Spice and Wolf Vol. 14 Page 3

  “When we arrive at the inn, I’ll have the innkeeper make ready hot water and towels. You’ll feel better after washing the dust off.”

  “And fine oil, too.”

  She had learned some time ago that oil was good for combing out her tail, but it was not until trying it at Hugues’s place that she had gotten the taste for it.

  She would not have asked for something he would outright refuse. He only put up mild resistance in the form of a sour expression and the words “if there’s time to buy it.”

  Yet that was enough to improve her spirits, so perhaps it was a small price to pay.

  “So, then, how long will we be staying, eh?” asked Holo, curled up and resting her cheek on her knees. She was not facing him when she asked, and her tone sounded uninterested, but Lawrence knew she was in fact very concerned about the issue.

  Lawrence considered it for a few moments and decided on an optimistic answer. “I’d say three or four days at the longest. We’re just getting information. We’ve already got cold-weather gear, and we’ll only need to buy a little extra food.”

  “Mm.” Holo sighed, as though satisfied to hear that much, but beneath her hood, her ears still twitched busily.

  Lawrence cleared his throat and continued, “We don’t know which route we’ll be taking, though. So long as it has a bit of traffic, a snowpack route will be fine. Otherwise, we’ll need to find a good road. The former will take us to the Debau Company—the latter, to Nyohhira.”

  Nyohhira was a name likely to make Holo uneasy, but it was one of a very few place-names that she remembered. Holo stubbornly continued to look away, but she could not hide her nostalgia. If prodded, she might well have started weeping, which brought Lawrence to smile fondly.

  “Col—do you know the town of Nyohhira?”

  Lawrence turned the conversation to Col, afraid of what might happen if Holo noticed him smiling at her.

  Col seemed initially taken aback at being so suddenly drawn into the conversation but then nodded. “The name only.”

  “It’s an old town, with hot springs that gush up out of the ground. I’ve passed through it once—it was a curious place.”

  “Curious?”

  “Yes. Despite being so far out in a foreign land, it’s said that the highest-ranking clergy from all over the world gather there. And in hundreds of years, there’s never once been a battle there.”

  Col, being from a town that had suffered the unreasonable persecution of the Church, all in the name of God, seemed to find this nearly unbelievable. He really was a good conversation partner, given how charmingly he showed his surprise.

  “That’s why so many people, suffering from the pain of this always-fighting world of ours, seem to think they’re hiding the secret to eternal peace there.” As Lawrence spoke, he lightly rested his elbow on the head of the still-turned-away Holo.

  “But there’s no way the world is ever going to stop fighting, is there…?”

  “That’s true. A good soak in hot water can cure all sorts of sickness and injury, so everyone forgets about their troubled hearts. That’s not going to stop the world from fighting.”

  Under Lawrence’s elbow, Holo turned her head and, after giving the sadly smiling Col a little grin, spoke up in a bored tone of voice. “I soaked in that water myself long ago, and now I remember how much I fought to cool off after it.”

  Lawrence knew he did not need to worry whether he had pushed things too far. He gave Holo’s head a brisk rub, then pulled on the reins to avoid a dog.

  “The shopkeeper Miss Fran told us about is a former mercenary, she said. Hopefully he’s had a nice soak and is feeling large of heart when we arrive.”

  “I’m rather hoping for a large inn,” said Holo. Whether or not their stay in the town was enjoyable rested on the quality of the accommodations.

  Col was kneeling in the wagon bed—which was dangerous, so Lawrence had him sit. “I doubt old Arold’s place is still in business. Hard to know whether we’ll find a good inn or not.”

  “The place where I was held in hock was splendid,” said Holo spitefully, her eyes narrowed.

  Lawrence did not think she was actually angry, but he could not very well point that out. He did not ever want to use Holo as collateral again. “Well, we’ll ask around town.”

  “Do you know anyone there?” Holo’s eyes made it very clear that she had no intention of returning to the angry folk of the Delink Company. No matter how favorably one might try to look at the men who had held Holo hostage, they were not a pleasant lot. They wriggled like leeches, made webs like spiders, and pretended at nobility—all the hateful things in the world condensed into human form.

  And yet it was thanks to their like that the world kept turning, and Lawrence had profited through them. If possible, he did not want to get involved with them again—and yet it made him a bit wistful to imagine how much of his life might elapse before he was involved in another deal of that size again.

  Lawrence smiled to himself as such thoughts crossed his mind, then scratched his nose. “I have some other acquaintances, yes. I’ll need to contact someone to receive the map, and I’ll ask them if they can recommend an inn.”

  Though it was only a few weeks earlier that the hide tanners and all related merchants had been driven from Lenos, it seemed just as busy as ever. Perhaps the trouble with the furs truly had been a mere tempest in a teacup.

  Lawrence pulled at the reins, steering the wagon hither and thither through the busy streets.

  It was only when they passed a street filled with what seemed to be butchers’ shops—with rows of baskets tightly packed with chickens—that Holo spoke. “So you have some acquaintances, do you?”

  “Yes, at a place called the Beast and Fish Tail.”

  “Mm? Oh, the shop where they had that peculiar rodent dish.”

  Lawrence seemed to remember Holo liking the food there. If they dined at the place, they could kill three birds with one stone.

  Once they finished passing by the street, raucous with the crying of the hens, Lawrence took up the reins and was about to give the horse’s hindquarters a snap. And just in that moment, Holo spoke.

  “You’ve certainly got some nerve.”

  “Huh?”

  What did nerve have to do with treating Holo to the famous cooking of the Beast and Fish Tail?

  Merchants could recall most things they had seen. Lawrence flipped back through his memory, and it stopped at the image of a certain woman. There was a famous and capable shopgirl who worked at the Beast and Fish Tail.

  “Ah.” As Lawrence was trying to decide whether or not to bother to groan, Holo interrupted.

  “Ah well, I’ll soak myself thoroughly in the hot springs of Nyohhira, and forget my angered heart, won’t I?”

  The look in Holo’s eyes at that moment was very far indeed from forgetting any sort of anger at all. She looked almost excited at the prospect of chasing off any sense of ease Lawrence might have felt. Behind them, Col craned his neck around, confused, but Lawrence could not very well suggest they not go—not anymore, at least.

  Lawrence was thoroughly distracted until a craftsman of some kind shouted angrily at him, at which Lawrence hastened to bring his attention back to the street in front of him.

  Exhausted, he looked up, while beside him Holo smiled triumphantly.

  In this particular city, anytime one looked up, the church spire was plainly visible. Lawrence regarded it and silently prayed that nothing more would go wrong.

  It is generally once the sun sets that a tavern becomes truly busy. This was all the more true when the establishment had a respectable clientele, as the Beast and Fish Tail surely did. So when Lawrence and his charges arrived there, it was nearly empty.

  However, it was not quiet. Rather, they seemed to be in the midst of preparing for dinner. Right in the center of the tavern were several buckets, each filled to overflowing with shells.

  “Hello, there!” said Lawrence by way of greeting a
s he walked through the open doors, at which the shopgirl turned and squinted, her eyes evidently not adjusted to the bright daylight.

  “Hm? Oh, you’re the merchant from before.”

  “Yes, and my thanks.” Col had been left to mind the wagon bed, and Holo was at Lawrence’s side.

  Inwardly, Lawrence prayed that nobody would do anything unnecessary—neither the shopgirl nor Holo. At the very least, neither of them seemed visibly inclined to do so.

  But Lawrence was a merchant. He was well aware that each was carefully appraising the other. If it had been a simple battle of wills with him as the prize, he would have been flattered, but he understood things well enough to know that was not the case here.

  They were like hunters, each readying their bows for a contest. And as the target at which they would be shooting, Lawrence was disinclined to simply stand there.

  “So, what profit are you chasing this time?” said the barmaid as she took clams from the bucket on her right, shucked their innards into the center bucket, then discarded the shell into the leftmost one. Her skill was considerable, and she had a good tool.

  Her knife’s grip was a simple wrapping of cloth, and the keen blade sparkled like water. With the knife in one hand, her movements were quick and efficient, without apparent effort or wasted motion—it gave the girl a very imposing mien.

  “No, no, nothing like that. I’ve had my fill of chasing profit,” said Lawrence with a pained smile, at which the barmaid laughed lightly.

  “I wonder how many merchants I’ve heard say the same thing.”

  Given that the tavern was the sort of place merchants flocked to for information whenever the situation changed in town, the barmaid had certainly seen the dejected faces of those same merchants after the fact.

  “You may be right.”

  The girl giggled. “A merchant’s heart is fickle. As are their excuses—I couldn’t help myself. I’m through. I was out of my right mind.”

  Though the girl’s eyes were on Lawrence, it was entirely obvious that her attention was directed toward Holo.

  Lawrence shivered, but beside him the wolf smiled happily.

  “’Tis true, is it not?” said Holo, looking up at Lawrence, and her grin was by no means a false one.

  She was a wisewolf—simply because someone else was spoiling for a fight did not mean she would rise to such bait.

  Lawrence felt great relief, and then—

  “I’ve seen the whole thing, all the way up to the sad tears and the swearing to go back to only good, honest business. Honestly, they’re a pack of fools, merchants are.” Holo quickly reached up and fixed Lawrence’s collar.

  Both she and the barmaid smiled amused smiles.

  Lawrence swallowed and attempted to escape the dilemma into which he had been cornered. “T-true enough, true enough. I’ve come here today because I wish to ask about something, that’s all.”

  “And what might that be?” the barmaid replied after a short pause, during which she very clearly met Holo’s eyes.

  Lawrence was glad he had left Col behind. Anyone else watching this exchange would conclude he was the most foolish man alive.

  “It’s about the furs…Ah—!”

  As he was speaking—and perhaps to purposely fluster him—one of the shell meats fell apart in her hands, and just when Lawrence thought she was going to discard it, she popped it raw into her mouth and gulped it down. Then she reached behind her, grabbed a small cask, and drank from it to wash the bite down.

  Given the way she drank, the cask’s contents seemed to be strong liquor indeed.

  “Whew. Well, if that’s what you’re after, it’s far too late now, eh?”

  Even allowing for her actions in that moment to be entirely purposeful, she seemed quite used to drinking casually on the job. No doubt her lack of pretense on that count was part of her peculiar charm.

  At the very least, the combination of shellfish and wine would make Holo properly envious.

  It suddenly occurred to Lawrence that the two girls might be surprisingly compatible.

  “No, nothing like that—it seems we’ll be staying in this town again for a while, so I was hoping you could recommend a good inn.”

  “Oh, my,” said the barmaid, pouting like a small child. “How rude to ask me such a thing!”

  “…” Lawrence did not at all understand what the girl was getting at, and finally Holo poked him a few times as she spoke up.

  “’Tis a joke, that obviously the best place to stay would be hers.”

  “Huh? O-oh!” Lawrence finally understood the jest, whereupon his breath caught in his throat. For her to make that joke, and for Holo to then have to explain it to him—

  Lawrence could look at the market values of lumione gold pieces, trenni silver pieces, and lute silver pieces, or between wheat and iron and herring, and tease out a profit. But he had absolutely no idea how to negotiate the situation he now found himself in.

  After all, Fran’s map would be arriving here via Hugues. There was no telling what trouble he would bring upon himself if he damaged the mood. And the barmaid was an extremely valuable source of information, which he had no desire to lose.

  And yet—if he directed all his attention to the barmaid, he would have Holo’s fangs to fear later.

  Bringing Holo in here at all had been a terrible mistake.

  Oh, God! Lawrence was in agony, and on the verge of surrender, when—

  “Pfft!” Holo was the first to laugh. “Pffha-ha-ha-ha!” She laughed and laughed, looking piteously upon Lawrence, yet seemingly unable to restrain herself.

  Lawrence had no notion of what was so funny. The barmaid, shell in hand, hid her mouth behind her wrist as her shoulders shook with mirth.

  “…? —?”

  It was not at all uncommon for traveling merchants to go places where they did not speak the language. In such occasions, the most important thing was not to engage the services of an interpreter, nor to be constantly on guard for danger, nor to carry plenty of ransom money.

  The most important thing was to never forget to smile.

  A smile was the greatest weapon, the greatest shield; it was the most powerful protection one could have.

  Lawrence joined the two in their laughter, though he did not understand it one bit.

  Unable to resist, the barmaid finally rolled her head back, eyes looking up at the ceiling as she snickered.

  The three laughed together for a while, but finally Holo used a corner of Lawrence’s clothing to wipe the tears from her eyes, and she directed her gaze lightly toward the barmaid.

  “Ha-ha-ha…Ah, but we shouldn’t tease him too much.”

  The girl wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and took another swallow of the none-too-weak wine. She took a breath and nodded. “Yes, quite right. No wonder he seems so invulnerable—he’s oblivious! Oh, goodness, but that was fun,” she said, and with a flick of her knife, she sent more shell meat into the bucket.

  She tossed the large shell onto the pile, wiped the knife clean on her apron, and stood from her chair.

  “Food is best with salt, but salt alone is a distasteful thing. I’ve been foolish.”

  “Mm. Still, I must compliment your eye, for noticing how magnificent the cooking in question might be.”

  The barmaid’s shoulders slumped in capitulation, and the knife blade she pointed in Lawrence’s direction waggled lightly. “If it’s an inn you need, I recommend Sister Eunice’s place on nunnery row. If you tell her my shop sent you there, you’ll not be treated poorly.”

  Next to a smile on the list of things a traveling merchant could not forget was proper thanks. Even if he did not understand why, showing proper gratitude could settle most situations.

  “Ah, you have my thanks.”

  “Was that all you needed? If you need food, I’ll make it and have it sent to Eunice’s.”

  Lawrence looked to Holo for her decision—whereupon both girls again laughed simultaneously.

&nb
sp; “Fine, fine, I can see you’d rather eat in a quiet room than here. I’ll have it sent over,” said the barmaid, raising both hands up to shoulder level, as though she were the one capitulating.

  Still, Holo stepped lightly on Lawrence’s foot, as though she were truly a bit exasperated. For Lawrence’s part, he felt that trying to understand whatever it was these two girls were talking about was the more impossible request.

  “It will take a bit of time, but it should arrive by sunset. Shall the house choose the menu, then?”

  “Ah, er, yes, please. Also, there’s another in our party outside. So a meal for three, then.”

  “Another?” asked the barmaid curiously, at which Lawrence was finally able to smile a genuine smile. “Unfortunately, he’s not a girl. It’s a boy we picked up in our travels.”

  “My goodness. Perhaps I should go after him instead.” The barmaid put the sharp knife to her cheek thoughtfully, as though considering the notion.

  If Col were taken in by such a woman he would be eaten alive, Lawrence was quite certain. And if Lawrence felt as much, Holo seemed even more convinced. She glared at the barmaid with undisguised suspicion.

  “Fine, fine!” said the girl with an exaggerated tone and began to untie her dirty apron.

  Lawrence could not help but heave an exhausted sigh, but then realized he had neglected to mention the most important part of this visit. “Oh, that’s right.”

  “Yes?” said the girl, still bent over.

  “There should be a letter for me from Kerube arriving here soon, and it will be addressed to this tavern, so…”

  “Oh, certainly. Understood. Kerube, you say? Who could it be, I wonder.”

  “It will be from the Hugues company, which deals in fine arts.”

  At Lawrence’s words, the girl replied with a short “Ah,” then folded her apron up and placed it on the table. “That piggish-looking fellow, eh? He sometimes visits for a meal—he goes on and on about how the sin of gluttony doesn’t apply to the Fish Tail and eats a great mountain of food.”

  Lawrence noticed Holo snicker beside him, and he imagined that she was guessing at the reason for Hugues’s portly appearance. You’re not so very different from him, he thought to himself.