Holo’s rage came from the Church subjecting the remains of the wolf-god to terrible treatment in the name of missionary work, but such incidents were probably not rare.
Lawrence was not like Reynolds of the Jean Company, but he hoped he would only bring beautiful memories to the grave.
Lawrence murmured as much inwardly, then looked back at the ongoing meeting as its artificial bickering continued, and he swallowed a bitter sigh with a drink of ale.
By reputation, the delta marketplace was a captivating microcosm of the world, holding goods from scores of nations. On the winds that blew through it were carried dozens of languages, it was said.
But Lawrence could not deny that hearing and seeing were very different things, as the feeling he got on first setting foot in the marketplace was similar to the impression he had upon first seeing the Jean Company.
Goods were not piled high the way they were in markets that were only open a few days out of the year, and there were neither people visiting for business, nor hawkers trying to pry loose coins from the travelers who were stopping in the market midway through their journeys.
The marketplace was choked with crowds, but a close inspection of the shops that were lined up revealed that establishments with actual goods on display were few. Instead, they merely hung signs for goods in amounts far exceeding what someone would need in their daily lives, and without speaking to the shopkeeper, no samples were shown.
Lawrence had wanted to try some foreign food, but the marketplace was so crowded that no space for friendly drinking and relaxation could exist. For drink, there were only a few shops selling ale and wine in bulk.
Business required an atmosphere of excitement, of vigor—not confusion and violence.
For that reason, the number of taverns was controlled, and the sights of soldiers on guard with arms on their belts were not rare.
All this meant that there were a limited number of places for Lawrence to go, which any clever person would have realized after a quick circuit through the crowded marketplace.
Instead of Lawrence finding his companion, then, it was more accurate to say that the merchant was found by her.
Reasoning that Holo and Col would be amusing themselves in their way, after having his fill of watching the town’s movers and shakers perform their little farce, Lawrence arrived at a first-floor tavern in search of Holo.
Just as he was deciding whether or not to open the door, a voice called out to him from above.
“Come, you.”
Lawrence did not reply but pushed the tavern’s door open in a long-suffering manner.
The words that he uttered immediately upon entering the small second-floor room, containing the source of the voice that so blithely called out to him, were not entirely sarcastic. “You’re certainly living it up.”
“Am I? We’ve but used the silver coin you gave us.”
There was a table and chair next to the window, but Holo sat on the windowsill, drinking.
Though she was clearly visible from the street outside, her ears and tail were exposed to the world. She was either drunk or confident that she would not be recognized.
“Using a whole trenni on wine without a single hesitation is simply…well, I’ll have to explain it to you sooner or later.” Lawrence picked up a small cask that had been left on the floor, empty, and took a whiff, sighing.
Having a discerning palate while also being a big eater and drinker was a bad combination.
“Where’s Col?”
There were plates that had clearly once held some kind of meat dish on the table, so perhaps he’d been sent out to buy more.
“Just what you’re thinking.” Evidently the wine was keeping Holo warm, as she seemed to find the cold air that came through the window quite pleasant.
“Honestly…don’t drive him too hard now.”
Lawrence picked up the wine cask that was on the table and sat on the little bed with which the small room had been provided.
It was a poorly made bed to be sure, but to those used to traveling like livestock in the cramped conditions of a ship, it was as fine as any royal canopy bed.
Of course, if relaxing in a room like this with a cup of wine in one hand was all most people needed to feel better once they were released onto dry land after being packed into a ship’s hold, then there’d be no need for the Church’s sermons.
Holo had probably rented the room without knowing any of this, and once she did become aware of it, she seemed vaguely uncomfortable.
“So, did you hear anything new?” she asked while facing out, her head cocked against the windowpane and her eyes closed, the breeze caressing her cheek.
She seemed to be listening to the tones of a lute that drifted in from outside or possibly to be thinking about something.
A closer look revealed that her ears were minutely twitching in time to the sound, so it had to be the former.
“Does it look like I did?” Lawrence took a drink of the sweet wine, which was perfectly suited for relaxation.
“Aye. You seem pleased.”
Though her eyes were still closed, it was as though she could still see right through him.
Lawrence rubbed his face and smiled sheepishly. “Pleased?”
Though he was confident he had erased all traces of his conversation with Eve from his expression, Holo’s reluctantly opened eyes had a certain mean smile in them. “You’re a century too young to try lying to me.”
For a moment, Lawrence wondered if she had somehow overheard his conversation at the spring all the way from here but quickly realized that was not the case.
It was a bluff.
Lawrence put his hand to his forehead with a sigh in front of Holo, whose tail swished happily.
“Well, ’tis true I took notice of your pleased face. If you’re tripped up by such a ruse, you’ve much to learn yet.”
“…I’ll keep that in mind.”
“’Tis doubtful whether you’ll be able to fit it in that wee mind of yours,” Holo said impishly, ducking her head and grinning.
“…I see. Anyway, it’s not quite true that I’m pleased. To be honest, it’s the sort of story that makes me want strong wine rather than sweet.”
“Aye?” Holo uncrossed her legs and stood. She was slightly unsteady. The wine was probably catching up to her. “Ho…’tis a bit cold,” she said, sitting next to Lawrence and leaning against him.
Lawrence found himself thinking of the many travelers who found themselves in a similar position after being released from their harsh sea voyages and took what solace they could in a brief tryst.
But this was Holo.
She brought her feet up and turned her back to Lawrence, leaning against him and embracing her own tail.
Lawrence felt only a small twinge of disappointment—which was probably Holo’s plan.
“So, of what tale did you hear tell?”
In contrast to Lawrence’s very much-occupied mind, Holo was as she always was.
If he kept dwelling on this, she’d make a fool of him.
Lawrence exhaled slightly and answered, “The dark side of this town, I suppose.”
“Oh, aye?”
“Simply put, it’s a matter of debt and payment, but the amount is rather enormous.”
Holo gulped down her wine as though it were the morning’s first water.
It was sweet enough that it could be drunk that way, but she probably should have stopped.
Thinking as much, Lawrence reached for the small cask she was holding, when—
“Have you any notion of how many words I just swallowed with this wine?”
As it was, after Lawrence reached over, Holo was beneath his arm.
And suddenly, she was a wolf baring her fangs.
“If ’twas talk of money that was none of your concern, you ought to have been wagging your tail in delight. But you weren’t—why, I wonder?”
Holo took another swig of wine and belched.
She then pu
shed the wine cask into Lawrence’s still-outstretched hand.
“So, what did you discuss with that vixen?”
Evidently it was impossible to hide anything from Holo.
Lawrence grasped the cask and brought it to his own mouth, cursing his luck immediately thereafter.
Under his arm, Holo grinned.
The cask contained not wine, but goat’s milk with honey—probably for Col.
If she had gone to the trouble of laying such a careful trap, he probably could have just told her the truth without rousing her anger.
Lawrence slowly opened his mouth. “…Eve, who so thoroughly got the best of us before, is being treated like a mere child here.”
“Hmph.”
“The town’s powers that be are using her as a scapegoat. I had to tip my hat to her exploits in Lenos and on the Roam River, but here she’s just a whipping boy. And it’s just…”
Lawrence was worried he would be risking Holo’s ire if he continued, but if he started hiding his true feelings after having gotten this far, she would surely be angrier still.
He finished with a single word.
“…Sad.”
Holo said nothing and did not return his gaze.
The silence was awkward, so Lawrence kept going.
“Things happen even to a merchant like Eve. So what does that mean for me, over whom she triumphed so thoroughly? I can’t help but wonder. Don’t you want people who best you…to go on to further success?”
Lawrence knew that there was always a bigger fish, and he was too old to believe that he was somehow an exception to the ways of the world. He had not complained like this in many years.
However, that was not because he had somehow become stronger with age.
It was because he had learned the reality that, during the long, lonely journeys of a traveling merchant, there would be no one by his side to cheer him up when he indulged in worry and sadness.
But now—
Lawrence smiled wryly.
She might roll her eyes or show him contempt, but at least he could call it a reaction of some kind.
It was enough—enough for him to face what he had ignored for so long and to move forward.
“Listen here, you,” said Holo.
“Hmm?”
After a moment of silence, she looked up. “Listening to you talk made me mad enough for two.”
“…I see.”
“But now looking at your face, I’m thrice angry.”
“Well, you eat enough for five, so you’ve got two left to go,” joked Lawrence, and Holo elbowed him in the ribs and sat up.
“The first is that by your reasoning, I’m a pathetic fool for being your companion.”
That made sense, so Lawrence stayed silent.
“The second is because only a pup would despair at such a foolish notion.”
“I won’t argue.”
“And as for the last—” Holo knelt on the bed, her hands on her hips as she looked down at Lawrence.
She wore a displeased expression, but he wondered why it was that he detected a trace of foolishness there as well.
He soon realized that it was not his imagination.
“…To see you turn tail and behave in a manner so unbecoming a full-grown male, when on your face…”
“…My face?” Lawrence replied, which Holo nodded at after a short hesitation.
“You speak of such weakness, and yet”—Holo looked away—“your face says you could go off on your own at any moment.”
Lawrence knew he could not laugh.
But by the time the thought came to him, it was too late, and Holo—whose cheeks were flushed with something besides wine—bared her teeth, her ears standing up.
Lawrence calmed himself and replied, “But if I looked as though I couldn’t continue on alone, you’d rail at me without mercy, would you not?”
Holo looked displeased.
And yet, after growling bitterly for a while, she sat down with a nod.
Her tail wagged grandly to and fro, and she sighed in irritation. “Naturally, I would. I’d rail at you, toy with you, tease you, and when you still followed me, I’d be entirely delighted.”
“I’d…just as soon avoid that.”
“Fool,” Holo said.
Lawrence chose that moment to pull his hand back, and soft as a cotton ball, she fell toward him.
Of course, he knew what she was angry about.
In his arms, she pouted, sullen.
“Do you want me to say I was in the wrong?”
“You are ever in the wrong.”
“…”
Holo was Lawrence’s traveling companion, and Lawrence was Holo’s.
It was not one or the other—the ideal was for each of them to support the other.
Lawrence was not always the one making Holo angry, nor was Holo always the angry one.
Strange though it was to say, Lawrence needed to find the courage to be a weakling.
To admit that he needed her support.
Even if she cursed him for it.
“Still, don’t you think it’s strange?”
“Aye?” inquired Holo in his arms, not looking up.
“If that’s all true, why am I the one who ends up comforting you?”
Holo’s ears flicked up, tickling Lawrence’s cheek.
She looked up, a delighted malice in her eyes, and spoke. “Because ’tis my particular privilege, that is why.”
“Ugh…still, I suppose that’s how I like you, so it’s my own fault.”
“Heh,” Holo giggled, nestling in closer.
But Lawrence could guess where this was going.
“Hey, are you going to use Col to tease me…again…?” His words trailed off suddenly.
“When people are strong, they do not look back. And for long ages, I couldn’t look back. And I am tired of it.” Though she was crying, her words were not choked, and they came out easily.
Even when confessing her weakness, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu did so in grand form, Lawrence thought.
Regardless of the inappropriateness of the notion, he couldn’t help thinking it.
He respectfully stroked her small head.
“You know that I’m a coward, don’t you? I’m constantly looking over my shoulder, terrified. So don’t worry on that count,” said Lawrence, and Holo buried her face in his chest as if to wipe her tears, shaking her head.
“I hate it!”
He had to respect her, persisting in her selfishness even now.
Lawrence smiled sadly and scratched the base of Holo’s ears. “Whenever I decide something, I consult with you. That’s what you mean, isn’t it?”
“Despite your offering to me, I hate that things are changed left and right without my thoughts being solicited.”
Perhaps she had chosen a familiar example purposely, but if that was the case, then it meant Lawrence’s feelings for Holo were essentially alms.
“So my feelings are an offering?”
“I should think one is necessary for prayer.”
Holo’s ears twitched, and Lawrence smiled.
“A prayer for what?” he asked.
“For the boy Col to come.”
It was frustrating, but he could hardly deny it.
Holo smiled and closed her eyes.
This had to be something very important to her for Holo to state her true feelings so plainly.
The most frustrating part of business was having something decided above one’s head.
During the long months and years Holo had spent as a village’s harvest god, that was how she had felt.
When the Moon-Hunting Bear came to her homelands, she had not even heard about it.
Though it concerned her, it was decided without her knowledge—the definition of isolation.
And she was tired of it.
This was probably something Lawrence needed to clearly understand, but if she waited for him to do so, there was no telling how long it would take.
/> He was sure that was the answer he would receive were he to ask.
“Still, ’tis quite a knack being able to pick the right time to lay a trap for you. ’Tis pleasant sometimes.”
Beside him, Holo smiled nastily. Simultaneously, her wolf ears turned toward the hall as if detecting prey.
The meaning was plain enough, but it seemed the wisewolf was not such a boring hunter as to lay the same trap twice.
“Don’t think you’ll always be able to trick me.”
Holo showed her fangs in a wordless smile, moving away from Lawrence to sit again upon the windowsill.
Though the sweet taste of honey lingered in Lawrence’s mouth, he could not restrain the bitter smile that rose at being so easily discarded.
However, if he were to look at the door from which there came a perfectly timed knock, he would easily fall into Holo’s trap.
“Sorry to keep you waiting!”
The door opened to reveal—of course—Col.
“Aye, and wait we did. Where’s the wine?”
“Er, it’s right—oh, there’s enough for you, too, Mr. Lawrence.”
“You hardly needed to buy so much! Ah, ’tis such a waste.”
Lawrence couldn’t help but smile at Holo and Col’s exchange.
Of course, the biggest reason for his smile was the realization that for someone who could change her expressions and moods so easily, laying a trap for the likes of the boy was child’s play.
It was truly terrifying.
So terrifying, in fact, that Lawrence chose a piece of salty, spicy jerky, and bit into it voraciously.
“So, is there anything we can use in all this talk you overheard?” Holo had no words of thanks for Col, despite having used him as her errand boy, and spoke to Lawrence instead.
Of course, there was also the fact that he was rather impressed.
Col had skillfully used his battered cloak as a bag, which he was able to sling over his shoulder. Holo may have maliciously ordered him to go buy large amounts of food and wine, but he had carried out the charge without difficulty.
Probably out of frustration, Holo did not deign to thank him for his efforts.
In any case, Col was such a talented lad that were he to become a merchant’s apprentice, a bidding war would no doubt ensue.
“Are you listening?” Holo asked of Lawrence, who was watching Col set the food and wine on the table with admirable efficiency.