“Of course not, you fool,” said his traveling companion Holo as she sat beside him. Her hair fluttered in the wind, brushing the corner of his eye and making it itch most unpleasantly. When he looked over at her profile, those were the words that greeted him. “You humans show your feelings on your face. We wolves show them with our fur. That I must curl my tail about Col every night lest he cry from the cold only makes it more so,” she said with a displeased sigh, all the while tidying the fur before her.
It was no sash or wrap, but entirely her own: the fur of her tail.
Holo looked to be a girl in her teens, but her true form was that of a giant wolf, big enough to devour Lawrence in a single bite. A wolf who dwelled in the wheat and guaranteed its bountiful harvest.
As such, whenever she pulled back the hood over her head, two proudly pointed wolf ears appeared.
Although at first he had been unable to conceal his considerable fear of her, now it was not so. Though she was someone he would do well to never underestimate, she was nonetheless irreplaceable, his most treasured traveling companion.
“Is that so? It’s so lovely that one such as I would never notice a flaw in it, so…”
His obvious flattery was delivered in a deadpan monotone, which earned him a stomp on his foot. But her tail still puffed up happily, which was why he had to resort to such childish tactics.
At length, they both sighed at the foolishness to which they had each sunk. The only reason they had resorted to repeating such familiar patterns was that there in the wagon, there was nothing else to do.
“Is there nothing amusing we might play at?” There was not, of course, which was why Holo normally busied herself with either tail grooming or napping, curled up, in the wagon bed.
Lawrence thought about it for a moment, then replied. “There certainly are quite a few boats heading downriver,” he said, pointing at the river. Holo, resting her chin in her hands and her elbows on Lawrence’s lap, looked listlessly to the river, then back up at Lawrence.
“When so many boats head downriver, you would think the number of boats left upriver decreases, and the waters downriver would be crowded. But it’s not so—why do you suppose that is?”
Lawrence heard Holo murmur a small “Huh?”
Holo called herself wisewolf and took pride in the quickness of her wits. At Lawrence’s question, she looked again at the river, then at Lawrence.
“Why do you suppose that is?” he asked again, looking at Holo out of the corner of one eye, squinted against the cold, whereupon Holo drew in her chin in consternation. “Hmmmm…,” she moaned thoughtfully.
It was the sort of teasing a bored master would often inflict on his apprentice.
For such teasing to succeed, it was necessary for the mark to have confidence in their own intelligence. Then you would simply ask them an obvious question.
If ships only traveled downstream, then there would soon be no ships upriver, while downriver the waters would be jammed with ships.
Which meant there could only be one answer.
“I-I know,” said Holo.
“Oh?” replied Lawrence, facing forward. He gave the horse a flick of the reins to stop it from grazing on some grass, as though inviting Holo to give him her answer.
“A ship heading downriver is the same as a load of lumber, is it not?”
“Meaning?”
“Mm. Meaning that when the ships reach the sea, they’re either broken up for lumber, or they continue on across the ocean. Coming from upriver, they satisfy a demand both for ships and for lumber itself, as well as transporting other goods. Three birds with one stone.”
It was a reasonable answer. When she had begun speaking, Holo’s face had been uncertain, but by the time she arrived at the end of her argument, her face was quite proud, as if to say, “How about that, eh?”
Lawrence disguised his laugher with a cough. “Not even close,” he said. “The answer is that the ships are pulled back upriver. They go and come back. Obvious, isn’t it?”
Upon hearing this, Holo wore an expression like that of a tricked puppy.
“The point is, the most complicated answer isn’t always the right one,” said Lawrence, poking the betrayed-looking Holo between her eyebrows. His hands were covered by thick deerskin gloves he had received from Hugues, so he had nothing to fear.
Holo slapped his hand away and bared her sharp fangs.
Lawrence laughed, at which she turned away peevishly, with not a shred of the majesty befitting a wisewolf.
“Of course, depending on the season, sometimes what you suggested does happen. But in that case, it’s usually a raft. And the riverbank here, see how it’s so free of reeds and such? Since there’s so much shipping traffic, and they have to pull all those ships back upriver, the banks are kept clear to make it easy for horses to pull the ropes attached to the ships.”
Because of the heavy shipping traffic, when ships were hauled back upriver, downriver traffic was limited and largely tied up. Given that, at the moment, no ships were visible either up- or downriver, it was likely that they would not encounter one at all during this particular journey.
If they ran into a ship being taken back upriver by a hauling party, they might have had a grand time—the hauling parties were loud and boisterous affairs.
Lawrence explained this, at which Holo heaved a great sigh. “’Tis a pity, then, such a pity!” she grumbled. If half of her grumbling was from frustration at having been fooled by Lawrence, the other half was out of genuine disappointment—from their earlier travels down this very river, she had personal experience of just how hearty its travelers could be. “As we’ve so much fine wine, and all…”
Lawrence laughed unhesitatingly at this murmur, and Holo, too, giggled mischievously. But the sound of their laughter soon disappeared into the wind that blew across the river.
This trouble that had started their journey together had been only a few months earlier, but already it felt like the distant past.
Time had passed quickly—and it could not be wound back.
A smile continued to play across Holo’s lips, and she looked quietly toward the river.
If nothing was eternal, there was no point in making a dour expression. Lawrence knew that, and yet could not help himself.
Lawrence attempted to put his arm around Holo, but it was nothing less than Holo’s own hand that stopped him.
“Mm. I suppose ’twould not be so bad to nestle myself in your bosom now, but…” Taking hold of the index finger of his gloved hand, she placed it back on his lap. It was not as though she was chiding a light-fingered urchin, but her face was still rather serious. “I’m worried about that,” said Holo, bringing her face near to Lawrence’s shoulder and lightly inclining her chin toward the wagon bed.
Lawrence was not so naive as to believe that Holo had suddenly wanted to be close to him so badly that she had decided to do her tail grooming in the driver’s seat next to him, as opposed to her normal spot in the wagon bed.
He knew the boy was of an essentially mild nature, and that given his druthers would prefer sitting happily next to someone rather than keeping to himself in deep contemplation. But ever since their stay in Kerube, he seemed to have something quietly on his mind.
“He hasn’t said anything to you, either, then?”
“Nay. I know it started when he talked to that fool girl.” Holo seemed more dissatisfied than worried.
“That fool girl” surely referred to Fran, and if she had had some kind of effect on Col, that had to be the answer. The walls of Hugues’s shop and home were not so thick as to prevent Holo’s sharp ears from listening in on any secret conversations that happened within them.
If she had only listened carefully, she would have been able to hear what they had said, Lawrence was about to point out, when Holo pinched his thigh. “I’m Holo, a proud wisewolf. Don’t mistake me for some gossipy little bint.”
“Fine, fine, all right! Sorry.”
Hol
o squinted at Lawrence, then finally let go of his thigh. Still, when she looked ahead, her lips thin and sharp, she could not help but spit out her weakness. “Can he not rely upon me, then?”
Lawrence know Holo well enough to know when she was joking. It was her amber eyes, more than anything else, that reflected her heart. Usually red tinged with the force of her triumphant pride, when downcast, they looked like brittle honey candy about to break.
Holo had suffered the despair of being unneeded by anyone for centuries. No doubt their exchange after speaking with Fran about the map was also contributing to this.
Lawrence looked back into the wagon bed and replied with a light tone, “Meeting the right person can change you. Or would you prefer he stay a boy forever?”
Even a chick sleeping beneath its mother’s wing would one day have to fly on its own. Much less Col, who had left his village with such great determination. He knew the smell of dust and dirt too well to let Holo fuss over him forever. And Lawrence was well aware that Holo was not so self-centered as to actually begrudge Col his maturity.
Still looking ahead, Holo sighed a long, quiet exhalation. Then, as her face passed through the white fog of her breath, she tilted her head in irritation and glared back at Lawrence resentfully. “That’s why I’ve kept quiet, isn’t it?”
Lawrence did not shrink away. Instead, he let it pass lightly by, replying with deliberate politeness. “Oh, indeed.”
Holo punched Lawrence’s thigh with a balled-up fist. But instead of bringing her hand back up, she left it there, resting on his leg. “But I’m no god.”
She spoke the words sullenly, her eyes upturned in far too human a manner to be thought of as a deity of any holiness or special sanctity.
Of course, merchants preferred their wine a little muddied.
Lawrence took Holo’s hand. “Oh, indeed,” he repeated.
This time, though, Holo was not angry at all. She leaned her head on his shoulder.
* * *
Holo was not of the disposition to forcibly pry into the concerns of others, though this was true of Lawrence as well. And yet, she tended to fret over things more than others, which made for a delicate atmosphere.
She was quick of wit and mean-spirited at times, which could make her seem selfish. But the truth was not so: She simply was not the type who always needed to add her unasked-for thoughts, nor did she constantly offer her opinion when someone else was having problems.
She did not mind coming to someone’s aid, though—quite the contrary, she enjoyed it. However, she was a reserved sort and would not offer help when it was not requested. Ever since their duo had become a trio and Lawrence had gotten the opportunity to see Holo interacting with someone else, he had realized that about her.
Of course, once Lawrence realized this through her disposition toward Col, and began to wonder if it might be the case toward himself as well, there was an abundance of clues. Though she had so often bullied him for being insensitive, once he realized the truth of the matter, he concluded that he truly had been insensitive.
It was not exactly out of penance for this, but nonetheless Lawrence had taken to serving Holo slightly more generous portions at mealtime.
Holo, of course, noticed the deliberately larger servings and made a sour face as though to say, “You needn’t bother.”
Thus, their travels had proceeded a bit more awkwardly and silently than usual, only regaining their liveliness once they encountered a group of fishermen pulling fish up onto the riverbank.
“There, pull!” To the rhythmic booming of a drum they pulled, many men hauling a great net that had been spread out over the river. There were also men facing the net, beating the surface of the water with sticks, and men in traveling clothes similar to Lawrence’s party, bent over and looking down at the catch on the riverbank.
As the river belonged to the local landlord, one could not simply take fish from it as one pleased. Among the fishermen here were more than a few soldiers armed with short spears, grim faced and carrying some sort of parchment, counting the fishes that had been caught in the nets and brought ashore. The fish were then tossed into barrels and buckets that had been readied in wagon beds. Said barrels and buckets were then marked with lime chalk, and once they were full, the wagons rolled off.
Given that the river was so heavily trafficked, they had probably chosen this place to fish because it was far removed from any towns. Lawrence looked upstream and saw a checkpoint, and it seemed that ships were being stopped to let the fishing continue.
The net became heavier as it was dragged, and both the beat of the drum and the shouts of the men grew louder in response. Lawrence glanced back into his own wagon bed and saw that Col and Holo both had stood and were watching the fishing with intense interest, their fists clenched.
With one last, great cry from the men, the net, twitching as though filled with huge catfish, was finally hauled ashore. The fish seemed large, despite the cold season. Perhaps the marine life did not have to worry much about food, given what food fell overboard from all the passing ships.
There was a loud shout of triumph, and the net haulers all swarmed around the catch.
In addition to the noise of the fishermen all vying to be the first, the officials’ angry shouts and the onlookers’ cries of delight were intermixed—it was a great commotion. There was the thrashing about of the fish, too, and the sound of them being tossed into the waiting barrels, and then the sound of the filled wagons pulling away. It was a pleasant, comforting tumult.
After so long on the constantly cold landscape seemingly devoid of any living thing, this was the first obvious sign of life and liveliness they had seen in some time.
Perhaps that was why everyone watching seemed so pleased, even relieved.
As the last wagon pulled away, spontaneous applause broke out, and even Holo and Col began to clap happily, despite not exactly understanding.
Lawrence plucked a scrap of jerky from the wagon bed and regarded the pair. “Hey, you two. You’d best make ready.”
“Mm? Make ready?” Holo and Col alike looked down at him.
“I declare this fishing expedition concluded! By the charity of Lord Osborne, the remaining fish shall be given to the people!” announced one of the officials in a loud voice, his spear tip raised high.
At this, those who had been sitting here and there around the edge of the riverbank, gazing at the fish, sprung to their feet, as if they had been waiting for this moment. When they reached the river, there were many fish still opening and closing their mouths.
The region’s landlord must have concluded that sparing the people a small share of fish would prevent them from trying to poach from the river. Presented with such readily available stock, even a group of travelers on pilgrimage would snatch them up all too happily.
Men and women alike hitched up the hems of their robes, cast off their overcoats, and gathered up great armfuls of fish. Holo and Col looked at each other, then immediately kicked their shoes off and sprinted barefoot toward the riverbank. Holo seemed not even to care that her tail was briefly visible.
Lawrence watched the pair with a happily exasperated expression on his face, then plucked a tendon free from his jerky. He tossed the inedible bit aside before joining a group around a bonfire to get some warmth.
That evening dinner came early, with the freshly caught fish covered in salt and roasted over the fire. Holo and Col devoured fish as though they were competing to see who could feast the best. It was not very mannerly, but in that moment, it was a joyous meal nonetheless.
Once he visited a town on his trade route, Lawrence would generally not see it again for a year. That had been his life, and he had largely expected it to continue that way.
So it was strange to not only see Kerube again, but also now Lenos, after not so very great a span of time had passed.
“Though you’re not so angry this time,” said Lawrence, tucking the letter of introduction he had received from Hugues in
to his breast pocket.
Given the luxurious goods in the wagon bed, passing legitimately through the town gates would have involved paying a hefty tax, but Hugues had not failed to take that into account. He had dropped the name of a lord he was close with, and in the letter asked for the taxation amount to be adjusted.
Perhaps because the goods he dealt with were of such high value, Hugues seemed to wield significant influence. Once the letter was recognized as genuine, the officials at the gate quickly turned polite.
However, just as Lawrence expected to be sent on his way, they insisted rather formidably on conducting a thorough inspection of the goods he was carrying.
Thus it was that Holo’s tail had been once again referred to as “a cheap fur” by an inspector.
“I can’t go getting angry at every little slight. And anyway, fatigue has made my tail most unkempt, so I’ve no leg to stand on, really.” She yawned hugely, then sighed. Perhaps she had decided that being quick to anger was beneath her dignity as a wisewolf, or perhaps she truly was fatigued—either way, Holo slumped in the driver’s seat. The only one among them with any energy was Col, for whom this visit to the town of Lenos was his first.
Of course, in Holo’s case, her fatigue was likely less physical than it was mental. The sudden opportunity to participate in the fish-taking had gotten her strangely excited, and thereafter she had gotten out of the wagon bed many times, choosing instead to walk. Lawrence half joked that she might as well transform into her true form and enjoy her walk that way, but the serious, considering look on her face stopped him short.
She might have been trying to make Col laugh, but another part of that look was surely genuine.
Lawrence knew she would be angry if he pointed this out, so he pretended not to notice, though in the cloudless night, sometimes Holo arched her back as though she ached to howl.
It would not have been strange at all for her to want to howl with all her might, once in a while, and run until her legs would no longer carry her.