Spice and Wolf, Vol. 5

by Isuna Hasekura

“I take it Mr. Rigolo is at the meeting?”

  “Yes. This morning there was an urgent message, and…oh, heavens, I’m sorry, I was told not to say anything about it.”

  Lawrence flashed his best merchant’s smile at the apologetic Melta, shaking his head. “Not at all, and in any case I wouldn’t ask about the subject of the meeting. It was a poor choice of topic. I had wanted to ask about the glass here, so it is unfortunate I could not see him again.”

  “Oh, is that so…? Well, this glass was gathered piece by piece, and it took over three years to collect it all.”

  “I see. Mr. Rigolo’s passion for his garden is clear indeed,” said Lawrence with deliberate surprise in his voice. Melta smiled brilliantly, as though she herself had been praised.

  Eve had said she didn’t understand Rigolo’s lack of ambition and his passion for his garden, but with someone as understanding as Melta at his side, he could lose himself in his avocation. Rigolo’s days were pleasant ones, Lawrence mused.

  “With so much passion, I can understand why he would make such bold declarations as saying he wants to quit his post as the council’s secretary.”

  Melta’s smile was troubled as she nodded. “Though it is his job, he stays gazing at the garden until the last possible moment.”

  “I would say he might as well, but the secretary is an important post.”

  “God says that labor is valuable. But sometimes I feel that such a modest desire as being able to spend time in one’s garden could also come true,” said Melta, smiling.

  It was a decadent dream that no pious nun should be able to embrace, but perhaps it was the fact that Melta was in love that made her think of it as pleasant.

  No matter how Lawrence thought about it, she seemed to be saying that Rigolo’s happiness was her happiness.

  Perhaps it was Melta’s dream to stand by Rigolo’s side all day long as he watched his garden, bravely attending to him.

  “Ah, but modest desires are the hardest to fulfill.”

  She laughed. “You may be right.” Melta placed her hand to her cheek as she looked out on the bright garden. “And the most joyous times are the ones that you wish would last forever.”

  Stricken, Lawrence looked long and hard at Melta.

  “Is something the matter?” she asked.

  “I’m simply moved by your words.”

  “You flatter me.”

  He had been entirely serious, but Melta had taken his sincerity for a joke.

  Lawrence wanted Holo to stay. He wanted her to stay forever, but maybe he should simply treasure the time for as long as he felt that way. The thought pierced his chest.

  If they were truly always together, if they could always see each other again, perhaps that joy would unavoidably be destroyed.

  It was not such a difficult truth.

  Because it was so simple, Holo’s dream of overturning this was too difficult.

  “However, I do believe it’s a fortunate thing to be able to pursue a simple dream,” managed Lawrence, unable to forget his own reality.

  Soon Holo came up from the archives, holding the wax candle.

  She said the flame had gone out, but that was surely a lie.

  Just as Lawrence had fled, Holo had found the dark corners of the archives distasteful and had escaped.

  Lawrence knew this because as soon as Holo entered the room facing the brightly lit garden, she shot him a bitter glance.

  Saying nothing, she stood next to him.

  Lawrence looked straight at her, and spoke. “Did you find any good books?”

  Holo shook her head. Her eyes asked, “Did you?”

  Holo was Holo.

  She could easily detect the slightest change in his demeanor.

  “I had a very useful conversation,” said Lawrence.

  The next instant, there was the sound of banging on the door.

  Following this came the sound of the door opening.

  Heavy, graceless footfalls echoed through the house, and then someone appeared.

  Melta was shocked, but she did not become angry or flustered at the surprising intrusion, because it was someone she knew well.

  It was Eve.

  “Come with me,” said Eve. “Things are bad.”

  She was breathing heavily.

  “It’s an armed uprising.”

  “Lock your doors, and don’t open them for anyone you don’t know,” said Eve, and Melta nodded, gulping as though she had swallowed a stone.

  “Y-yes!”

  “I don’t care how displeased they are with the council’s decision, I doubt they’ll come to the secretary’s house, so you should be fine,” said Eve, giving Melta a light embrace. “And of course, Rigolo will be safe.”

  Melta nodded pathetically.

  She was far more concerned for his safety than for her own.

  “Right, let’s go.”

  Eve directed these words to Lawrence and Holo, and Lawrence gave a short nod.

  Holo stood a bit away looking disinterested, but Lawrence could tell that her ears were twitching to and fro beneath her hood. She probably had a good idea of what was going on in the surrounding area.

  “We’re off, then.” Eve stepped out of the door, and Melta clasped her hands as if to pray for their safety.

  Eve, Lawrence, and Holo walked down a deserted street at a fast stride that was almost a slow trot. “You said an ‘uprising,’ but who is it actually?” Lawrence asked.

  “The fur craftsmen and the people who supply them their tools and wares.”

  The first thing Eve had said upon getting to Rigolo’s house was, “This is bad.”

  The trigger had been the council making their decision public earlier than predicted.

  Just as the council was trying to set up the wooden plaques that displayed the decision in the town square, the craftsmen and suppliers rushed in wielding their tools in place of weapons, demanding that the council rescind its ruling.

  Though to Lawrence the decision seemed like an astute one, he could imagine that those who would find their businesses completely gone the next day could hardly swallow it.

  And Eve said the council’s decision was based on a naive forecast.

  It was hardly surprising that the uncertainty and worry would take the form of a violent uprising. Even if the town’s fur industry did survive, the townspeople themselves would be ruined, so it would be meaningless.

  News of the uprising had reached the center of town quickly, and it was now apparently in complete disorder.

  Lawrence could hear the distant cries and shouts.

  He looked to Holo, who nodded.

  “The council’s decision can’t be revoked, can it?” he asked.

  Eve shook her head.

  The Council of Fifty was an assembly of powerful people from all parts of town, and the decisions they made showed the town’s resolve. Such decisions were given preference above all others, and all who lived in Lenos had to abide by them.

  If a group whose interests lay in opposition to those of the council denied those decisions, there was the danger that it could severely damage the council’s authority and make it difficult for the council to conduct its normal management of the town.

  The fur craftsmen were no doubt well aware of that when they decided to revolt.

  “The council has to protect its credibility, so the decision will be upheld. The foreign merchants are already coming into the town. The craftsmen are desperate to prevent them from doing so, but it’s probably impossible.”

  Eve walked through the complicated maze of streets without any trouble.

  Occasionally they passed others with goals similar to their own. Several times they saw merchants running through the alleys as fast as they could.

  Lawrence was worried about whether Holo would be able to keep up, but she seemed fine for the moment. She held on to Lawrence’s hand, careful to stay close.

  “And our fur deal?” asked Lawrence.

  “The council’s de
cision was exactly what my information said it would be. Assuming it’s upheld, then the deal is still on.”

  If so, every second counted.

  “What shall we do? Shall we accept the money afterwards and do the fur buying in the meantime?”

  “No,” was Eve’s answer. “I don’t want any complications. We should go with the money in hand. You head to the Delink Company and pick up the coin.”

  Eve strode down the street, unconcerned with puddles, and continued speaking before Lawrence could say anything. “I’ll make ready a boat,” she said, stopping suddenly.

  The trio came out of the narrow, winding street to find the docks directly in front of them.

  Throngs of people walked to and fro, all of them with dark expressions.

  Lawrence could tell that the crowds of hurrying merchants were all running to procure furs, and a chill ran down his spine.

  It must be even worse in the town square, Lawrence thought, where the fur craftsmen were confronting those tasked with defending the signs that announced the council’s decision.

  “We’re ahead of everyone here. We can’t act in haste.” Eve turned around. “Let us meet at the inn. We’ll finish the deal once everything is in order.” Her blue eyes were full of unwavering resolve.

  It was in front of these docks while drinking wine with Lawrence that Eve had said that she was saving money for the sake of her childish revenge.

  Whether that was a good motivation or not was not for him to decide.

  But he did know one thing. Eve was a motivated, capable merchant.

  “Understood.”

  He lightly grasped the hand that was offered to him. Eve smiled thinly, then turned and disappeared into the crowd.

  Eve would surely arrange a fine ship and secure a route for the fur.

  “Well then, shall we go?” asked Holo.

  She sounded neither worried nor rushed.

  “Yes, let’s,” replied Lawrence shortly. He started to walk but stopped short.

  One could say that he had been sewn into place by Holo’s piercing gaze.

  “You saw something—no, you saw it and thought something—so why did you not tell me what it was?” Holo asked.

  Lawrence smiled; Holo already knew everything.

  “You’ve realized something dangerous about this deal. Am I wrong?”

  He answered immediately; there was no point in hiding it. “You are not.”

  “So why do you keep silent?”

  “Do you want to know?”

  Holo reached her hand out to Lawrence’s chest, but not simply because he had answered her question with another question.

  Lawrence took hold of her finger, lowered it, then let go.

  “As far as the danger inherent in this deal goes, let’s say I told you of it. It extends to me and to you. But having considered the possibilities, I’ve decided we should pursue the profit without worrying about the risk. The amount we stand to gain is worth risking my life for, and even should the danger extend to you, you can always avoid it with your own abilities. Of course—”

  Holo listened, her expression blank.

  “—if it comes to that, it will be hard for us to reunite,” Lawrence said.

  Holo was silent.

  Lawrence continued. “And if we were to have that conversation, this is what you would say—”

  “…Do not throw away all that profit just to cling to a single thread of hope,” finished Holo.

  Lawrence shrugged, smiling.

  He’d kept silent about his realization precisely because he hadn’t wanted to make Holo say that.

  If this deal succeeded, Lawrence’s dream would essentially come true. He would return to the town a rich man, and Holo would come out to greet him and then part ways with him forever with smiles and words of blessing.

  Or he would fail, and Holo would have to escape before she was sold off or worse, whereupon she would set off for her homeland alone, determination renewed. If he could be permitted a presumptuous thought, she might come to check on him and make sure he was well, but then she would leave him, and there would be nothing he could say to stop her.

  In other words—

  “The only chance I have to keep traveling with you is to abandon the deal entirely.”

  Lawrence held back the other words he felt—that even if it cost him his dream, he couldn’t expose Holo to danger.

  “Do you think that will make me happy?” Holo asked.

  “I do,” answered Lawrence without any embarrassment.

  His cheek was slapped the next instant. “I won’t say I’m happy. I’ll never, ever say I’m sorry.”

  Holo had slapped him with all the strength in her small hand, and it probably hurt her hand more than his face.

  The thought occurred to Lawrence as he looked at her trembling expression.

  With this, all chances for either of them to tell the other that they wanted to continue the journey were destroyed.

  It was what Holo had wished for and what Lawrence had not.

  He had given her what she wanted at the expense of his own desires.

  This was surely near the very pinnacle of what could be called kindness, and as such, Holo feared it.

  It amounted to a quiet revenge for her sudden pronouncement of the journey’s end.

  “I’ll remember you as a cold, calculating merchant,” she said.

  At those words, Lawrence was finally able to smile. “It would be bad for my reputation if you thought me a foolish one. Come, let us go retrieve our war funds.”

  Lawrence started walking with Holo following a short distance behind him.

  The sniffling sound he heard was surely not from the cold air.

  Perhaps she thought it unfair, but Lawrence was not so magnanimous as to let Holo leave him without exacting some small vengeance.

  But vengeance was a hollow thing.

  When they arrived at the Delink Company, Holo was her usual self.

  Vengeance begat vengeance.

  This was for the best.

  “There is no God in this world,” murmured Holo flatly. “If your omniscient, omnipotent God truly existed, how could he just watch as such suffering goes on?”

  Lawrence stopped short of knocking at the door. “How, indeed,” he replied with a nod and only then knocked.

  The Delink Company was as simply decorated as ever, and within the building it was quiet, as though completely separate from the clamor outside.

  Of course, the merchants were aware of what was happening in the town, and upon seeing Lawrence’s face, they happily arranged for the money.

  Their unpleasant smiles disguised whatever they were thinking, but he could trust their proud assertion that they would guarantee the safety of his companion.

  No matter how coldhearted the merchant, you could rely on that coldheartedness when it came to the careful treatment of their goods.

  However, when it came time to hand over the money, they put it not in Lawrence’s hands, but in Holo’s.

  It was the wisdom of the moneylender.

  In receiving the money from the hands of Holo, the collateral, its import would be more effectively branded into his mind. It was also meant to stop him from defaulting, and in any case, this took his desire to turn a profit with the money to a new level.

  Holo looked closely at the coin purse, which fit easily even into her small hands. She then looked at Lawrence.

  “When you make a profit, I want the finest wine,” Holo said with a sour look.

  Enough to be drunk forever.

  Enough that this last memory of him would remain in her heart forever.

  “Of course,” answered Lawrence, taking the coins.

  “We, too, shall pray for your good fortune,” said the Delink merchant.

  He had probably interrupted in order to bring the conversation to a close. Experience would have taught him that such good-byes could drag on.

  But Holo and Lawrence had long since said their good-byes.


  “When we next meet, I’ll be a town merchant,” said Lawrence grandly.

  Holo smiled. “I can’t have a worthless merchant for my companion.”

  Lawrence didn’t know what expression to assume in response to such a statement.

  He didn’t know, but when he left the shop and looked back, Holo was in the doorway, eyes downcast.

  Lawrence ran into town, the bag of sixty gold pieces in hand.

  He was in no mood to walk.

  He didn’t know if this was the right choice.

  He just didn’t know.

  Even though there was no other choice, he still didn’t know if this was the right one.

  Nothing felt strange about this. Ahead of him lay profit so large he’d never dreamt of it.

  Yet his heart was uneasy.

  Lawrence held the gold under his arm and ran.

  When he arrived at the inn, there were people in the doorway discussing something.

  Without even bothering to listen in, he expected they—who were perhaps inn guests and their friends, Lawrence thought—were talking about the uprising in the town.

  Lawrence headed for the stables, entering through the storehouse.

  There were already two horses and one wagon there. Naturally, one of the horses and the wagon were Lawrence’s. It was an excellent wagon with a driver’s seat just a bit too big for one person alone.

  What made him knit his brows was not the weight of the gold he carried. It was the weight that settled into his chest; it was too heavy. Lawrence shook it off and entered the storehouse.

  As always, a variety of goods were piled as high as his head with paths finally cleared between piles of boxes. No single person knew all the things that were stored there. It was the perfect place to hide something small.

  The thought occurred to Lawrence as he made his way through the room when he bumped into someone doing just that.

  “H-ho there. I got tired of waiting,” Eve said, squatting down as she fished through a pile of goods.

  “I brought the money.” Lawrence produced the small burlap bag, and Eve closed her eyes as if taking a drink for the first time in three days.

  “I’ve arranged for a ship. I found a captain whose profit vanished in the uprising. When I named him a good price, he said he’d set sail even if the navy should send ships to blockade him.”