Spice and Wolf - Volume 5 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Once he’d slept and woken, Lawrence found himself somewhat calmer.

Though he had crawled into bed hoping for just that, Eve and Arold’s words were liquor that did not encourage sleep.

“Let us know by tomorrow night whether you’re in or out.”

The words had echoed through his head over and over.

In exchange for Holo, who they would claim was the sole daughter of the Bolan clan, they would get two thousand, perhaps 2,500 pieces of trenni silver, with which they would buy furs to ship down the Roam River well ahead of anyone else.

Given that it was high-quality Lenos fur, even allowing for tariffs, Eve claimed they would triple their investment.

Despite feeling that this was overoptimistic, Lawrence couldn’t help doing a rough estimate in his head.

Supposing that they were able to buy up two thousand silver pieces’ worth of fur and triple their money, that left four thousand pieces in profit. Eve, along with Arold, was demanding 80 percent of that. Then there were some needed preparations, along with information fees, and the inn building that Arold was putting up as collateral—which would be given to Lawrence outright.

But the building alone was worth perhaps 1,500 silver, so immediately after he protested that 80 percent was too much, he fell silent.

In addition to the building itself, if everything went well Arold would also turn the inn management rights over to Lawrence.

There wasn’t a merchant in the world who didn’t understand the value of that.

With an inn, as long as a person had a building, he could open up shop and anticipate steady income—which meant that existing inns had a vested interest in resisting new ones opening and did so vehemently. There was no telling how much it would cost for an outsider to buy the management rights to such an inn.

And if Lawrence was to open an inn in Lenos, the hot springs town of Nyohhira was not far away, and it would be a good starting point to search for Yoitsu.

Given all this, it would have been strange if Lawrence was able to stay calm and think rationally about the situation.

But something about Eve’s explanations was too good. At a glance, the plan seemed like it would work, but Lawrence couldn’t help thinking that something was strange.

He also wondered if the huge amount of money was making him overthink the situation.

Or perhaps it was the fact that the plan relied on Lawrence raising the money, and to do that, he would have to sell Holo off—even if it was just temporary.

Holo had let herself be captured in Lawrence’s place once, back in the port town of Pazzio.

But that time, she had been the one to propose it as the best course of action.

This time, Lawrence would be selling Holo for his own gain.

He suddenly understood why the Church reviled and persecuted his occupation.

There in the darkness, Lawrence wondered if he was really so willing to let Holo pretend she was nobility.

It was just as he was wondering when long night and its fitful slumber would ever end that Holo’s voice pulled him fully awake.

“Come, you.”

Lawrence opened his eyes at the sound of Holo’s voice.

“…Ugh…is it morning?”

It seemed the endless night had been a dream. When Lawrence opened his eyes, he was greeted by light streaming through the window, along with the sounds of a town already bustling about its morning business.

Evidently sometime during his agitated mental calculations, he had managed to fall asleep.

He took a look at Holo, who stood beside the bed, and when he went to sit up, Lawrence realized he was covered in a terrible night sweat.

It made him think of the first time he had come into an opportunity to make a huge profit, shortly after setting out on his own. He’d woken up so drenched in sweat he was afraid he had wet the bed. And of course, the profit had turned out to be a scam.

“Whatever were you doing last night?” Holo demanded.

She seemed vaguely displeased, but there was no teasing in her voice. Perhaps she was genuinely concerned for him. Lawrence rubbed the slick sweat off the back of his neck. If Holo broke out with a sweat like this, he knew he would be worried about her.

“It was a very…intense conversation.”

After he emerged from under the blanket, the cold morning air seemed to freeze the sweat once it made contact with his body.

Holo sat on her own bed and tossed him a cloth, which Lawrence accepted gratefully before stopping short of actually using it.

“I, uh…appreciate the gesture.”

“I ought to get my scent on you, after all.”

Holo seemed to have used the cloth while grooming her fur; it was covered in the stuff.

If he tried to dry himself off with it, Lawrence doubted it would go well.

“I am worried about you,” said Holo.

“Sorry.”

When Lawrence was the one worried, she would give him no end of teasing, but apparently she could not abide the situation being reversed.

“As you might have guessed, there’s talk of a huge business opportunity.”

“From that fox?”

Lawrence would have pegged Eve as a wolf, but Holo was a true wolf and seemed to see Eve as a fox.

“Yes. Or more properly, from Eve, that merchant woman, and Arold, the master of this inn.”

“Hnn.”

“Oh, indeed?” seemed to be Holo’s reply, though it was far from indifferent.

Her tail was slightly fluffed up.

“Having only heard what they had to say, I haven’t figured out the angle yet, and of course, I haven’t given them an answer. But…”

Holo smoothed down the fur of her fluffed-up tail, replying with narrowed eyes, “But?”

“The profit is—”

“Greater than my preference?” Holo interrupted.

Lawrence closed his mouth, started to speak again, then stopped.

Holo was undoubtedly trying to say that before great profit came great danger.

A dog that burns itself on the hearth will never again approach it.

Only humans were foolish enough to burn themselves trying to snatch a chestnut from a fire again and again.

But roasted chestnuts were sweet indeed, so Lawrence reached into the blazing flames.

“It is great.”

Holo slowly narrowed her red-tinged eyes. She stopped tending to her tail and scratched audibly at the base of her ears. But even then, Lawrence could not give up on Eve’s proposal. He thought back to the first time he had argued with his old master.

“The profit is this inn itself—or that and more.”

Holo could not fail to understand what that meant.

Lawrence anticipated that and spoke simply and plainly.

There was silence for a time.

All that kept it from being unbearable to Lawrence were Holo’s red-tinged eyes, which were now nearly as round as the full moon.

“That would be…quite close to fulfilling your dream, would it not?”

“It would,” replied Lawrence earnestly. Holo’s knife-sharp mood vanished as though it had never been there, and she flicked her right ear back for a moment.

“What is there to debate, then?” she finally said. “I seem to recall that owning a shop is your dream, and if that’s so, I’ve no call to stop you.”

Holo took her tail in her hands and began to groom it.

She seemed somehow at a loss with him.

Unable to cope with her unexpected reaction, Lawrence stood rooted to the spot.

He’d prepared himself for her to categorically refuse—or if she had at least said the scheme was too dangerous, that would have been useful information toward determining the truth behind Eve’s words.

Of course, the deal might be the chance of a lifetime, but if it seemed the danger outweighed the gain, he could let it go by.

He could always make money again.

But he would never meet another Holo.

“What ails you? You look like a neglected hound,” she said.

Lawrence had been reflexively stroking his beard, and he felt like she had somehow hit the bull’s-eye.

“Were you so happy being opposed by me?”

Holo’s tail was chestnut brown, but the underside of it was snow white in the middle.

She combed it with her fingers, forming a white ball of fur.

“I assumed you would refuse, then I could go with the prevailing winds and nicely withdraw,” said Lawrence honestly, and Holo grinned an exasperated grin at this.

“So you expected I’d shine some light on things with my usual wits and foresight.”

“That was part of it.”

“And the rest?”

There was no point in hiding what he felt. If he did, she would merely dig it up and toy with him.

“Well, here you are making that irritated face—” he began.

Holo chuckled dryly. “You dunce,” she said briefly.

“—so I would ask you in return: Why the sudden change? You hated the idea of me getting involved in business here.”

“Hmph,” Holo sniffed, but was it because a bit of fluff had stuck to her nose or was she sniffing at his words?

Probably the latter, he decided, but she didn’t seem too upset.

“You really are…ah, ’tis not worth saying. I know well what a fool you are. And ’tis a burden on me, ordering you about all the time.”

You can’t be serious, Lawrence thought—and perhaps sensing this, she gave him a threatening glare, as though she would truly tear him to pieces.

“Honestly…,” Holo continued. “In the end, I spoke and acted only out of my own interest. For example, I do feel that simply being able to roam about with you is the best thing for me. All the times I acted as though I was teaching you some great truth of the world, it was just to keep traveling with you. In truth, it was painful.”

She took the white ball of collected fluff and blew it aloft, then glumly turned her attention down to her tail.

No, more than glum—her expression said concretely, “This is absurd.”

“You should weigh the danger you risk against the profit you stand to gain and act if you feel it is worth it. Wasn’t it always your dream to own a shop? I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

“You’re not in the way—”

“And anyway, if I hadn’t come along, you’d be able to get involved in anything you wanted, and if your opponent tried to deceive you, you’d be at the ready, waiting to outsmart him and make a huge profit. You had the spirit and recklessness to do that, didn’t you? Have you forgotten it?”

At Holo’s prodding, Lawrence felt an old memory return to him.

Back in the port town of Pazzio, he had certainly possessed that much initiative. He had been desperate for profit, and would do things no one would believe to overcome what danger there was.

But it was hard to imagine that was only a few months ago. Not even half a year had passed, and yet it felt like those things had happened in the distant past.

Holo curled up into a ball on the blanket, facing Lawrence, her tail wrapped under her in such a way that it came up to the tip of her chin. “Nothing defends its nest like a human male does.”

“Er—” was all that Lawrence could manage at her statement.

He only realized it now that he’d been told. The fortress that had grown within him was a defensive one, created when he had felt he would be alone forever.

“But I cannot blame you for that. You…no, I always found your face rather charming when it was so scared of me.”

This last jape of hers threw Holo’s feelings into still sharper relief.

Of course, that might have been part of her plan.

“I was always quite selfish in my dealings with you. You could stand to be a bit selfish with me, too. And if you’d rather forget about me…”

Lawrence was about to quickly say that he wanted to do no such thing, but he noticed what Holo was trying to do and swallowed his words.

“You can safely turn your back to me. Right up until you get bitten.”

Holo smiled, showing her fangs.

There probably wasn’t a merchant alive who kept track of their debts and obligations as carefully as Holo did.

And Lawrence knew many merchants who had established households, and though they were tenacious men, they had fully lost their fight.

If he himself was happy being a thrifty, traveling merchant, then so be it.

But when he asked himself if he was indeed happy with that, Lawrence found he was not so worn-out that he could answer in the affirmative.

After he saw Holo to her homeland and returned to his travel and trading, it would not be so very long before he could raise the capital to open a shop.

But when compared with an inn and the management rights to go with it, that dream seemed desperately humble. With a building and those rights, plus assets to spend as he wished, just thinking about the possibilities was almost frightening.

Could he do it? Lawrence realized he wanted to try.

“Still, there were things about the deal they proposed that made me hesitate.”

“Oh?” Holo looked up, interested.

Lawrence scratched his head and mustered his strength. “In order to raise the amount of money they need for the deal, they have to use you.”

Holo’s expression remained neutral, as if to say, “Go on.”

“They’re going to pass you off as a noble maiden and put you in pawn to a trading company.”

Holo snorted as soon as she heard this. “Don’t tell me that’s what gave you such sweats last night.”

“…You aren’t angry?”

“I am only angry if you thought I would be.”

He had heard that line before.

Yet Lawrence did not understand what she was getting at.

“You still do not understand?”

Lawrence felt like a young merchant’s apprentice, who had been asked a simple question but was unable to answer it.

“You truly are just unbelievable…,” said Holo. “Am I not your partner? Or am I just a maiden you fancy yourself protecting?”

When it was put to him that way, Lawrence finally understood.

“Do I not have some of my own virtues? If I can be of some use to your trade, then happily would I turn myself in!”

That was definitely a lie, but it was clear that as long as certain conditions were fulfilled, Holo trusted Lawrence enough to risk even a significant amount of danger.

If Lawrence had failed to recognize her trust in him…well, no wonder she was angry.

And those conditions were to trust her as a partner to grant his mildly unreasonable requests, to trust her as a wisewolf to keep him from falling into disaster, and finally, to respect her as a person of equal status.

As long as he didn’t forget these things, Lawrence could ask her whatever he wished, and she wouldn’t feel used.

“So I truly need your cooperation,” he said.

“Hmph. I was a stand-in for you once before, but that was to thank you for being kind to me. This time, there’s no thanking.”

It wasn’t as thanks nor was it a favor given or received.

Then what was it?

Not money nor obligation.

All of Lawrence’s relationships so far had been zero-sum; the amount given equaled the amount taken. If something was lent, he expected it returned, and if he was the borrower, he had to pay the debt. Even “friendly” relationships were changed by credit into ones of transaction.

Holo was different, an entirely new kind of relationship.

But just as Lawrence realized what the most suitable term for it was, Holo gave him a look that said unmistakably, “Stop what you’re saying.”

“So, is there aught else you’re worried about?” she asked.

“Of course. I’m worried it may be a trap.”

Holo giggled. “If your opponent has a scheme, counter it. The bigger their scheme…”

She had said the same thing just after they’d met and a shady young merchant had tried to bring Lawrence in on a deal.

“The bigger the scheme, the bigger the profit when you upset it.”

Holo stroked her tail and nodded. “I am Holo the Wisewolf. ’Twould be a fine thing, indeed, if my partner were some worthless merchant.”

Lawrence laughed—they had had this conversation before.

Time did pass, and people changed.

He didn’t know whether that was good or bad.

But he did know that having a partner to share this with made him happy.

“So, then,” said Holo.

“Yes?”

And in any case, her name was deeply engraved on his soul, it seemed.

Her thoughts were entirely clear to him.

Lawrence smiled. “Breakfast, right?”

The first thing they needed to do was lay the groundwork.

If they could ascertain whether Eve was truly a statue merchant, whether her source of payment was really the Church, and whether she had really quarreled with them, this would tell them a lot.

Holo stayed in their room, saying she was going to read the books they had borrowed from Rigolo.

When she told him to go run about the city as he wished, Lawrence found himself wanting to say thanks. That seemed rather awkward, though, so instead he told her, “Enjoy your books, and don’t cry too much.”

Lying on her stomach, flipping through the pages, her only reply was to swish her tail dismissively. Her ears flicked minutely, probably because he had said something she didn’t want to hear.

The mood downstairs was a bit strange given the previous night, but Lawrence gave Arold a quick greeting before heading out.

As long as he had the brisk morning air, the energetic town, and the warm sunlight, things could not be so very bad.

Lawrence started walking immediately.

He had no acquaintances in this city, and his only source of information was the barmaid of the Beast and Fish Tail. As this time of day was particularly busy for wine sellers and butchers who needed to buy up their supplies, though, Lawrence decided to head first to the church.

The town was of moderate size and the streets were complicated, so Lawrence had not yet seen the church, but he did have the impression that its standing within the town was reasonably strong.

By the time one got into the vicinity of Lenos, pagans were hardly rare, and it was common enough to have one as a neighbor.

One would think this would imply a lessening of power on the part of the Church, but on the contrary, it only drove the true believers’ morale higher.

They believed that hardships were trials sent by God, so it made a certain amount of sense. Arold’s strong desire to go on a pilgrimage to the south was probably rather common here.

The most fervent believers could always be found where the Church’s power was weakest.

Perhaps this was because without being prepared to endure, the flame of their faith would surely be extinguished by the storms of paganism—or perhaps those storms were like a wind to a bonfire.

On that count, there was no reason to doubt Eve’s importation of stone statues. There was surely a demand for them.

But that didn’t mean there was no call for doubt at all.

Lawrence bought some rye bread from a baker and asked directions, and when he saw the church, he immediately gave voice to his impressions.

“It’s like a vault.”

It was less a church and more a stone-carved temple.

The design was familiar, but the atmosphere itself was different. He passed through the doors and into the church where a handful of people were performing their morning worship.

One could tell if a church had money by looking at its entrance. Nobody appreciated a church interior that lacked a sense of age, of ancientness, but the entrance was different. As the entrance was worn down and warped by people walking through it, a church with money could pay for appropriate maintenance. It was purely a display of wealth.

And this particular church’s entrance, despite all the people that passed through it, was a series of beautifully carved stone steps.

It was clear that the church of Lenos had money.

So—what about their expenditures?

Lawrence cast his eye about, looking for a likely spot.

Between the church and a group of three smaller buildings was an alley that ran into the interior of the block. Just a short distance down it was a space where the hustle and bustle of the town and the light of day did not reach—along with those who lived in that space.

As Lawrence walked down the path, none of the people so much as looked up at him.

It would take a keen incantation indeed to rouse them from their sleep.

“The blessings of God be upon you,” said Lawrence to one of them.

It had been hard to tell whether the man was dead or just sleeping, but his eyes now snapped open. “Hnn!…Oh. Not giving alms, are you?” he said, his voice a mixture of anticipation and disappointment.

Lawrence looked the man over from head to toe—he certainly didn’t seem to be a man of the Church.

Offering some of the still-warm rye bread to the man, Lawrence gave his best merchant’s smile. “No alms, I’m afraid. I’d like to ask you some questions.”

The man’s face flushed at the sight of the bread. He didn’t seem to be one to quibble. “Hell, ask anything you like.”

He devoured the rye bread with a speed that surprised even Lawrence, who had grown used to Holo’s gluttonous eating, then grinned a toothy grin.

“It’s about the church,” Lawrence said.

“What do you want to know? How many mistresses the priest has? Who the father of the child that nun gave birth to a while back was?”

“Those are fascinating, but no. I was wondering how much bread this church bakes.”

Obviously the church was not a bakery. He was asking instead how much bread the church distributed to the needy. There were churches and abbeys whose finances declined to the point where they did not do such work, but most of them did in proportion to the state of their coffers.

And as a result, the recipients of that charity naturally knew the state of the church’s kitchen.

“Heh, it’s been some time since I’ve been asked that.”

“Oh?”

“Used to be, merchants like you would come to ask all the time. You want to know how the church here fares, yes? Seems it’s not bringing people in the way it used to. Guess God needs more propaganda.”

There was a saying in business: “Look at the feet.” It meant looking at your opponent to understand not just his weaknesses, but his entire situation.

And on that count, who better to look at the feet than the beggars who spent their days lying in the street, looking at the feet of all who passed by?

Occasionally, such beggars would be expelled en masse from a town because those in power were afraid of how much knowledge the beggars had of their coffers.

“I’ve been to many towns in this area, but the church here is the best. They may not give out huge amounts of bread or beans, but the quality is always good. Although…”

“Although?” repeated Lawrence back to the man.

The man closed his mouth and scratched his cheek.

There was a hierarchy among beggars. Those closer to the church entrance, where it was easier to solicit, had more complete information.

Lawrence took two cheap copper coins out and handed them over to the beggar.

The beggar chuckled. “Although—the bishop scatters more money about the town than he does bread among the beggars.”

“How can you tell?”

“Oh, I can tell. When a splendid carriage that has its own escort to drive away beggars like me drives up, I can tell. And it’s plain as day what kind of dinner was served from the garbage they throw away. And looking at how many cocky men about town come to that dinner, I can tell how important the guest was. Impressive, is it not?”

People in power did not hold grand dinners without motivation to do so. Since they evidently had a business based on buying statues from Eve, then consecrating and selling them for far more money, such dinners had to be political in nature—nothing less than an investment.

So while it still wasn’t clear what the Church was trying to achieve, given this information, Lawrence now saw that it wielded power within the Council of Fifty.

And yet, thought Lawrence to himself as he regarded the beggar.

When a town was invaded in times of war, he could see why it was always the beggars who were first put to the spear.

Each and every one of them was like a spy.

“Could you not use your insight to raise your position in society?” asked Lawrence in spite of himself.

The man shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you, pal? God said, ‘Blessed are the poor,’ didn’t he? Do you get a warm, happy feeling in your gut from just a piece of crusty black bread and two copper coins?” The man stared hard at Lawrence. “I know I do.”

Not all wise men wrapped themselves in leather coats.

Lawrence had the feeling that this man was a better embodiment of God’s teaching than anybody within the church next to which he begged.

“Anyway, so I don’t know what it is you’re planning,” continued the beggar, “but if you try to deal with this church, they’ll just hang you out to dry. I only know one merchant who worked with them for a long time, and even he wound up screaming at them in that hoarse voice of his.”

Lawrence knew immediately who the beggar was talking about.

“The statue dealer?” he asked.

“Statues? Ah yeah, I guess he did haul some of those. He a friend of yours?”

“Sort of. So…did he deal in anything else?” There hadn’t been any talk of side businesses, but merchants frequently packed smaller items in between their main cargo.

That was Lawrence’s thinking, but the beggar’s answer made his eyes widen in surprise.

“I thought for certain he was a salt merchant. Wasn’t he?”

If Lawrence had been asked to name three particularly heavy goods to haul, he would have been able to do it instantly—stones for masonry, alum for dying clothes, and salt as a food preservative.

All of them were ill suited to running as a small sideline.

Excited, Lawrence pressed the man. “Why would you think that?”

“Whoa, easy there, friend. Is he some kind of rival? I don’t want to get in trouble just because you asked me some questions,” said the man, pulling away and looking at Lawrence dubiously.

“Sorry,” said Lawrence, returning to himself. “He’s not a rival. He’s someone I’m going into business with myself.”

“…Ah, so you’re looking for scraps from his background, eh? Well, you look like a good sort. I suppose you wouldn’t tell an out-and-out lie. Sure, I’ll tell you.”

Lawrence, like any merchant, wasn’t sure whether he was happy about being told he looked like a good person.

On one hand, it was good that people would let their guard down around him, but it might also keep them from taking him seriously.

The beggar cackled. “Oh, I only meant that there are plenty of merchants who try to use us, but most of them think they’re better than us. And even fewer spare me any admiration for my words. That’s all I meant.”

Lawrence was so flustered by this that he almost told the beggar that flattery wouldn’t gain him any more coin.

“Ah, but anyway, it’s a simple thing,” said the beggar. “Sometimes when that merchant would visit the church, salt would fall from between the cracks of his cargo. I would have been able to tell from the smell if it had been salt used for packing fish or meat—it would’ve made a fine addition to some liquor. But as salt goes, it tasted poorly. That’s why I made him as a salt merchant.”

The farther inland one moved, the more precious salt became.

Eve had said she brought statues in from a town that faced the western sea.

It would be an easy matter to pack sea salt in the same boxes that carried the statues.

Or she might have been smuggling it in.

If she had been trading with the church for a long time, they might have eased up their inspections of her cargo as a perk.

“So that’s how it is. Anything else you want to know?”

It wasn’t just that the beggar had given him useful information; his prone, dirty form had a strange dignity to it.

But Lawrence had heard everything he needed to hear. “You’ve given me the secret to living a happy life. That’s more than enough.”

It seemed there really were gold nuggets to be found by the roadside.

It appeared that Eve had indeed conducted deals with the Church.

And Lawrence now knew that the bishop was throwing money around the town in order to accomplish some kind of political goal.

If that was the case, it was hardly strange that she would be prepared to risk some blame and make some money. After the statues were cheaply bought and blessed, it was the selling of them so dear that had charm, no doubt.

But if that was so, something was strange.

The statue transactions were a stable source of income—would they be ruined with but a single stumble? Did the Church simply not take Eve seriously, or had they created a distribution system that let them procure the statues themselves?

Eve had simply decided to leave the town for good, but she seemed to not have fully abandoned the possibility that the deal could be restarted the following year, which struck Lawrence as awfully gracious indeed.

According to the beggar, Eve had quarreled with the church so fiercely that her shouting voice could be heard outside the building. Yet none of this was of enough importance to justify parting with such anger. Sometimes doing business meant winding up with worthless stock or having business partners turn their backs on you. It was hardly rare.

Naturally such things were upsetting, and the deeper your trust, the stronger the feeling of betrayal. But Eve had not struck Lawrence as so young a merchant that she would think shouting would change the situation.

Did the Church know that Eve was nobility, albeit fallen nobility?

She had said that there was a trading firm in the town that knew about her noble background.

The Church had information-gathering prowess that would put any trading firm to shame—it had to know.

It was incomprehensible that the same bishop who invited moneyed nobility from all over to lavish dinners would discard Eve, who was herself nobility. She could be useful for any number of things.

Or had her usefulness disappeared?

Was that why she offered to bring Lawrence, a merchant she had just happened to meet, in on a deal worth thousands of silver pieces?

Was it out of desperation? Or was she trying to recover? It couldn’t have been just a passing tip. The amount was far too high.

Was he overthinking things to wonder if she had a motive beyond simple profit?

But even if she was trying to lure Lawrence into a trap, there were only a few choices.

She could run off with the goods once Lawrence had fronted the money or kill Lawrence midway through the export or possibly make a secret deal with the trade firm to sell Holo off, then pretend nothing had happened.

Yet none of these seemed likely.

The deal Eve had proposed was entirely legal (save for her passing off Holo as a relative of her noble house), so the contents of it would be declared before a public witness and Lawrence would have a copy. If he was to send this to a trading firm in some other town, his opponent would be unable to make any careless moves. As long as a third party had a careful record of all of Lawrence’s actions, none of these plans would be easy for her to put into action.

Moreover, Lawrence didn’t expect that Eve took him so lightly as to think such simple schemes would work against him.

Perhaps she really wasn’t planning anything.

All deals lay somewhere in the gap between trust and suspicion.

He was far from trusting her, but he would only be able to investigate for so long before the deal became impossible.

He would have to decide.

Lawrence mulled it over as he made for the Beast and Fish Tail.

If the Council of Fifty had reached a decision, which seemed to be an open secret now, he expected there would be new information circulating.

When he reached the tavern, it was completely empty; not a single person was to be found inside. Walking down the alley that ran to the rear of the building, he found the barmaid washing a large basin that looked as though it was used to hold wine.

“Goodness, you’re here early,” she said.

“I must assume it’s the cold wash water making you pull such a face.”

“Oh, aye, and it’s on that account I may be a bit cold myself,” she said with a smile, putting down the balled-up length of hempen cloth she was using to wash the basin. “How many merchants do you suppose have come to speak with me?”

All of them desperate for profit, no doubt.

Lawrence didn’t know how many merchants within the town were trying to stake a claim in the fur trade, but Eve seemed to believe that she and Lawrence could make a profit. He wondered if that was really true. It was another thing that worried him.

“Can you not imagine that your beauty was their aim?” asked Lawrence.

The barmaid giggled. “Smiles are gold, words silver. How many boorish louts do you suppose offered copper coins?”

It couldn’t have been too many yet more than a few, no doubt.

“I’ll admit I’ve come to ask some rather boorish things myself.”

“I’ve no doubt of that. Owe a merchant a favor, and he’ll always come to collect. So, what is it you want to know?” Apparently she had put down the cloth not to talk to Lawrence, but rather to empty the basin of its water. She tilted the basin, which was big enough for Holo to curl up inside when lain flat, and poured its contents onto the ground.

“It’s about the Council of Fifty,” said Lawrence plainly. If he’d delivered a pick-up line so flatly, he could have gotten his tail kicked and had no call to complain.

But the barmaid only shrugged and smiled. “I hear they’ve come to a conclusion. They say they’re going to allow fur sales but not on credit.”

It was exactly what Eve had said.

Just as Lawrence considered how to value this information, the girl swept the grape-tailings into a corner with her foot and continued. “Customers were asking me about it all last night. Honestly, one or two of them could’ve at least brought me a love letter.”

Lawrence considered this new datum while skillfully replying, “A contract is a merchant’s only love letter.”

“Ah, ’tis true that loving and being loved is not enough to fill one’s belly,” said the barmaid. “Hmm,” she added uncertainly, then smiled grandly, as if to add, “Though for a woman, that’s not really true.”

Lawrence smiled ruefully, but he knew that if he was to go along with her game, he would be no better than her drunken patrons. “Though for my part all I need is but a glance, and I’m satisfied. I feel as though I should thank you for the meal!”

The barmaid was stunned for a moment, then smacked Lawrence playfully with her hand, which was red from her kitchen chores. “Sir, you are unfair! That was what I was going to say!”

Lawrence laughed, but his mind was keen and focused.

It struck him as strange that since last night so many merchants had come here to confirm their information with this girl. Assuming the information had leaked to them via a colleague, there shouldn’t be any need to go talk to some tavern’s barmaid to confirm the story.

And from whose mouth was she hearing the latest news anyway?

Perhaps most of her knowledge could be inferred from the information that merchants inadvertently let slip as they asked her questions.

“Were most of the people that came to ask you questions frequent customers?”

“Huh? Frequent?” The girl wrung water out of the washcloth. Lawrence wondered if her hands hurt, given the cold water and chilly weather. She frowned and exhaled, her breath visible. “I guess I’d say it’s been about half regulars and half not. Only…”

“…Only?”

The girl looked around furtively, then lowered her voice and continued. “Only a lot of the new customers have been rather careless. You’re the only one among them who’s asked proper questions.”

“Oh, come now,” replied Lawrence with his merchant’s smile.

“I won’t tell them a thing when they’re like that. Foreign merchants may have sharp ears, but they’ve also loose tongues. They’ll come in and just blurt out, ‘So I hear fur buying is going to be cash only, is that true?’ It’s absurd!”

“They’re failures as merchants,” Lawrence said with a chuckle, but internally he was far from calm.

If all merchants were so foolish, business would be easier than it was.

And it certainly wasn’t the case that only foreign merchants made such mistakes. Of course, the citizens of a town tended to believe that the people who called it home were the smartest and best, but that was nothing more than a widely held illusion.

So what was their goal?

Perhaps the foreign merchants were talking so freely of the council’s decision as a signal to show that they had that information in an effort to disturb and intimidate the local merchants. Or perhaps it was a tactic on the part of moneylenders and changers to temporarily drive the value of currency up in anticipation of cash-only fur transactions.

But the foreign merchants had nothing to gain from spreading fake information, so whatever their goal, the meeting result that Eve had spoken of was probably true.

If the group of merchants outside the town were all acting out of their own personal self-interests, then they might be trying to create confusion in order to lure other parties away from the truth. In that case, though, Lawrence would expect there to be more than one story about the council’s decision circulating.

Likewise, the town insiders and those close to them would know the truth firsthand, so it seemed unlikely that the foreign merchants were trying to create a disturbance within the town.

Eve had said she’d heard the news from sources within the Church.

Whether or not that was true, Lawrence might learn something here that would help him divine something from it.

“By the way,” he started.

“Yes?”

“I’d like to ask about the church here—,” said Lawrence.

“Uh, please lower your voice,” interrupted the girl, her face suddenly stiff, grabbing his arm and pushing him through the barely opened back door of the tavern.

She then peered through the cracked door to make sure no one had seen them.

Just as Lawrence was wondering what was going on, she turned to face him. “If you’re asking about the church, you must have heard at least a bit already.”

“Well, I suppose…”

“Take my advice, you shouldn’t get involved.”

The barmaid’s expression was so serious there in the cramped back hall of the empty bar that he felt the mask of his coolheaded merchant’s face slipping, but Lawrence quickly recovered and responded.

“So there is a power struggle, isn’t there?”

If the girl hadn’t had acting ability to rival Holo’s, Lawrence would have known for sure he’d been dead-on.

“We serve uncommon dishes here, so we’re one of the places that caters the church’s dinners.”

This corroborated the beggar’s tale, and this was one of the few shops from which the church could order any meat dish they wished.

The girl scratched her head, sighing uncomfortably. “I don’t know all the details, but it seems they’re inviting powerful figures from all over. Once we were up for two nights straight cooking for some Church bigwig who’d come from far away.”

A distant Church dignitary.

If this was a power struggle, Lawrence knew all too well what it pointed to.

The conversation was taking a strange turn.

“So they’re solidifying their power base,” said Lawrence.

“Yes. And they’ve been very careful about their reputation, like it’s clay that hasn’t dried yet. They give generously to the poor, but whence comes their money, no one knows. So there’s no telling what might happen to whoever says anything. Everyone whispers to each other about how if the Church’s eye falls upon them, they won’t be able to stay in the city.”

“If this is all true, why are you telling me?” asked Lawrence, slightly intimidated by the girl’s seriousness.

“Well, I wouldn’t tell just anyone.”

Just as Lawrence wore the mask of a merchant, this girl surely wore the mask of the barmaid.

So if the back of the back was the front—which was this?

“For future reference, might I ask why you’re making an exception?”

“Well, if I had to venture to say…,” she replied strangely coy, her face drawing near. “I suppose it would be because you have the scent of another woman about you.”

Unable to retreat because of the wall behind him, Lawrence started at the girl, his face faltering. “So it’s your pride as a barmaid, then?”

The girl giggled. “There is that, but there’s something about you that just makes a girl with a bit of confidence want to have a go. Do you get that a lot?”

Unfortunately, Lawrence’s experience was limited to being rejected by inn maids.

All he could do was shake his head.

“Well, then there’s only one explanation. You’ve only recently met the girl at your side.”

She was not to be underestimated. Was this what they called female intuition?

“It’s because you seem a very gentle person,” the girl continued. “I’ll bet no one gave you a second look when you were wandering about on your own, but once we see that you’re with another girl, we women get curious. If a beast sees a single sheep on its own, it might be too lazy to hunt it, but if a wolf is with that sheep, then we begin to wonder—is that sheep really so tasty? And we covet it for ourselves.”

There weren’t many men who would appreciate being compared to a sheep, but it was sadly true that he did in fact have a wolf by his side.

Was this girl really human?

“That’s why I’d very much like you to bring your companion by the tavern.”

Without interest in money or status, perhaps it was this sort of spice that was perfectly suited to adding a bit of flavor to life.

Surprisingly, that was probably what she had taken in exchange for telling him the truth.

“You’ve already given me that invitation,” he said.

The barmaid gave a smile of frustration. “Oooh, that composure is so frustrating.”

“I’m a sheep, after all. We’re unsympathetic creatures,” said Lawrence, putting his hand to the back door. He then turned back to the girl. “Of course, I’ll tell no one of this conversation.”

“Not even your charming companion?”

Lawrence couldn’t help but laugh.

He wondered if this kind of girl was more his type than some mild maiden.

“So, you’ve told me everything, you say?”

“Without leaving out a bit.”

Lawrence had returned to find Holo just as he’d left her—reading books, her tail swaying lazily. It flicked to a sudden stop.

“It seems I need to teach that girl a few things about territory.” Holo looked at Lawrence, her expression mildly pleased. “But it seems you’re coming to understand the truth of certain things.”

“For a draft horse to be free despite its reins, it must anticipate the will of its driver.”

Holo smiled, satisfied. “So,” she said, sitting up. “What think you of all this?”

It seemed safe to believe that Eve had indeed sold statues to the Church, that they had a disagreement, and parted ways.

Also, Eve’s description of the outcome of the council meeting seemed to be accurate.

What worried Lawrence was that in trying to gain control of the town, the Church was trying to establish a cathedral. Cathedrals acted as centers of power for the Church organization and were established based on the recommendations of influential landholders or clergymen, but generally the extant clergymen in such areas resisted the establishment of cathedrals because they represented a new power structure in the region.

Of course, Lawrence had heard that this was all dependent on money and connections.

If a cathedral was established here, the local church’s current bishop would go from a man who was appointed bishop to one who appoints them himself. He would have the right to collect a certain amount from the tithes given to churches all over the region and the right to sanction secular rulers in the region.

Sole religious jurisdiction would be his, and while it was an extreme example, he could accuse all who disagreed with him of heresy, having his rivals burned at the stake. That said, most bishops’ interests lay in being able to levy fines, and no authority would exceed Church jurisdiction.

It was anticipating such a situation that had made the barmaid so fearful of speaking out against the Church.

Lawrence could certainly understand why, having parted with the Church on bad terms, Eve would want to leave town and why she wouldn’t be able to casually talk about restarting their arrangement next year.

What he couldn’t understand was why she would fight with the Church in the first place. For Lawrence’s part, he would have eaten mud to avoid crossing them. It would’ve been worth it.

It might not be a bad idea to make a gamble if it meant being able to understand the situation.

Given the Church’s power in the Council of Fifty, no doubt the council’s decision was made by the bishop, and since that decision would have been made in the best interests of the town’s economy, Eve’s plan stood in opposition to the Church.

Lawrence came to wonder if it was possible that his life might actually be at risk.

If a foreign merchant was killed or went missing after making a legitimate transaction, suspicion would immediately fall on the party that stood to profit from that merchant’s death—the town’s authority figures. Lawrence was a member of the Rowen Trade Guild, so if he made that clear, it was unlikely that a bishop angling to establish a cathedral would take such drastic, violent action.

And the scale of the deal that Eve was organizing, while a vast sum to a lone merchant, was not particularly significant in the context of the entire town’s fur trade. Lawrence doubted he would attract the wrong kind of attention over such a relatively small venture, and it surely wouldn’t become a matter of life or death. Of course, to some individuals, thousands of silver pieces could certainly be worth killing over.

Lawrence explained this all to Holo.

The wisewolf listened seriously for a while, but her posture grew lazier and lazier, and eventually she collapsed back onto the bed.

Lawrence, however, was not angry.

He could find no reason to object to her behavior.

“What do you think?” he finally asked. Holo yawned at this, wiping at the corners of her eyes with her tail.

“I find no fault with your explanation itself. It all more or less makes sense.”

Lawrence was about to ask whether that meant he should go ahead with the deal or not but stopped himself short.

He was the merchant; he would be the one to decide.

Holo chuckled. “I’m a wisewolf, not a god. If you start to think me an oracle, I’ll vanish.”

“Before a big deal, I always start to feel like I want to ask someone’s opinion.”

“Hah, even though you’ve already come to a decision? Would you change your mind if I tearfully begged you to?” Holo grinned.

Lawrence knew how he needed to answer. “Even if I did brush it off, you’ll still be there at the inn. I’ll complete the deal, then return. That is all there is to it.”

Holo chuckled throatily, scratching at her neck as though Lawrence’s words were difficult to listen to. “Aye, and once you can say those words without blushing, then you’ll be a proper man.”

Lawrence had grown used to Holo’s japes.

He shrugged them off. They were no more than a greeting by now.

“I must say, though, that you were certainly energetic during your explanation there. Of course”—continued Holo, cutting Lawrence off—“I’m not saying that is a bad thing. Males are at their best when chasing their prey.”

Now it was Lawrence’s turn to scratch his nose in awkward embarrassment, but if he didn’t find some retort for Holo, she would surely become angry.

He gave a deliberate sigh, then reminded himself that he was going along with her joke. “But you just want me to pay attention to you once in a while, too, yes?”

“Got it in one,” said Holo, smiling happily. “However, what will become of me should the deal fall through?”

“Well, you’re collateral. So if we can’t return the money, you’ll be sold off somewhere.”

“Oh ho.” Holo lay facedown on the bed, her head resting on her folded arms, her tail and legs pointed up and waving lazily in the air. “So that was what gave you such nightmares?”

“…That, too.”

If their deal failed and they were unable to pay back what they owed, Holo would become the property of the trade firm.

However, she would hardly sit there meekly and allow herself to be sold.

That gave Lawrence some measure of relief, but he was not so optimistic as to think that once she bit through the ropes that bound her and escaped, she would come running back to him.

“Should it come to that, I’ll have to pick someone a bit cleverer as my next partner,” said Holo, her red-amber eyes narrowed maliciously.

“Indeed. It’d be best to cover such a fool in the dirt kicked up as you left him,” Lawrence quickly replied to Holo’s teasing.

The wisewolf did not seem pleased. “Big words from the brat who practically cried when I nearly left before.”

Lawrence made a face as though he had swallowed a walnut, shell and all.

Holo grinned, satisfied, the pat-patting of her tail audible.

It was after she ceased wagging it that her expression shifted and she spoke again. “But I shall cooperate because I trust you.”

Her smile was genuine.

Lawrence scratched his chin, then stroked his beard. “Naturally.”

It was twilight.

The sunset was red, and here and there shone the first lamplights of the evening, as though they were lingering fragments of the vanishing sunshine. As the chill of night settled in, people hurried home, their faces buried in their warm mufflers.

Lawrence gazed out on the town for a moment; then once the sun was fully set and the town streets emptied, he closed the wooden window of their inn room. Holo continued to read her books by the light of a tallow lamp.

The books seemed to have been organized chronologically, and Holo read the most recent chronicles first.

Considering what they had learned in the village of Pasloe, Lawrence felt that she would find what she was looking for faster if she started from the oldest records, but he suspected that she avoided doing so in order to preserve some measure of composure in her heart.

In any case, only two volumes remained, so the probability that she would soon find the accounts she sought was very high. Holo seemed to be very concerned about what would happen after that, and even after darkness fell, she said she wanted to read. Thus Lawrence gave her permission to read by lamplight, provided she was careful to keep soot—and especially flame—away from the pages.

Holo did not wear her normal indoor robes when reading. She was fully dressed to leave at a moment’s notice.

This was not because of the cold, but rather because they would soon be going to negotiate with Eve.

“Well then, shall we go?” Lawrence asked.

The time of the negotiation had not been set precisely, but Lawrence could be reasonably certain, since “at night” was a generally agreed-upon range among merchants. Once he headed downstairs with Holo and waited, it was hard not to feel like a small-time merchant who was overexcited by the notion of profit.

But Eve was late—very late—which was rude.

Perhaps this was her idea of a test.

She hadn’t said to meet at sunset because merchants preferred to write their figures during the day, when no candles were necessary, and because it would take them a bit of time to return to the inn.

So presumably she had wanted to wait until after that wave of merchants had returned to the inn and settled down.

If he listened carefully, Lawrence could tell which occupants had returned to which rooms.

Weighing that against the number of rooms in the inn, he expected Eve to arrive soon.

“You merchants are a troublesome lot indeed,” said Holo, closing the book with a thud and sitting up on the bed, stretching.

Even a normal girl would have been able to tell that Lawrence was fidgeting over when would be the best time.

“If I must put on an act even in my own inn room, when am I to relax?” asked Lawrence, half joking.

Holo got off the bed, seeming to think something over as she adjusted her ears and tail beneath her cloak. “For some time after we met…no, even recently, you’ve seemed to always put on a bit of an act around me.”

“It’s the first time I’ve ever traveled with a girl. Took time to get used to.”

It was also the first time he had let himself go this much around anyone else.

He’d never felt so comfortable around anyone before.

“And yet when we’d just met, your nostrils would puff just from walking about with me,” said Holo

“Aye, and would your tail puff up if you saw me with another woman?” Lawrence shot back.

Holo looked up and regarded him as if to say, “You’ve got a lot of nerve.” She then said, “But just like that, a male will gradually reveal his true colors, and eventually turn into someone you never would have expected.”

“Isn’t that true for more or less anyone as you become close to them?”

“Fool. Don’t you humans have a saying, ‘Feed not the fish you catch?’”

“That doesn’t apply here. I didn’t catch the fish, it snuck into my wagon bed on its own, didn’t it? Forget about giving it food; I should be charging it for transport.”

But no sooner had he said it, than Lawrence flinched away.

Holo’s keen gaze was illuminated by the faintly flickering light of the lamp. She was not joking.

Had he treated her poorly? Or had his agitated state been even more irritating than he’d guessed? Perhaps she hadn’t liked his comeback.

“Hmph…What I meant was, don’t forget your original intention.”

Lawrence didn’t know what had triggered this, but he nodded meekly.

Holo could be strangely childish at times, so perhaps she was annoyed at the fact that not only had Lawrence failed to be flustered but had actually counterattacked.

Perhaps realizing her own fault, she backed off.

Lawrence gave her a thin, tired smile and sighed.

“There’s something irritating about that,” said Holo

“It’s your imagination…No, perhaps you’re right.” Lawrence cleared his throat, then looked back at Holo. “Can you see into my mind?” He asked the question he had put to her seriously when they first met.

Holo grinned, then came in close. “Fool.”

“Ouch!”

She had kicked his shin.

Holo’s smile remained undisturbed as she smoothly walked past Lawrence and put her hand to the door.

“Are you coming?”

Lawrence swallowed the remark that came to mind—that Holo would never have treated him like this when they had first met—and followed her out the door.

She had told him not to forget his original intention, but that was truly impossible.

The words carried heavy significance. Time could never be turned back, and everybody knew there was no such thing as a person who never changed.

Lawrence knew that, so there was no doubt that Holo knew it as well.

“Of course, it’s also true that I can easily take your hand only because we’ve been traveling for so long together. But”—Holo’s face was suddenly sad—“do not poets speak of wishing to stay always as they were upon first meeting a lover?”

It was for only the barest moment that Lawrence thought she was being her usual teasing self.

He found himself surprised at Holo’s words, at how obviously she wished to turn back time as she became more conscious of the journey’s approaching end.

Holo seemed to be always looking far to the future, but that was not actually true.

And yet, Lawrence was touched that it wasn’t to the happy times centuries earlier when she first arrived at her village that she wanted to return, nor was it to the time before then, before she began her journey at all.

She had taken hold of him with her left hand. Though it embarrassed him, he curled his fingers around hers as he spoke. “You might be well returning to that time, but for my part, I’d collapse from overwork.”

Holo drew closer to him as they descended the stairs. “Worry not, for I would be there at your deathbed,” she said with a malicious smile, which Lawrence could only answer with a tired smile of his own.

It was on the way to the first floor that Lawrence realized her words were not entirely a joke.

If Holo was to say that the search for her homeland could be postponed, Lawrence would certainly die before she did. If Holo’s journey didn’t end, their journey as a pair surely would.

Lawrence suddenly felt like he understood her reasons for not answering when, back in Tereo, he’d asked what her plans were after they reached her homeland.

Such thoughts occupied his mind when they reached the first floor, and Holo let go of his hand. Lawrence was not bold enough to feel comfortable entering a room while holding a girl’s hand, even if that girl was Holo. At the same time, though, he did not want to be the one that let go. Her accommodation for his feelings warmed his heart.

It was as though she was answering the question of what would happen when they reached her homeland.

The feeling helped him muster more than his usual amount of gravitas when he greeted Eve and Arold, who were already there. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Well then, shall we begin?” asked Eve in her hoarse voice.

“So, what did you learn from your poking about?” Eve asked.

There was no need to introduce Holo.

What was visible of her face beneath the cloak and her posture and movements on the chair spoke volumes.

Eve’s somewhat utilitarian manner was not unreasonable. Selling Holo was not, after all, their ultimate objective, but her affectation was a bit miserly nonetheless.

“I learned that you did indeed sell statues to the Church, that you parted on bad terms, and that fur sales are going to be restricted to cash,” said Lawrence, watching Eve carefully for her response. This was a fundamental negotiation tactic.

But on that count, Eve was skilled enough at hiding her face that Lawrence’s eyes could not discern much, and he did not expect to learn anything. It was like warming up before hard exercise.

“Based on my experience and intuition as a merchant, I believe that what you’ve told me is all true, Eve.”

“Oh?” came her disinterested, hoarse voice. She seemed to be well accustomed to negotiation.

“But there is one thing I am worried about.”

“Which would be?”

“The reason for your angry split with the Church.”

There was nothing more pointless than asking that of her, but Lawrence had decided he would try to compare Eve’s answer to the information he had already gathered. If it wasn’t consistent, he’d know she was lying.

Holo, sitting next to him, could probably also tell whether she was being honest, but relying on Holo to do this was no different than treating her as an oracle. No, if Eve’s answer didn’t agree with what he was thinking, cutting her off would be the best course.

After all, they would be selling Holo off based on Lawrence’s judgment, so the responsibility to make that judgment fell wholly to him, he felt.

“The reason for my split? I suppose you would wonder about that,” said Eve, clearing her throat.

He knew her mind would be racing.

Whatever the undesirable outcome of Lawrence withdrawing from the deal might be, it would most certainly mean the failure of the plan.

She was surely trying to guess at what he had seen and heard around town today.

If she was going to lie, her chances of matching up with whatever information Lawrence had gathered today were almost nil.

“The bishop of the church here is a relic of the good old days, a past he can’t forget,” began Eve. “He’s ambitious. In his younger days, he came here as a missionary, enduring hellish hardship, and what got him through it was his goal of becoming powerful and influential. He wants to establish a cathedral here. In other words, he wants to be an archbishop.”

“An archbishop—” The word was practically synonymous with power.

Eve nodded and continued. “As I said before, I may have fallen into disgrace, but I’m nobility. When I began searching this area for good business opportunities, I heard tell of a bishop turning an untoward profit. It was the bishop here. At the time, he was using a trade company as a front and using tithes to get in on the fur trade, but in the end, he just shut himself up in his church and counted figures. He was getting deeper and deeper in the red. So I proposed a way to kill two birds with one stone.”

“And that would be the statue trade.”

“Exactly. And I didn’t just sell him statues. I’m nobility of the kingdom of Winfiel, after all. I can still speak to those in power. I put him in contact with the archbishop there, whose power base is unshakable.”

Lawrence found himself nodding internally.

If that was true, then the statues were probably made by the same traveling stonemasons that the archbishop brought together to maintain his cathedral. Once the repairs to the intricate masonry of a cathedral were complete, they would normally either move on to another town or do piecemeal work.

But even so, the amount of certain types of work is limited, which can be a source of friction between groups of masons in an area. And ironically, it was the itinerant stonemasons, who spent time polishing their skills, who were by far the most capable, and they were the only ones who could handle the maintenance on the intricate stonework of the cathedrals.

So in towns that had a cathedral, whenever it required repair, the local stoneworkers worried about having their business stolen and being made superfluous.

Which was how Eve’s business, based as it was on stonework, helped ease that concern.

It was a bridge between the cathedral that wanted to hire traveling masons only when they were needed, the town, and the traveling masons themselves. Eve was then able to tell the archbishop there that the bishop in Lenos wanted to make his acquaintance and then ultimately make a profit moving stone statues from one town to another.

It was an ideal situation; one in which all parties profited.

“I’m glad you understand. That will make this easier to explain. It’s as you’ve said. The reason I contented myself with the thin margins I made by selling statues was because I was counting on the bishop here to become an archbishop. But then—”

Lawrence could not tell whether the edge that crept into Eve’s voice was an act or a result of her suppressed anger.

But so far all the facts fit; Eve’s story was all too plausible.

“As the bishop profited from his deal with me and solidified his position, people around him started to divine what his goal was, and the bishop set about eliminating obstacles. The current affair was just a convenient excuse for him to cut me off. He owed me. He probably thought that the longer I was around, the more unfavorable demands I would make of him. And of course, I had planned to do exactly that. It was my right. But he decided he’d rather deal with an already-established trade firm instead of a single merchant just trying to establish herself. Even I can understand the reasoning, but that doesn’t mean I agree with it.”

Lawrence mused to himself that anger burned as visibly as any flame.

“So we argued, and we split,” finished Eve.

Sitting next to Lawrence, Holo was so quiet that it was easy to forget she was there.

Lawrence went over Eve’s story again in his head.

It seemed to be entirely consistent. So consistent, in fact, that it made him suspicious.

If it was a lie, it was a good enough one that he almost wouldn’t mind working with her anyway.

“I see. So that’s what made it hard for you to turn your statues into cash and why you can’t very well just wait for next year’s northern campaign.”

Eve’s silence beneath her cowl contrasted starkly with her previous garrulity.

Lawrence took a slow, quiet breath.

He closed his eyes.

If he was going to doubt even this consistent of a story, any other deal would be difficult as well.

On the other hand, he might just be fooling himself.

Only merchants, constantly scheming and being schemed upon, had to worry about such things.

“Understood,” he said, exhaling the breath he had been holding.

He noticed Eve’s shoulders move ever so slightly.

He was confident that this wasn’t an act on her part.

No merchant was capable of remaining completely expressionless in such moments.

“Let’s discuss the particulars of the deal,” he finished.

“…Yes, let’s.”

Lawrence got the sense that in the shadow of her cowl, Eve smiled.

She extended her hand.

Lawrence took it; it was trembling ever so slightly.

Subsequently, Lawrence and Eve with Holo in tow ventured out into the town.

Their expedition was not to celebrate their newly established contract. Merchants do not celebrate anything until profit is in their hands.

There was no way of knowing exactly when the Council of Fifty would make their decision public and unleash the rush of merchants trying to monopolize the fur trade, so they needed to secure the necessary cash as quickly as possible.

So out into the town they went to call upon the trading firm that would lend them the money with Holo as collateral.

The trading firm was called the Delink Company.

Though it was situated conveniently close to the port, the building was rather small and had no loading dock.

The only thing that identified it as a trading company was a small flag hanging unobtrusively in the doorway.

However, the building’s stone construction was so fine that not even a single hair could slip between the stones, and though it was fully five stories tall, it did not seem to lean against the adjoining buildings.

As Lawrence examined the flag more closely, which was dimly lit by the flickering light of an oil lamp, he could see that it was an embroidered piece of the highest quality. Set against mist-gray stones, it gave the trading house the presence of a small giant, not some come-lately business.

Lawrence wondered if this company’s approach to publicity was different from other houses’.

“I’m Luz Eringin, representative for the Delink Company.”

Merchants who dealt with different goods had widely varying customs.

Four men from the Delink Company came out to greet Lawrence and his entourage, each of them dressed fit to represent their company, not a one of them standing out among the others.

Lawrence had heard that groups dealing in human commodities always had multiple people judge the quality of their goods. These four were no doubt the managers of the company.

“I am Kraft Lawrence.”

Lawrence shook hands with Eringin.

The man’s hands were strangely soft, and a vague smile stuck to his face, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking.

Sheep merchants had loud voices like a barking dog. So was this the smile of a slave trader?

Holo shook hands with him next, and his eyes as he regarded her were reptilian—a lizard’s or a snake’s.

Eve removed her cowl but exchanged no particular greetings. Perhaps this firm had brokered the deal when she had been sold to that newly rich merchant.

“Do have a seat,” invited Eringin, and they all sat on felt-covered chairs, fine ones, stuffed with cotton. “I have already heard the particulars from the honorable head of the Bolan house.”

“So let’s not waste time with empty chitchat,” he seemed to be saying.

Lawrence had no intention of negotiating the price. He knew nothing about the market for young noble girls.

“I would ask you one thing,” said Eringin. “I have heard that you, Mr. Lawrence, are a member of the Rowen Trade Guild?”

The three men behind Eringin stood there without so much as twitching, staring at Lawrence.

While none of them wore any particular expression, they collectively gave off an aura that was altogether unsettling.

Even Lawrence, well used to signing contracts, felt the pressure.

Perhaps it was a technique of theirs; having been sold off to this company, one would have a hard time lying to them.

“Yes,” answered Lawrence briefly, and the oppressive aura of the three men immediately vanished.

It seemed they truly had been trying to wring the truth out of him.

“Rowen, then. I do believe Lord Goldens has dealt with you many times. Perhaps it was he from whom I heard yours is a keen-eyed guild.”

Lawrence couldn’t help being unsettled at the mention of one of the guild’s central figures—even though he knew Eringin brought it up to make Lawrence feel as though escape was impossible.

“If you’re attached to such a guild, you’re a man to be reckoned with indeed, and your companion is a girl from the nobility. Now, if I might explain what the four of us have decided.”

Eve said she wanted 2,500 pieces.

Eringin’s affected smile widened.

In any world, it was those with money who were strong.

“Two thousand pieces of trenni silver.”

It fell short of the goal, but with two thousand in their war chest, the plan would yield incredible success.

It was all Lawrence could manage not to broadcast the way the strength drained from his nervous body. Eve seemed to be doing likewise.

She forced her face to be expressionless.

“Ms. Eve proposed 2,500, but we’re unable to deal in that amount with individual merchants. This is for that…fur business that’s going around, is it not? Thus, in exchange, we will waive our standard commission and lend you the full amount. But as we do not have that much silver on hand at the moment, the remittance will be in the form of sixty gold lumione.”

A single piece of lumione gold was worth roughly thirty trenni. Lawrence wasn’t sure of the details of Lenos’s marketplace, but when used in exchange for goods besides other currencies, the lumione possessed a singular might.

Depending on the circumstances, it might garner significantly more fur than two thousand trenni would have.

But what surprised Lawrence even more was the fact that they were willing to lend the lump sum.

The mere possession of high-value coins held value. Gold or silver currency was a versatile asset that could be melted down if necessary and was far superior to records of money on paper.

When one signed one’s name to paper and borrowed money, it was usual to have to pay a fee as well.

But not this time.

“That’s generous of you,” murmured Eve.

“This is an investment,” said Eringin, deepening his smile. “You’re a clever person. You’ve managed to pull profit from the state and arrangement of this town. There is little doubt you will use this success to reach still greater heights, and we wish to share that good luck. And”—he turned to Lawrence—“you are a fortunate man. It was nothing less than good fortune that led you two to meet. And you are not losing yourself to excitement about a deal this large. We believe this is because you’ve become accustomed to good luck. In our business, the element of fortune is a very important one. Unless one is accustomed to such fortune, one can make mistakes. On that count, we trust you.”

Even as Lawrence admired the man’s method of estimating value, it did not escape him that the only thing being praised about him was his good luck.

He tried to decide whether to feel pleased or aggrieved and suddenly got the sense that beside him, Holo was snickering at his expense.

“Our job is not unlike prospecting for a gold mine. To find partners, we won’t shrink away from investing some money.”

“So, how are we to accept the money that will silence so many wagging tongues?”

Eringin smiled at Eve’s question, and for the first time, he seemed sincere. “You’ll be buying up fur from the Arkieh Company, correct? You certainly have a good eye. I would love for you to tell us your secret—”

“My voice is a bit hoarse these days. Makes it hard to talk,” said Eve.

It did not sound like a joke. Eve’s words were hard, and Eringin’s words were sly and menacing, like a snake.

It was a strange conversation, different from any Lawrence had experienced before.

Of course, there was no need for negotiating parties to get along particularly well, but basic human courtesy was lacking between these two.

As long as they made their money, each cared not one whit for the other’s welfare.

It was as obvious as air.

“The transaction? That will be at your preference.”

“What do you want to do?” Eve asked, looking at Lawrence for the first time.

They hadn’t conferred ahead of time, so Lawrence said what came to mind.

“’Tis hard to sleep with such brightly glittering coins lighting the darkness.” It was Holo’s presence next to him that helped him straighten up a bit and manage a thin smile.

Eringin made an impressed face, then smiled, shrugging. “A memorable answer! As one handles larger and large amounts of money, one’s pride rises as well. Such freedom makes it easy to become haughty and sarcastic. But your words, modest yet incisive—that is true freedom. We must all learn from your example.”

Did Eringin handle such terrifying amounts of money on a daily basis? Even the service charge on two thousand silver pieces would be a significant sum, but he had waived it without a second thought.

When a merchant rose in the world, was this what awaited?

“Well then, shall we remit it to you immediately before you go to buy up your fur?”

Wondering what Eve was thinking, Lawrence didn’t immediately answer in order to give her a chance to speak up if she chose—but ultimately, she said nothing.

“Yes, if you please,” said Lawrence.

“Very well.” Eringin extended his hand to shake.

Lawrence accepted it. The handshake was ever so slightly stronger than the one that had preceded it.

Instead of turning to Holo, Eringin faced Eve and offered his hand, which Eve accepted. Despite the sharp negotiations, it seemed there remained the barest hint of civility.

“Let us pray for a successful transaction,” said Eringin, closing his eyes, though it did not seem as though he believed in any sort of god.

There was something divine about that spirit, that merchant’s spirit that pursued profit above all else and trampled any god in its path.

“An unpleasant man,” declared Eve as they left the trading house after having signed various papers.

Her words brimmed with such feeling that Lawrence found this a bit unusual.

“I’ve never met his like before. It made me realize just how small a merchant I am,” confessed Lawrence honestly. Eve looked at him past her cowl and was silent for a time.

“…Do you really think so?” asked Eve.

“Yes. Here I struggle to make a few hundred silver pieces, but now I’ve seen an entirely different level.”

“And yet you managed to have quite the wit with him.”

“Oh, that business about the gold coins?”

Eve nodded and began to slowly walk.

Lawrence took Holo’s hand and followed his new partner. Holo seemed to have perfectly understood the role she was to play and had been obediently silent the entire time. When Lawrence took her hand, though, he noticed it was hot.

She must not have liked Eringin’s gaze, either.

“It was quite refreshing to hear such wit,” said Eve. “You threw Eringin off balance. He won’t underestimate a traveling merchant again.”

“I’m honored,” answered Lawrence. He heard Eve’s rough laugh.

“Are you sure you’re not the son of some wealthy merchant house?”

“There are evenings when I feel like that.”

“I give up,” murmured Eve, and for once, the eyes beneath her cowl were not harsh as she spoke. “Are you not thirsty after such speech?”

They hadn’t completed the entire deal, but the first barrier had been overcome.

Lawrence was not so dry as to disagree.

Even after nightfall, there were many stalls still selling liquor near the docks.

Lawrence ordered three cups of wine, and the three of them sat on discarded packing crates nearby.

“Here’s to success,” said Eve, raising her cup in a toast.

The three of them merely pretended to bump their chipped wooden cups together before drinking the wine.

“I suppose it’s a bit late to be asking this—,” started Eve.

“What’s that?”

“Where did you pick up your companion?”

“Wha—?”

Lawrence was unable to conceal his surprise but not because he was relaxing after tense negotiations.

It was simply because he had never expected Eve to care about such things.

“Is it that odd for me to ask?” inquired Eve with a rueful grin. Thankfully, Holo merely held her earthen cup in both hands and said nothing. “I did say I wouldn’t pry, but I am curious.”

“Yes, well…people often ask.”

“So where did you pick her up? I won’t be surprised if you tell me she’s the daughter of some rich landlord, overthrown in a peasant uprising.”

It was the kind of joke that could only have come from Eve, herself being fallen nobility, but even so it was surprising. Lawrence heard a faint swishing sound coming from Holo’s back, and ever so casually, he stepped on her foot.

“Evidently she was born in the north. She lived for a long time in the wheat fields of the south.”

“Oh?”

“I’d done many deals in a town in the area, so I stopped in on my travels to see a friend, but then she snuck into my wagon bed.”

Thinking back to that time, Lawrence realized Holo had been snuggled in among the furs he’d been hauling at the time.

Perhaps her tail gave her some kind of strange connection to fur.

“She said she wanted to return to her homeland, and after various twists and turns, I wound up acting as her escort.”

It was a simple story to relate. There were no lies. Holo nodded, and Eve took a sip of her wine.

“Sounds like an encounter dreamt up by some two-copper bard,” she said.

Lawrence had to laugh.

It was true, after all.

And yet what had happened after that was something that couldn’t be turned into money.

It was absurd, it was delightful, and Lawrence wanted it to continue for the rest of his life.

“It’s those twists and turns that I wonder about,” said Eve. “But I doubt you’d even tell that to a priest.”

“I certainly couldn’t tell a priest would be more accurate.”

It was the truth, and yet what Lawrence meant and what Eve assumed were two very different things.

Eve laughed loudly, but the port was not so quiet as to give someone cause to turn and look.

“Well, you’ve surely dressed her nicely. It’s clear enough it was an encounter you cherish.”

“The moment I let my guard down, she bought them herself.”

“I don’t doubt it. She seems a clever girl.”

No doubt the clever girl was smiling to herself beneath her hood.

“And you seem to get along well,” continued Eve. “Though I’d recommend you keep your voices just a bit lower in the inn.”

Lawrence’s hand froze just short of bringing his wine cup to his lips. For a moment he wondered if he and Holo’s exchanges had been audible to others in the inn, but then he realized Eve was trying to trick him into revealing something.

Holo now stepped on his foot, as if telling him not to fall for the trick.

“It’s to be treasured. Money can buy companionship but not its quality.”

Lawrence’s gaze strayed to what lay beneath Eve’s cowl.

Her blue eyes peered out at him—a rare, fine blue they were.

“The rich merchant who bought me was a terrible man,” she said, looking away, glancing at Holo before her eyes strayed to the docks. It was her self-loathing smirk that finally drove Lawrence’s gaze away from her profile. “If I claimed not to want your sympathy, I’d be lying, but it’s ancient history now. And he died soon after.”

“Is that…so.”

“Yeah. You probably know this, but in my homeland, it’s the wool trade that prospers. He made a fortune competing with foreign rivals in wool futures, and just when he’d gotten gold sufficient to boost his own status, he went bankrupt when the king changed policies. The deal was huge, an unbelievable amount to fallen nobles like us, who had trouble even buying bread. But he was a proud man, prouder even than the nobility, so when his ruin was certain he slit his own throat. That was the only part about him worthy of the Bolan name.”

Eve spoke with neither anger nor sadness nor grim amusement at the fate of her nouveau riche master. She sounded almost nostalgic.

If this was an act, Lawrence would never be able to believe anyone again.

“The marriage ceremony was grand. My butler cried, saying how it was one of the finest in the history of the Bolan house. Of course, to me it was a funeral. But there were good things about it. I didn’t have to worry about how I would eat. And I didn’t get pregnant.”

Blood ties were more important to the nobility than to anyone else.

Children were not gifts from God, but rather political tools.

“And nobody saw me stealing money from his coin purse, bit by bit. Once he was bankrupt and the entire household was forfeit, it was enough for me to start on my own as a merchant.”

To have enough wealth to buy a noble family outright, he must have owned a grand trading house indeed.

For a noble girl like Eve to choose the path of the merchant, she must have had the help of those within the firm so that she could arrange such things.

“It’s my dream, you see, to build something bigger than him and his company,” said Eve plainly. “It was only good luck that allowed him to buy me. In truth, I’m not so cheap as to be bought by a merchant like him, and I want to prove it. Childish, no?” she asked in her hoarse voice, and when she smiled, her face looked very young indeed.

When they shook hands agreeing to do this deal, her hand had been shaking.

No one was perfect. In this world, everyone had a weakness.

“Ha, please, forget all this. Sometimes I just feel like I want to talk about it, that’s all. I suppose it means I’ve a ways to go yet,” said Eve, draining her wine cup and burping quietly. “No, that’s not it.”

She lifted the edge of her cowl up. Lawrence wondered as to her aim.

“I was jealous of you two,” said Eve. Her blue eyes narrowed and were bright.

Lawrence wondered how to answer and finally escaped into his wine cup.

Holo would make fun of him for it, no doubt.

Eve chuckled. “How absurd. What we should be worrying about is profit. Am I wrong?”

Lawrence looked at his reflection in the wine.

Just like Eve’s, it was not the face of a merchant.

“Right you are,” he said, tossing back his wine. He dreaded hearing what Holo would have to say about this later, but as Eve raised her voice in a short, dry laugh, both of them stood and resumed their proper merchant expressions.

“We’ll make for the deal as soon as the council announces its decision. Keep Arold informed as to your location.”

“I shall.”

Eve was every inch the rugged merchant as she extended her hand to him. “This deal will go well,” she said.

“Of course,” said Lawrence, taking her hand.

Lawrence remembered Holo’s reply, back upon entering Lenos, when he had told her not to become angry should they happen to find wolf fur.

He wasn’t worried about himself, but he could not be at peace with someone he knew was being hunted.

That seemed to apply to business, too.

Buying a child to adopt into a family or buying a slave to use for labor…this was a necessary trade and not something anyone questioned.

But to even briefly consider the thought of actually selling Holo put Lawrence’s heart into disarray. He felt as though he understood for the first time the Church’s fussy denouncement of the slave trade.

Once they returned to the inn, Eve remained on the first floor, saying she was going to drink with Arold.

Holo was the only one involved in this affair to collapse onto the bed, a worn-out expression on her face.

“That was certainly an aggravating way to spend time,” she declared.

Lawrence smiled wearily as he lit the tallow lamp. “You were as meek as a kitten.”

“Well, this ‘kitten’ is what you’re borrowing money on. I had no choice.”

Lawrence had decided he could trust Eve’s story, and in return, Eve had helped the deal proceed smoothly. As long as nothing unexpected happened, it wasn’t blind optimism to believe that their fur deal would be successful and that their coin purses would soon swell with money.

No one would laugh at him for prematurely feeling that fuzzy warmth in his stomach of which the beggar had spoken.

It had been a very long time since he had felt that sensation.

After all, his long-held desire of being a town merchant was finally beginning to materialize.

“You were a great help,” said Lawrence, stroking his chin lightly. “Thank you.”

Holo looked at him in a none-too-friendly manner. She flicked her ears as if to brush the dust from them, sighed resignedly, then rolled over from lying on her back to her front and opened a book.

Yet in truth, she seemed a bit bashful.

“Was there anything that worried you?” asked Lawrence.

Holo wriggled out of her robe as she looked at the book, a task Lawrence good-naturedly helped her with. She was not being difficult, so his guess that she was felt bashful about his thanks was probably not far from the mark.

“There were many things that bothered me. There is a saying that there’s a demon who sings an ill-omened song buried at the crossroads.”

“I’ve heard that one.”

“Oh?” Her hair spilled out like oil over water after having taken her cloak off. She gathered it up.

“There are traveling musicians who carry instruments and wander from town to town, and sometimes they’re accused of being servants of a demon and blamed for bringing bad luck or sickness with them. And the place where they hang such musicians is always the crossroads outside of town.”

“Oh ho.” Holo’s sash, undone, had slipped off onto her tail; Lawrence took it off as she tried to brush it free. She nuzzled her tail as if in thanks.

When he playfully made as if to touch it himself, she dodged quickly away.

“Then, once the demon musician is dead, they wish for its spirit to go haunt some other place. That’s why crossroads near towns are kept so carefully free of stones with holes in the road quickly filled. If someone were to stumble there, it’s said the buried demon could come back to life.”

“Hmph. Humans believe all sorts of things,” muttered Holo, seeming genuinely impressed, then turned her attention back to her book.

“Do wolves have no superstitions?”

“…”

Holo was suddenly serious, making Lawrence wonder if he had accidentally stepped on her tail, but she seemed to be simply thinking. After a time, she looked over at him.

“Now that you mention it, I’ve realized—we don’t.”

“Well, it’s nice you’ve nothing that stops children from being able to pee at night.”

Holo looked stunned for a moment, then laughed.

“Just so you know, I’m not talking about me,” Lawrence added.

“Heh.” Holo smiled, her tail wagging.

Lawrence patted her head ever so lightly, and she ducked away as though it tickled.

He then casually placed his hand on her head.

He was sure his hand would be swatted away, but Holo let it stay there, her ears moving slightly. Through his hand, Lawrence could feel the warmth of her body, just a fraction taller than a child’s.

The room was so quiet as to be sad. This time was precious.

Then, as if she was finally prepared, Holo abruptly spoke.

“You never asked me if her words were true.”

She had to be talking about Eve.

Lawrence removed his hand from Holo, his only reply a nod.

Holo did not so much as look at him. His gesture was all she needed.

“As though if you had, I would’ve teased you, looked down on you, made fun of you. Then I would’ve told you, and you’d owe me.”

“It was a close shave, indeed,” said Lawrence.

Holo smiled happily.

She let her head drop to the bed, then looked over at him.

“I understand why it is that you’re trying to determine everything for yourself. Selling me is making you feel a strange sense of responsibility, isn’t it? But I also know that people aren’t that strong. If they have a way of knowing for certain what the truth is, they’ll want to use it. And yet you don’t—why?”

Lawrence wanted to know what Holo’s intention was in asking this, but as clumsy attempts to get this out of her would only end badly, he answered honestly.

“If I forget the distinction there, you’ll be the one that gets angry.”

“…You’re so honest. Why don’t you try relying on me a bit more?”

Once he started wholly relying on her, the threshold for doing so would certainly drop.

People could become accustomed to anything. It took the self-awareness of a saint not to forget that.

“I’m not so clever,” said Lawrence.

“You can get used to anything with practice.” The hair that Lawrence had put in order swished quietly as it spilled out again. “Would you like to practice?”

“Practice relying on you?” Lawrence retorted playfully. Holo’s gently waving tail gradually stopped moving.

She closed her eyes, then opened them slowly. Her smile was gentle, as though she would forgive any mistake.

Her face said that she would accept any way Lawrence could think of to rely on her.

If she was doing this to tease him, then it was a cruel joke indeed.

Who would fault him for being caught by something like this?

Thus Lawrence’s mind became still colder.

He went so far as to consider if this actually showed how irritated she was and if this was all a trap to try and get him to smile.

It seemed Holo’s main goal was to enjoy watching him like this.

Eventually he grinned, a touch maliciously.

“Are you telling me not to set such a nasty trap? I’m not angry,” said Holo.

“If you are, you are.”

“Well then, this time ’tis no trap. Practice relying on me as much as you like.”

“…That’s just what you’d say, isn’t it?”

Lawrence shrugged as Holo snickered, then lay her head down on her arms once she was done laughing.

“Being read by you—I’m a disgrace as a wisewolf.”

“Even I learn eventually.”

Holo neither laughed nor looked frustrated, but there was the barest hint of a smile on her face as she pointed to the corner of the bed.

“Sit,” she seemed to say. “Ah, but you’re just as softhearted as you ever were.”

Lawrence sat on the corner of the bed as Holo sat up and continued.

“Even if I lure you into a trap and laugh my fill, and you become angry, you’ll still not exhaust your patience with me.”

Lawrence smiled. “Well, I don’t know about that.” So you’d best mind yourself in the future, he was going to add but thought better of it, because when he expected Holo to smile her invincible smile and come back with her usual wit, she instead seemed sad.

“No, you will not. I know it,” she murmured, before doing something completely unexpected.

She sat up and inched over to Lawrence’s side, then sat herself sideways on his lap. Having accomplished that, she wrapped her arms around him without any hesitation.

Her face pressed against his left shoulder.

He couldn’t see her expression.

Despite this frank display, Lawrence didn’t think she was planning anything untoward.

“’Tis a truth that people change over time. Even a little while ago, you’d be frozen in fright if I were to do this kind of thing.”

No matter what Holo was trying to feign, her ears and tail never lied.

Between the sound of her tail and the way it felt as it brushed against his left hand, Lawrence could tell that it was waving uncertainly.

He grabbed hold of it lightly.

That instant, Holo flinched and stiffened. He let go immediately.

Before he could apologize, her head roughly bumped into the side of his. “No careless touching!”

From time to time, Holo would claim that she would let him touch her tail as some sort of reward, but this seemed to be a weak point of hers.

Ascertaining that had not been Lawrence’s goal nor was he motivated by simple mischief.

He didn’t know the cause, but inasmuch as Holo did not seem to be completely dispirited, he felt slightly relieved.

“Fool,” she added, sighing.

Silence descended.

The intermittent sound of Holo’s swishing tail mingled with the quiet crackling sound of the tallow lamp’s wick.

Just as Lawrence was wondering if he should say something, Holo spoke.

“I truly am a failure as a wisewolf, having you fret over me so.”

She must have sensed that he was about to speak.

Her words seemed to Lawrence like simple bravado, but perhaps that was just his imagination.

“Honestly, me relying on you is another story entirely. We were speaking of you relying upon me!”

She lifted her head from his shoulder and straightened, her eyes now slightly higher than Lawrence’s.

Those red-brown eyes looked down at him, and her lip twisted in irritation. “When will you get flustered for me?”

“I might if you would tell me what you’re truly thinking about.”

Immediately Holo drew away, her face contorted as though she had tasted something bitter.

Yet when Lawrence failed to seem concerned, she soon seemed sad. “Come, now—,” she said quietly.

“What?”

“I want you flustered.”

“Fine then,” answered Lawrence, and Holo once again leaned against his chest, completely still.

“Can we not end our travels here?” she murmured.

If Lawrence had wanted to explain to someone else the surprise he felt at that moment, they would have to have seen him.

He was so surprised; that was the only thing that occurred to him.

But then what he felt was anger.

This was the one joke he never wanted to hear.

“Do you think I jest?”

“I do,” replied Lawrence instantly but not because he was composed.

It was quite the opposite. He grabbed Holo’s shoulders and held her at arm’s length, facing her.

She smiled but not in a way that Lawrence could be angry at.

“You really are quite charming.”

Lawrence muttered under his breath that she could only say such things if she tickled his chin and smiled her devilish smile as she did so.

“I am quite serious. If I were to say such a thing in jest, you would become truly angry.” Lawrence still held her shoulders; she covered his hands with hers and continued. “But you’ll forgive me, because you’re kind.”

Holo’s fingers were slender, and her nails, while not properly sharp, were a lovely shape.

And when they bore down on the back of his hands, they hurt.

But even scratched so, Lawrence did not remove his hands from her shoulders. “My contract with you…it was to escort you to your homeland.”

“We are nearly there.”

“So why here, now—”

“People change. Situations change. And my mood also changes.”

After Holo spoke, she smiled a regretful smile, and Lawrence knew she was ruing her own pitiful visage.

For just a moment, he felt terror.

Was this something she would decide simply on a whim?

Holo giggled. “It seems there are fields yet untilled. But this is no place to be treading with one’s boots on.”

It was too late for her to be teasing Lawrence and enjoying his visibly flustered mien, but as he grew more and more resistant to her joking, her methods became more extreme in order to compensate.

But just as Holo had said, this was one place he didn’t want her to play.

“Why this, all of a sudden?” he asked.

“’Tis just as that fox said.”

“…Eve?”

Holo nodded and removed her fingernails from the backs of Lawrence’s hands.

A tiny bit of blood welled up; Holo apologized with her eyes and continued. “Money can buy companionship, but…”

“…But not its quality?”

“Aye, and so she said to treasure your encounters. That mere human girl, thinking herself so great…” Holo put Lawrence’s hand to her cheek. “I want our meeting to be something good. And so I think it is best that we part here.”

Lawrence did not understand what she was saying.

Back in Tereo, Holo had avoided the question of what she would do upon reaching her homeland.

Lawrence had felt this was because worry hung between them that once they arrived there, their journey together would end.

That much was only natural given the nature of their promise, and when he’d first met Holo, Lawrence had assumed that was what would happen. Surely Holo had felt similarly.

But the journey had been a joy, and he wanted to extend it, if only by a day.

He was driven unavoidably by that childish wish.

And was Holo not the same? At the very least, Lawrence felt he could look back on their travels and be certain of that much.

So how did ending their journey here follow from the idea that relationships needed to be treasured?

When Lawrence looked at her with obvious bewilderment, Holo smiled sadly, still holding his hand to her cheek.

“You fool. Do you still not understand?”

She was neither teasing nor angry. Holo looked at him as she would look at a particularly difficult child, her frustration tinged with affection.

He took his hand from her cheek as she looked up, slowly embracing her once again.

“This journey has been truly wonderful. I’ve laughed, cried…This cunning old wolf has even screamed in anger from our fights. I had been alone for so long, so these days have been very bright indeed. I’ve even wished that they would go on forever.”

“So just—,” Lawrence began to say, but the words stopped in his throat.

It was a conversation he could not have.

After all, Holo was not human. Their life spans were too different.

“You’re very clever, but you lack so much experience. Since you’re a merchant who toils for profit, I thought you would soon understand, but…I’m not saying this because I don’t want to watch you die. I’ve…already become used to that idea,” said Holo smoothly like a winter wind blowing across a brown, withered field.

“If I’d had a bit more self-restraint, I might just have endured until my homeland. I had been confident of that when we put the last village behind us, but…you’re simply too softhearted. You accept everything that I do and give me anything I wish for. It’s terrible to endure it…just terrible.”

Lawrence was not the least bit happy to hear these words from Holo, which sounded like something one would find on the last page of some chivalrous tale.

He still did not understand what Holo was saying, but there was something he did understand.

He knew that at the end of all her words would come these: “So let us part here.”

“It is just…too frightening,” she said.

Her tail was puffed up to match her rising uncertainty.

She had said the same thing after eating the roast pig—that she was scared.

At the time he had not understood, but given all this, there was only one thing that could frighten her so much.

But Lawrence did not understand why it scared her so.

She wanted him to understand this.

That night, she had said it would be troublesome if he understood, but now that the conversation had come to this point, it was quite clear she had decided that the opposite was true.

Holo was a wisewolf. She did not do pointless things, and she was very rarely wrong.

So this had to be something he could understand from what he had been presented with here.

Lawrence’s mind raced.

His keen memory, which was a point of pride for Lawrence as a merchant, worked to recollect everything.

Eve’s words. Holo suddenly wanting to leave. Something that being a merchant, he should be able to understand. And Holo’s fear.

None of them seemed to have anything to do with one another, and he didn’t have the faintest idea how they connected.

Wasn’t the fact that the journey had been bright and joyful reason enough to want it to continue?

Every journey came to its end, but Holo surely wasn’t trying to evade that inescapable fact. She should have understood that all along; Lawrence certainly did. He was confident that at the journey’s proper end, they would part with smiles.

There had to be some meaning to her wanting to abandon the journey in the middle.

The middle of the journey. This particular opportunity. Because she couldn’t hold out until they reached her homeland…

When he got that far, Lawrence began to feel like he was finding the connections.

Joyful. Journey. Timing. Merchant.

He froze, stricken, unable to hide the shock he felt.

“Have you realized?” she asked with a measure of exasperation, removing herself from Lawrence’s lap and standing. “In truth, I would have preferred you not to, but if I let it go any longer, I’d lose the best chance. You understand, don’t you, what I mean by this?”

Lawrence nodded.

He understood all too well.

No. He had vaguely known all along. He just hadn’t wanted to accept it.

Holo drew away from Lawrence without betraying much reluctance, then stood from the bed.

Watched by those red-brown eyes of Holo’s, he murmured, “Even you haven’t seen such a tale?”

“Tale? Whatever do you mean…? Oh, I see. You’re quite clever with your words.”

Broadly speaking, there were two types of tales in the world. Some tales had happy endings while others had unhappy endings.

In truth, there were really four types, but the remaining two were too difficult for humans to create, and humans were too imperfect to understand them.

If there were any who could create and read those tales, that would be a god, and it was that which the Church promised after death.

“Stories where they live happily ever after,” said Lawrence.

Holo walked wordlessly over to the corner of the room, picking up the pitcher of wine that sat there next to their things. When she looked back, she smiled. “There is no such thing. Of course, I enjoy speaking with you. I enjoy it too much—so much I just want to eat you up.”

If Lawrence had heard her say this when they’d first met, if he had looked into her narrowed, red-tinged eyes then, there was no doubt he would have been afraid.

And yet now he felt no particular worry.

Holo wanted to return to the way they were when they had first met. That fact pierced his heart.

“But no matter how delicious the treat, one cannot go on eating the same thing forever, can they? It becomes tiresome, does it not? And worst of all, as I enjoy it more and more, I’ll begin to need more and more stimulation, and then what? You know, don’t you, what lies at the top of those stairs?”

Once Lawrence had trembled to hold her hand, but now Holo could embrace him without incident, and he kissed her hand as easily as one could please.

When he counted the things beyond that, Lawrence understood something that terrified him.

In the face of the long time that stretched ahead of them, there was not much they could do.

They could change hands and change goods, but the end would come before they knew it.

They could continue to climb the stairs.

But there was no guarantee those stairs would always exist.

“Eventually I will not be able to get what I crave, and all the talk that was once such a delight will fade, its joy remaining only in memory. And it’s then that I will think back to how much fun it was when we first met.”

Her unkind look seemed deliberate.

“That is why I was frightened. Frightened of the way it sped the erosion of this delight. The way your”—Holo took a drink of wine from the pitcher—“kindness did,” she finished as though accusing herself.

Holo the Wisewolf.

A wolf who had lived for centuries, who had ensured the wheat harvest, and who feared loneliness above all else.

There was an aspect of this fear that was difficult to understand. The way she hated being respected and feared as a god could not be understood simply with reason, Lawrence felt.

Of course, because she lived for such a long time, the number of creatures who lived as long as she did was very low, which made her particularly susceptible to loneliness.

But here and now, Lawrence finally understood the answer, the reason why despite living as long as she did, Holo did not seek out similar creatures to her—no, couldn’t.

Holo had said that she was not a god.

And this was the true reason.

God, it was said, had created a heavenly kingdom where neither old age nor sickness existed, where bliss was eternal.

But Holo could do no such thing.

Just like a human, she could only become accustomed to something, then tire of it, passing the dim night thinking, Ah, it was such fun at first.

She could not stay happy forever.

And this wisewolf, having lived as long as she had, knew all too well that her simple, girlish wish could never come true.

“I’ve long been impressed at how clever you humans are to have the saying, ‘All’s well that ends well.’ Though I might think to myself, ‘Oh aye, it’s quite so,’ I still find myself unable to summon the resolve to end something that gives me pleasure. I don’t know what would happen if you came with me all the way to my homeland. That’s why I wish to end our travels here, so that it can be a delight from start to finish.”

Lawrence had no words. He took the pitcher when Holo walked over to him and offered it.

There was nothing positive in her words, yet somehow he heard a note of resolve in her voice, perhaps because she was close to turning defiant.

“Are you not close to achieving your dream? Is this not the perfect time to bring this chapter of your story to a close?”

“I…suppose so,” said Lawrence. It was why he hadn’t interrupted her.

“Also, I was thinking of telling you later and surprising you.” Holo suppressed a giggle, sitting down next to Lawrence as though the entire conversation had never happened. She twisted around and picked up the book that lay at the bedside. “I was in the book,” she said with a strangely rueful smile, which was surely because of Lawrence’s surprise upon hearing those words.

Even though he had not betrayed the slightest emotion when she spoke of his dream being near.

“There were all sorts of things in the past, things I’d forgotten about entirely until seeing them,” said Holo, flipping through the pages, then turning the book toward Lawrence.

As if to say, “Read.”

Lawrence traded the book for the pitcher, dropping his eyes to the page.

The tales, written in a precise, ceremonious hand, were of a time when people still lived in ignorance and darkness.

The name of the Church was nothing more than a mere rumor from a far-off land.

And there, just as the chronicler Diana in the pagan town of Kumersun had said, was Holo’s name.

“‘Wheaten tail,’ they say. Such complicated words,” said Holo.

Lawrence felt as though the phrase was not far off the mark but said nothing.

“Looks like you’ve been a heavy drinker since ancient times,” he said, resigned, as he read the relevant section, and far from injuring her mood, Holo puffed out her chest and sniffed proudly.

“I remember it vividly even now. There was a rival drinker, a girl a bit younger than you, and we weren’t so much drunk as we were unable to fit any more liquor in. And in the end, it was even more heroic, you see—”

“No thanks. I don’t want to hear any more,” said Lawrence, waving her off. He didn’t even have to think about this in order to know how she had put an end to the contest.

And yet, while there was indeed a tale of a drinking contest, it seemed more like a heroic saga of Holo and the girl she had drunk against than anything else.

Perhaps that wasn’t surprising.

Holo giggled. “Ah, but that’s nostalgic. And I’d forgotten it entirely until reading it.”

“Drinking, eating, singing, dancing. I’m sure it’s been rewritten any number of times, but the fun atmosphere still comes through. Surely most of the old legends were comedies.”

“Aye. ’Twas a delight. Come now, stand up.”

“…?”

Lawrence did as he was told, standing up from the bed.

He then set the book down as Holo directed him to.

Just as he wondered what she was doing, Holo strode toward him and took his hand.

“Right, right, left, left, left, right—you see, do you not?”

He didn’t even have to think about this.

It was the ancient dance that Holo had danced in the story.

But when he stood near her, Lawrence understood.

It was obvious what lay beneath her bright exterior.

Holo said that she wanted to stop traveling because it was too much fun.

“This dance is bad if you’re drinking, though. Your eyes will start to swim before you know it,” she said, looking up at Lawrence and smiling, then dropping her gaze to the floor. “So it’s right, right, left and left, left, right—got it? Right, here we go!”

Lawrence had never danced a proper dance before, although Holo had forced him out into the streets on Kumersun’s festival night where he had danced all night.

With that much practice, anyone would be halfway decent.

When Holo cried out “There!” and put her foot out, Lawrence matched her and did likewise.

Norah the shepherdess had done the shepherd’s dance to prove her identity. Dances were everywhere. There were countless dances, but they all resembled one another.

Lawrence matched his steps to hers on the first go, which visibly surprised Holo.

“Hmph.”

She had probably looked forward to making fun of his clumsiness, thinking it would not go so easily.

Step, step, step…They moved their bodies lightly and easily, and soon it was Lawrence who was leading Holo, her feet being more prone to getting tangled. Once a person understood that this sort of thing was more about confidence than technique, all one needed was audacity.

But Holo’s surprise only dulled her movements for a moment.

Soon she was gliding smoothly, occasionally becoming slightly confused in an obviously deliberate manner. Lawrence wondered if she was trying to make him step on her feet.

He would not fall for it, of course.

“Hnn—hmph.”

They looked like two puppets whose strings were being controlled in unison. That was how closely their movements matched.

Right, right, left, left, left, right—the movements were simple, but they continued through the steps of the dance there in the small room without stopping once.

It was only when Holo surprisingly stepped on Lawrence’s foot that the dance came to an end.

“Whoops—” was all Lawrence had time to say before they fortunately wound up together on the bed.

Their hands remained clasped together.

Lawrence unpleasantly suspected Holo of doing this on purpose, but she looked stunned, as though she had no idea of what had just happened.

At length, she returned to herself and met Lawrence’s eyes.

“…What are we doing here?”

“I suspect it would be better not to ask.”

Holo ducked her head ticklishly and showed her canines.

She seemed genuinely happy.

Perhaps that is how she found the ability to continue.

“The direction to my homeland was also written.”

Lawrence remembered the contents of the book, a smile lingering on his face from their foolish exchange, and nodded.

In the book, it was written that Holoh of the Wheat Tail came from the mountains of Roef, twenty days’ journey on foot in the direction of sleep and birth.

North was sleep, and east was birth. Giving meanings to directions like this was not uncommon.

And the most decisive part of the tale was the reference to the mountains of Roef.

Lawrence knew the name.

It was the name of a tributary of the Roam River, which itself flowed past Lenos.

There was very little doubt that within the mountains of Roef were the headwaters of the Roef River. With this much information, Holo could easily find her way home, even on her own.

And Lawrence doubted his expectations were wrong.

His only mistake had been loading that wheat into his wagon bed that day in Pasloe.

“So, have you read them all?” Lawrence asked quickly, lest the silence expose their lies for what they were.

As Lawrence and Holo began to sit up, their joined hands separated.

“I have. The oldest tells the tale of the beginning of this town, of the person who set up the first pillar of the first building for people to live in, though it was uncertain whether he was really a person.”

“A friend of yours, then?”

“Maybe.” Holo laughed at the banter. “Still,” she said, righting herself, “we ought to return the books before we spill wine on them. It’s not as though we need to copy them, and most of it was already in my head to begin with.”

“Indeed. And there’s no guarantee you won’t fall asleep on them and get drool all over the pages.”

“I do not do such things.”

“I know. Just like you don’t snore,” said Lawrence with a smile, standing up from the bed—pretending as though if he didn’t, he was liable to be bitten.

“Would you like me to tell you just what things you talk about in your sleep?” Holo asked, eyes half-lidded.

Lawrence’s heart skipped a beat at her words.

It was all he could do to keep the sadness he felt at this exchange from showing on his face.

“I expect it goes something like this: ‘I beg you, please, don’t eat any more!’”

There were also frequent dreams where he was able to eat as much delicious food as he wanted.

Yet since meeting Holo, he had seen his nightmare of having to foot the bill for someone eating like that come true many a time.

“You’re making fully enough to pay for it,” retorted Holo, climbing off the bed opposite Lawrence.

As if they were pretending to quarrel.

“Sure, in hindsight. If we hadn’t made money in Kumersun, you would literally be devouring all my assets.”

“Hmph. Doesn’t the saying go, ‘If you’ve eaten poison, you may as well eat the whole dish?’ If it came to that, I’d just gobble you up, too.” Holo licked her lips theatrically, looking at Lawrence with hunger in her eyes.

He had known this was an act for ages.

But something different lay behind that look that he now understood painfully well.

Somewhere along the line, their bond had been broken. It was very sad, but not so sad that he couldn’t bear it.

What was saddest was that it was because of a mean-spirited god.

“I’ll just bet. So, once we’ve returned the book, what do you want to eat?” queried Lawrence.

Holo’s tail swished as she smiled unpleasantly. “We’ll decide that once we’re there.”

Their conversations, at least, were as fun as they always had been.