Was it a flame?
He turned again to face it and this time managed a good view of the shape.
It was a chestnut-brown something, waving.
He stared at it, finally realizing that it was no flame.
It was fur. It was a long clump of brown fur that waved.
And it was tipped with a white tuft.
Lawrences eyes widened and his breath caught. He sprinted toward it.
That tail — that white tuft —!
It was Holo. There was no mistaking Holos tail.
It grew smaller as it waved, and Lawrence called out for it as he ran with all his might.
But no sound issued from his mouth, and the distance to Holos tail never diminished.
His feet seemed to grow heavier, which frustrated him. He gritted his teeth and, even as he realized the futility of it, stretched out his right hand.
Holos tail abruptly disappeared.
At that moment, Lawrence blinked and looked up at an unfamiliar ceiling.
“Ugh —”
He sat up with a start and pain immediately shot through his left arm. For a moment he was confused, but the pain brought his memories back in a rush.
The Medio Company pursuing him. His arm being stabbed. Being cornered.
And Holo leaving him.
Remembering her tail waving forlornly as she receded, Lawrence sighed.
Trapped in a body that could sit up only with effort, he wondered if there was anything else he could have said to her.
The question loomed in his mind, dwarfing the more immediate issue of where he was.
“Ah, so you’re awake, are you?”
Lawrence turned to face the unexpected voice, and saw Marheit in the doorway.
“How are your injuries?” Marheit walked toward Lawrence, documents in hand, and opened the window beside the merchant’s bed.
“Better . . . thanks to you.”
A pleasant breeze blew in through the window, carrying sounds of hustle and bustle from which Lawrence inferred that he was in a room at the Milone Company.
Which meant they had come to his rescue after all.
“I must apologize for putting you in such danger through our ineptitude.”
“No, no, my companion was the cause of all this originally.”
Marheit nodded at Lawrences words and paused, seeming to choose his next statement carefully.
“Fortunately you were never discovered by the Church, and the disturbance happened underground. If the Church had seen your companions true form, well . . . it’s quite possible the entire company would’ve been burned as heretics.”
“You saw her true form?” Lawrence asked, stunned.
“Indeed. The people we sent to rescue you returned with a report that there was a giant wolf that said it wouldn’t hand you over until I came personally.”
There was no reason for Marheit to lie. Which meant that after Lawrence lost consciousness, Holo returned to him.
“What of Holo, then? Where is she?”
“She’s gone on to the marketplace. She was quite impatient and said she needed traveling clothes,” said Marheit lightly, not knowing the circumstances — but Lawrence guessed that Holo planned to set off on her own.
She was probably on her way to the northland even now.
The thought left a hole in Lawrence’s heart but perversely also helped him feel that he could now make a clean break.
The days they had spent together had been nothing more than a strange coincidence.
Lawrence forced himself to consider it thus, bringing himself back to the mindset of a merchant.
Aside from Holo, there was another important implication in Marheit s words.
“You said Holo went to the marketplace. Does that mean negotiations with the Medio Company went well?”
“Yes. Our messenger returned from the Trenni castle this morning, concluding negotiations with the king. We’ve obtained the considerations that the Medio Company so desperately wanted, and they seem to have acknowledged their defeat. Everything has gone very smoothly,” said Marheit, pride filling his voice.
“I see. That’s good to hear. . . . So Eve slept for a full day then, have I?”
“Hm? Oh, yes, yes you have. Would you care for some lunch? I was just in the kitchen, and I doubt they’ve turned off the stoves yet, so you could have something hot.”
“No, that’s quite all right. Could I perhaps hear the final results of our negotiation?”
“Yes, of course.”
Lawrence found it slightly odd that someone from the south wasn’t forcing food on him. Perhaps if he’d been from this area, Marheit would’ve been more insistent.
“The amount of silver we collected came to 307,212 pieces. The king plans to significantly cut the silver content of these coins, so he agreed to pay an amount equivalent to 350,000 pieces.”
It was a staggering figure. Lawrence was not thinking about the absolute numbers, though — he was busy figuring his own approximate gain.
He was contractually entitled to five percent of the Milone Company’s profit. Lawrence estimated it would come out to something in the neighborhood of two thousand silver pieces.
It would be enough for him to fulfill his dream, to open his own shop.
“According to our contract with you, Mr. Lawrence, we owe you five percent of our profit. Is that correct?”
Lawrence nodded, and Marheit nodded back.
Marheit then handed Lawrence a single sheet of paper. “Please confirm this,” he said.
Lawrence didn’t hear him.
An unbelievable figure was written on the paper.
“Wha . . . what’s . . .”
“One hundred and twenty pieces — five percent of our profit,” said Marheit coolly.
Yet Lawrence did not become angry. The paper made it clear what had happened to the gain they’d expected.
“The cost of transporting the coins, the transfer fee when the king paid us, the silver tax, and the cost of processing the contract. His advisers undoubtedly put him up to it. They knew they would have to give up those special privileges but wanted to limit their losses on the silver exchange as much as they could.”
Looking at the details, he could see that the king had very cleverly exploited his position to get as much money back from the Milone Company as he could.
In addition to requiring that the company pay for the collection and transport of the coins, he made them remit the silver coins directly rather than using a note of exchange. The transportation had been hugely expensive, running into the tens of thousands of pieces after including horses, lockboxes for the money, and guards.
The king had even charged them an exorbitant amount for the drawing up of the contracts.
Though the signer on the Milone side was a wealthy merchant of noble descent from the south who operated his own branch of a large company, he was far from a king. There was no question of who held the upper hand. The Milone Company had to simply accept the charges.
“We calculate that our final profit was twenty-four hundred pieces, five percent of which were remitting to you as per our agreement.”
Lawrence had schemed like a man possessed, been stabbed in the arm . . . for one hundred twenty silver coins.
When he considered that if he hadn’t gotten involved in this business, Holo might not have left him, the only figures he saw in his mind were red. It simply hadn’t been worth one hundred twenty coins.
But a contract was a contract. He had no choice but to accept it. Sometimes there were gains in life, and sometimes there were losses. It was a simple reality of being a merchant. He supposed that he should be happy not to have lost his life and to have come out one hundred twenty silver pieces ahead.
Lawrence slowly nodded.
“This was not something we expected. The outcome is regrettable,” said Marheit.
“Unexpected outcomes are part and parcel of business,” replied Lawrence.
“It is generous
of you to say so. However,” said Marheit, getting Lawrence’s attention again — Marheit’s tone had brightened for some reason. “Unexpected situations can also work out happily. Here.”
Lawrence accepted a second sheet of paper from Marheit, his eyes flicking over its contents.
He immediately looked back up at Marheit in shock.
“The Medio Company badly wanted those special privileges, and they knew the silver they’d collected was going to depreciate rapidly soon, so it was like holding on to debt. They expected they’d be able to turn a profit with that tariff authority, and they would do anything to get it. They made us an offer almost immediately.”
The document in Lawrences hand stated that his share of the profit from this exchange was one thousand silver pieces.
“A thousand pieces . . . is this really acceptable?”
“It is a trifle” said Marheit with a smile. The Milone Company had no doubt made much more than that, but Lawrence was not so rude as to ask the exact figure. After all, being offered an extra-contractual amount like this was like picking up a bar of gold on the street.
Contracts were the core of commerce — monetary exchanges without them might as well have been nonexistent.
“Also, we’ve taken care of the fees for your convalescence, and we’ll handle the care of your horse and wagon.”
“Was my horse unhurt?”
“Yes — it seems even the Medio Company didn’t find much worth in him as a hostage.”
Lawrence couldn’t help smiling at Marheit’s hearty laugh.
This was all far better treatment than he had any right to expect.
“We’ll discuss the payment details and so on another day, then, shall we?” said Marheit.
“That will be fine. Thank you so much, truly.”
“Hardly; the pleasure is all ours. It is a small price to pay to remain in the good graces of a merchant of your ability, Mr. Lawrence.”
Marheit looked at Lawrence with eyes that rarely missed a calculation, and he smiled his best merchant’s smile — probably on purpose.
Still, the fact remained that Lawrence had received a thousand silver pieces from the branch supervisor of the huge company. They clearly thought of him as a person with whom a good relationship was important.
A mere traveling merchant like Lawrence should be pleased by that.
He nodded and thanked Marheit from his bed.
“Oh, I suppose I should ask,” said Marheit, “do you wish payment to be in silver? If you would prefer a different commodity, that can be arranged.”
A thousand coins would be heavy and would bring no particular benefit for the weight. Lawrence considered Marheits proposal, thinking about the amount hed been promised and the size of his wagon, and a single item came to mind.
“Have you any pepper? It’s light and compact, and as winter falls, its price will surely rise as meat becomes more available.”
“Pepper, you say?”
“Is there a problem?” asked Lawrence, seeing Marheit chuckle.
“No, not at all. I recently read a play we received from the south, and that reminded me of it.”
“A play?”
“Indeed. A demon appears before a wealthy merchant and says, ‘Bring me the most delicious, succulent human you can, or I’ll devour you.’ Not wanting to die, the merchant presents the demon with the youngest, most beautiful maids in his house, and the plumpest footmen. But the demon shakes his head in disapproval.”
"I see."
“So the merchant scatters money throughout the city, searching for a suitable person. Finally he finds a handsome young monk who smells of milk and honey. He throws gold at the monastery to buy the lad and brings him before the demon. But the boy says, ‘Oh ye demon who fights the gods, the most savory human in the land is not I.’ ”
Lawrence was completely absorbed in the tale. He nodded wordlessly.
“ ‘The most succulent human is before your very eyes — he has carried spices day in and day out in his quest for money, and his fattened soul is perfectly seasoned,’” continued Marheit cheerfully, gesturing expansively as he related the tale. In the end, he even imitated the wealthy merchant’s terrified face before catching himself and grinning sheepishly.
“It’s a religious play that the Church uses to preach moderation in commerce,” he explained. “That’s what I remembered. Pepper is surely appropriate for a merchant about to make his fortune, I think.”
Lawrence couldn’t help smiling at the amusing tale and Marheit’s praise. “I hope I soon have a body suffused with spices myself! ” he said.
“We’ll look forward to that, and to many fruitful dealings in the future, Mr. Lawrence,” said Marheit, and the two smiled at each other again.
“I’ll see to your pepper. In the meantime, I have work to do . . .” Marheit backed toward the exit.
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
“Perhaps that’s your companion,” said Marheit, but Lawrence was confident that such a thing was impossible.
Marheit left the bedside to open the door, and Lawrence, his head on a pillow, looked out the window.
He could see the blue sky.
“Overseer, sir. We’ve received this bill —” Lawrence heard the door open and a reserved voice speaking to Marheit, along with the sound of a slip of paper being handed over.
It was undoubtedly some urgent business. Lawrence looked up at the small clouds in the sky and wondered when he would be able to have his own shop.
He soon heard Marheit speak.
“This is definitely addressed to our company, but . . .”
Lawrence looked back over at Marheit, who was looking at him.
“Mr. Lawrence, a bill’s come for you.”
The names of Lawrence’s many trading partners and the debts he owed flashed through his mind.
He tried to think of which among them had an approaching settlement date, but in any case the amount of time he would remain in a given city was uncertain. Even if there’d been a settlement date yesterday, he couldn’t think of anyone that would hold a traveling merchant to such a strict time frame.
And who would even know he was here?
“Could I see it, please?” he asked.
Marheit took the bill from his subordinate and brought it to Lawrence.
Lawrence took it and skipped past the standard contractual section, coming to the details at the end.
He thought that if he could see what the bill was for, it might tell him who it was from.
But the items on the bill did not ring any bells.
“Hmm . . .” Lawrence said, cocking his head curiously, but suddenly he sat bolt upright.
Marheit, shocked, tried to say something, but Lawrence ignored him and ran for the door, pushing it open and ignoring the pain in his left arm.
“Um, excuse me —”
“Let me by!” shouted Lawrence, and the shocked employee made way. Lawrence ignored the strange look he received and ran down the hallway before stopping.
“Where’s the loading dock?” he demanded.
“Er, follow this hall to the end, turn left, and it’ll be —”
“Thanks,” said Lawrence shortly, dashing off.
The rather expensive bill crumpled in his hand as Lawrence ran as fast as his strength would allow.
It was the contents of that crumpled bill that had Lawrence in such a state.
The date on the bill was today, and it included items from a Pazzio textile merchant and a fruit seller.
There were two high-quality womens robes with silk sashes, a pair of traveling shoes, a tortoiseshell comb — and a large amount of apples.
In total it all came to a hundred and fifty silver pieces, and the apples in particular were far too numerous for one person to carry.
Despite that, there was no entry on the bill for the use of a horse or cart.
There was an obvious conclusion.
Lawrence arrived at the loading dock.
&
nbsp; Mountains of products of every sort were lined up, with everything from goods brought from afar to exports about to leave. The dock overflowed with the horses and the shouts of people — the chaotic scene was just another day at the prosperous Milone Company.
Lawrence scanned the surroundings for what he knew must be there.
The large loading area was filled with horses and carts. Lawrence ran around, even slipping on a clump of scattered hay, before catching a glimpse of his own familiar horse and wagon and approaching it.
The other people working in the loading area looked at him strangely, but Lawrence took no notice of them, fixated on just one thing.
In front of a wagon bed piled high with apples, a small figure held a beautiful piece of fur in her hand, combing it with a tortoiseshell comb.
She wore an obviously expensive robe and a hood pulled low over her head. After a time, she ceased her combing and sighed.
Not turning toward Lawrence, the figure in the seat of the wagon spoke. “I wouldn’t wish you to come to the northern forests simply to collect on a debt.”
Lawrence couldn’t help laughing at her sullen tone.
He approached the seat, and though Holo stubbornly refused to look at him, he extended his right hand.
Finally she glanced at him, and although she soon returned her gaze to the tail in her hands, she reached out to him.
Lawrence took her hand, and she finally relented to a smile,
“I’ll return home only after I’ve paid my debt.”
“But of course!”
Holo’s hand gripped Lawrence’s very, very tightly.
It seemed as though the travels of this strange pair would last a bit longer.
That is to say, the travels of the wolf and the spice.
Since I began entering writing contests with prize money involved, I’ve never been able to stop thinking about winning the grand prize.
Then, I think about using the prize money to buy stocks, increasing my investment, and pretty soon I’m daydreaming about ruling the world with my vast wealth.
Lately I’ve made enough money that I can order an extra-large bowl of soba from the soba stand without worrying about it.
My name is Isuna Hasekura.
Recently winning the silver medal of the 12th Dengeki Sho-setsu Prize is an honor roughly equivalent to winning the moon in the sky. I couldn’t believe it. I had three different dreams in which I got a phone call that they’d mixed me up with somebody else.