The boy nodded and brought his still-shaky hands together in preparation for prayer.
“The north has its own special angels and so does the south. If you pray for tasty food, you might just receive it,” said Holo with a mischievous smile. “Try it,” she encouraged him, and the boy began to pray.
“When the angels and spirits hear your prayers, there are omens. You need to remember very carefully the lay of the land, so you don’t miss them.”
The boy nodded as Holo spoke, then with eyes as wide as saucers carefully memorized the scene before him, then gulped and began to pray.
North, east, south, west.
By the time he had prayed in each of the four directions, he’d no doubt thought of every tasty thing he could remember.
“Mm. Well done. Now then, Clorri.”
It was time.
“The angels and sprits love smiles. Give them your biggest smile!”
The boy obediently grinned a huge, toothy smile.
There was the sound of something whistling through the air, then—a terrific smack rang out.
“—!”
The assembled villagers all gasped audibly in unison as they looked on. To a one their gazes were nailed to the unfolding scene.
Holo shook her stinging hand and smiled sheepishly. She must not have held back at all.
She had bade the boy smile so he would not bite his tongue.
The boy’s eyes were wide in shock at having been slapped across the face with such force, and he neither moved nor wiped the blood at his nose as he stared up at Holo, who until that moment had seemed so angelic.
“Though human memory is vague, there are moments that none of us can forget. This brave boy, Clorri, will surely remember the scenery he memorized today for years and decades to come,” said Holo, smiling as she faced the villagers, whereupon a murmur finally rippled through the crowd.
They’d finally come back to the moment after being stunned so, and the murmur soon became a commotion, which then turned to laughter.
When they came to this village, the villagers had left behind their familiar former lands. Before setting out on the journey to their new home, surely each of them had stood at the edge of their former village or town, hearts full of worry and anticipation. There they would carve the sights in every direction into their memories before beginning their journey.
If later asked about it, they would be completely able to answer with perfect precision exactly where they had been that day, the day they turned back and looked at their homeland for the final time.
“If there be anyone who objects to this ceremony, raise your hand!” shouted the village elder, and the villagers fell silent and then shouted, “No!” in unison.
Villager after villager came up to offer words of thanks to Holo and to God, and some even danced.
Holo, the elder, and—quite naturally—the boy’s mother all came up to him, and when he was given a hand and helped to his feet, he finally seemed to understand what had happened. He burst into tears like tinder set aflame, bawling away as he clung to his mother’s generous bosom.
“In my old village, we didn’t use slaps—we threw stones.”
The mother—who was the only one who’d been told ahead of time what was to happen—half smiled, but seemed to feel genuine pride that her son had been chosen for such an important role. She thanked Lawrence and Holo both in God’s name.
“Mm. Well, this should settle things,” Holo said proudly, standing a little taller.
Villages everywhere commemorated the days of events important to them, most commonly with feasts. Jisahz was no different, and that night there was a grand celebration.
The village elder shook their hands so frequently in thanks that Holo’s and Lawrence’s palms began to swell, claiming that their names would go down in history as being of great importance to the village’s development.
Given that, it was certain that maintaining a long-term relationship with the village would be no difficulty at all.
Lawrence was unable to keep his delight at this from reaching his face as they waited for evening to arrive and the villagers to complete their feast preparations.
When he raised both arms to stretch, he looked at Holo and saw her sprawled out on the bed, tending to her tail.
“Finished, are you?”
“Yes, somehow.”
“Well, then, we can drink and carouse to our hearts’ content.”
“I still have to complete my business negotiations, though. Of course…” Lawrence paused and brought his hand deliberately to his breast, then continued in a courteous tone. “This is all thanks to my wise traveling companion.”
Holo replied to this artificially exaggerated thanks by puffing her chest out with equal exaggeration.
Of course, while this was only half-serious, the truth was she had been of great help to him. He owed her more than just a few chickens—a wagonload of ale would probably be about right.
“It seems I’ve wound up owing you the greater part yet again. How would you like your payment?” he asked jokingly, his heart dancing at the thought of the next day’s negotiations. The village had great potential for further development, and if the abbey was completed, it might even become a true town.
“Mm…I can have anything?”
“‘Anything’ is a frightening promise to make, but let’s say a hundred silver pieces. That would certainly get you another set of fine clothes like what you’re wearing now.”
Holo looked over her clothes carefully, then closed her eyes. What was she dreaming of? Apples? Honeyed peach preserves?
Holo’s tail wagged, and then she seemed to hit upon something. But her face was hesitant, so whatever she was thinking of had to be something of significant value.
“If it’s impossible, I’ll give up on it, but…”
“That’s surprisingly magnanimous of you,” teased Lawrence, at which she smiled, then pointed at him.
“The work you were just now doing.”
“Work? You mean this?”
“Yes, that writing work. You said if they’d asked someone in a town to do it, it would’ve cost a goodly amount.”
Reading and writing were considered specialized skills in their own right. Writing a letter was itself a service, but creating an official document carried a commensurate price.
“Oh, you want me to write something for you?”
“Hmm? Er…well, aye…”
“If that’s all, that’s a small favor indeed. You want nothing else—no apples, no honeyed peach preserves?”
It was unusual for Holo to prize anything above food. After all the talk of record keeping, did she wish to record tales of her own homeland?
“Such things are surely tempting, but food once eaten is gone. You said it yourself—the written word does not change and endures for ages,” she said, and her bashfulness as she did so made Lawrence realize he’d guessed correctly.
Lawrence nodded. “I can’t write you a thick volume, though.”
“Nay, ’twill not be such a long thing to write.” Holo stood from the bed and lightly sat down on the table.
If it wouldn’t be lengthy, did she want him to write it right now, this instant?
“So, what shall I write?” Lawrence asked.
Holo gazed into the distance and did not answer immediately.
Whatever it was, Lawrence realized it was very important, so he waited for her to answer.
Seemingly coming to a conclusion after long thought, Holo finally took a deep breath, a sound like a quiet wind.
“The title is this: the Wisewolf Holo’s…” Lawrence hastily reached for his pen and spread an unused sheet of parchment out in front of him. Meanwhile, Holo continued speaking. “…Homecoming Guide Contract.”
Lawrence’s hand stopped, and his eyes fixed upon Holo, followed by his face as he slowly turned his head toward her.
“Human memories are unreliable, after all. I cannot have you forgetting your promise.”
Holo’s face was serious, and if anything it was her gaze that accused him.
Lawrence had no words. In his mind he saw a rapid succession of all the moments Holo had been displeased since their arrival in the village. She said she was being reluctant because she’d had nothing to do—but that was nothing more than a convenient excuse.
This was the truth.
His promise to take Holo back to her homelands was a mere verbal contract.
And yet here he was, busily doing work for the village and all the while talking about how fallible human memory was.
“N-no, that…but…,” Lawrence finally said.
He could not put it easily into words, but Lawrence was confident that he prized his travels with Holo above any business he might do, and he had been certain that Holo knew that.
So while he could admit he had been insensitive, he found it hard to accept that that was why Holo was angry.
“But?” Holo shot back coldly.
Lawrence had to admit that Holo’s side was the reasonable one and that he’d been inconsiderate. He was just about to apologize when Holo continued. “Hmph. So many times you’ve shocked me thus! For my part, I’ll not soon forget our contract.”
Holo suddenly smiled and chuckled. “But you seem penitent enough, so I’ll forgive you.”
Truth be told, he could have refuted her if he’d wanted to—and Holo surely knew that as well.
But instead he said this, just as she wanted him to: “…I’m sorry.”
“Mm.” Holo’s ears twitched in satisfaction. “Still,” she continued, her expression hardening again as she looked down at him.
Lawrence straightened and wondered what was coming next, and Holo leaned over him, her face drawing near to his.
“If a contract is no longer needed, then I can ask for some other reward for my services, can I not?”
Leaning away slightly, Lawrence nodded. That was only fair, he reasoned—but then he realized what Holo was thinking and raised his voice in spite of himself. “No, wait, you’re not—”
“I wonder what one could buy with the fee to have such a travel contract written. Can I even eat that much…?” She grinned, delighted, her wagging tail nearly sweeping off everything on the desk.
There was no telling how long she might be waiting with one of her traps. Lawrence was utterly cornered by all the promises he’d made. There was no getting out of them now.
“Heh. You look just like poor Clorri did not long ago,” Holo said, poking his nose. He didn’t even have the strength to deflect her.
Holo hopped off the table, spun around, then leaned on Lawrence from behind the chair in which he sat.
“Will you now start to cry, eh?”
He had to smile. Lawrence stood up out of the chair and spoke. “That might not be such a bad idea. At least I’ve got someone who’ll let me bawl at them.”
Holo grinned.
Lawrence prepared himself for the consequences of what he was about to say next. “Assuming that small chest of yours can stand up to—”
A fine sound rang out.
Holo smiled as she shook out her stinging palm. Lawrence took her outstretched hand and straightened his reeling body.
All the while, Holo smiled—it was an obviously false smile, but Lawrence knew the magic that would turn it real. Her continuing smile was her way of urging him to cast the spell.
Slowly and deliberately, he began to chant the magic words.
“Now I’ll never forget your smile.”
Holo’s tail puffed up, and she gripped his hand a bit more tightly.
After centuries in her old village, Holo had only her name left and was forgotten. No written words would suffice to record her smiling face. Outside, preparations for the feast continued. Surely the night would be a drunken one.
Holo nodded and smiled a faint, shy smile.
End.
THE WOLF AND THE VERDANT DETOUR
In the depths of the coldest season, there were sometimes warm days that made one think that spring had arrived—days without wind, when standing still in the sun’s rays could feel almost hot.
Such days made even merchants—for whom time was money—stop in their tracks or pull their wagons to the side of the road; find a field free of grazing cattle or sheep; and just lie in the grass, a bit of wine and rye bread at their side.
Gazing up at the blue sky, they’d wet their mouths with wine and take a bit of the bread—or perhaps even chewing was too much trouble, so they would fall asleep, mouths pathetically full of rye.
The blanket would soak up the sun’s rays and feel as warm as though the merchants were by a roaring fireplace, and the only sounds that reached one’s ears were birdsong and somehow the sound of the sunlight itself.
Only those who lived a life of travel could enjoy such moments.
And they were more than enough to inspire temptation.
It began with a map.
It was midmorning, the sun high enough to have burned away the urge to yawn, and Lawrence the traveling merchant, having grown weary of constant travel upon his horse-drawn wagon, opened up a map he rarely looked at.
He had bought the map dirt cheap some years previous, along with another map, which rather dubiously claimed to show the location of treasure. The treasure map was just as flimsy as its contents, its tattered paper ready to fall apart at any moment. The other map was sturdier, having been more practically inscribed on good parchment.
It was that map he held in his hand, casting his gaze eastward.
The road Lawrence and Holo were on ran alongside a forest for quite a long distance. Despite the road adjacent to it passing through mostly vegetation-free and featureless wilderness, the forest itself was thick and dark with trees year-round.
And yet even that thick forest had been cleared long ago to make room for the construction of a new town, Lawrence had heard, and now covered only half its original area. The map Lawrence held had been drawn when the forest was larger and showed just how great its former extent truly was.
“What is the matter?” asked Lawrence’s traveling companion, Holo, noticing Lawrence’s gaze as it traveled afield from her spot relaxing in the wagon bed.
Lawrence turned to see Holo dressed as a nun and reclining atop his cargo, her head tilted lazily in his direction.
“There’s a lumber mill here.”
“A lumber mill?”
“Or at least there used to be. A place where trees are cut down and their trunks made into lumber for building.”
But Lawrence’s interest wasn’t in the forest’s former grandeur. His gaze was on a road that led into the forest because at the end of that road, there was supposedly a grassy field.
“I see…and the lumber mill’s down that road?”
Lawrence looked back down at the map in his hands and explained, “On this side of the forest is a busy trade route that connects many towns and villages, and thanks to the constant sheep and cattle traffic, the land is totally barren, as you can see. But on the other side of the forest is a lush, fertile plain.”
“A lush plain, eh?” Holo didn’t bother sitting up and merely directed her voice at Lawrence.
“Apparently its face is thick with green grass even this time of year.”
Holo did not immediately reply.
Concerned, Lawrence looked back at her, whereupon he was met by her irritated expression.
“I am no sheep. Green grass is hardly cause for me to celebrate,” she said flatly.
Anyone happening to pass by the wagon would not have understood the true meaning of Holo’s words. But she was not merely being difficult for no reason.
Atop Holo’s head sat a pair of magnificent wolf ears that could never have belonged to any human, and from the base of her lower back grew a thickly furred tail that swished to and fro.
While she appeared to be a girl in her teens, her true form was that of a giant wolf that could swallow a man in a single bite.
A
ny who might have puzzled over her complaint would surely understand its full meaning once they saw her true nature.
“My apologies. But grass isn’t merely for eating, you know.”
“Mm?”
“With weather such as this, doesn’t the idea of basking in the sun on a grassy knoll hold a bit of appeal?”
Just then, Holo looked away. Immediately thereafter, her tail started to squirm in her hands. Given her abundant imagination, she could certainly reckon the ways a grassy field could be put to use.
So when she finally opened her mouth, the question Holo asked skipped over that matter entirely. “Were you not in a hurry?”
Merchants knew that time was money, and so a leisurely detour to bask in a sunny clearing was like a rope around the neck. But Holo was genuinely concerned with the possibility of holding their travels up, and her flattering gaze was enough to send any legendary emperor-seducing beauty running barefoot for the hills.
This treatment alone was quite refreshing. And Holo’s tail was even more honest than her lips.
As far as Lawrence was concerned, if the detour would make her this happy, then he cared little about the slight delay. Far from it—if some sun napping gave her this much pleasure, it was worth it and more.
The road had offered few pleasures, so a bit of good cheer was certainly called for.
“We need some rest to keep making efficient progress. Still, I don’t want to get your hopes too high…”
“What do you mean?”
Lawrence shook the map out and continued. “I don’t know how trustworthy the map is. If crossing the forest looks to be too much trouble, we’ll just give up.”
These would have been difficult words to deliver to a child, but fortunately he was addressing Holo the Wisewolf. She knew exactly what he was considering when he made a proposal like this one.
Holo had been lying on her back while grooming her tail, but she now rolled over and looked at Lawrence, her eyes upturned. “’Tis no concern at all—we’ll just have a nice nap in the shade.”
Just as Holo had imagined the grassy plain Lawrence described to her, Lawrence now pictured Holo’s words. It was certainly true that the idea of the two of them napping beneath the trees, leaved year-round and disturbed only by the softest murmur of a wind, was far from a bad one.
Side Colors II Page 5