, who had left herself no path of retreat.

But just then, Col turned and looked over his shoulder. “I’ve never had my hair combed before,” he said with a bashful tone. “It felt really nice.”

Holo’s eyes went round in surprise, but she smiled, even more pleased than Col seemed. For Col to think of her feelings meant that her battle with Elsa was an indisputable loss.

“Mm, did it, then? Well, speak up whenever you’ve been drilled too hard and need a rest.”

Elsa took the snipe exactly as it was intended, and the anger showed on her face. But from Lawrence’s perspective, Holo’s words were a final empty gesture in the face of defeat. Holo’s chuckling made it clear that this was in fact so.

The wisewolf looked at Col’s mended clothing. “Still,” she added. “You’ll make a good male, aye.”

“So long as he follows my instruction, that prediction will indeed come true,” said Elsa with uncharacteristic childishness, unable to let the opportunity for a counterattack slip by. But no one was as capable of childishness as Holo.

She stuck her tongue out at Elsa.

Elsa was more shocked than surprised by the display. Yet Col giggled—making clear, it seemed, that he was still very near to Holo in emotional maturity.

But Col was a practical and realistic thinker. As such, he knew that it was right for him to listen to Elsa above the other.

Once the thought came to Lawrence, he suddenly glimpsed the loneliness in Holo’s smile. Hers was the face of the wisewolf he had come to know so well, and in her heart she was telling herself the same thing Lawrence was thinking, and it showed.

Even if she took Lawrence’s advice to heart and tried to take a more carefree position, it seemed that even Holo could not behave selfishly to the bitter end.

It took talent to be a tyrant.

So what was so wrong with being a mere traveling merchant and giving his realistic view on things?

He wondered if she had somehow heard his excuse. Holo’s ears pricked up, as though she had suddenly changed her mind on something, and she spun to regard him. “Now, then, let’s hear what new foolishness this fool has brought to us, eh?”

As she spoke, her loneliness completely vanished, and Lawrence could only be impressed with her performance. Or perhaps she was simply relieved that there was someone there who understood her weaknesses. In truth, Lawrence felt quite the same way. From his aura, she seemed to have seen the direction the conversation was going to take.

The red-tinged amber eyes that fixed Lawrence so firmly in their gaze were more beautiful than usual.

“A fool’s errand that could only be the result of God’s mistake,” said Lawrence, exaggerating a bit.

Holo turned to Elsa with similar exaggeration. “Well, then, ours must be a nasty God indeed.”

Col’s smile twitched a little, but Elsa was no ordinary girl. She let Holo’s remarks pass by like a breeze and replied with a cool face and a quiet tone. “Those who believe so only reveal their own impoverished hearts.”

Lawrence swore he could hear the sound of Holo’s tail puffing out in irritation.

He smiled at the strong-willed pair. “So, might I perhaps discuss the situation with you?” he said, coming between them.

When Lawrence finished relaying Le Roi’s story and his own opinions on it, a rather oppressive silence descended on the room.

At its center was, of course, Holo.

“Accompanying him is at least feasible. But doing so will bring me to the limit of my time. You would have to go on to Yoitsu on your own.”

Holo, who was called the wisewolf, was at a loss for an answer.

If they aided Le Roi, it would remove one of the worst possibilities, and simply ascertaining the truth of the story would give her some measure of relief. But in exchange, it would become difficult for Lawrence to spare the time to travel north.

On the other hand, if they ignored the story and proceeded according to their original plan, there would be lingering worries, and it was all too clear what would happen if those worries became tragedy. On top of that, there would be the regret that would come with having had this opportunity to act and letting it pass.

No one knew the pain of being unable to turn back time better than Holo did. She did not look at Lawrence and simply stared at the floor, brow furrowed.

The question was simply whether or not they would go to Yoitsu together—but Lawrence had put so much into being able to fulfill his promise to Holo…

No doubt the reason she was not looking at Lawrence was that she feared that if she did, the answer would come out. The wisewolf prided herself on not being carried away by emotions, and so she could not possibly look at Lawrence.

And Lawrence said nothing, as he knew that this decision had to be Holo’s.

In any case, he could see her answer. Or believed he did.

Which is why, when Holo sighed and looked up at him, he was momentarily confused.

“We have no choice but to take the fruitful path,” she said with a tired smile, sounding almost relieved.

It was her wisewolf’s face. He had seen it so many times before.

After the surprise, Lawrence felt a small surge of anger. “You mean—” he began, but the question he was about to ask was cut off by a sharp look from her.

Holo’s expression immediately softened, though, as though to say she very much wished they could go to Yoitsu together.

“Your promise to me was that you would take me to Yoitsu. So long as you provide me true directions there, I consider that fulfillment of the promise. Whether or not you come with me is a matter of sentiment only.”

By contrast, the matter of Le Roi had practical implications.

Any proper adult, not just a wisewolf, knew better than to have their reason swayed by temporary emotions. It was right and proper, and moreover, the attitude Lawrence took in his daily business.

And yet the shock Lawrence received from Holo’s words was very much a matter of sentiment.

“But there was another, wasn’t there?”

“Another?” Lawrence replied.

Holo glanced at Col and Elsa briefly. “You know that,” she said, faintly amused. “I have a debt to you. Do you remember? You were terrible about it. You said you’d follow me to the ends of the earth to get it from me, you did. Such an avaricious merchant you are.”

Elsa and Col could not help but weigh the truth of Holo’s words, but they were clearly shocked to see Lawrence’s frustrated face.

He had long since forgotten that.

“Did you truly…!” said Elsa, anger and scorn on her face after she got over her surprise. Using debt to force another into bondage was a sin she would not forgive, no matter the circumstances. Especially not when it was someone close; her eyes made it clear she thought of Lawrence as a heartless miser.

“No, there were circumstances…!”

“Mm. Still, if the profit from this pays off that debt, then surely even the stubbornest man or god would forgive it, eh?” said Holo, earning her a disapproving look from Elsa.

But at the toothy, carefree smile Holo put on, Elsa appeared to have nothing more to say. She sighed in exasperation and muttered a prayer: “Oh, God, please forgive me my powerlessness.”

“So, then—at least ten days by wagon, you said? Well, with enough good food and wine, I think I can enjoy myself for that long,” said Holo airily, as she looked toward the window.

Lawrence could not help but swallow his words when he saw how she looked.

Did she really mean to say that at Yoitsu she would be able to part ways with him smiling, so long as she had food and wine? Lawrence wanted to ask but knew nothing would come of the answer.

The question of whether or not she would go to Yoitsu with Lawrence was a purely sentimental one. And Holo could always part ways with a smile—because she was well used to forcing those smiles.

“Come, now that it’s decided, you can accept this fellow’s proposition. If you miss your chance, ’twill be a sad state of affairs indeed. You’re always saying you’re a merchant—go make some easy profit, eh?”

Lawrence knew perfectly well she was forcing this cheer. But Holo seemed satisfied to see that he knew. Her sad smile said it all too clearly: “You needn’t worry about me so.”

It was simply not in Holo’s nature to act selfishly. Even when Lawrence pushed her to, even when he tried to incite her, she pulled away from the struggle over Col.

It was all he could do to nod. “You’re right. Might as well go out with a flourish, eh?”

It was a rather good line for an insensitive merchant, Lawrence felt. But Holo turned instantly irritated. “Must you always be so gloomy?”

“Huh?” Col smiled an apologetically nervous smile.

And a smile, too, was the only reply Lawrence could give the sighing Holo.

Lawrence put on his coat and looked down through the window onto the street below. It was still crowded with people, but at the church, evening prayers would soon begin.

As morning came early to the church, so did evening. Which meant that in the winter, when the sun set so early, “evening” was pushed back a bit. The marketplace would close with the bells that signaled the end of evening prayers, so the town merchants would still be running busily here and there.

Which meant there was no guarantee that Le Roi was waiting somewhere for Lawrence’s reply, and just as Holo said, if someone else took the opportunity out from under him, it would be rather pathetic.

Having decided to accept the offer, there was no time to waste.

“Huh? You’re not coming?” His preparations complete, Lawrence looked over his shoulder to see Holo still on the bed.

“I’m a wisewolf. What need have I to run around for such trivial affairs?”

As she sat there tending to her tail, it was true that she did not look much like someone concerned with staying busy.

Lawrence lacked the energy to say anything to that, so he looked instead to Col. But before his gaze had even landed on the boy, Holo spoke up. “You’ll stay and mind the room with me, won’t you, lad?”

Elsa had left the inn to attend evening prayers, so if Col were to leave, Holo would have been alone.

She hated being alone, of course, but more important than that was surely the chance to monopolize Col. She was no match for a head-on confrontation with Elsa, so, having realized that, the sneaky wisewolf was taking advantage of her opponent’s absence.

“Good point. Don’t open the door for strangers, don’t order any food, and if you go anywhere, be sure to tell the innkeeper. I can leave you to mind Holo, can’t I?” said Lawrence. He had to get his attack in while he could.

Col smiled but was mindful of Holo, who in turn seemed completely unruffled. It wasn’t very charming of her, but this was not the first time she had failed to charm.

Lawrence left the room and descended the stairs.

He looked left and right along the crowded street and, after a moment’s thought, began walking in the direction of Philon’s shop. There was a good possibility Le Roi had headed off somewhere, but going through Philon’s shop would be the quickest way to contact him.

Even as it was starting to seem impossible that Lawrence would be able to go to Yoitsu, he still had to prepare for the possibility that he would be heading north.

Lawrence mused on how he hoped he would be able to learn more once he committed to the plan. He thought about this as he looked up at the church steeple, which was visible from everywhere in town. It was the heart of the place, and right about now it would be filled with the faithful—people like Elsa.

To tell which among the townspeople were devout and which were not, one needed only to look at who was doing business in the marketplace until it closed. The devout would not remain, instead hurrying to the church well before the end of business in the marketplace.

Occasionally, there were some who were faithful not to God but rather to the scent of wine, but what they had in common was a wish to live in peace. The only difference was whether they found salvation in prayer or drink.

When Lawrence arrived at Philon’s place, he came upon Philon and Le Roi chatting, each with a drink in their hand.

Le Roi’s reaction was quick. He was an experienced merchant, and immediately understood Lawrence’s facial expression.

“I accept your proposal.”

Since he normally adopted such a comically exaggerated manner, his quiet reaction in this moment carried all the more weight. He was a cunning merchant, indeed.

Le Roi took Lawrence’s hand as though he were too moved for words. “I thought that I had lost God’s favor a second time. I was about to give up.”

Still, not all of his pleasure was an act. Most of the merchants that crawled the earth had a shortage not of nerve nor knowledge nor luck—no, it was coin they lacked.

“Quite a surprise. My instincts led me wrong.” It was Philon who spoke these words, watching the two men shake hands. As he opened a great ledger and made note of something in it, he seemed almost like a notary. And given that he dealt with mercenaries, who held their trust even more closely than merchants, he was probably more reliable than any notary.

“To think, a man with a woman and child with him would ignore such danger.”

“I imagine this will be the last time,” said Lawrence.

Philon grinned sardonically at this and cocked his head slightly. “I’ve heard the same thing from the fighters that come through my shop.”

Lawrence smiled, a smile tinged with the childish hope that what he said was actually true.

“Still, I’m truly thankful. I tried to get Mr. Philon here to listen to me, but he’d have none of it.” Le Roi waved his hands, returning to his former exaggerated manner.

Philon was writing something in an elegant hand, and he made a displeased face that had no trace of a smile in it. “Don’t be stupid. I already trade with mercenaries. If someone saw me making a deal with the slavers at the Delink Company, what then? You wouldn’t have to be very devout to wonder what sort of evil business I was up to.”

Anyone who lived in a town and did business in one place had their actions watched by others. And unlike a traveling merchant, who could weather a failure and move to another town, any stain on their reputation would simply remain. That was why apothecaries did not visit taverns and why scale makers did not make friends with money changers. The former would be suspected of drugging the drinks, and the latter of tampering with the scales.

“We’ve nothing to fear on that count.” Le Roi put his thick arm around Lawrence’s shoulder.

And, in fact, that was surely one of the reasons why Le Roi had chosen Lawrence to approach. If either of them failed, in the worst case, they could simply turn tail and run. Also, the company they were seeking a loan from was openly involved in the slave trade and obviously did not care about its public reputation.

Philon sighed a resigned sigh, but there was a faint smile on his face—and perhaps a slight envy of the sort of freedom Lawrence and Le Roi enjoyed.

It was said that travelers endured uncertainty, but the town bound were stifled. Nothing ever went quite as one would wish, which was what kept people striving forward.

“Still, I’m truly grateful. I’m lucky you decided the way you did.”

“All I can be responsible for is mediating with the Delink Company. I have no idea whether they’ll agree.”

Le Roi nodded immediately. But the book dealer was neither ignorant nor naive. His response was quick. “They won’t agree—they’ll be made to agree.” Le Roi thrust his chest out, looking like some great pigeon. “I’m very confident in the collateral, after all.”

A little overwhelmed, Lawrence nodded. Le Roi exhaled the great breath he had drawn, then quieted his voice. “By the way, just between you and me, we may end up getting ahead of Mr. Philon.”

Philon’s eyes alone fixed upon Le Roi. A smile played about his lips.

“I had no idea. How novel.”

If Holo had seen the transparent exchange, she would have laughed. Col would have been confused. And Elsa would have made a displeased face.

Le Roi nodded and turned to face Lawrence. “Do you mind talking here?”

Lawrence had no reason to refuse. He nodded slowly.

As Philon attended to his own work, Lawrence and Le Roi began to make their plans.

“Near the capital of Ploania, Endima, there’s a town called Kieschen. The book is with a trading company there.”

Lawrence did not know the exact location of the town, but he had heard the name before. But Endima was easily a twenty-day journey by horse-drawn wagon; if Lawrence introduced Le Roi to the Delink Company, it was all but certain he would have to stay with the bookseller to watch him, since once the introduction was made, any suspicious movements would be on Lawrence’s head.

Which meant seeing this through would take a month or two months.

Even if everything went perfectly, Lawrence would have to head directly south afterward.

“My job as a bookseller is to use my contacts to know the trends among book collectors. Using those contacts, I’ve worked out the location of every single book written in the desert country language.”

“I’m surprised you’ve never been accused of heresy,” said Lawrence, half-surprised and half-restraining himself. For a moment, he glimpsed Le Roi’s true nature as the man smiled a dark smile.

“To catch a snake, use a serpent. The inspector telling you the wine’s been adulterated is the one drinking it down. That’s what I’m getting at.”

“I see.” Lawrence gestured for Le Roi to continue with an apologetic gesture.

“My intuition, at least based on what I was able to learn this past summer, is that it’s unlikely that the trading company has realized the true value of the book. The master of the company is a great lover of adventure tales, especially thick histories. A traveling entertainer I know told me as much in the postscript of a letter and said he acquired the book as part of a big lot of those adventure stories. If he hasn’t realized what it’s worth, it’s probably sitting in a long line of books waiting to be translated.”

This was not a simple assumption. It was a very likely possibility. Le Roi was not the careless, foolish man he appeared to be. He possessed an orderly and logical mind, like fine lines of writing in a thick tome. “In order to buy the book, we have to solve two problems. One is how to buy it. The other is how to get the money there.”

“As for the first, we’ll surely have to go to the town ourselves. It’s not as though we have a branch company or a trusted underling we can send on our behalf.”

Le Roi smiled a familiar smile at Lawrence’s words. The owners of large companies would not have to actually travel in order to make such a purchase. “As someone who makes the greater part of his living on his own feet, I quite agree.”

“As for the second problem, a money order seems appropriate.”

A money order—a merchant’s technique likely to make a hard-headed churchman knit his brows and cry witchcraft. It was a miraculous thing that lent money was moved from places far removed from one another without having to actually risk transporting it.

For example, suppose that Hugues’s company in Kerube had an agreement with Philon’s shop. In that case, Lawrence would bring coin to Hugues’s company in Kerube and receive a money order in return. He would then go upriver to Lenos and give the money order to Philon. Whereupon, Philon would pay the amount written on the certificate to Lawrence. In this way, Lawrence could move money from Kerube to Lenos without having to carry the heavy coin.

This was a money order.

“I quite agree. And then we needn’t worry about one another running off with the money on the way,” said Le Roi, a bit of self-mockery in his tone. It was true, though, that such security was another nice feature of money orders.

Money orders could only be written between companies with standing agreements and had no value in the hands of illiterate bandits. If either Le Roi or Lawrence wanted to betray the other and cash the order, a proviso could be added that would prevent such a situation.

“The problem is whether such a large money order can actually be cashed. We’ll be in a bind if we travel all the way out there, only to find we can’t turn it back into coin.”

That was indeed the problem. Money orders were a convenient tool, but they were imperfect.

If the company in Kieschen to whom the order was written refused to exchange the money order certificate for coin, Lawrence and Le Roi would have traveled all that way with nothing but a scrap of paper to show for it. What if Kieschen were experiencing a similar money supply problem to what Lenos was now facing? Even if the company wanted to honor the money order, they might well be unable to.

Despite the existence of money orders, there were some stubborn merchants who insisted on cash, despite the dangers, because they had witnessed precisely such unlucky situations.

And the larger the amount of money, the harder to ignore such risks became.

“On that count, we can hope to get confirmation from the Delink Company. But in order to spread the risk around, it seems like having the order split up among several companies would be good. If Kieschen is close to Endima, we could also include some companies in the capital. The Delink Company ought to have relationships with many of them, after all.”

“You’re quite right. It seems we’re in agreement on the broad strokes of this plan, Mr. Lawrence.” Le Roi seemed to confirm his understanding, but it was important to make that confirmation itself clear, lest something unfortunate happen later. It was all too easy to see confusion arising when those who trusted only coin and those who trusted only certificates shook hands in agreement.

And it was not a matter of logic that was to be trusted. More important was experience, which often transcended pure reason.

“I once thought in all seriousness that I would never again involve myself with the Delink Company.” Lawrence still felt that they lived in different worlds.

When Lawrence thought of the Delink Company or of Eve, it summoned within him a strange combination of envy and despair. If Holo had been with him, she would have laughed her amusement and called him a fool.

“I’ve thought similar things upon many a hungover morning.”

Le Roi was quite right.

Lawrence directed his gaze to one of the shop’s few wooden windows. The light that entered through it gave evidence that the sun would soon be setting. “I prefer to get the most unpleasant business sorted out first, personally.”

The Delink Company’s business was not constrained by the church’s bells, and more than anything else, Lawrence did not wish to go to bed that night dreading a visit to the Delink Company the next day.

But Le Roi’s answer was quick. “Is that so? I myself always eat my favorite food first.”

Lawrence looked across the table at Le Roi, whose round face wore that irritating smile of his. It seemed merchants like Le Roi were happiest when dealing with the most difficult opponents.

“Oh, by the way,” Lawrence said as something occurred to him. “If I hadn’t agreed to talk to the Delink Company, what would you have done?”

Given that their agreement had been struck, there did not seem to be any harm in asking. But Le Roi made an uncomfortable face and pulled his chin in.

It was possible that he would have been in a bind, unable to do anything at all, but in the end it was Philon, watching the conversation from outside, who answered.

“If he told you, he’d never get to talk to you again, you see,” said Philon jokingly and with such a devastating accuracy that Holo herself may as well have said it.

Despite being similarly simple, this shop was clearly very different from Philon’s. It was decorated in small ways, and the stonework was so precise that one could not fit a hair between the seams.

In a depressingly long row of magnificent trading houses, this one was in no way insufficient.

It was terribly silent inside the Delink Company, and the feeling was so overwhelming that even the clamor from outside seemed to shrink away from the aura.

“What a happy development, that you’d finally take me up on my offer of wine,” said Luz Eringin with a low smile.

The Delink Company was somewhat unusual in that it had four masters of equal rank. But the other three seemed to be out on other business, so in this large room, with its four great chairs, Eringin was the only one sitting.

“And I see you’ve brought a friend.”

Of all the people Lawrence knew, Eringin was probably in the top three in terms of people he would never wish to introduce a friend to. Eringin himself was certainly aware that this was how he was viewed by others and, if anything, seemed to enjoy it.

He chuckled at his own words. “Do have a seat,” he said, gesturing that Lawrence and Le Roi should sit.

The chairs were magnificent; if Lawrence were the master of his own company, he would never let customers sit in their like. The one Le Roi sat in did not so much as creak under his considerable weight.

“I notice that you’re alone today.”

When dealing with someone who had an overwhelming advantage, it was usually best to be as direct as possible. When the difference in power was so clear, the more conversation there was, the more such disadvantage could be exploited. This was why wise men stayed silent—with every word spoken, it became that much more difficult to remain a wise man.

But Lawrence’s nerves had gotten the better of him, and before he knew it, he had opened with small talk.

“Indeed. We don’t normally gather except to make a ‘purchase.’ As a rule, we only allow people we know into this room.”

“I’m honored, then.”

At Lawrence’s words, Eringin shifted upon the table, the overlapping thumbs of his clasped hands exchanging positions. “There’s no need to feel honored. I’ve heard about what happened in Kerube,” he said, speaking without betraying any attempt to intimidate.

It was as though he were saying, We know all about you, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Eringin smiled and continued.

“All it takes for men like us to live on is to adhere to a few simple principles. One of those is to know everything we can about the individuals with whom we share a connection. When it comes time to expand our business, we simply follow that connection.”

If Holo had been there, Lawrence was certain she would have stepped on his foot or kicked his leg. They had started with small talk but had somehow arrived at the real business at hand.

Eringin’s words were meant to imply that because Lawrence was a man known to him, he was willing to listen.

“Heh. Seems you decided not to show your fangs today, though,” said Eringin. He looked at Lawrence, who had realized just how he was being led around, and smiled an amused smile. “Have more confidence, Mr. Lawrence. You surprised us once before, and you survived that woman’s plans. Moreover, I hear that once you arrived downriver, you rather brilliantly got your revenge. It would be incorrect of you to either underestimate yourself or overestimate us. The only difference between us is the choice of weapons.”

Compliments were cheap. Bowing in response to a compliment given was also cheap. No doubt Le Roi would readily agree to this common merchant’s rule.

And yet, the man before him had been called “sir” by a town official and was clearly someone whose favor was dearly sought. He undoubtedly took pride in the weight of his words and actions.

“My thanks to you for saying so,” said Lawrence, giving not a merchant’s smile but an honest one.

Eringin’s eyes narrowed. “Now, then. Tell me your business.”

They had cut through the fog and crossed the thin ice; the first danger was passed.

The bookseller straightened and took a deep breath.

“A forbidden book of knowledge?” Eringin repeated briefly, his eyes fixed closely on Le Roi.

The man who wielded joviality as a weapon allowed himself to now, for once, become serious. “I believe it is a copy of a book that was banned thirty-four years ago at the second Remenon Ecumenical Council. The original was burned. The author was confined, and that’s where the official record ends. Among booksellers like me, there’s a rumor that an apprentice of his escaped with a rough draft of the book and made a copy. But there’s been no way to verify that, and I’ve heard of countless swindlers using the story to their own ends.”

The existence of secret copies or annotations of books was a common tactic among swindlers. Col had been snared by one and had ended up having to flee the academic center of Aquent.

“But this time is different?”

“Yes. As I’ve just explained.” Le Roi had smoothly and efficiently relayed the story, from the discovery at the abbey to the letter from the friend in the acting troupe.

The explanation was, in a way, too smooth, but whether Le Roi was telling the truth or not, his passion was obvious.

“Mr. Lawrence, you’ve no notion of how much of this story is true. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“Given the particulars, it ought to be regarded with suspicion. For you to make this introduction…you understand what that means, do you not?”

Lawrence nodded in response to Eringin’s slightly wry way of speaking. “I’ve heard from sources I trust of this man’s tenacity.”

Of course, this was of Le Roi’s tenacity when it came to his quick wits and cheap shots, but generously interpreted they spoke of his strength when pursuing his goals, as well.

Eringin cocked his head and smiled a smile that did not reach his eyes.

Le Roi’s face was severe, and he wiped sweat from it nervously.

“This isn’t about money, is it?” Eringin closed his eyes and nodded his head forward slightly, as though searching his memory. No doubt he was thinking of what had happened the day of the rioting in Lenos. Lawrence had kicked aside the vast profit Eve promised him and returned to this very shop—to retrieve Holo.

“I am deeply attached to the northlands,” said Le Roi evasively.

Eringin bared his teeth. It was a smile of impatience. “For someone who does business like mine, that’s a terrible thing to hear.”

Philon had refused to deal with the Delink precisely because they were slave traders.

Mercenaries made their living in two main ways: plunder and slave selling. Salary did not enter into their calculations. It was not guaranteed, and even if they did receive one, it would be tiny at first. But the reason they continued to fight for their masters was for the promise of plunder.

Though it was a very roundabout way, Lawrence had introduced Le Roi to this company because he thought it would help the northlands. But the Delink Company stood to earn a great deal from the unrest that the schemes of the Debau Company would wreak upon those lands.

Lawrence could not even begin to imagine how many people would be captured and sold into slavery or see their village burned to the ground.

“But let us leave such agonizing to the philosophers and righteousness to the clergy. Our role is to fill the needs of others. So my question to you is: Whose need are you fulfilling, Mr. Le Roi?”

The negotiation had taken a step forward.

Le Roi cleared his throat and answered. “There is a man, Lord Nicholas of the Raondille duchy. If a book is not forbidden, he…he has no lust for it.”

Eringin chuckled silently at the choice of words and thumped his chest with his closed fist, as though trying to cough. Given that he was a slaver, perhaps he was remembering a difficult-to-fill request from a customer. “Ahem. Apologies. You were saying, this Sir Nicholas.”

“Yes.”

“Here in our customer list—it’s all up here, of course—there’s no such person.” Eringin tapped meaningfully at his temple. “Setting aside whether or not such an individual actually exists…”

Le Roi was summoning the energy to explain further, but Eringin stopped him with a hand. He did not seem especially interested in the question of the individual’s existence.

So what was it that he was asking? They could emphasize the veracity of their information as much as they wanted, but if he was not going to hear the explanations, then what was his intention?

Lawrence’s heart was filled with genuine curiosity.

Eringin asked an insightful question. “How much profit do you expect to make?”

Merchants were fundamentally motivated by their own profit. Which meant this was exactly the question to ask.

In making up a plan, one’s footing had to be solid. And there was no merchant who failed to consider profit. What was interesting was that even the most coolheaded merchant found it hard to stay calm when it came time to estimate the amount of profit to be had. And so, that profit was sometimes extremely overestimated or deeply underestimated.

Lawrence had been taught the larger the deal, the greater the gap between the prediction and the realized profit could be—because no matter how much they might struggle against it, there was a limit to how coolheaded a person could stay, his master had said.

If Le Roi had some other nefarious plan in his mind, he would surely claim a suspicious amount.

Someone trying to make a plan to turn a profit would overestimate their profit, and someone who was making a plan to lie would overestimate their plan.

But the liar would believe their own lie and would not overestimate their profit.

“In lumione gold,” said Le Roi matter-of-factly, “I expect to sell it for one hundred and twenty pieces.”

“I’ve heard the mantle of the Queen of Alain was about that much.”

Eringin was asking what the basis for this figure was.

“This marketplace is filled with pride and supposition, but from what I’ve learned, the alchemist Aran Mihail’s The Heart of Gods and Iron sold for a hundred lumione. I do not think this will fetch less than that.”

It was an unbelievable sum for a mere book.

But considering it objectively, it seemed terribly likely that the collection of absurd items would lead some individuals to aim for the collection of absurd profits.

Eringin gave Le Roi an unblinking gaze. When his eyes finally closed, Le Roi exhaled his held breath.

“And the value of the book you’ve brought as collateral?”

“If you show it to a first-rate bookseller, you’ll easily get thirty gold pieces.”

Le Roi had set the book down on the table at the beginning of the conversation. It was large, but the binding was very plain, and seemed that even if it were decorating some large bookshelf, it would probably be filling some gap on the bottom shelf.

It did not seem to Lawrence like it could be so valuable, but such an amount of money would put his dream of opening a shop in a town much closer. He knew perfectly well that there was always a bigger fish, but sometimes there were too many big fish.

Eringin did not so much as nod but rang a small bell that was on the table. At the sound, a door to the room opened silently and a single boy entered, who drew close to his master’s ear. At length, Eringin nodded, and the boy gave a deep bow, then left the room.

“I can lend you eighty lumione. That will be enough, I trust?”

Le Roi drew a shallow breath and almost whimpered. “That will be enough.”

“However, regardless of whether your purchase goes well or not, we’re charging a commission of twenty lumione.”

It was marginally less than the worth of the collateral. It meant that even if they failed in their purchase, they would be left enough to use as travel money to return south.

“And there’s a condition.”

“Wha—!” Le Roi was not surprised so much as he was overly willing to accommodate.

Eringin waited for Le Roi to calm himself, then continued. “Our business is not unlike a sort of gambling. Luck can be very instrumental. If at all possible, we would like to ride the winning horse while sitting in these very chairs.” His eyes were on Lawrence. “The condition is that you go with this man to make the purchase. You will watch, and listen, and if there are no problems, we will lend the money. That is the condition.”

It was an expected condition.

Eringin spoke as though he was offering a prayer to God asking for good fortune, but in actuality there was nothing but realistic practicality in his words. By basing the loan on what Lawrence saw and heard, it placed the burden of responsibility firmly on Lawrence.

If Le Roi were planning something dishonest, or failed terribly and lost the loaned amount, the blame would fall to Lawrence.

But the moment he heard those words, it was a different emotion that arose within him.

“Any complaints?” Eringin asked, looking at Lawrence a bit curiously.

“Not at all,” Lawrence hastily replied. He had realized that he was deeply discouraged.

Unbelievably, he had subconsciously been holding onto the ridiculous hope that they would be rejected here, which would have let him travel north, albeit with some regrets. He was nervous, and he could tell his knees were trembling at the pressure.

He nearly laughed out loud at his own foolishness.

“Still, it’ll be a tiresome journey all the way out there and back, so I’ll send someone with you,” said Eringin as he rang the bell again. A different boy soon entered the room. “We’ll issue a money order to several companies we deal with there, with a proviso that all three of you must be there to collect the coin.”

It was a perfectly reasonable condition, one that ensured nobody could betray anyone else.

Eringin gave the boy instructions in a quiet voice, and the boy quickly withdrew.

“Ah, that’s right. It may be pointless to say so, but the man I’m sending with you has my utmost trust. And the companies in Kieschen where you’ll redeem the money order all have large debts to us.”

Threatening the attendant was pointless. And trying to escape with the purchased book would also be pointless, since the companies in Kieschen would be watching. That Eringin could say all this with such a smile was the greatest threat of all.

“Still,” continued Eringin. With the negotiation concluded, the atmosphere had relaxed somewhat and Le Roi wiped his face again—he was sweating so much it seemed like he would melt. It was very like the master of the Delink Company to make one final surprise attack. “When you refer to the company in Kieschen, do you mean them?”

In negotiations like these, it was customary not to reveal one’s purchasing destination until the very end.

Le Roi froze in his chair disbelievingly.

Eringin’s smile was more terrifying than any mercenary’s. “The master there has a great fondness for the desert nations.” It would not be strange for the sort of collector who was fond of such books to also be a slaver’s customer. All the more so if he had eccentric tastes. “I’ve introduced him to many lovely dark-skinned ladies. So…he’s the one, eh?”

The only reason Lawrence was able to remain calm was because, in a certain sense, this deal had nothing to do with him. Otherwise, he would have been sweating waterfalls just like Le Roi was next to him.

“Oh, worry not.” Eringin’s voice was quiet. “It’s our custom to leave unfamiliar business in the hands of those better suited to it.”

One could say whatever one wanted. But nothing could begin without trust.

Slavers traded in people who were brought to them filled with pain and fear, or at the very least anger and hatred.

One could not help but commend such a magnificent ability.

With negotiations completed, Eringin shook the hand of each man and invited them both to dinner.

Le Roi looked as though, were he to endure his anxiety any longer, he would die, and Lawrence had his own doubts about being able to eat with them and keep his food down.

So they made their apologies, and Eringin looked as deeply disappointed as ever. It was hard to know how much of that was an act, but it was possible that he truly was disappointed.

Eringin and a servant boy saw them out, and Lawrence and Le Roi left the shop. It was long since dark outside.

But the night was young, and the port was lit by lamplight—lamps hanging from the bows of ships and lamps hung aloft by those working to sort through the cargo. And, of course, lamps hung in all the establishments selling wine around the port, where the carousing to wash away the day’s frustration was beginning.

“…Surely no marquis or count could be so terrible,” were the first words out of Le Roi’s mouth.

“Well, the town officials call him ‘sir.’”

“If a man like him had a formal title, he’d rule the country. What a horrifying thought.”

Le Roi was sweating as though he really was horrified. Seeing this, Lawrence wondered if he himself had above-average courage, but doubted it was so. According to Holo, it was simple thickheadedness.

“But we’ve made the deal.”

On that count, at least, there was no mistake. Lawrence took the hand Le Roi offered and shook it firmly. The opportunity they had just negotiated was of a life-changing scale.

“I may not be worth much, but I’ll do what I can,” offered Lawrence.

“Ha-ha-ha! What are you saying? If you hadn’t been there with me, I would’ve suffocated! I’ll be borrowing your knowledge, too. I’m paying you three hundred silver pieces, after all!”

Lawrence got the feeling that Le Roi was reminding him he had been paid a sum just to make an introduction, but Lawrence naturally did not find this cause for anger. It was the sort of thing any merchant could expect to do, after all.

“Now then, let’s go somewhere to celebrate! My throat is dry from nerves.”

It was an attractive proposition, but Lawrence was thinking about Holo and the others. “I’m sorry, but…,” he began.

But this was Le Roi, he of easy charm and affability. The man soon understood and pulled back. “Ah, of course. Well, it’s not like we won’t be sleeping and eating together quite a lot soon enough. Perhaps we’ll avoid quarreling if we don’t see each other’s face too much until then,” he said with a guffaw.

Lawrence could only smile a wry smile.

But when they parted with a handshake, it was firmer than their first had been. “Well then, I bid you good night!” boomed Le Roi and walked off.

Lawrence replied with a wave and headed for his own destination. He only got a few steps, though, before he stopped short in surprise.

“You—” Lawrence murmured, for before him had staggeringly appeared a deeply displeased Holo, her face distorted with emotion. The word staggering was no figure of speech, either—Holo had indeed staggered before him, her arms clasped around herself as she shivered.

“Don’t tell me…were you there the whole time?”

“…” Holo did not answer. She tried to nod but was too cold to manage it properly.

Lawrence realized that her expression of displeasure was simply a result of how cold she was. “Ah well, anyway, let’s get into a shop somewhere—and anyway, what were you doing out in this cold?”

He took off his coat and wrapped it around Holo’s shoulders. Her robe was as cold as though water had been poured on it, and Holo was shivering slightly. “I-I thought you might be deceived, and I…”

“You were worried about me? That doesn’t mean you should stand outside…”

Lawrence could not help but find her ability to insult him in such a moment rather impressive. But he set aside the question of whether to laugh or roll his eyes and instead put his hand on her slim shoulders, which were now covered by his coat.

Fortunately Eringin’s building was filled with fireplaces that were well stocked with wood, so the coat was already nice and warm. Lawrence peered at her and saw that Holo’s profile was beginning to thaw into something less alarming.

“Ah, there’s a stall there. Wait just a bit.”

Holo nodded obediently at Lawrence’s words and huddled next to the trading company’s window, through the wooden shutter of which a bit of lamplight leaked.

Lawrence looked back at her once. She was bitterly downcast. “I swear,” he murmured and quickly ordered some strong wine from the stall. “Here, drink.”

The stall sold wine that was well suited to the cold season in a cold land. Holo took the cup from Lawrence, put it to her lips, and squeezed her eyes closed.

“Your tail,” said Lawrence with a smile, but Holo made no move to hide her puffed-out tail. She exhaled sharply and took another breath, then another sip. The wine was helping with the cold anyway.

“Not too much!” said Lawrence, trying to grab the cup away as Holo immediately went for a third drink. But his hand stopped before it ever reached the cup.

Lawrence’s gaze went from Holo’s chest up to her face.

“Is that…,” he started, and Holo took her third drink as though she was trying to escape.

She exhaled a second puff of breath, and she finally smiled a Holo-like smile as the color returned to her face. “I’m a fool, aren’t I?” she asked, referring to her drinking more wine after already being drunk.

If he had demanded an explanation, he surely would have gotten one. Holo held the cup in both hands but with her arms pressed tightly to her sides. Even if that was partially due to the cold, there was another truer reason.

She was holding something there, the outline of it just visible in what lamplight came through the window shutter.

“They arrived a bit after you went out. But…,” began Holo, handing Lawrence her cup and producing the items from under her arm. There were two sealed letters, one of which was significantly larger than the other. As though a map might have been drawn on it.

“This is what you searched for on my behalf. It didn’t seem right for just me and Col to look at them. To say nothing of that blockhead.” Her tone was sharp, but her face smiled drunkenly. She was probably embarrassed that she could not hide her happiness.

Holo had stood outside, shivering like a fool, just to freeze that foolish grin into her face.

“I thought,” said Holo, looking up, “that it would be fitting to look at it with you.”

It was partially the wine’s effect, but Holo’s face in the firelight looked like roasted honey candy. Lawrence reached out to her with his empty hand. He caressed her left cheek with his thumb, as though putting her face’s soft curve back into place.

Even if she had made the logical decision regarding how to make for Yoitsu, evidently that did not mean all her subsequent decisions would be made using logic. Which was what had led to her amusingly foolish notion to venture out and wait for him in this freezing midwinter weather.

“You are quite the fool, yes.”

Holo flashed her fangs, and her breath puffed whitely past them. Lawrence gave her a full, but light, embrace, then pulled back.

“You haven’t opened them yet?”

“I did hold them up to the sun many times, trying to see through.”

She did not want to open them but desperately wanted to see the contents. Lawrence imagined her trying to resolve this terrible conflict by holding the letters up to the sun—a tactic more suited to a foolish puppy than a clever wisewolf.

Lawrence patted her head. “Who should open them?”

“Me.”

Of course, Lawrence thought to himself, but then Holo pushed the two letters in her hand at him. “…is what I would want to say, but there are two letters here. If I look at one of them, I fear I may collapse into weeping again.”

Lawrence thought back to when Holo had fooled him into thinking she could not read. He had carelessly left a record of the destruction of Yoitsu where she could find it, and trouble had resulted.

Lawrence accepted the letters almost apologetically and with a pained smile. If Holo had wanted to read them he would have let her, but otherwise he did not want her exposed to them.

Her hand brushed against his and was quite cold. Somehow, he was brought to notice the contrast between her hands and Le Roi’s—how small and delicate and feminine hers were.

“But the negotiations went well, did they?”

Lawrence returned the cup to Holo and was about to unseal the letters when Holo suddenly brought the other subject up.

“Weren’t you listening?” Holo’s ears could have heard the conversation inside the shop, Lawrence assumed.

But Holo shook her head. “I could not hear,” she said, then sighed and gave him an upturned gaze. “But I know the outcome.”

It was as though she were posing a riddle.

If she knew the result already, why would she go to the trouble of asking him how things had gone? Lawrence’s hand stopped before unsealing the letters and looked down into Holo’s eyes, which shone golden in the flickering light.

There was a moment of silence.

Holo cracked first, but certainly not out of forgiveness for Lawrence’s obtuseness.

“That meat bun of a man’s face was so pleased, so the negotiations must have been a success. But your face was not so happy. What might have caused that, I wonder?”

“Ugh,” Lawrence groaned, which was as good as any confession.

Holo folded her arms and sighed. Her wine-soaked breath only emphasized her anger. “You hoped that the negotiations would fail and that you’d be able to go to Yoitsu with me.”

She had seen right through him.

He said nothing and only averted his face.

“And if you’d lost your chance for profit and brought disaster to Yoitsu, when then? No, that is not even the problem. What bothers me can be expressed quite completely thus: You’re even more of a maiden than I!”

“…Can’t you at least call me ‘sentimental’?”

“Hmph!” Holo snorted, and Lawrence watched her drink her wine, bitter thoughts filling his mind. “There are good sentiments and bad sentiments, you know.”

It was in these times most of all that Holo’s wisewolf side came out. Lawrence sighed and unsealed the letters. The first one he opened was the larger, the one likely to have a map drawn upon it.

Holo sipped her wine in an attempt to disguise her keen interest, but her eyes were carefully watching Lawrence’s hands.

Lawrence pulled a thick sheet of parchment out of the envelope. He traded it to Holo for her cup. He sipped it as he watched Holo’s nervous face. It was a strong, dry wine.

“Come, now,” said Holo before opening the parchment.

“Hm?”

Her eyes were on the about-to-be-opened map. Or else she thought something incredible was hiding between its folded pages.

“What’s wrong?” Lawrence asked again.

Holo’s eyes reflected the yellow lamplight as they turned to Lawrence. “Even if you cannot go with me…can we not at least read this together?”

Lawrence chuckled through his nose in spite of himself. He nodded and moved from facing Holo to standing alongside her. This blocked the light that spilled from the window, so Lawrence gently nudged Holo over.

All the while, Holo held the map in her hands, her posture unchanging.

“All right,” said Lawrence.

After looking up at him uncertainly, Holo held her breath and opened the map.

“Oh ho.” The admiring voice was Lawrence’s.

Even in the uncertainly flickering lamplight, the map was obviously a magnificent thing.

As was customary on maps, the four corners had been decorated with drawings of gods or spirits, and in the far south sea was a drawing of a water basin said to never run dry, along with a vast octopus trying to drink it all.

The towns and villages were connected by lines indicating major roads. Some of the remote villages’ names were unknown to Lawrence, while some others would have been unknown to anyone who was not a traveling merchant. Among the mountains, too, spirits were drawn here and there, which made the locations evocative of much more ancient times. Perhaps Fran was drawing on legends and stories she herself had collected.

Lawrence lowered his head to Holo’s level and peered at the map more closely.

The road leading up from the south passed through Pasloe and Ruvinheigen, past Kumersun and on to Lenos. On the map, of course, it continued on, through several towns with which Lawrence was unfamiliar, before leading into a vast forest.

As he followed the road to its end, his eyes immediately fixed upon a drawing of a wolf.

Evidently Hugues had taken up the pen in Fran’s stead there, so it was his idea of a joke—or perhaps he was just being considerate.

Tolkien.

It was written in a large, flowing hand across the whole of the region.

In the drawing, the wolf seemed to howl out the name, and near its foot, small but very distinct, there it was.

Yoitsu.

The name of Holo’s homeland.

“There it is,” said Lawrence, and Holo nodded.

It was a small nod, barely a hiccup, but she agreed. “Oh, ’tis a real place after all.”

Lawrence thought that was quite a joke for her to make, and when he looked at her face, she was smiling. He had imagined she might cry happy tears or be deeply touched, but Holo’s smile was a tired one.

They had finally found it. After all that.

Lawrence was a little frustrated that his expectation had been wrong. “I never actually thought that we’d find it.”

After all, he had only heard the name once before, as a detail in a story someone else had been telling. And based on that memory alone, he had promised to take Holo there, mostly because he had been so shaken by meeting the being named Holo. If he stopped to think about it logically, it would have been crazy to think it were discoverable at all.

But ever since embarking on this mad cloud-chasing quest, he had realized that even in this world, there were many eccentrics whose fascination led them to chase such tales.

And not all of those tales were made-up or exaggerated; he had come to understand that some of them were real. That alone lent some amount of meaning to the fact that he had managed to bring Holo this far.

Holo, similarly, seemed to be considering various things and did not become angry.

Lawrence rubbed her head affectionately with his right hand. Normally she would find this irritating, but this time she let him, giggling.

“Ask and ye shall receive.” Holo quoted a famous scripture. “If a god once worshipped by humans says it, it’s certainly captured a sort of truth.”

“If it’s given you that sort of optimism, then our work has succeeded.”

Holo turned her head beneath Lawrence’s hand and looked up at him. All the coincidences and fated moments had piled up to bring them to this instant.

Holo grinned and flashed her teeth. “Hey,” she said, folding the map and letting slip something like a sigh. “Thank you.”

Her chin lifted, nearing Lawrence’s cheek.

A soft sensation pressed against his cheek, but the tender feeling of parting did not come.

Before his face, Lawrence’s gaze followed Holo. Smiling, she ducked her head down and looked as though she was resisting the urge to shout something.

Lawrence smiled faintly, looking up with as much exhaustion as Holo had shown.

“I’ve been stabbed, beaten, and nearly bankrupted.”

“Mm?”

“And after all that, this is my reward?” Lawrence said, closing one eye and putting his index finger to his cheek.

Holo kept her finger between the folded sides of the map and looked up at Lawrence. “Are you dissatisfied, then?”

This sort of moment suited Holo the Wisewolf of Yoitsu much more than tears did.

“Certainly not.”

“Mm. ’Tis well, then.”

Lawrence’s shoulders sagged, and Holo took his arm. She then took the envelope from Lawrence’s hand and, keeping his arm under hers, adroitly slipped the map back inside the envelope. “’Twould be awful to lose it. You should hold it.”

“Unfortunately, both my hands are full.” His left held the other letter between its ring and little finger, with the thumb and index finger holding the wine cup. His right arm, meanwhile, was being held by Holo.

Holo took the cup from him and replaced it with the map. “I’ll take charge of this,” she said.

“Fine, fine.”

Holo then immediately put the cup to her lips, but the wine was still strong. No matter how much she might love the draught, wanting to drink such harsh liquor so quickly spoke of some discontent in her breast.

Her grip on his arm tightened, and her tail puffed up. Lawrence resisted laughing at her pride.

Thinking about her struggle with Elsa over Col, it occurred to him that this was simply Holo’s personality, and there would be no changing it now.

“So, did you all eat dinner?” Lawrence asked. If they did not get off the topic of the map, she would soon be accusing him of sentimentality again.

He ventured to change the subject to something of practical concern, but Holo did not seem pleased. “Your instinct for mood is truly…ah, well, I suppose nothing can be done about it.”

Lawrence swallowed back the desire to tell her to reflect on what she had said just moments earlier. In times like these, at least, she truly was selfish.

“I do not believe they’ve eaten. That hardhead is so tiresomely dutiful about such things, after all.”

It was hard to tell if Holo was complimenting her or not.

But if them having delayed eating was in fact the case…Lawrence nudged Holo over toward the source of the faint light, changing their direction.

“Mm?”

“This way’s shorter. We’ll stop by a tavern on the way and get some food. I’m fairly sure if we follow this street, we’ll come out near the Beast and Fish Tail.”

“Aye. Make sure to buy me some more strong wine.”

At this Lawrence realized that Holo was still holding the cup. Damn, he thought, but it would be such trouble to go back to return it. Tomorrow would suffice.

Thus resolved, down the street they walked. It was well lit simply from the light that leaked through the window cracks of the houses along it. Houses on both sides were quite tall, which gave the street a mysterious atmosphere.

Looking ahead the passage seemed to grow quite narrow, but as they walked along, it was not indeed so. As they eclipsed doors and windows, the sounds and smells of people’s lives flowed out, almost as though they were walking through the homes themselves. And then, abruptly, both sides of the street would be stone wall again, and there would be silence.

At their feet, too, earth would be replaced by stone, then earth again, the footing ever uncertain.

The scenes that appeared and disappeared were but tiny glimpses of lives, the overheard voices faint after traversing so many walls.

On and on they walked, reality becoming less and less certain.

It was like a world out of a dream.

The map was finally in their hands; the location of Yoitsu had been given to them. Aided by that euphoria, Lawrence felt a strange comfort in the seemingly endless nature of the street.

Perhaps that was why. For a moment his merchant’s caution was left behind, and he murmured thoughtless words.

“Why did I choose Le Roi?”

He had only just been roundly mocked for being sentimental. If she had laughed at him once, she would do it twice, three times. And just as being drunk on wine made him so, the atmosphere of the street was itself intoxicating, and he spoke the words as though accusing himself.

“You wish to come to Yoitsu with me so much, do you?”

The most compelling argument would not calm a crying infant.

Holo smiled an exasperated smile and adjusted her grip on his arm, as though to soothe him.

And then, just as he was about to say something else, Lawrence interrupted himself. “I do.”

His tone was so firm it surprised even him. He then looked to the still more surprised Holo and finally came to his senses. He hid his mouth with the map and letter, and looked aside.

Holo’s gaze pierced his cheek. At length, though, he heard her muffled laugh. “Heh. We’ve just terrible timing, you and I.”

“…?” Like a stray cat being tempted with food, Lawrence’s caution was overcome by his curiosity, and he looked back at Holo—whereupon the malicious trap he expected to see had been replaced by her serene profile.

“I’ve given it much thought, and I believe you must go after the book. I said it, did I not? We must take the fruitful path.”

If all went well, he would be three hundred silver pieces richer, and it might well contribute at least a little to avoiding the ruin of the north. Lawrence understood that much. And yet, the three hundred silvers was profit for Lawrence. The protection of the northlands was Holo’s gain.

Considered thus, going together to Yoitsu would be profit for the pair of them, Lawrence and Holo together. It was not entirely unsentimental.

What Lawrence could not bring himself to accept was the reasoning behind throwing away the profit they stood to share together in order to pursue the more realistic profits separately.

“Come, now. How many of us are traveling?” Holo’s words were brief, but the question was very clear. Her amber eyes flicked in his direction.

“…Three of us.”

“And what does the lad stand to gain from going to Yoitsu?”

Lawrence found himself momentarily dizzy at the question. “W-well…but…”

“Col came upon us in the course of his own travels. He even set aside his own goals for that. He’s a stronghearted pup, but a pup is still a pup. There is no deep reason for him to be traveling with us. He just needed to rest his injured wings. That’s all.”

They were desolate words and not ones that had simply come to her from nowhere. Holo must have talked to Col about what was truly in his heart, while both Lawrence and Elsa were away.

Just as Lawrence knew that his own decisions affected many others in the world of commerce around him, Holo understood the effects her decisions had on her own small pack.

“It was back in Winfiel, perhaps. Ever since seeing that fool Huskins, he’s been thinking about it, it seems.”

“Huskins?”

“Aye. Thinking about what he ought to do for the sake of his own town. The pup remembered how he’d set that thinking aside, in order to give himself time to rest and heal.”

Lawrence had been paying less attention than he realized, at least outside of the marketplace. Not only to Holo, it seemed, but also to Col.

Holo smiled a sad smile at Lawrence’s expression of surprise. “I’m hardly one to talk, but your face tells me you never even noticed, did you?”

“Ugh…,” Lawrence moaned and nodded. There was no point in trying to hide it.

“Honestly…And then there was this last adventure up in the snowy mountains. He saw how Fran lived, and it woke him from his slumber. She seemed ridiculous to a wisewolf like me, but her straightforward way of living must have been so refreshing to him. Huskins was so old that even his methods were gloomy, but then there was the girl Fran, as beautiful and sharp as ice.”

It was unusual to hear Holo describe her that way. And yet a moment’s thought on Holo’s disposition made it seem entirely appropriate. How could Holo fail to admire someone who would go to such lengths? Who put everything they had at stake in order to reach their goal?

And as the thought came to him, Holo glared at him with displeasure in her eyes. “Hmph. And then along came that hardheaded girl.”

A boy who wanted to study Church law, and a hardworking girl trying to ensure the continued existence of her church in a town that revered a pagan god. As a final blow, it could hardly be more decisive.

“And the Church in this town plays a role in this, too. For this was the first time he saw a grand cathedral. An organization powerful enough to build such a thing could surely protect his home, he realized,” said Holo and finished with a small sigh.

Lawrence could understand why Col had never opened up to Holo, to whom he had become so attached. Holo, who was called the Wisewolf of Yoitsu, whose true form would without any doubt see her called a pagan god.

How could he possibly confess his feelings to Holo, of all people?

Just as Philon could not approach the Delink Company, and just as an apothecary cannot patronize a tavern, just as a scale maker could not be friends with a money changer, so too could Col not confide in Holo.

More than she was an elder sister figure to him, she was, by the slimmest of margins, a wisewolf.

Even though he had seen her true form and been unafraid, even though he had clung to her tail—no, because of those things—Col could never forget that Holo was a wisewolf.

And given all this, Lawrence, too, could understand why Holo had given up on his going to Yoitsu with her, and why, too, she had chosen to go to Kieschen.

They had to choose the most fruitful path: Rather than joint profit for two, separate profit for all three. As a reason for the three of them to make for Kieschen and end their travels as a trio, it was good and proper.

Holo had not chosen Kieschen as their place of parting, but rather as a place to begin a new journey.

“At the very least there’s profit in it, and that dumpling head will go south, aye? She ought to take the lad with her. As much as her hardheadedness makes me ill, she’s perfect for Col. Perhaps he’ll even end up settling down in that village church of hers.”

This last suggestion was of course a joke. But she did not suggest, even jokingly, that he ought to come with her.

“I’ve a thought,” said Holo quietly, after several moments of silence. “Live long enough and you realize time is terribly long, and one’s hopes so rarely come true. Just look at the girl who made that map for us, Fran. Even with all her resolve, it doesn’t seem likely she’ll die with a smile on her face.”

Holo had lived so long and witnessed so many lives that her words had more weight than any easily understood platitude could ever have had.

“We should live with smiles on our faces, I think. That way when we meet again, we’ll be smiling.”

To do that, one had to abide by reason and realism, without a moment of sentimentality.

“It’s the same in business.”

“Hm?”

“‘Profit even from loss,’ they say,” said Lawrence.

“Ah,” said Holo, impressed, and her face twisted in a smile made awkward by the frustration she surely felt.

He could not just let her do all the explaining, and he could not very well forget what he himself had said. They would cooperate with Holo’s decision.

The narrow street became still narrower, and Lawrence let Holo walk in front of him.

From behind, her form seemed terribly small, and though she was close enough for him to reach out and touch, it felt as though she might disappear at any moment.

And in Kieschen, he would truly see her off.

It would be nice if they could meet again, smiling. It was not their final parting, not a deathbed good-bye, so there was nothing to fear. They would part ways the same way they had so many times before, over and over again.

Though he understood this in his head, the unease did not fade from his heart. If he were to let slip these worries, the wisewolf would surely either laugh or rage at him.

Lawrence put the question to himself: Was his trust in Holo insufficient? She was not a coldhearted girl. He was painfully aware of that much.

So what was it, then?

Lawrence watched Holo’s small form ahead of him.

He wanted to embrace her with all his might, and never let go.

Even knowing how ridiculous that was, it seemed the only possible way to calm his worried heart.

The terrible self-loathing he felt was no figment of his imagination.

Lawrence took a deep, slow breath and exhaled it still more slowly.