Spice and Wolf, Vol. 5 Page 15

  It was for only the barest moment that Lawrence thought she was being her usual teasing self.

  He found himself surprised at Holo’s words, at how obviously she wished to turn back time as she became more conscious of the journey’s approaching end.

  Holo seemed to be always looking far to the future, but that was not actually true.

  And yet, Lawrence was touched that it wasn’t to the happy times centuries earlier when she first arrived at her village that she wanted to return, nor was it to the time before then, before she began her journey at all.

  She had taken hold of him with her left hand. Though it embarrassed him, he curled his fingers around hers as he spoke. “You might be well returning to that time, but for my part, I’d collapse from overwork.”

  Holo drew closer to him as they descended the stairs. “Worry not, for I would be there at your deathbed,” she said with a malicious smile, which Lawrence could only answer with a tired smile of his own.

  It was on the way to the first floor that Lawrence realized her words were not entirely a joke.

  If Holo was to say that the search for her homeland could be postponed, Lawrence would certainly die before she did. If Holo’s journey didn’t end, their journey as a pair surely would.

  Lawrence suddenly felt like he understood her reasons for not answering when, back in Tereo, he’d asked what her plans were after they reached her homeland.

  Such thoughts occupied his mind when they reached the first floor, and Holo let go of his hand. Lawrence was not bold enough to feel comfortable entering a room while holding a girl’s hand, even if that girl was Holo. At the same time, though, he did not want to be the one that let go. Her accommodation for his feelings warmed his heart.

  It was as though she was answering the question of what would happen when they reached her homeland.

  The feeling helped him muster more than his usual amount of gravitas when he greeted Eve and Arold, who were already there. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “Well then, shall we begin?” asked Eve in her hoarse voice.

  “So, what did you learn from your poking about?” Eve asked.

  There was no need to introduce Holo.

  What was visible of her face beneath the cloak and her posture and movements on the chair spoke volumes.

  Eve’s somewhat utilitarian manner was not unreasonable. Selling Holo was not, after all, their ultimate objective, but her affectation was a bit miserly nonetheless.

  “I learned that you did indeed sell statues to the Church, that you parted on bad terms, and that fur sales are going to be restricted to cash,” said Lawrence, watching Eve carefully for her response. This was a fundamental negotiation tactic.

  But on that count, Eve was skilled enough at hiding her face that Lawrence’s eyes could not discern much, and he did not expect to learn anything. It was like warming up before hard exercise.

  “Based on my experience and intuition as a merchant, I believe that what you’ve told me is all true, Eve.”

  “Oh?” came her disinterested, hoarse voice. She seemed to be well accustomed to negotiation.

  “But there is one thing I am worried about.”

  “Which would be?”

  “The reason for your angry split with the Church.”

  There was nothing more pointless than asking that of her, but Lawrence had decided he would try to compare Eve’s answer to the information he had already gathered. If it wasn’t consistent, he’d know she was lying.

  Holo, sitting next to him, could probably also tell whether she was being honest, but relying on Holo to do this was no different than treating her as an oracle. No, if Eve’s answer didn’t agree with what he was thinking, cutting her off would be the best course.

  After all, they would be selling Holo off based on Lawrence’s judgment, so the responsibility to make that judgment fell wholly to him, he felt.

  “The reason for my split? I suppose you would wonder about that,” said Eve, clearing her throat.

  He knew her mind would be racing.

  Whatever the undesirable outcome of Lawrence withdrawing from the deal might be, it would most certainly mean the failure of the plan.

  She was surely trying to guess at what he had seen and heard around town today.

  If she was going to lie, her chances of matching up with whatever information Lawrence had gathered today were almost nil.

  “The bishop of the church here is a relic of the good old days, a past he can’t forget,” began Eve. “He’s ambitious. In his younger days, he came here as a missionary, enduring hellish hardship, and what got him through it was his goal of becoming powerful and influential. He wants to establish a cathedral here. In other words, he wants to be an archbishop.”

  “An archbishop—” The word was practically synonymous with power.

  Eve nodded and continued. “As I said before, I may have fallen into disgrace, but I’m nobility. When I began searching this area for good business opportunities, I heard tell of a bishop turning an untoward profit. It was the bishop here. At the time, he was using a trade company as a front and using tithes to get in on the fur trade, but in the end, he just shut himself up in his church and counted figures. He was getting deeper and deeper in the red. So I proposed a way to kill two birds with one stone.”

  “And that would be the statue trade.”

  “Exactly. And I didn’t just sell him statues. I’m nobility of the kingdom of Winfiel, after all. I can still speak to those in power. I put him in contact with the archbishop there, whose power base is unshakable.”

  Lawrence found himself nodding internally.

  If that was true, then the statues were probably made by the same traveling stonemasons that the archbishop brought together to maintain his cathedral. Once the repairs to the intricate masonry of a cathedral were complete, they would normally either move on to another town or do piecemeal work.

  But even so, the amount of certain types of work is limited, which can be a source of friction between groups of masons in an area. And ironically, it was the itinerant stonemasons, who spent time polishing their skills, who were by far the most capable, and they were the only ones who could handle the maintenance on the intricate stonework of the cathedrals.

  So in towns that had a cathedral, whenever it required repair, the local stoneworkers worried about having their business stolen and being made superfluous.

  Which was how Eve’s business, based as it was on stonework, helped ease that concern.

  It was a bridge between the cathedral that wanted to hire traveling masons only when they were needed, the town, and the traveling masons themselves. Eve was then able to tell the archbishop there that the bishop in Lenos wanted to make his acquaintance and then ultimately make a profit moving stone statues from one town to another.

  It was an ideal situation; one in which all parties profited.

  “I’m glad you understand. That will make this easier to explain. It’s as you’ve said. The reason I contented myself with the thin margins I made by selling statues was because I was counting on the bishop here to become an archbishop. But then—”

  Lawrence could not tell whether the edge that crept into Eve’s voice was an act or a result of her suppressed anger.

  But so far all the facts fit; Eve’s story was all too plausible.

  “As the bishop profited from his deal with me and solidified his position, people around him started to divine what his goal was, and the bishop set about eliminating obstacles. The current affair was just a convenient excuse for him to cut me off. He owed me. He probably thought that the longer I was around, the more unfavorable demands I would make of him. And of course, I had planned to do exactly that. It was my right. But he decided he’d rather deal with an already-established trade firm instead of a single merchant just trying to establish herself. Even I can understand the reasoning, but that doesn’t mean I agree with it.”

  Lawrence mused to himself that anger burned as visibly as an
y flame.

  “So we argued, and we split,” finished Eve.

  Sitting next to Lawrence, Holo was so quiet that it was easy to forget she was there.

  Lawrence went over Eve’s story again in his head.

  It seemed to be entirely consistent. So consistent, in fact, that it made him suspicious.

  If it was a lie, it was a good enough one that he almost wouldn’t mind working with her anyway.

  “I see. So that’s what made it hard for you to turn your statues into cash and why you can’t very well just wait for next year’s northern campaign.”

  Eve’s silence beneath her cowl contrasted starkly with her previous garrulity.

  Lawrence took a slow, quiet breath.

  He closed his eyes.

  If he was going to doubt even this consistent of a story, any other deal would be difficult as well.

  On the other hand, he might just be fooling himself.

  Only merchants, constantly scheming and being schemed upon, had to worry about such things.

  “Understood,” he said, exhaling the breath he had been holding.

  He noticed Eve’s shoulders move ever so slightly.

  He was confident that this wasn’t an act on her part.

  No merchant was capable of remaining completely expressionless in such moments.

  “Let’s discuss the particulars of the deal,” he finished.

  “…Yes, let’s.”

  Lawrence got the sense that in the shadow of her cowl, Eve smiled.

  She extended her hand.

  Lawrence took it; it was trembling ever so slightly.

  Subsequently, Lawrence and Eve with Holo in tow ventured out into the town.

  Their expedition was not to celebrate their newly established contract. Merchants do not celebrate anything until profit is in their hands.

  There was no way of knowing exactly when the Council of Fifty would make their decision public and unleash the rush of merchants trying to monopolize the fur trade, so they needed to secure the necessary cash as quickly as possible.

  So out into the town they went to call upon the trading firm that would lend them the money with Holo as collateral.

  The trading firm was called the Delink Company.

  Though it was situated conveniently close to the port, the building was rather small and had no loading dock.

  The only thing that identified it as a trading company was a small flag hanging unobtrusively in the doorway.

  However, the building’s stone construction was so fine that not even a single hair could slip between the stones, and though it was fully five stories tall, it did not seem to lean against the adjoining buildings.

  As Lawrence examined the flag more closely, which was dimly lit by the flickering light of an oil lamp, he could see that it was an embroidered piece of the highest quality. Set against mist-gray stones, it gave the trading house the presence of a small giant, not some come-lately business.

  Lawrence wondered if this company’s approach to publicity was different from other houses’.

  “I’m Luz Eringin, representative for the Delink Company.”

  Merchants who dealt with different goods had widely varying customs.

  Four men from the Delink Company came out to greet Lawrence and his entourage, each of them dressed fit to represent their company, not a one of them standing out among the others.

  Lawrence had heard that groups dealing in human commodities always had multiple people judge the quality of their goods. These four were no doubt the managers of the company.

  “I am Kraft Lawrence.”

  Lawrence shook hands with Eringin.

  The man’s hands were strangely soft, and a vague smile stuck to his face, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking.

  Sheep merchants had loud voices like a barking dog. So was this the smile of a slave trader?

  Holo shook hands with him next, and his eyes as he regarded her were reptilian—a lizard’s or a snake’s.

  Eve removed her cowl but exchanged no particular greetings. Perhaps this firm had brokered the deal when she had been sold to that newly rich merchant.

  “Do have a seat,” invited Eringin, and they all sat on felt-covered chairs, fine ones, stuffed with cotton. “I have already heard the particulars from the honorable head of the Bolan house.”

  “So let’s not waste time with empty chitchat,” he seemed to be saying.

  Lawrence had no intention of negotiating the price. He knew nothing about the market for young noble girls.

  “I would ask you one thing,” said Eringin. “I have heard that you, Mr. Lawrence, are a member of the Rowen Trade Guild?”

  The three men behind Eringin stood there without so much as twitching, staring at Lawrence.

  While none of them wore any particular expression, they collectively gave off an aura that was altogether unsettling.

  Even Lawrence, well used to signing contracts, felt the pressure.

  Perhaps it was a technique of theirs; having been sold off to this company, one would have a hard time lying to them.

  “Yes,” answered Lawrence briefly, and the oppressive aura of the three men immediately vanished.

  It seemed they truly had been trying to wring the truth out of him.

  “Rowen, then. I do believe Lord Goldens has dealt with you many times. Perhaps it was he from whom I heard yours is a keen-eyed guild.”

  Lawrence couldn’t help being unsettled at the mention of one of the guild’s central figures—even though he knew Eringin brought it up to make Lawrence feel as though escape was impossible.

  “If you’re attached to such a guild, you’re a man to be reckoned with indeed, and your companion is a girl from the nobility. Now, if I might explain what the four of us have decided.”

  Eve said she wanted 2,500 pieces.

  Eringin’s affected smile widened.

  In any world, it was those with money who were strong.

  “Two thousand pieces of trenni silver.”

  It fell short of the goal, but with two thousand in their war chest, the plan would yield incredible success.

  It was all Lawrence could manage not to broadcast the way the strength drained from his nervous body. Eve seemed to be doing likewise.

  She forced her face to be expressionless.

  “Ms. Eve proposed 2,500, but we’re unable to deal in that amount with individual merchants. This is for that…fur business that’s going around, is it not? Thus, in exchange, we will waive our standard commission and lend you the full amount. But as we do not have that much silver on hand at the moment, the remittance will be in the form of sixty gold lumione.”

  A single piece of lumione gold was worth roughly thirty trenni. Lawrence wasn’t sure of the details of Lenos’s marketplace, but when used in exchange for goods besides other currencies, the lumione possessed a singular might.

  Depending on the circumstances, it might garner significantly more fur than two thousand trenni would have.

  But what surprised Lawrence even more was the fact that they were willing to lend the lump sum.

  The mere possession of high-value coins held value. Gold or silver currency was a versatile asset that could be melted down if necessary and was far superior to records of money on paper.

  When one signed one’s name to paper and borrowed money, it was usual to have to pay a fee as well.

  But not this time.

  “That’s generous of you,” murmured Eve.

  “This is an investment,” said Eringin, deepening his smile. “You’re a clever person. You’ve managed to pull profit from the state and arrangement of this town. There is little doubt you will use this success to reach still greater heights, and we wish to share that good luck. And”—he turned to Lawrence—“you are a fortunate man. It was nothing less than good fortune that led you two to meet. And you are not losing yourself to excitement about a deal this large. We believe this is because you’ve become accustomed to good luck. In our business,
the element of fortune is a very important one. Unless one is accustomed to such fortune, one can make mistakes. On that count, we trust you.”

  Even as Lawrence admired the man’s method of estimating value, it did not escape him that the only thing being praised about him was his good luck.

  He tried to decide whether to feel pleased or aggrieved and suddenly got the sense that beside him, Holo was snickering at his expense.

  “Our job is not unlike prospecting for a gold mine. To find partners, we won’t shrink away from investing some money.”

  “So, how are we to accept the money that will silence so many wagging tongues?”

  Eringin smiled at Eve’s question, and for the first time, he seemed sincere. “You’ll be buying up fur from the Arkieh Company, correct? You certainly have a good eye. I would love for you to tell us your secret—”

  “My voice is a bit hoarse these days. Makes it hard to talk,” said Eve.

  It did not sound like a joke. Eve’s words were hard, and Eringin’s words were sly and menacing, like a snake.

  It was a strange conversation, different from any Lawrence had experienced before.

  Of course, there was no need for negotiating parties to get along particularly well, but basic human courtesy was lacking between these two.

  As long as they made their money, each cared not one whit for the other’s welfare.

  It was as obvious as air.

  “The transaction? That will be at your preference.”

  “What do you want to do?” Eve asked, looking at Lawrence for the first time.

  They hadn’t conferred ahead of time, so Lawrence said what came to mind.

  “’Tis hard to sleep with such brightly glittering coins lighting the darkness.” It was Holo’s presence next to him that helped him straighten up a bit and manage a thin smile.

  Eringin made an impressed face, then smiled, shrugging. “A memorable answer! As one handles larger and large amounts of money, one’s pride rises as well. Such freedom makes it easy to become haughty and sarcastic. But your words, modest yet incisive—that is true freedom. We must all learn from your example.”