Spice and Wolf, Vol. 10 Read online

  “Do you mean to say there may be no lodging for us?”

  If this was meant to be a place to conduct business negotiations, it would have to have places to store contracts, as well as places to discuss the contents of those contracts. This meant office space and workers to maintain the upkeep of such space. Cooks and food staff would be necessary, too, and the higher the status of the merchants that visited, the larger their entourage would be.

  Lawrence doubted that his bad feeling was merely pessimism inspired by the poor weather. It was all too easy to think such things before a monastery devoted to prayer to God.

  Lawrence and his companions continued to look around dubiously, and soon there appeared Piasky, trotting out of one of the buildings with—just as Lawrence expected—a concerned expression on his face.

  Just as one would expect of a merchant whose swiftness of foot outstripped his skill at negotiation, Piasky immediately cut to the heart of the matter. “I’m very sorry. There are too many people, and I was unable to secure a room.”

  Despite having anticipated this, Lawrence was not immediately sure how to respond. As he struggled for an answer, Piasky continued.

  “You might be able to sleep alongside others in one of the larger rooms…” His words trailed off as his gaze fell upon Holo.

  What would happen if Holo were to sleep in a room crowded with merchants? It would be like tossing meat to a pack of wild dogs.

  “Alternatively, we might be able to find you an earthen-floor room to rent…but in weather like this, that wouldn’t be terribly different from making camp. Ah, what a bother. Apparently over the last couple of days, there’s been a surge of people.”

  “What about stables?”

  “They’re full all the way to the haylofts. In this time of year, they’re even warmer than the inn rooms, after all. And I don’t even have to mention the wool storehouses.”

  Piasky’s face fell into deep contemplation, as though he were leading travelers along a road that had been blocked by a landslide and was now impassable.

  His concern seemed to be genuine rather than for show. Lawrence could see why Holo had approved of him.

  But that did not mean he would be able to fix their situation.

  If they were to end up staying in a stone building with an earthen floor, they would need to secure bedding.

  Lawrence was about to say so, but before he could, the surroundings seemed to erupt in a great commotion—although upon a second look, it was coming from a particular direction.

  “Ho, the White Army returns!” shouted one of the merchants among the many in the street. Lawrence looked in the direction of the noise, and as his line of sight fell upon the entrance to the annex, he understood what the shout meant.

  With a low rumble that seemed to shake the ground, a wave of sheep flowed in. Not even a fully armed mercenary band could hold its ground against such a flood.

  As the sheep passed through the flung-open gates, they were soon herded by dog and spear into the many barns set aside for them.

  Shortly thereafter, there could be heard the bells that so often rang out across the plains as a quartet of shepherds passed through the gates and entered the town. Here they were not loathed as in Ruvinheigen, and the merchants who knew them greeted them happily, petting the heads of the sheepdogs and thanking them for a day’s work well done.

  The shepherds were certainly a scruffy group. And yet looking at their nonetheless dignified forms, Lawrence couldn’t help but think if Norah the shepherdess could find employ in a place like this, she might not suffer so.

  “’Tis all too clear what you’re thinking about.”

  At Holo’s sudden words, Lawrence snapped back to reality. As he flinched and looked over at her, it was all too clear just who the sheep was.

  But Holo seemed to be satisfied with his pathetic reaction, so rather than press her advantage, she spoke with a quiet expression. “Fate is truly a force in the world. The world is too complicated for all to come easily.”

  “…You’re right about that.” Any number of their adventures thus far served as evidence.

  As they spoke quietly, Lawrence suddenly felt someone’s gaze upon him, and he looked up. His eyes fell upon the gates through which the flood of sheep had just finished passing.

  With the sheep now inside, the gates were being closed, and calm was beginning to return.

  But the shepherds remained.

  Lawrence got the feeling that one of them, an old man, was looking at them.

  “Scriveners’ rooms…no, no…perhaps the storage room at the far end of the hall…or—hmm?” Piasky continued to mull over the problem of Lawrence and his companions’ lodgings, but he saw Lawrence’s curious look, at which he stopped.

  After looking toward the shepherds briefly, he clapped his hands. “That’s it. There might be some vacancies in the shepherds’ quarters. I’ve heard they’re less busy in the winter—just let me go ask and see.”

  No sooner had he finished speaking than Piasky ran off.

  It was possible that the shepherd Lawrence thought was looking at them had instead been looking past them at the sanctuary. Just as he revised his thinking, Holo glared suspiciously at the shepherds.

  “One of those had his eye on us just now.”

  “I wondered.”

  Only Col seemed surprised by this, and he looked around nervously.

  It was not surprising for unfriendly towns or villages to treat travelers with hostility, but that was not what Lawrence sensed.

  “Well, perhaps he simply found you a bit unusual. There are plenty of abbeys with both nuns and monks, but there aren’t any nuns here.”

  “Aye…he was indeed surprised.”

  “I assume you didn’t show your ears or tail,” Lawrence said jokingly.

  At this Holo drew her chin in and replied with eyes half lidded from boredom. “’Tis not as though there’s aught here to make my heart race. My ears and tail are lifeless beneath my robe.”

  “That’s good. I prefer a modest girl.”

  Holo stomped on Lawrence’s foot, and Col turned away, trying to hide his laughter.

  Piasky seemed to have successfully negotiated something during the trio’s third-rate sideshow. He turned toward them and waved happily in their direction.

  “Will you be all right staying in the shepherds’ quarters?” Lawrence asked Holo.

  “You said you preferred a modest girl, didn’t you?”

  Lawrence was not worried that she would wither in front of the shepherds as much as he was concerned that her dislike of them would spoil her mood, but she coolly brushed the question off.

  And no doubt she would be fine as promised. Holo was not a child after all.

  “Well, then, I’d say that’s our best choice,” said Lawrence, returning Piasky’s wave.

  But then, to Lawrence’s surprise, Piasky exchanged a handshake with the very same old shepherd they had been discussing before.

  Evidently the shepherds of the great abbey of Brondel, who still told tales of the golden sheep, would be sharing their lodgings with the Wisewolf of Yoitsu, guardian of the wheat harvest.

  Perhaps the world was a more peaceful place than it seemed after all.

  “Huskins.”

  Owing to the sound of their bags hitting the floor, Lawrence nearly missed the man’s introduction. Once he realized what it was, he hastily extended his right hand in greeting.

  “Kraft Lawrence.”

  “…”

  As he shook hands with Huskins, who stood in the doorway, he noticed the man’s hands were as tough as sheep hooves.

  “This is Holo. And that’s Col. Strange circumstances have led to them traveling with me.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Holo.

  “And I’m very pleased to meet you, as well,” said Col.

  As he shook hands with each of them, Huskins the shepherd ultimately said nothing more than his own name.

  His hair was the color of hay
and snow, with long eyebrows and a beard that nearly reached his chest. He was built solidly, his back not hunched nor his body underfed. The corners of his eyes were deeply wrinkled, and his gray eyes shone as though gazing at a far-off horizon. While surely past his agile years, his movements had a peculiar strength to them and made one think of a wily old ram.

  A true herdsman who wandered the plains. A keen-eyed shepherd. There were any number of ways to describe him.

  Huskins was such a man, a venerable shepherd whose age gave him a certain aura.

  “Thank you so much for this. You’ve truly helped us.”

  As Piasky would have it, the shepherds that lived here with Huskins only returned once every few years. As long as Lawrence and his companions were willing to attend to their own meals, they could use the vacant rooms.

  Of course, not being an inn, each room did not have its own fireplace—there was a sunken brick hearth shared among the rooms, but even that was far better than sleeping alongside strangers or on a dirt floor in a stone building.

  “I’ll tend the fire. Aside from that, you’re free to do as you will.”

  It was said that after tending to their vast flocks, enduring harsh conditions day in and day out, shepherds were saintlier than actual saints—and Huskins certainly seemed so.

  He did not seem inclined to respond to small talk, nor did he evidently wish to.

  Lawrence nodded at what he was told and asked no further questions.

  Huskins wordlessly looked the trio over for a moment, gave a brief nod, and then walked back to the room with the hearth.

  “Is he a Church scholar?” Col asked quietly as Huskins’s footsteps faded away.

  It was not unreasonable to think so. Even Lawrence found it easy to imagine himself asking Huskins’s advice in times of trouble.

  “He does seem like a sort of wilderness wise man, doesn’t he?”

  “Am I the butt of that joke?” Holo popped a dried raspberry in her mouth as soon as Lawrence opened their bags. Lawrence gave her a mild glance and shrugged purposefully.

  “We’ve more leftovers than I thought. With this much, it should last us a while, even counting for Huskins’s portion. And if we run low, we’re surrounded by merchants, so it’ll hardly be a problem.”

  “Yes, only the well was very crowded, so water might be a problem.”

  That was Col—always keeping his eyes open.

  When traveling without money, finding water was the highest priority.

  Even a little food could be stretched to last a week, but it was not so with water.

  “Should we go draw some now maybe?” Col asked.

  “Perhaps…yes, go ahead and do that. We’ll need it at dinner, and it’s possible the well will freeze during the night.”

  “Right!”

  Col seemed to feel most at ease when he had been given a task to complete. He gave his cheerful reply and then took a bucket and water skin before going back out into the cold.

  Lawrence next addressed Holo, who quite unlike the industrious Col was lying back on a straw bed, popping dried raspberries into her mouth.

  “It wasn’t long ago that I would’ve greeted the sight of you there with sarcasm and gotten your rage in return,” said Lawrence.

  Holo also needed to feel useful, but unlike Col, she did not show it outwardly. She did such a good job of disguising this, in fact, that Lawrence sometimes forgot it was true.

  “…Seems you’ve managed to learn something, then.”

  “Even I learn eventually.”

  “Heh. Still, if we resort to staying here long enough, our food supplies become a concern. That will be a bit of a bother.” Popping the final morsel into her mouth, Holo sat up.

  “Mm, yes, true. And if the snow piles up too much, we could well end up trapped in here. I agree with you that if we’re to be trapped, I’d rather have it be in a town.”

  “There’s that, but I’ve another reason.”

  “Another?”

  “Aye. You might well find yourself buried alive under the wool left behind by the sheep I’d devour.”

  “That’s an eventuality I’m keen to avoid.”

  Holo was not necessarily joking. Even seen from a distance, it was clear the flock’s wool was very fine. No doubt its meat would be likewise.

  “Yet with that lot outside stuck here as well, they’ll have naught to do but trade rumors. As we’re seeking information, that could be rather convenient for us.”

  “That’s a double-edged sword. Rumors spread in the blink of an eye in a place like this. We need to find out about the wolf bones while drawing as little attention as possible, that’s the problem.”

  Lawrence stroked his beard as he thought this over, and it did not take very long for him to consider what few possibilities there were.

  It was very difficult to keep the mouths of others closed.

  What they needed was someone in whom they could safely place their trust, and at the moment, there was only one person like that.

  But Lawrence hesitated to fully trust Piasky.

  There was no doubt he was an excellent individual—so much so that Lawrence did not want to have to stand beside him in front of Holo.

  “’Twill be well. Just as a pack with two heads will often quarrel among itself, so too will its two leaders not become terribly close friends. ’Tis nothing to worry over.”

  Holo’s words had cut so perfectly to the core of Lawrence’s concern that it was almost frustrating. But even he found it difficult to admit that he was hesitant to ask Piasky’s aid because he was worried about how well Piasky and Holo might get along.

  And yet if he remained resolute in his pride, he would be playing right into the wolf’s paws. And his lack of faith could even be construed as lack of faith in Holo.

  So Lawrence bluffed as though the biggest business deal of his life were riding on it. “After all we’ve been through, I’m not particularly concerned with whom you choose to be friends with,” he declared.

  Even Holo’s ears should not be able to catch the lie, he reckoned.

  And yet the moment he thought as much, Holo made a face as though she had just watched a rabbit hop into a snare. “Oh? Aren’t you the leader of this pack?”

  It took only a brief instant.

  “You were keeping your guard up even as you got along with that other male, aye? Well, I suppose it’s common for the new leader of a pack to try a bit too hard. I surely don’t fail to understand your concerns…”

  Lawrence thought back over Holo’s words. She was a genius at obscuring the subject of her sentences. Worse, she understood all too well how others would interpret them.

  “I thought as much, but—so ’tis true, then, that you were worried about such a thing? Not only do you count me the pack’s leader, but you’re hoping I won’t give my favor to another?” Holo grinned. “Such an adorable pup.”

  She had gotten him again after all this time.

  Lawrence did not so much as grunt.

  The way she looked up at him with her chin in her hands was maddeningly cheeky. He wanted to grab her cheek, wrap her in a blanket, and toss her outside.

  But if he lost his temper here, it would be like throwing oil on the fire of his shame. Like tossing money after a thief.

  Lawrence reminded himself that gracefully accepting his defeat, while allowing a little frustration to show through, was the best response—the response most worthy of a merchant.

  He heard the sound of rustling fabric; it was the sound of Holo turning over in her bed, annoyed by Lawrence’s unexpectedly calm reaction.

  “Hmph, look at you, playing at being such a reasonable male.”

  It was a terrible thing to say, but he could not rise to the bait.

  “It’s easy enough to do if I just think back to my childhood.”

  “Oh, aye?”

  Lawrence held up his index finger and placed his other arm behind him at his waist, as though delivering a lecture. “When trying to attrac
t the attention of the one you care for, what’s the most charming method?”

  Holo was dumbfounded.

  “Why it’s to harass her a little bit and make her notice you.”

  So don’t get upset over every little thing. Lawrence walked over to the bed and poked Holo’s nose with his index finger.

  Naturally there were any number of comebacks she could have hurled at him. Lawrence was well aware of this, given how many times he had been sure he had her cornered only to have her turn the tables.

  So he was fully prepared to have the finger he had thrust at her nose bitten, but for some reason, Holo seemed to find that fact itself amusing.

  As Lawrence waited, wondering when she would counter-attack, she simply sat there looking up at him.

  At length, with his finger still on her nose, she spoke in a slightly nasal tone. “There’s no accounting for taste.”

  One did not always prefer what was objectively best. Piasky, for example.

  Such was the signal of Holo’s surrender. But her words had been chosen specifically to avoid flattering Lawrence.

  “I-I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  It was pathetic of him to stutter at such a crucial moment, though Her Wisewolfness seemed pleased.

  “Hmph.” Holo laughed through her nose.

  Shortly thereafter, Col returned breathlessly to the room, carrying water with him.

  While they were not particularly trying to obscure their identities, Lawrence and his companions only entered the sanctuary once the sun had begun to set.

  Even with candles, the hour seemed somehow darker than true night.

  As the snow continued to fall outside, the prospect of sitting in a pew and offering prayers of devotion had started to seem rather attractive.

  The abbey’s day was offset from the regular business day by about 25 percent, so the evening sermon was long since over, and the only ones in the sanctuary were Lawrence, his companions, and Piasky, along with a monk carrying a sheepskin satchel of very fine quality.

  When he saw that Lawrence and the others had finished their prayers, he wordlessly approached them and opened his bag.

  Piasky, Lawrence, and his two companions all dropped silver coins from across the sea into it.