Spice and Wolf, Vol. 6

  “Don’t forget, though—,” began Lawrence, at which Holo looked up at him, her expression serious. “—I am a merchant. I have my pride and my honor, but I’m not some knight who earns money only to bring himself fame. If it seems as though this will only worsen my losses, we’ll pursue her no further. Do you understand?”

  If it would lengthen his travels with Holo, Lawrence would put off doing business until the summer of next year, but if it took any longer than that, problems would start popping up. Business was conducted in the service of mutual gain between parties, so if Lawrence alone was the only one ready to deal, nothing would come of it.

  Of course, it would be a different story if only Holo would say that she wanted to travel with him forever.

  “I do this only for you,” said Holo. “So long as you are satisfied…aye. It cannot be helped.”

  Her words were strange, but Lawrence nodded. “I appreciate it,” he said by way of thanks to an oddly considerate Holo.

  Holo’s ears flicked up beneath her hood, either because of the ridiculousness of the exchange or out of happiness at having fought the good fight in service of drawing out their travels a little longer.

  Actually it was probably both.

  “Well then, how shall we go about this pursuit?” said Lawrence.

  “How? Will we not go by wagon?” asked Holo.

  Lawrence scratched the tip of his nose as he answered. “It will take perhaps five days by wagon. Do you think you can endure that?”

  When they’d finally arrived in this town, Holo had been so tired from travel that it made her unpleasant to be around.

  Embarking again on a long, frigid journey would be exhausting, and Lawrence himself did not find the prospect appealing.

  Unsurprisingly, Holo’s face immediately darkened. “Ugh…five days on the wagon…”

  “There are a scattering of villages between here and there—and inns, too, but they’re far from luxurious.”

  Churches would have made the most attractive places to stay on a trip like this, but unfortunately this was one region where churches were hard to find.

  The only options would be meager inns or homes and shops that took boarders as a sideline.

  Lawrence did not relish the prospect of sleeping in a dusty, grimy inn next to a man that might well be a brigand or bandit.

  “W-well, if that’s so, then what of the river?”

  “The river?”

  “Aye. If that vixen escaped by the river, we ought follow her. ’Tis the most obvious course.”

  That meant taking a ship. Lawrence cocked his head as he remembered the state of the docks as Holo had dragged him past them.

  Would it be possible for a couple of travelers to easily board a ship heading downriver?

  “Well, that depends on whether there’s a ship—,” began Lawrence honestly, but Holo waved her hand (which still held Lawrence’s) impatiently.

  “Not ‘whether’! We will find one!”

  Lawrence stared at Holo as if to say, “Don’t be unreasonable,” but her eyes only glittered strangely.

  He had a bad feeling about this.

  Lawrence tried to escape.

  But Holo only cornered him again. “Or is my plan…too much trouble?”

  This time she really was looking up at him imploringly.

  “If ’tis too much of a bother, do please say so. ’Tis only for your sake that I wish to track down that vixen, but…I know that from time to time, I do act a bit rashly. Come now,” said Holo, taking Lawrence’s hand and clasping it to her breast.

  He was glad she was back to her usual self, but it made her all the more formidable.

  After all, she had acquired a new weapon.

  “I was so happy, you see,” said Holo, her tone suddenly soft and her eyes now downcast.

  Alas! thought Lawrence to himself as he gazed at her terrifying mien.

  “I was so happy, yes—happy that you said you loved me. So please—”

  “Fine, fine! We’ll find a boat and head downriver! Will that be enough?”

  Holo wore an expression of exaggerated surprise, then smiled broadly.

  She brought his hand from her breast to her lips, as if to kiss it, but then her sharp teeth glinted from behind those lips.

  Lawrence had lost this contest, it was safe to say.

  It was no exaggeration to call this an unavoidably desperate strategy, but there is always a reward for those willing to put such a desperate strategy into action.

  And so it was.

  He had spoken plainly to Holo.

  It was precisely because he had been so honest that opposing her was now impossible.

  It was as though he had handed her a completely unsecured contract sealed in blood.

  With that in hand as she grinned, all she needed to do was pretend at using it to defeat him, and Lawrence could only flinch away.

  After all, what was written on that contract was the truth.

  “Well then, shall we hurry and pack our things?” Holo asked, lowering her hand.

  “…What?” Lawrence asked back.

  “We are going to the trouble of traveling by ship,” replied Holo, her face serious. “Do you not wish to eat some wheaten bread first?”

  Lawrence flatly rejected the notion.

  Holo protested violently, but Lawrence was unmoved.

  She might have a grip upon his reins, but his purse strings were still his own. “Did I not just explain that we’ve taken a loss?”

  “All the more reason, then! If we’re already in the red, we may as well drive the figure up!”

  “What sort of reasoning is that?!” said Lawrence.

  Holo’s lip curled as she sneered. “I thought you loved me.”

  Even the strongest weapon, if overused, could be defended against.

  “Aye, that’s true. But I also love money,” replied Lawrence seriously.

  Immediately Holo’s expression went flat, and she stomped on Lawrence’s foot with all her might.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ahoy there, you fool! Pull in that prow! I’m carrying silver from Imidra!”

  “What’s that? We were here first! You pull in your prow!”

  Angry shouts echoed constantly across the water as hulls collided and sent sprays of water into the air.

  Lenos’s harbor buzzed like an angry beehive. Lawrence heard a shout that might have been a war cry or might have been a death howl, followed by the sound of something splashing into the water.

  The normally calm surface of the water was constantly disturbed by waves.

  And there amid the angry cries of horses and men, ships fought to leave the harbor ahead of one another, each no doubt loaded heavy with furs. Any boat that could normally take a single rower was being hired out as a special express.

  It was easy to understand, though—in any business, the biggest profits were always realized by the first to arrive.

  But Lawrence regarded their struggles with cold eyes.

  The first to arrive would be a certain fallen noblewoman bearing thousands of silver pieces’ worth of furs.

  “Come, do not stand there gawping—we must find a ship!”

  “I suppose it’s a bit late to ask, but are you quite all right aboard a ship?”

  Given the situation, it would take some luck to find a vessel that was willing to take on a couple of casual passengers. The line of ships waiting to exit the harbor was like an ant trail.

  “You were the one who said the wagon would take too much time and be too much trouble.”

  “Well, yes, but…”

  Lawrence couldn’t see anything, but loud voices seemed to be coming from the place where the harbor exited to the river.

  It seemed likely that those who wanted to stop the flow of furs from the town were trying to seal off the port.

  “…”

  “What?” Lawrence asked.

  “You’re in no hurry to board.”

  “No, that’s not it.”


  Even a child could tell he was lying. Holo raised one eyebrow as she glared at him. “Well, then let us find a vessel.”

  Since it had been quickly apparent that finding a craft that could take a horse downriver would be difficult, Lawrence had left his horse at a vacant stable whose beasts had all been rented out. The wagon he rented out at the docks through a connection of the stable master’s.

  Like it or not, they would no longer be traveling by wagon.

  And as the port town of Kerube would be crawling with merchants passing the winter there, he might well be able to do some business there.

  Oh well, Lawrence murmured inwardly. “Fine, fine. I’ll go find a boat. You go pick up some food from that stall over there. Three days’ worth should be enough. And wine—the stronger the better.”

  He handed Holo two glimmering silver pieces from his coin purse.

  “And what of wheat bread?”

  Holo had a good grasp of the market and knew that the amount she’d been given wouldn’t buy wheat bread.

  “Bread needs yeast to make it rise. So, too, does money to buy that bread.”

  “…”

  Wheat bread had been out of the question after the conversation in the inn.

  Though Holo gave a frustrated nod, her frustration was not especially deep.

  She quickly looked up again. “Why then the strong liquor?”

  Evidently she had figured out that Lawrence generally preferred wine that was easy to drink. It made him happy that she was remembering his likes and dislikes and not only at the tailors’ and cobblers’ shops.

  His reply, though, was brief; he did not let his pleasure show. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

  Holo stared at him blankly for a moment, then seemed pleased as she smacked his arm. Surely she had misunderstood. “I’ll haggle them down and be sure to load up on the good stuff, then, eh?”

  “We don’t need it in volume.”

  “Aye. Shall we meet back up somewhere around there?”

  “Yes…ouch—!” Lawrence nodded, but the movement caused the swelling where Eve had struck him to suddenly throb with pain.

  He was just agonizing over whether he should have a medicine or salve mixed for it when he noticed Holo’s expression and thought better of it.

  She was worried about him—perhaps it was better that way.

  “…Your thoughts are quite obvious,” Holo said.

  “I was taught as a child that honesty is a virtue.”

  “And do you really think so?” Holo gave him a bright, guileless smile and cocked her head.

  “I suppose my master also taught me that honesty is a fool’s errand.”

  Holo chuckled through her nose, then teased, “So much so that I can’t help making fun of you.” She spun about with a dancer’s grace, then walked off into the crowd.

  Lawrence slumped and sighed, scratching his head.

  A smile rose to his lips; these tête-à-têtes were a joy, it was true.

  And yet, he thought, will I never regain the upper hand, I wonder?

  He was confident he could at least get back the deed that had been swindled away, but that seemed like sour grapes.

  I love you.

  It had been only a short while ago, yet already the moment when he’d faced Holo and spoken those words seemed like the distant past. Thinking back on it, Lawrence was tormented by some nameless feeling.

  The strange emotion made his face twitch and his breathing labored.

  And yet—it was not a bad feeling.

  The elusive thing had a definite sense of calmness, of peace about it.

  It was only a bit—no, a good bit—embarrassing; the bit of regret he felt probably came from having lost the contest.

  “What contest?” he asked himself with a derisive smile, looking in the direction in which Holo had disappeared.

  He shrugged and sighed, then walked in the direction of the pier.

  Lawrence soon found a ship, which was possibly fortunate and certainly unexpected.

  Though the port was jammed with people desperate to send out a vessel, when Lawrence calmed himself and looked more closely, he saw that there were many ships loading up cargo per the usual routine, and when he called out to one, he received a ready reply. With every ship being so busy, Lawrence expected the fares to be exorbitant, but they were actually quite reasonable.

  Lawrence pretended not to notice the tension melt away from the aged captain’s face when he mentioned his female companion.

  He understood why Eve went to such efforts to hide her face and her sex when doing business.

  “Still, what business could you have in Kerube? No respectable boat will be headed there in this season.”

  The captain had the unfamiliar name of Ibn Ragusa and explained that he was from a poor, chilly village at the northern end of the western coastline.

  By repute, people from the far north were lean and snow tanned, taciturn and keen eyed, but Ragusa was round and effusive with a complexion more ruddy than tan.

  “Unsurprisingly, it has to do with the fur trade.”

  “Oh?” Ragusa looked Lawrence up and down skeptically, cocking his head, his neck imperceptible between beefy shoulders. “You don’t look like you have any cargo.”

  “My onetime business partner made off with it.” Lawrence pointed to the still-swollen part of his face. Ragusa laughed with gusto, his face looking for all the world like a puffer fish.

  He slapped Lawrence’s shoulder as if to say such things happen, then asked, “So, where is this companion of yours?”

  “Ah, she’s off buying rations—,” Lawrence began, turning in the direction of the row of venders—but then he felt a presence at his side.

  There was Holo, standing as though she had been there for years.

  “—And here she is.”

  “Oh ho! Such a fine cargo!” boomed Ragusa with a clap of his hands, so loudly that Holo’s shoulders flinched.

  Sailors, as a rule, were a loud-voiced lot.

  Too loud, no doubt, for Holo, whose hearing was so keen she could hear the sound of someone furrowing his brow.

  “By the by, what’s her name?”

  Perhaps thinking they were a married couple, Ragusa asked Lawrence rather than inquiring of Holo directly.

  In any case, he was nothing like the moneychanger that had once tried to seduce Holo immediately upon meeting her.

  A bag holding bread or the like hung from Holo’s shoulder, and under an arm, she carried a small cask. Looking every inch the apprentice nun returning from an errand, she looked up at Lawrence.

  That she was keeping up appearances in front of other people was one of the reasons, Lawrence mused, that even if she teased him, he would be unable to be angry with her.

  “It’s Holo.”

  “Ho! A fine name! Pleased to meet you. I’m Ragusa, master of the Roam River!”

  Any man would be eager to boast in front of such a comely maiden.

  Ragusa spoke as though it was the most obvious thing in the world for such a girl to be traveling with Lawrence, and he extended his meaty, calloused hand out in greeting. “But this means we’ll be sure to make the passage downriver safely, too!”

  “Meaning…?”

  Ragusa grinned and guffawed, patting Holo’s slender shoulder. “The market’s declared that it should be a beautiful maiden that’s fitted to a ship’s prow to pray for her safety!”

  It was true that the prows of long-distance trading ships were generally decorated with a carving of a female figure.

  Sometimes they represented a pagan goddess; other times, they were of a sainted woman from the Church’s history. (Lawrence did have the sense that it was always a woman that watched over a ship, and ships were often given female names as well.)

  Still, he felt like Holo was a bit out of her depth in this capacity—she was a wolf, better suited to hearing prayers for safe overland travel than any sort of waterborne voyage.

  The image of Holo dog-pad
dling through the water came to mind; Lawrence couldn’t help but smile slightly to himself.

  “So, are you ready? We’re not scheming to move fur like everybody else is, but we do have some cargo that needs to be hurried,” said Ragusa.

  “Ah, er, yes. Were you able to procure food?” Lawrence asked of Holo, who nodded.

  Given that she was a wolf, Holo was awfully good at playing the innocent little lamb.

  “Then go ahead and sit anywhere that’s free. You’ll pay up when we get there.”

  The custom of paying upon arrival was only tenable for water vessels—being surrounded by water made riding for free difficult.

  “Just pretend you’re riding on a great ship,” finished Ragusa with a great laugh, every inch the sailor.

  Among the vessels that plied the river, carrying cargo up and down it, Ragusa’s was a bit on the small side.

  It had no sails, and the bottom was flat—but despite that, the boat was rather slender and long. Had it been any narrower, it would have been easy for an inexperienced captain to accidentally capsize it.

  Directly in the middle of the boat was a waist-high pile of burlap sacks, each of which was easily big enough to fit Holo inside. From their overflowing mouths, Lawrence could tell they were filled with wheat and legumes.

  Directly astern of that pile were several wooden crates.

  Since Lawrence could hardly open them up and peek inside, he couldn’t say for sure what their contents were, but given the seals or crests that had been branded upon the crates—which were all of a similar size—he assumed they were relatively valuable. This was certainly the cargo that needed to be hurried. Like any merchant, Lawrence found himself curious about what they contained.

  If the crates had been brought from farther upriver, they could contain ore out of a silver or copper mine or perhaps small-value coins minted near an iron mine and destined for export. Tin or iron wouldn’t have been so carefully crated, and it would be equally strange to transport gemstones without so much as a single guard.

  Owing to the low level of the river, the amount of cargo aboard the vessel was quite small relative to its capacity.

  There was little rainfall during this season, and thanks to heavy snowfall in the mountains, the river’s headwaters were frozen over. This caused the water level to drop and made it easier for a heavily laden boat to run aground. Just as a wagon’s wheels could be easily mired in a muddy road on a rainy day, a boat running aground was a fact of life. In the worst of such cases, cargo would have to be thrown overboard, and worst of all, it was an obstruction to other shipping traffic, which could damage the reputation of the ship-master responsible.