Spice and Wolf, Vol. 6

  But his body was slender and he soon reached the end of his endurance, retreating apologetically from the task.

  “Ah, yes…I’m really sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Look at all these merchants. They wish they’d done what you did.” Lawrence motioned with his chin at the small clumps of merchants sitting here and there, who weren’t even trying to hide their irritation at the unfavorable outcome that the investment of their effort had produced.

  Some of them were losing their temper—most likely the ones who were trying to move furs downriver.

  “How do you plan to compensate us for this loss?” they cried.

  If Lawrence had also been moving cargo this way, he would have felt much the same. Though he felt bad for the boatmen who were the target of such anger, he did nothing to intervene.

  And the worst part of the entire situation were the people aboard the boats that had been hung up on the wreckage of the sunken ship—particularly a boat roughly triple the size of Ragusa’s that was literally heaped with furs. They were trying to get the furs ashore, and looking at the amount, Lawrence could understand why. Even if there hadn’t been a sunken ship blocking the middle of the river, a small disturbance would have been sufficient to capsize the overloaded vessel.

  A quick search did not reveal whoever was to blame for the situation.

  Lawrence imagined they were hiding in order to avoid criticism, but that hardly seemed cowardly.

  It was no exaggeration to say that in trade, whoever was first to move their goods was the first to profit. That was especially true for seaport towns, where great ships would arrive carrying huge amounts of goods, and it was even said that for ships carrying the same goods, only the first two to arrive would turn any profit.

  A ship sinking in the river was not a common occurrence, so it was a near certainty that it was Eve’s doing—it was the perfect way to guarantee her own profits and the perfect way to cause those following her no end of grief.

  Several merchant-looking men weren’t even complaining, and instead sat dispirited, their heads in their hands, tormented by the uncertainty of whether they would be able to turn their furs into money.

  There was no telling how many of them would be able to maintain their composure.

  It would hardly be surprising if they simply exploded.

  “So…what will happen next?” Col asked, producing a water skin and handing it to Lawrence.

  Col was in no particular hurry to arrive in Kerube; he was simply taking in the scene and asking a question.

  “The river has many owners along its way, and each is responsible for what happens on his section. Most likely the landlord of this section will dispatch horses and men first thing in the morning—with horses pulling, I’m sure they’ll be able to haul the wreck out.”

  “I see…” Col looked hazily at the river’s surface, perhaps imagining the team of horses all attached to the rope.

  Lawrence put the water skin to his lips as he gazed at the wreck, its prow pointing straight up out of the water as though it were about to jump into the air.

  Suddenly he heard footsteps.

  He turned, thinking it might be Holo, but there was Ragusa.

  “Ho, friend! Sorry to make you walk,” said the man with a light wave, which allowed Lawrence to see the palm of his thick hand was swollen and red.

  No doubt getting people and goods ashore with the river so jammed with boats had been a difficult task.

  The effort of getting his boat so close to the shore had certainly taken more effort than his usual work did.

  If even a little bit of the hull was touching the ground, moving the vessel required no ordinary amount of strength.

  “Not at all—I don’t mind walking along the river.”

  “Ha-ha-ha! I’ll take you at your word, then,” a chagrined Ragusa said with a laugh, scratching his face and looking out at the river with a sigh. “This really is the worst luck. I guess they’ll be able to do something about it by tomorrow morning.”

  “Do you think the ship sinking has anything to do with the fur trade?” asked Lawrence. It was natural to think so.

  Thus asked, Ragusa nodded, tousling Col’s hair as the boy stared vaguely out at the river, exhausted. “I reckon so. Still, this is madness. Must be some fool who holds money dearer than their life. They could be strapped to the breaking wheel for this, without so much as a by-your-leave. Terrifying.”

  The breaking wheel was a gruesome form of execution, with victims being tied to a wagon wheel and broken, then left upon a hill to be eaten by the crows, still tied to the wheel.

  Lawrence was confident that Eve would escape, though.

  He even hoped she would safely claim her profits, bearing her no ill will for snatching his own.

  “So what of you lot, then?” asked Ragusa.

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you keep walking down the road, there’s an inn attached to a checkpoint. Of course, it’s no place for a lady to stay the night,” said Ragusa, looking over at Holo.

  Holo, for her part, was chattering happily with a tall woman who looked to be an actress or performer.

  “Right now, the master of that wreck of a ship along with the cargo owner are headed upriver to negotiate with some peddlers. I daresay that food and drink will arrive around sundown, but if you wait for that, you’ll be camping, make no mistake.”

  Lawrence now understood why the ship’s master had been nowhere to be seen.

  “We never expect to have a roof over our heads while traveling. Quite the contrary—we’ll be thankful that it’s solid ground rather than a rocking boat,” answered Lawrence.

  Ragusa winced as if looking at something very bright, then shrugged his muscled shoulders awkwardly.

  He then sighed. “I’m just glad it’s only merchants on the boats. If we’d been carrying mercenaries, this would’ve gone very badly.”

  “Still, some of them seem quite angry.”

  Ragusa laughed. “I’ll take their shouting! Mercenaries will draw their swords first and ask questions later.”

  Perhaps at the casualness with which Ragusa spoke, Col shrank back as though having swallowed a grape pip.

  “Still, whoever sank that ship had best watch their step. I hope Count Bulgar catches them.”

  While Lawrence was inwardly cheering for Eve, he certainly understood Ragusa’s anger.

  But he felt that if he responded to that statement, he might give away his own feelings, so Lawrence changed the subject.

  “Didn’t you have some urgent cargo, as well?”

  The boat carried copper coin.

  Since it was meant to be carried across the sea, its transport plan was stricter than normal cargo.

  “Aye. The plan was to take delivery of the cargo in Lenos, but the merchant was late—so I’m already behind schedule. None of this is my fault, but when I think of what’ll happen once I make it to Kerube, it’s downright depressing.”

  “I’ve carried cargo like that before. It’s nerve-racking,” agreed Lawrence.

  To make a single suit of clothes, it was quiet common for the sourcing of the raw materials, the construction, the dyeing, the tailoring, and the final sale to all be in different towns.

  As it traveled from one merchant to another, one shipper to another, a single hiccup in the process would disrupt the entire chain.

  That sheep’s wool from some far-flung land could cross the ocean to become clothing in another was a miracle by itself—to be able to do it on schedule and at a profit was godlike achievement.

  But it is the way of the world that the impossible is frequently demanded.

  Ragusa’s hardships were hidden.

  “And worse, it’s cargo with a strange history! Did you figure anything out about that?”

  He undoubtedly meant that the number of copper coins headed to the Jean Company in Kerube did not add up.

  If it turned out to be something interesting, Ragusa would probably feel some measure
of satisfaction.

  “Unfortunately not.”

  “Well, nobody’s noticed so far. I guess it’s not a question so easily answered.”

  That stood to reason.

  “By the way—,” Ragusa began.

  “Yes?”

  The big man cracked his neck and turned back to Lawrence, continuing, “Did something happen with your lovely companion?”

  “Wh—”

  Lawrence’s inability to coolly ask “Why would you ask?” was proof enough that something had indeed happened.

  Even the drowsy Col now looked up at Lawrence.

  How did Ragusa know something had happened?

  “Why, I just wondered why she hadn’t come back to you now that things have calmed down a bit—guess I was right,” said Ragusa, and though Col nodded, he seemed a bit shocked. “Come now,” Ragusa continued, “you can’t tell me you didn’t notice after how close you were before. She didn’t seem to want to leave your side for a moment! Am I right?” He directed these last words to Col, who nodded hesitantly.

  Lawrence looked away and shaded his eyes with his hand.

  “Ha-ha-ha!” laughed Ragusa. “Don’t grow up like this fellow, you hear?”

  Lawrence groaned at this final blow, battered by Col’s timid, bewildered reply.

  What would Holo say if she were here?

  Come to think of it, she was probably eavesdropping with those keen ears of hers.

  “So, come now—out with it.”

  “…Huh?”

  “What did you quarrel over? When the wine and food arrives from upstream, things will turn very festive indeed, you know. And this lot is going to have their share of anger to vent once they get some liquor in their bellies. They’ll be a pack of wolves.”

  Ragusa grinned, baring teeth that while crooked were strong enough to chew through even the toughest grass.

  Lawrence’s experiences on his journey had given him the means not to be too flustered by Ragusa’s jokes; however, that he would be unable to speak with Holo during the festivities was a great loss, indeed.

  If nothing else, the fact that the end of the journey was now decided meant he couldn’t afford to waste even a single day with her.

  How many chances remained to enjoy a festival with Holo?

  Merchants were always considering profit and loss. Always.

  And the fact remained that he still didn’t know why Holo was angry. Perhaps to Ragusa, who was a few years older than Lawrence, the solution was obvious.

  The problem was, he had to speak up.

  Despite having finally gotten some measure of confidence in his relationship with Holo, it was not so strong that he could expose that relationship to a stranger and still feel confident.

  “Come, have some trust in me! Listen well, now—” Ragusa put his massive arm over Lawrence’s shoulders; it seemed strong enough to knock Lawrence out with a single wave.

  It seemed as though he was trying to hide their conversation from Col, but Col stuck close to Ragusa and listened in.

  “I’ve got some confidence when it comes to such troublesome matters. Know why?”

  Lawrence shook his head, and Ragusa took his arm off Lawrence and thrust his chest out proudly. “I’ve been taking boats up and down the river for past twenty years. When it comes to water under the bridge, you just leave it to me!”

  Behind Ragusa and some distance away, Holo had been talking to the actress when Lawrence saw her suddenly burst into laughter.

  She had been listening in.

  Holo did not seem displeased.

  Which meant she, too, wanted this cleared up as soon as possible.

  And while Lawrence couldn’t really count on Ragusa, he might as well talk to him, since Lawrence and Holo’s relationship was evidently easily understood from the outside.

  “In that case…may I?”

  “Count on me, friend.”

  They put their heads together—not just Ragusa, either, but Col as well.

  Though their ages and professions were different and though they had only met that same day, the three now looked like old friends.

  Lawrence coolly considered that before he’d met Holo, this would never have happened.

  He somehow felt that even if he had to leave her, he would be able to go on.

  “Does anyone have any old rags or things they don’t need?”

  The call went out, and soon an impressive pile had been collected.

  It was piled up on the riverbank as preparations for the festivities continued.

  There had been a peddler selling food at the checkpoint upriver, and the man’s entire mule load of food had been bought up and handed out without hesitation.

  At first, several merchants had vented their spleens at the master of the sunken vessel and the fur shipper, as though the weight of their sins was equal to the weight of the furs they’d tried to move—but beating them wouldn’t make the river usable.

  Of course, that didn’t mean that the other merchants would simply say nothing, but if anything, the loud exchanges were a kind of ceremony to shed the frustration that the clogged river had caused.

  In the end there was no violence, and after a short pause, the food and drink the provisions shipper had bought was passed out, and smiles returned to everyone’s faces.

  Since there was nothing else that could be done, not enjoying themselves would have been a waste.

  Despite the mood of enemies joining hands in merriment, there was no one by Lawrence’s side.

  Not even Ragusa or Col was there.

  “Don’t grow up like this fellow, you hear?”

  After Lawrence had explained the circumstances of Holo’s anger, the two had fallen silent.

  At length, Ragusa had opened his mouth to speak, but not to Lawrence—to Col.

  Col had very considerately not answered Ragusa’s first question, but when Ragusa looked to him and asked, “You’ve figured it out, too, haven’t you?” he had hesitantly nodded in the affirmative.

  Which meant Lawrence was at fault—so Ragusa had put his heavy arm over Col’s shoulders and forcibly taken the boy away.

  He had left Lawrence with but a single hint.

  “The river does indeed flow. But—why does it flow?”

  It was a complete riddle.

  Col had cocked his head in confusion at the words as well, but when Ragusa whispered in the boy’s ear, his eyes had lit up with comprehension.

  It seemed both of them had easily understood the reason for Holo’s anger.

  What was worse, it was evidently something so obvious that they had half given up on him, leaving him alone to ponder his mistakes.

  Lawrence felt like an apprentice who had been left to stand outside because he was unable to do as he was told.

  As he saw Ragusa and Col talking with Holo, that feeling grew more and more pronounced.

  No—that was it exactly, with Holo conspicuously avoiding looking in his direction, and Col and Ragusa occasionally sneaking furtive glances.

  When they realized Lawrence was looking back at them, he could tell, even at that distance, that they shrugged and smiled.

  Holo dragged Col out from under Ragusa’s arm, self-indulgently petting the boy’s head and hugging him.

  Lawrence could tell Col was getting flustered, but as soon as Col glanced at Lawrence, the latter could do nothing but look away, frowning.

  He was being made fun of.

  But strangely, Lawrence didn’t feel bad—not even when being laughed at by Ragusa and Col as well as Holo.

  Not long ago, right up until he had met Holo, he’d believed that once a merchant’s reputation was damaged, regaining it was no simple task.

  So he’d stuck out his chest, put on airs, told lies, and trusted no one.

  And he realized that that behavior was exactly the same as what came to mind when he looked at Col.

  When Lawrence had proposed to buy Col’s sheaf of paper, Col had glared resentfully at him, as though refusing
to be forced into selling it cheaply.

  Such an action was worse than useless—it made Col look cheap and unsightly, yet Lawrence knew fully well that he himself had been captive to the same behavior until recently.

  No wonder Holo teases me, he murmured inwardly, grabbing a handful of his own hair.

  He started to question whether he was even a full-fledged merchant.

  Holo clearly saw him as a conceited, self-absorbed youngster.

  He couldn’t help but smile.

  Though he had been so starved for company that he’d begun to wish his horse would talk, becoming close to others really was this simple.

  Lawrence wondered if the people he’d met so far had looked at him with the same indulgent smile with which Holo and Ragusa looked at the stubborn Col.

  And yet—

  “All this said, this doesn’t tell me what the right answer is,” said Lawrence to himself, sighing.

  Ragusa and Col left Holo to get some of the wine that was going around.

  Col must have had a bad experience with liquor in the past, because even from a distance, it was obvious he didn’t like it, but Ragusa still hung drunkenly on to the boy.

  Col had left the pack that he was carrying there by Lawrence; he took the distilled wine out of it.

  Lawrence had chosen the strong distilled liquor in anticipation of the cold night aboard the boat, where it would be impossible to light a fire—but he expected Holo’s reasoning was a bit different.

  She had probably been thinking of something strange when she happily smacked Lawrence—but what?

  The riddles piled up one after another.

  Lawrence’s confidence that he had a better-than-average mind steadily eroded, but such pathetic thoughts lasted only a moment.

  A cry arose, and suddenly there on the twilit riverbank bloomed a large fireball.

  No—not a fireball, Lawrence realized, but the bonfire made of discarded rags and broken barrels flared up so fast once lit that it was an easy mistake to make.

  Someone had to have thrown oil on it.

  The thick black smoke rose into the air like a skull, the yellow flames crackling.

  On a winter journey, where there was a fire, the words friend and enemy had no meaning.