Spice and Wolf - Volume 6 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

In instructing the apparently easily deceived Col, Lawrence knew that if he tried to show examples of every possible swindle or scam, there would be no end to it.

What he needed to teach was a frame of mind that would help Col avoid being tricked.

After that, once Col knew one or two ways of making money, he would probably be able to save some up so long as he didn’t succumb to greed.

Of course, overcoming greed was one of the most difficult things for humans to do.

“When someone tells you of a fine opportunity, you need to think about how they will profit from it. Or don’t just consider the circumstances that will bring you gain—consider how you stand to lose, as well. Most scams can be avoided by simply doing that much.”

“But don’t things sometimes go well and sometimes not?”

“Of course. But when you’re being swindled, the profit is generally too good. When the balance between the profit and loss is strange, it’s better to get out. So if the gain is great or the loss is too large, don’t do it.”

“Even if the gain…is great?” Just as would be expected from someone who wanted to learn badly enough to pay for it, Col was dedicated and clever.

Though Lawrence had been reluctant to take him on, the boy was quick enough on the uptake that teaching him was enjoyable.

“You don’t seem like you quite believe it,” said Lawrence.

“Er, well…not really.”

“In life, it’s better to assume that bad things will happen to you rather than good things. You can’t look at someone else’s success and assume that it will happen to you. There are a lot of people in the world, so it makes sense that one or two of them are going to be fortunate. But there’s only one of you. Assuming that good fortune will come to you is no different than pointing a finger at a random person and predicting the same for them. But do you think that prediction would come true?”

As he repeated to another person the words his own master had spoken to him, Lawrence felt their weight.

If only he had been able to put them into practice a bit more faithfully, his own travels with Holo might have gone somewhat more smoothly.

“So keeping all that in mind, if we return to the documents you were tricked into buying…”

Holo lazily watched their exchange.

At first it seemed as though she was about to make fun of Lawrence’s slightly pompous lecturing, but eventually she seemed to simply be enjoying the conversation.

The boat headed easily downriver, and though it was chilly, there was no wind.

The mood was strangely stable, unlike when Lawrence had traveled alone, but also unlike his travels with just Holo. Whatever it was fit the situation perfectly; it was a queer and ancient sensation.

As Lawrence taught, he wondered what the feeling was.

Holo wasn’t beside him sniggering maliciously, but when he turned around, there she was behind him, a soft smile on her face.

They were on a river in the middle of winter, so what was this warmth?

Lawrence didn’t know. He didn’t know, but it made his body feel light.

Conversation with Col became smooth, and as Col began to understand Lawrence’s thinking, Lawrence started to understand Col’s questions.

Good fortune might not often come his way, but fortunate encounters seemed to be quite common.

It was that kind of moment.

“Ha-ha. Am I interrupting anything?” came Ragusa’s voice suddenly, and Lawrence felt as though he’d been woken from a dream.

Col seemed similarly jolted, and as he regained his composure, his expression made him look as though he wasn’t quite sure of what he was doing.

“Er, not at all…Is something the matter?”

“Only that the next checkpoint will be the last for the day. I thought you might have something you need to buy, that’s all.”

“Ah, I see.” Lawrence exchanged a look with Holo. She checked the contents of the bag that held their food provisions—even sharing bread with Col, they would have plenty.

“’Twill last,” she said.

“Apparently it will last,” said Lawrence to Ragusa.

“Aye, and ’tis well if so. Still—” Ragusa stretched, then leaned on the pile of cargo, a broad smile on his face. “Seems a lie has become truth. He’s playing the apprentice quite well!”

Ragusa was obviously referring to Col, who looked down in embarrassment.

Unlike a certain someone whose chest puffed out at the slightest praise.

“I’ve hired boys many times before, but they rarely stay even a year. And when it comes to working without being yelled at or whipped, why—this lad’s a miracle!” Ragusa smiled.

“Doubtless,” Lawrence agreed.

Wandering scholars were despised—they were shiftless, yes, but they also did no work and accomplished nothing to gain any sort of trust.

Though he had been cornered into it, Col worked hard to earn his way and took Lawrence’s teachings to heart—more than enough to earn trust.

Blinking his eyes rapidly at the unexpected praise, Col appeared not to understand that.

Holo smiled, happiest of all.

“So I’ve some odd jobs to take care of at the next checkpoint.”

“Ah, yes—please let me help.”

“Ha-ha-ha! Careful, you’ll be scolded by your teacher!”

“Eh?” said Col, confused, at which Lawrence smiled helplessly and spoke.

“He doesn’t want to be either a merchant or a boatman, this lad. Isn’t that right?”

Col looked up with his pale blue eyes, returning Lawrence’s gaze, then Ragusa’s; then he stopped.

It was clear he was thinking with all his might.

“…Yes. Er, I-I want to study Church law.”

“Well now, isn’t that a shame.”

“So you see how it is,” said Lawrence.

“I reckon I’ll give up, then, if nobody else is going to get him all to themselves. Suppose it’s always the gods that profit in the end, eh?” Ragusa sighed good-naturedly, then moved astern and picked up his pole.

Reliable people were always in demand, no matter the industry.

“Um…?”

Lawrence chuckled. “He’s just saying that if you keep studying like this, you’ll wind up a scholar eventually.”

“Ah…” Col nodded uncertainly, and as the boat drew near to the dock, Col hurried over to Ragusa when the man called for him.

Lawrence was left to ruminate over Ragusa’s words.

It did seem to be the gods who profited in the end.

“You seem regretful,” said Holo.

“Huh?” Lawrence said, then nodded. “Oh yes, I suppose I did feel a bit disappointed.”

“Still, you’ll have other chances.”

Lawrence looked back at Holo, a little surprised at her words. “So you find just helping me become a merchant of note unsatisfying?”

“You’re not full-fledged until you have an apprentice.”

So it was about the apprentice, then?

It was true that Lawrence had told Holo that he felt as though his adventures might be over once he opened a shop.

Holo had told him to get an apprentice.

“It’s a bit early for that, though.”

“Is it?”

“It is. Maybe ten years from now. Or fifteen even.”

A few years earlier, Lawrence would never have been able to think ten years hence, but he was reaching the age where he would now be looking that far ahead.

In the past, he might well have thought he could be anything, but now those choices were no longer open to him.

“Ten years from now, you say—mm, by then even you may be a bit more manly.”

“…What are you talking about?”

“Oh, shall I explain?” Judging by her smile, Holo was hiding something big.

Deciding it was better to let sleeping gods lie, Lawrence gave up his counterattack.

“Heh. Smart of you.”

“Your praise flatters me, milady.”

Holo smacked Lawrence’s shoulder, her cheeks deliberately puffed out.

Lawrence smiled in reply, then reached out for the sheaf of papers he had bought from Col.

Despite the interruption, the issue of the copper coins was enough to arouse his merchant’s curiosity.

Though Lawrence wasn’t particularly thinking of profit—much less trying to expose the Jean Company’s smuggling—the notion that he would be able to solve the riddle simply through careful analysis of this sheaf of paper was exciting.

“You surely are a stingy male.”

“What?”

“Look at the way your eyes light up at that paper. Is it so much more fun than keeping my company?”

Lawrence didn’t know if he should laugh or not.

He knew for a certainty, though, that if he pointed out that Holo was being jealous of a stack of papers, he’d be hit.

“It’s only a difference of three chests. Why is that so interesting?” Holo asked.

“Why…? I suppose because it’s fun to think about. But this time if I’m mistaken, we won’t get dragged into some kind of uprising. You needn’t worry on that count.”

Lawrence flipped through the pages as he talked and soon came upon a sheet on which the Jean Company’s name was written and then another.

Perhaps this was what he was looking for.

“…”

He got the feeling Holo had said something and looked up.

Holo had plopped down and was grabbing onto the blanket.

Beneath her robe, her tail swished discontentedly.

Her expression was one of frustration.

“You’re very skilled at bargaining sometimes, you know,” she said.

Occasionally even Holo was easy to understand.

Was he being presumptuous, Lawrence wondered, in imagining that what Holo was thinking was, It’s all well and good for you to attend to Col, but when he’s gone, your attention should be only on me?

“Well then, would you like to help?”

“…I suppose I would not mind.”

Lawrence was reminded of long ago, when Holo couldn’t bring herself to simply ask for an apple.

Her face had been displeased then, even as her ears had flicked up happily.

“This word, here. Jean Company. Find anything that mentions it. You can read the letters, right?”

“Aye. Anything that mentions it, anything at all?”

“Yes.”

Col’s bundle of papers was actually quite sizable.

Many of them were badly wrinkled, perhaps having been handled roughly or stuffed into a bag in the process of their theft.

And as proof they had passed through many hands, many were badly smudged and worn out with finger marks.

There were probably a hundred sheets in total; Lawrence handed a section to Holo, and they began to search for the Jean Company.

Lawrence could tell at a glance what sort of document each sheet was, and once he knew the document type, he knew more or less where on the page to look for company names.

By contrast, Holo had to scan each page from top to bottom or she risked missing the name—and the writing was often messy.

It was obvious to Lawrence that she frequently gave him nervous glances.

No doubt she found it frustrating being less capable than him at something.

Lawrence pretended not to notice and slowed his pace.

“Still, you—,” began Holo.

“Hmm?”

Even having slowed his pace, Lawrence was faster, so it was farfetched to think that Holo suspected him of self-sabotage after only a moment.

In fact, rather than continuing to work as she spoke, Holo set the papers down and stared someplace far in the distance.

“What’s wrong?”

Holo shook her head in response to Lawrence’s question, looking down at her hands. “…It is nothing.”

Yet even Holo, who was a brilliant liar, could not plausibly insist that it was, in fact, nothing.

“You could be a little more subtle, you know.”

Lawrence expected that would anger her a bit, but Holo seemed to be a cut above that.

She smiled self-derisively, then took up the papers to put them in order. “I am just thinking about tiresome things, that is all.”

Finally turning a page over with a flip, Holo slowly closed her eyes.

“What kinds of things?”

“Truly tiresome things…I was wondering what sort of town awaits us once we have made our way down the river.”

At Holo’s words, Lawrence looked downriver.

No sign of the sea was yet visible; there were only the flat plains and the gentle flow of the river.

Of course, the port town of Kerube was not yet visible, either.

But Lawrence got the feeling that Holo’s statement carried another meaning.

More than anything, when Holo called something “tiresome,” it was not just that it was simply boring.

“I’ve only passed through it by boat two or three times, so I haven’t gotten a proper look at it, if I’m honest.”

“That is enough. What sort of town is it?”

Since she had asked, there was no reason to hide it. Lawrence called up the memories of his past experiences. “The river meets the sea in a wide delta, and where townspeople do not live, it is lively indeed, with taverns and trading companies’ loading docks and money changers’ counters. Homes are located on the northern and southern edges of the delta. Collectively it’s known as Kerube, but the upper, middle, and lower sections do not get along well at all.”

“Oh ho.” Holo looked down at the paper in her hands, though it was not clear whether she was reading the letters there or not.

“I visited it from a large trading ship that connects distant nations. It had stopped in Kerube to take on supplies midway through the voyage. Since it was a large ship, it couldn’t navigate the shallow delta, so we boarded a smaller boat to make the trip.”

Lawrence stopped there to check Holo’s reaction.

If this was what she wanted to know, it would have been faster to simply let her see the place when they arrived—but Holo did not seem to think so.

“And then what did you see once you went up the delta?” Holo was looking vaguely at the paper in her hand, but her focus seemed to be on a point far beyond it.

Seeing her like that and explaining the sights of Kerube to her in this way, Lawrence felt like he was leading a blind person.

But when he slowed his speech, Holo looked at him and wordlessly pressed him for more.

Lawrence was concerned, but continued. “…Right. Going up the delta, the first thing that greets us is the wind- and tide-bleached wreckage of a ship that’s run aground. The hull is broken cleanly in two, and we pass through it like it’s a gate. Once on the other side, we’re surrounded by energy and noise, but not like in a town market. A town market sells goods one at a time, but here goods are bought and sold in amounts that would make your head spin—it’s a market for merchants. The goods piled high there will be taken to lands near and far. Let’s see…ah, yes. There are many shops dedicated to providing a brief moment of pleasure in the long and difficult voyages. Inside them, well…it would probably make your brow wrinkle to hear of it,” said Lawrence with a deliberate shrug, at which Holo guffawed.

“From within the rows of two-story buildings come the constant sounds of laughter and lute music all day long.”

Holo nodded, and without raising either her head or her gaze, she asked, “Where was the ship going?”

“The ship?”

“The one you were riding on.”

“Ah, that ship was bound far south along the coast, arriving at a port town called Yordos, a place known for its skilled artisans. The ship was carrying mostly amber from the north, and the town was famous for its amber craft. It’s even farther south than Pazzio, where you and I wound up running around underground, or even Pasloe, where we met. The sea is very warm there and dark.”

Lawrence had been younger and more carefree then; he had owned no wagon and had been rather careless with his life as he flitted from place to place.

It didn’t enter the conversation, but there was no comparison between a long sea voyage spent in a dim room below decks and a short riverboat trip.

On the voyage, he had held desperately onto the cow bladder that contained his drinking water, trying not to spill it as the boat rocked so violently that it had been impossible to even sit properly.

And with that much rocking, a poor traveling merchant—who was hardly a sailor—would soon fall prey to seasickness.

When there was nothing left in his stomach, he had vomited blood, and he had been thin and haggard by the time the boat arrived.

It was bad enough that Lawrence could scarcely believe he’d made the journey three times.

“Mm. Though I do not know this ‘amber’ of which you speak.”

“Huh? You don’t?” asked Lawrence, and Holo shot him an irritated glance.

He would have guessed that living the life of a forest god, it would be the kind of thing she would know—but then, she hadn’t known about pyrite, either.

“It’s tree sap that’s hardened underground, and it looks just like a jewel. It’s rather like…ah, yes. It looks a bit like your eyes actually.”

Lawrence pointed at Holo’s face, whereupon she seemed to unconsciously try to look at her own eyes. He couldn’t help but laugh when she went cross-eyed.

“You did that on purpose,” she said—but if that had truly been so, Holo would not have said it.

Since Lawrence could tell that she was irritated at his remark, he answered, “Well, in any case, they’re like beautiful jewels.”

Despite her irritation, Holo couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the obvious words. “Hmph! Not bad, for you. So after you got off that ship, where did you go next?”

“Next? Next was…,” began Lawrence, when a question appeared in his mind.

What could she be getting at by asking him this all of a sudden?

“You can tell me that, or you can tell me where that vixen’s destination is.”

Perhaps Holo thought Lawrence’s hesitation was due to the vagueness of his memory.

But no—he soon realized that was not it.

It was because she was afraid of even a moment of silence—even the amount of time it took him to wonder why she was asking all this.

“Eve’s destination, eh? If she’s going to sell the fur to fur craftsmen, it’ll be still farther south than Yordos. Probably a town named Urva.”

“How much do you think she’ll make?”

“Hmm…Perhaps triple…though that might be tough. If she were to turn that much profit, she’d never speak to a traveling merchant like me again, I’d wager.”

At Lawrence’s smile, Holo smacked him on the shoulder, her face displeased.

But their eyes did not meet.

It was as though if she looked him in the eye, she was afraid he would see her mind.

“Ha-ha. But that’s no joke—if she turns a profit of one or two thousand gold pieces, she’ll be launched into the ranks of high-level merchants. Once you’ve got that kind of money, the done thing is to hire help, open a shop, buy a ship, and get involved in long-distance trading. Buy gold from desert nations and spices from scorching lands. Then bring back silk or glasswares, volumes of ancient writing that detail the history of bygone empires, exotic foods and animals, mountains of sea jewels like pearls or coral. A ship full of such things returning safely to port could bring a profit ten or twenty times what I’ll make in my life. Then you can open branch offices for your trading company and most likely get into banking transactions. Loaning huge sums to local nobility in exchange for various special privileges allows you to seize control of the local economy. Then you finally become the official merchant for the southern emperor. You handle the ordering of the king’s coronation crown, which could be worth two or three hundred thousand lumione. Once you’re a merchant of that magnitude, you can send any sort of good anywhere to any nation from your seat, and you’re received like a king anywhere you go. Your throne of gold coins is complete.”

It was the path of gold every merchant had dreamed of at least once.

What made this absurd was the number of merchants who followed that path, only to have it end in martial rule.

Yet the merchants who used force on the way toward martial rule were so many that even an omnipotent god could hardly count them.

Even if Eve gained some inkling of this, there was no telling if things would go well for her.

To gain the huge profits that could be had via long-distance trade, the vessel had to arrive safely in port—and that was no mean feat.

Lawrence could not count on both hands the number of merchants he personally knew who had seen their entire fortunes literally vanish beneath the waves.

“’Tis like a path of gold leading to a nation of gold,” said Holo, amused. It was not clear to what extent she realized Lawrence’s story was fantastical, but from her tone, it seemed clear she understood it to be a fantasy. “Still, it does not seem that it would be so very frustrating to let the entrance to that path pass you by.”

Lawrence naturally nodded at her words.

It wasn’t especially frustrating.

After all, the path Lawrence wished to tread was not the path of gold.

But he couldn’t help feeling that if Holo was with him, he could walk it.

Surely he could arrive at that mountain of jewels, along the path of avarice that swirled with trickery and wiles, undeceived by devils and unharmed by evil gods, pushing forward at every chance.

It would be an adventure tale worthy of the term and worthy, too, of being passed down through the centuries.

He and Holo would contest a gold transaction with a powerful merchant as their rival and bargain with the royal family of an ancient nation over purebred sheep. They might cross swords with a pirate armada or be betrayed by a trusted underling.

Lawrence wondered how much fun such adventures would be with Holo by his side.

And yet for some reason, he got the feeling that Holo wanted no part of this.

So he asked.

“Do you not wish to walk that path?”

Looking disinterested, Holo did indeed nod. “I will have to pass on your tales. ’Twould be better if such tales were fewer.”

Lawrence chuckled soundlessly at her obstinacy, earning him a glare from Holo.

She was surely lying, to claim that she wished for tales to be few. What she wanted to be few were people who would tell those tales. For example, if Lawrence saw someone triumphantly talking about Holo’s sleeping form, he would certainly bear said person ill will.

“Rather than talk of the path of gold, I would sooner hear of what’s beyond this amber village.”

Instead of tales of wild adventure, she wanted tales of a journey like the one they’d had so far.

As to why she wanted to hear something like that, the reason was obvious.

The sensation he had felt while describing the delta of Kerube—when it was put into words, he understood it immediately.

But Lawrence only shut his mouth and smiled faintly, and without saying anything else, he answered Holo’s question as it was asked.

At the amber village, he would sell animal bones and teeth acquired in the north and buy up salt and salted herring before heading inland. He would go on foot, by wagon, even occasionally traveling with a caravan. He would walk plains, cross rivers, hike mountains, and wander forests. There would be injuries and sickness. Lawrence would rejoice at meeting a merchant he had heard was dead and laugh at hearing rumors of his own demise.

Holo listened to the story happily, asking her questions quietly, as if she enjoyed hearing about the vast stretches of land she had not yet seen, despite her centuries. As if surprised at the frequency of amusing incidents.

And as if imagining herself along for the journey, as a matter of course, not worthy of any particular mention.

At length, Lawrence would make his way deep into the mountains and trade salt there for marten fur—but he stopped the tale before that. Telling any further, he felt, would be a breach of the unspoken promise that they shared.

For Holo’s part, she had leaned idly against him and held his hand in her own.

The journey that Lawrence described would take two years in reality.

Perhaps the fatigue from the long journey the two had undertaken had finally reared its head.

That long journey that would never be realized.

After exchanging salt for marten fur in the mountain village, if Lawrence was to continue the tale, which village would be next?

The great wheat fields. The port town. If Lawrence was to continue, the circle of the journey would be closed, and it would continue forever.

But Holo did not press him further.

She knew that if she was to speak, to press him on, this strangely dreamlike atmosphere would be destroyed.

Lawrence wondered if Holo was regretting the trip. Or could she be reflecting on how much fun it had been?

For Lawrence it was both. He had regrets because it had been such fun.

Their travel would go no farther south than Kerube. Neither would they head west. What lay beyond that was a vast unknown world. Though it did indeed exist should they choose to set foot there, it was a world they would never enter.

“In the beginning was the word,” said God.

And if the world had been created by those words—

Was Holo, who was known to some as a god, borrowing Lawrence’s words to create a temporary world of her own?

Lawrence, naturally, did not ask her what she hoped to accomplish by doing so.

Holo had spent hundreds of years in the wheat fields by herself. She was well used to playing in a made-up world.

But looking at the dazed Holo, who sat there motionless, Lawrence couldn’t help wondering if she would really be all right on her own after their journey was over.

According to the book in the village of Tereo, Holo’s homeland had been destroyed.

It would be fortunate if after so much time, the old inhabitants of the place had returned.

But what if they hadn’t?

This worried Lawrence.

When he imagined Holo, listless and alone in the moonlight of the cold, quiet mountains, it didn’t seem possible that she could get by on her own.

No doubt she would feel like howling from time to time, but none were there who would answer.

But if he voiced any of these thoughts, Lawrence knew her anger would be like a raging fire, and it was obvious that she would admit none of it. And what she had to recognize above all else was that no matter how hard Lawrence might try, her loneliness would never be eased.

It would be a lie to say Lawrence did not feel powerless.

Yet he had considered all this when he had gone to collect Holo at the Delink Company.

He spoke with forced cheer; it was the least he could do. “So, what say you? Not an especially exciting journey, is it?”

Holo gave Lawrence a listless look and fixed it upon him for a time.

When she finally smiled, it may have been because she had spotted something stuck on Lawrence’s face.

She sat up with exaggerated effort and spoke as though it was a great burden. “…Right you are. Still—”

“Still?”

The expression Holo made as she looked doubtfully over her shoulder might well have been a specialty of hers. “As it’s such an ordinary journey, we can travel at a leisurely pace, hand in hand, without an excess of suspense.”

A malicious smile.

But it wasn’t Holo whose smile was malicious.

It was God up in his heaven whose intent was ill.

Before Lawrence could say anything, the expression on Holo’s face disappeared, as though she had simply been enjoying a mild diversion. She turned over a page and voiced a slight exclamation. As she proudly took the paper in hand and showed it to Lawrence, there wasn’t so much as a hint of the emotion from a moment ago.

A mere human like Lawrence could hardly manage such a feat.

And being a mere human, it took Lawrence a moment to regain his own composure.

Holo smiled indulgently and waited.

This was, in truth, an ordinary journey.

And peaceful, as well; Holo was close enough that he could reach out and touch her any time he wanted.

“This is indeed from the Jean Company. It’s a memo of their exports from last summer.”

“Hn.” Holo sniffed. Lawrence couldn’t help but smile at her proud manner, as though she’d discovered a treasure map.

He just couldn’t match her.

“And yes, it looks like they exported sixteen chests. So this…no…is it…?”

As Lawrence compared the paper to other export lists, he was soon submerged in thought.

A fragile bubble of a dream rose within his mind; he wanted to seal it away in the deepest corner.

It was too sweet a dream.

Lawrence was not so naive as to be ignorant of the word corruption.

“Well, hurry and look for more papers,” said Holo, suddenly irritated, grabbing Lawrence’s ear and hauling him forcibly out of the well of his own thoughts.

Surprised, Lawrence held his ear, and looked at Holo’s profile as she dropped her gaze to the paper she held. Suddenly he remembered something—that she had volunteered to help him look for the company’s name in the sheaf of papers because she wanted him to pay attention to her.

But thanks to her rigid expression of rejection, he couldn’t bring himself to say, “Let’s puzzle this out together.”

It was strange that what was once such a tender mood could become like this so quickly.

Holo’s mood changed more quickly than the mountain weather.

Was he just slow? Lawrence wondered, but then he told himself that this was just the caprice of a maiden’s heart.

Though it was entirely unclear whether she was in fact a maiden, he silently added.

“Is this all of them?” Holo asked, having finished looking through the papers. In the end, she had found two of note.

Combined with what Lawrence had found, there were seven sheets in total.

As long as it wasn’t an especially sloppy company, similar documents would be left in similar locations. Whoever had stolen these papers from the company would have just grabbed whatever they could grab, without looking carefully at the contents.

Just as Lawrence had guessed, there was an order sheet and a memorandum for the previous year’s summer and another order sheet for the winter of the year before that.

And each time, they ordered fifty-seven chests from the copper suppliers and sent sixty chests of copper coin to the kingdom of Winfiel.

Since Winfiel would hardly be importing used, worn-out coins, each chest would have contained newly minted currency.

Those three extra chests were coming from somewhere—but there were no papers that said where.

“It doesn’t seem as though there was anything decisive here.”

“Not really. But even if the Jean Company’s name isn’t on them, there may be some related documents in here.”

“Oh ho. Well, shall we?”

“Still, this may be proof that they really are illegally minting currency,” Lawrence murmured to himself, an impatient Holo by his side.

Minting a large amount would be easily noticed, but if it was just a bit, the company might get away with it.

Alternatively, they might be experimenting with copper as a prelude to illegally producing gold coins.

The possibilities mounted in Lawrence’s imagination—he thought of what information he would need to prove each scenario and what information he lacked. It was just as he was wondering if there was a different way to think about it entirely that he realized Holo, still next to him, was obviously bored.

“…” Holo cocked her head to crack her neck audibly, an expression of ill humor on her face. “Are you truly not going to chase after that vixen?”

If so, you’ll never hear the end of it, she meant.

“…If you’ve any thoughts, you should share them,” said Lawrence.

Holo raised her eyebrows, then with an exasperated expression rested her elbow on her knee and cupped her chin in her hand. She looked like a gambler frustrated at a dice roll gone badly.

Lawrence’s roll had not been a good one, it seemed.

“Aye, so long as they have something to do with huge profits for you.”

“…And you just said you didn’t want that. And also—”

“Hmm?”

“You don’t mind using your head, do you? It’s a way to kill time,” said Lawrence.

Holo’s eyes widened enough to surprise Lawrence, and she snapped her mouth shut as though she’d been about to say something. She closed her eyes, folded the paper sheaf she held shut, then grasped the edges of her hood and drew it over her face.

“Wh-what is it?” Lawrence asked in spite of himself.

Her ears and tail flicked around noisily. When she brought her hands down from her hood, her eyes blazed with anger.

As those still, unwavering eyes looked at him, Lawrence couldn’t help but verbally retreat. “…Wh-why are you so angry?”

Her normally amber eyes seemed more like red-hot iron. “Angry? Angry, did you say?”

Just when Lawrence realized he had well and truly roused her anger, the vigor drained from her bristling fur as quickly as it had arrived.

It was as though a too-full water skin had popped.

Holo looked at him with ghostlike eyes, now so dispirited that it seemed she had been worn out in but a moment. “You…you would hardly understand why I would say this, anyway.”

Holo gave him a sidelong glance and sighed audibly.

She was like a master who’d lost the energy to be angry with a particularly incompetent apprentice.

And yet Lawrence had a thought.

She’s saying these things because she’s bored and wants me to pay attention to her, he thought.

He said nothing, though—not because he was afraid that saying so would make her still angrier, but rather because Holo had already seen right through him and bared her fangs in warning. “You’d do well to mind your words.”

When Lawrence had entered his apprenticeship under a master, the thing he hated more than all else was being asked questions.

If he answered wrong, he was cuffed, and silence earned him a kick.

Evidently Lawrence’s thinking was wrong.

Which meant the only alternative was silence.

“You truly do not understand?”

Lawrence sifted through his memories.

He straightened despite himself and averted his gaze.

“’Tis all right if you don’t.”

At the unexpected words, Lawrence turned back to her. At that point, Holo added with a serious face, “But I won’t speak to you until you do.”

“Wha—?” Before Lawrence could even begin to ask why she would do something so childish, Holo moved away from him, snatching up the blanket that they shared and wrapping it around herself.

Lawrence was dumbfounded.

He very nearly asked her if she was joking, but stopped himself at the last moment. Holo was as stubborn as a child. If she said she wouldn’t speak to him, then she wouldn’t speak to him.

However, this was still better than being suddenly ignored. She had gone to the trouble of declaring her intent, a high-level tactic.

Engaging her over her childishly inflammatory words would be unseemly, and ignoring her in retaliation would be even more immature. And having been visibly disturbed by her declaration that she would no longer speak to him, he could hardly regain control.

Looking down at the papers in his hand, Lawrence sighed. He had thought that puzzling over this mystery would be amusing enough, but it seemed not to be to Holo’s liking. She’d been happy enough to sift through the papers with him, so what was so upsetting about thinking through the various possibilities?

For Lawrence’s part, he imagined that turning the various pointless things over in their minds would be the more fun part. At the very least, Lawrence would learn a thing or two, thanks to Holo’s first-rate mind.

Or perhaps she’d simply learned that ill-conceived thinking led to getting involved in dangerous business.

Lawrence didn’t understand Holo’s mind.

He placed the Jean Company paperwork atop the other papers as a prelude to tidying up.

Holo didn’t so much as glance at him. Even for a merchant, skilled as a matter of course in understanding the moods of others, Holo was no ordinary challenge. Terrible punishment awaited any misstep.

As Lawrence was thinking it over, Holo suddenly looked up.

Though she had moved away from him, the boat’s deck was not large. Lawrence soon noticed and followed her gaze.

She was looking downriver.

Just as he wondered if she was concerned about a boat that was heading downriver ahead of them, he heard a plop-plop sound, as though something was spilling.

He realized it was actually a horse’s galloping footfalls just as that same horse came into view, flying like an arrow along the road that ran alongside the river, and bound upriver.

“What’s this?” Lawrence murmured, and when there was no reply from Holo, he looked over in her direction, only to remember that she wasn’t speaking to him.

It was like a conditioned response.

He had planned to pass it off as merely talking to himself, but there was just no way to hide it.

No doubt he’d be mocked for this later.

Thinking about it was depressing, but when he thought about having been unable to solve the problem, it was a bit frightening.

Holo emerged from the blanket, without paying Lawrence the slightest heed, and lightly stepped up onto the dock the boat had moored at.

The horse’s gallop slowed as it approached the dock, and just before the animal stopped, its rider dismounted. The man wore a mantle wrapped around his shoulders, and from his clothes, a single look made it obvious he was a boatman. He seemed to know Ragusa, as Ragusa and Col walked up the dock onto land to greet the man. Without exchanging any pleasantries, Ragusa and the newcomer were soon asking questions and engaging in conversation.

Col had no way to include himself, so perhaps trying to keep out of the way, he carefully moved away from the two men and stood on the dock.

If it had been Lawrence, he would absolutely have tried to eavesdrop on the conversation—so Col’s restraint was laudable.

Whether or not she had made the same estimation, Holo went over to Col and whispered something into his ear.

Lawrence couldn’t hear what they were saying, of course, but Col looked up at Holo, surprised, then over to Lawrence himself, as though the topic somehow involved him.

In these circumstances, it could hardly be anything friendly.

Holo whispered in Col’s ear again, and he nodded seriously.

She never once looked back in Lawrence’s direction.

Though he wasn’t worried about Holo disappearing forever the way he had worried in the past, that just gave him a worse feeling about all of this—because Holo knew all of the cards in his hand.

“Right—ahoy! Master!” Evidently the boatmen had finished their talking with characteristic speed, and Ragusa now turned and called out to Lawrence with a wave of his hand.

There was nothing else for Lawrence to do but climb up on the dock.

Holo was standing next to Col, their hands joined.

The two looked more like siblings than anything else, so the sight did not disturb Lawrence the way seeing her with Amati had.

“What is it?”

“Ah, my apologies. It looks like we’re going to be walking a bit.”

“Walking?” Lawrence asked as the other man, his business concluded, remounted his horse and spurred it farther upriver.

“A big ship’s run aground, it seems. Now the whole river’s jammed. Everybody was so greedy about getting their furs through, they didn’t notice until it was too late, and it just started piling up. Apparently there’s a sunken ship on the river’s floor now, and they can’t find the sunken ship’s boatman anywhere, so there may have been some kind of disturbance.”

“That’s…”

In times of war or when a mercenary troupe was starving, they would attack merchant vessels in this way.

Given the endless and gently sloping plains of this region, the river was shallow and gentle enough that it could be rendered impassable with a single strike.

So a single boat would feign distress and sink, bringing the boats behind it to a standstill, whereupon those boats would be attacked. Naturally doing such things during peacetime would earn one untold amounts of enmity from the landholders who collected taxes from the region.

However, Lawrence could think of one person who was reckless enough to do it.

There was nothing left to do but take off hat and cloak and wave them about.

It was enough to make Lawrence genuinely want to cheer Eve on.

“So, what’ll it be?” asked Ragusa.

He was clearly asking whether they could continue to Kerube or not. They had not come half the way to their destination—but that said, it would not be a short walk back to Lenos, either.

If they had a horse it would be different, but more of the boatmen were willing to carry cargo than passengers.

“Fortunately, there’s no word of mercenaries in the area, so things should be restored soon. But the other boats loaded with cargo are at a standstill. Aside from the ones who are desperate enough to jump into the water and swim ashore, they’re not going anywhere. If I can unload some of the goods from this boat, I’ll have some excess carrying space, which I want to use to carry people and cargo from the grounded boats to the shore. So—I’m sorry, but I’ll need you to walk.”

After having taken them on board, it was stunningly disgraceful for a boatman to ask his passengers to go ashore and walk. It hardly mattered whether the circumstances were his fault or not.

Ragusa was a boatman who lived within that value system, and his face was clouded.

“I am a merchant, so if you’ll lower your fee, I’ll walk as much as I need to.”

It wasn’t quite a friendship between men of different occupations, but Ragusa smiled ruefully and shook hands with Lawrence nonetheless.

The problem was Holo, but before Lawrence could turn to her, Ragusa continued speaking. “Still, I can’t very well force a maiden to walk in this cold without any preparation. I hear there are some rather devout fellows stuck on that river. If a girl you could mistake for a goddess were riding along with me, I’m sure it’d pick up their spirits.”

Lawrence was a bit relieved.

His stomach hurt at the mere thought of walking along with a silent, uncooperative Holo, and even if she’d been happy, trudging around in this cold would surely have brought out her displeasure.

“So,” said Ragusa, “in that case, first I’ll need to unload the cargo.”

“I’ll help.”

“Hey now, that makes it sound like I was trying to get you to help me.” Ragusa smiled.

Lawrence could only be impressed—he could hardly refuse to help now.

“I said ‘unload,’ but it’s really just the wheat and beans. The chests can stay where they are.”

“Shall we get started, then?” said Lawrence, glancing back at the cargo on the boat.

“Aye, lets!” called out Ragusa. “By the by, I couldn’t help overhearing your fun little chat earlier.”

“Wha—?” His exchange with Holo had been embarrassing enough that Lawrence was suddenly very flustered.

“Ah, don’t worry! I didn’t hear anything you’d be worried about,” said Ragusa with a sheepish grin. “It was just about the eni coin.”

“The eni?”

“Aye. It just so happens that’s what I’m carrying right now.”

Lawrence had wondered if those chests contained coins, but this was a coincidence indeed.

Either that, or Ragusa was teasing, having a bit of fun at Lawrence’s expense—but as Lawrence thought it over, that seemed unlikely.

If the chests had contained gold or silver coin, they would’ve been attended by guards, and a merchant like Lawrence would never have been allowed to ride in the same boat.

And Ragusa’s boat was loaded with fully ten chests. If fifty-seven chests were headed downriver in total, that meant roughly four other vessels of this size would be needed.

And because their cargo would have been decided ahead of time, it would be difficult for them to load up on furs for a quick profit. So they would have been tied up at port as usual, which would have made it all the more likely that Lawrence’s eye would fall upon one of them.

This all stood to reason—and if it was so, then Ragusa might have some new information.

Lawrence looked at Ragusa with his merchant’s eye, and it seemed that Ragusa was waiting for this.

Ragusa suggested with a wink that they first unload the cargo, signaling to Col and Holo (who had been listening to the conversation) to help, then placed his hand on Lawrence’s shoulder and brought his face conspiratorially near. “I’ve a bit of interest in the matter myself. For two years now, that same copper coin has been moved on a fixed day, in a fixed amount—fifty-seven chests, downriver, to the Jean Company, but I’d never given much thought to how many chests it was in total. It was fifty-seven chests, divided up into a certain amount, then carried downriver.”

Holo was bringing Col a bit of food, water, and wine and giving him her other robe to wear—the expensive one she’d had made with Lawrence’s money.

Surprised, Col tried to refuse, but in the end, he was forced to put it on.

Col admittedly looked a bit shabby.

He seemed to have some trouble walking in the robe; perhaps it was his first time wearing a long-hemmed article.

“Those fifty-seven chests become sixty when they leave the Jean Company, which means either somebody is secretly carrying more, or the Jean Company is scheming at something.”

Returning to the boat, Ragusa stepped lightly aboard and hefted a sack of wheat, which Lawrence took and left on the dock.

Col saw this and quickly hauled out the bean sacks, which he could carry.

The boy’s willingness to work hard impressed Lawrence, but he wondered if Col was just trying to eavesdrop on the conversation between him and Ragusa.

“I appreciate the Jean Company always giving me this cargo, and I trust my fellow boatmen doing the same job. But it’s these times. Surely God would forgive us being forced to take on a bad partner, would he not?”

Lawrence wasn’t Col, but he could certainly still be fooled.

“Of course, it’s too soon to take that paper and go to the Jean Company, but one of those chests is a fair transport fee. If this turns out to be the Jean Company’s weak point, we’d be in a bind.”

It was the problem that faced all who accepted a job.

Lawrence took the last sack of wheat from Ragusa, piled it up on the dock, then answered, “I’ve no intention of trying to expose the truth of the situation. I’m quite satisfied if I can safely build this house of cards.”

“Then I’m sure I can let the ravings of a traveling merchant slide—even if do have a certain partner,” said Ragusa with a smile.

For Ragusa and his comrades, who would work on the river their entire lives, the happiness of their clients was an issue of desperate importance. And yet being forced to work with a strange partner could get them literally sunk. They would want to know the truth at least, but the world of those who traveled the river was a small one, and they could not afford to whisper to one another. But a traveling merchant from beyond that world—that was different.

Lawrence wondered if he was overthinking things, but this was at least close to the truth.

Col took Holo’s things from her and, without being asked, added them to his own, shouldering the combined burden.

Noticing Lawrence’s gaze, he looked in Lawrence’s direction, but Lawrence only waved lightly and gestured for him to go on ahead.

“Right, then, do mind my companion—try to keep her from being too awe-inspiring, eh?”

“Ha-ha-ha. Can’t have her getting any more worshippers, after all. Worry not, it’s not too far on foot. We’ll surely meet up by nightfall.”

Lawrence nodded, then glanced at Holo, but she was already lying down, curled up in her blanket.

As he looked at her sleeping form, he very keenly appreciated that there was more than one way to quarrel.