“Thinking?”
Evan nodded.
If this was all Evan could say, then Elsa must not have told him what was on her mind. Having been forced to suddenly leave her home, though, it was hardly surprising that she was dazed and contemplative.
Evan turned and looked back at Elsa. Lawrence caught sight of his expression – he looked like a faithful dog who wanted nothing more than to rush to her side.
But Evan seemed to understand that she was best left alone for a time.
Evan forced his gaze back to the caravan from Enberch, which was now quite a bit closer.
“It’s a sizable group,” he said.
“They’re probably returning all of the wheat purchased from Tereo. And those long sticks the men around the wagons are holding – spears surely.”
The spearmen were merely in case the caravan met resistance from the villagers, but they lent the procession an imposing, sinister air.
“Say, Mr. Lawrence–”
“Mm?”
“Could we not ask your… um… the goddess that carried us here?”
Though Evan lowered his voice, Holo would surely hear this.
She pretended not to, though.
“Ask her what?” Lawrence prompted.
“To… to kill them all.”
When all else failed, ask the gods – humans were ever thus.
And their requests were often absurd in scale.
“Suppose she did agree to such a request. It would certainly be done. But then Enberch would simply send an army to Tereo. And we can’t fight every army they could send.”
Evan nodded, as though he had known what the answer would be. “I suppose.”
The caravan had come quite close now.
The pair crouched and looked on.
“So what shall we do next?”
“I am planning to make for a town named Kumersun first. If we can make it there, our lives will no longer be in danger. After that, well – we’ll figure that out once we’re there.”
“I see…”
“You should think about what you want to do. We’ve a connection, you and I – I’ll do what I can to help,” said Lawrence.
Evan closed his eyes and smiled. “Thank you.”
The caravan that carried with it Tereo’s undoing traveled noisily along the path, disturbing the morning peace.
It included perhaps fifteen wagons with perhaps twenty spearmen to guard the caravan.
However, what grabbed Lawrence’s attention the most was a group at the rear of the procession, who were dressed somewhat differently from the rest.
The horse carrying the last cart had blinders and saddle flaps that indicated a high-ranking member of the clergy, and it was surrounded by four men bearing shields with several lower ranking clergymen in travel clothes following behind on foot.
“So that’s how it is,” Lawrence murmured.
Ridelius’ Hellfire had been mixed in with Tereo’s wheat harvest, and a citizen of Enberch had died from it.
But unless the poison wheat had been there from the very beginning, there could not possibly have been any similar deaths in Tereo.
Enberch was going to use this to its advantage.
They would claim the absence of poison victims in Tereo was proof that the village was being protected by evil spirits and that all the villagers were guilty of heresy.
“Let’s go back,” said Lawrence.
Evan nodded wordlessly, seeming to have vaguely perceived something himself.
Lawrence descended the hill and returned to Holo. Elsa gave him a questioning look, which he pretended not to notice.
Whatever she might ask, the answer was that Tereo’s position was hopeless.
“We’ll go a bit farther, then take breakfast,” said Lawrence.
Elsa dropped her gaze, as if she had realized something.
She said nothing but stood, which prompted Holo to stand up as well.
Evan and Lawrence split the luggage-bearing duties, and the four started to walk with Holo in the lead.
The dry leaves crunched underfoot.
The first one to stop walking was Evan, followed by Lawrence.
Holo proceeded a few more steps, then stopped, looking back.
“Elsa?” asked Evan.
Elsa stood there still, her body wrapped in a blanket.
She stared at the ground.
Evan exchanged looks with Lawrence, then nodded and started to approach Elsa.
That very moment, Elsa spoke.
“Holo…” She was not addressing Evan. “Are you… really a god?”
Holo said nothing initially, merely swishing her tail once. She then turned to face Elsa. “I am Holo, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu. Long have I been called a god,” said Holo, sitting and looking directly at Elsa.
The answer surprised Lawrence.
Even more surprising was Holo’s expression as she regarded Elsa; it was very serious but not unkind.
“I dwell within the wheat and can take both wolf and human form. Humans worship me as the god of the bountiful harvest, and I am able to respond to their prayers.”
Holo seemed to have understood something.
Elsa tightened the blanket that she had wrapped around her body and over her shoulder. Holo had discerned the thoughts that lay within the girl’s breast, hidden beneath her crossed arms and blanket.
Holo must have seen the girl’s worry, or else she would never have called herself a god.
“Bountiful harvest? Does that… Are you then Truyeo’s–”
“The answer to that question is already within you.” Holo bared her teeth, perhaps in some approximation of a rueful grin.
Elsa ducked her head in a slight nod. “Truyeo is Truyeo. You are you.”
Holo half laughed and half sighed, and the dry leaves at her feet danced in the air.
Her amber eyes were filled with a kindness Lawrence had never seen.
If gods did exist, surely they were something like this with eyes that inspired reverence but not fear.
Elsa looked up.
“… If that is true, then–”
“The question you would ask…” said Holo, her tail brushing audibly across the leaves.
Elsa swallowed her words but still looked up at Holo.
“… It should not be asked of me,” Holo finished.
Instantly Elsa’s face twisted, a tear rolling down her right cheek.
Evan took that as a sign. He rushed to her side and embraced her.
Elsa sniffed a few times, nodding her head as if to show that she was, in fact, well. She sighed, the breath escaping whitely from her mouth.
“I am Father Franz’s successor. That much I can say for certain.”
“Oh, indeed?”
Elsa smiled at Holo’s purely rhetorical question.
It was a fresh smile, the result of tossing aside a heavy burden.
Perhaps she had realized Father Franz’s true aim in collecting stories of the pagan gods.
No – she had probably known long ago when Father Franz had told her of his secret cellar.
She had simply refused to understand.
It was just as Iima had said.
The world was vast, but the villagers’ minds were narrow.
Elsa had come to realize that vastness. Her next words came naturally.
“I’m returning to the village.”
“Wha–” came Evan’s strangled reply.
Before he could say anything more, Elsa unwrapped the blanket she wore and thrust it into his hands.
“I am sorry, Mr. Lawrence.”
While he was not sure for what precisely she was apologizing, it seemed an appropriate statement nonetheless.
Lawrence nodded, saying nothing.
Evan’s acceptance, however, would be harder won.
“What’s the point in going back to the village?! Even if you do, it’s already too late for–”
“And yet I must.”
“Why?!”
&
nbsp; Evan took a step toward her, but Elsa was unmoved. “I am responsible for the church. I cannot abandon the villagers.”
Evan reeled as though he had been physically struck. He staggered back.
“Evan – be a fine merchant, will you?”
Elsa finally pushed him away, then dashed off in the direction of the village.
Running at a woman’s pace and taking rests, she would probably reach Tereo by evening.
Though he didn’t wish to think about it, Lawrence knew all too well what waited for her when she arrived.
“Mr. L-Lawrence.” Evan looked devastated and on the verge of tears.
Lawrence was astonished by Elsa’s words. “It seems she wants you to be a fine merchant.”
“…!” Evan’s face twisted in fury; he seemed ready to fly at Lawrence.
Yet Lawrence continued coolly. “A merchant must be able to logically weigh gain against loss. Can you do that?”
Evan looked like a child seeing an optical illusion for the first time. He stopped in his tracks.
“No matter how stout of heart she may be, no matter how firm her resolve, that doesn’t mean she is never uncertain.” Lawrence shrugged and continued. “Merchants must weigh gain against loss. You want to be a merchant, do you not?”
Evan clenched his teeth, closing his eyes and squeezing his fists.
He tossed the supplies he was carrying aside, then turned and ran.
Lawrence sensed Holo approaching from behind. He turned.
“So, what shall we–” he began but was unable to finish.
His body was knocked to the ground as easily as a withered tree by Holo’s massive paw.
“Was I wrong?”
Holo’s paw pressed down against Lawrence’s chest, two of her claws making grinding noises as they pierced the earth next to Lawrence’s head.
“Was I wrong?” she asked again, her eyes burning redly, her teeth bared and close.
Lawrence could feel himself sinking into the soft ground.
If she put even a bit more weight on him, she would crush his rib cage.
Still, he managed to force a few words out. “Who… who can judge such a thing?”
Holo shook her great head. “I cannot. Still, I… I…”
“If you fight for your home, even against hopeless odds…” Lawrence put his hand on Holo’s paw. “… At least you’ll have no regrets.”
Lawrence felt Holo bristle.
He was going to be crushed.
Just as fear was about to overcome rational thought, Holo’s form vanished.
If someone had told Lawrence he’d been dreaming, he would have believed the person.
Holo’s small hand grasped his neck softly, her light body atop his.
“My claws can crush boulders. I can defeat any number of humans.”
“As I well know.”
“None in Yoitsu can best me. Not human, wolf, deer, or boar.”
“What of a bear?” Lawrence did not refer to an ordinary bear.
“Could I have matched the Moon-Hunting Bear?” It was not sadness that kept her from crying, but anger.
Lawrence did not spare her feelings. “Surely not.”
At that moment, Holo raised her right hand, which had previously held Lawrence’s throat. “At least it would have been a great battle. At least the tale of Yoitsu could’ve amounted to three pages in Father Franz’s books.”
Her hand fell weakly against Lawrence’s chest.
“I don’t know whether that is true. Still, this is all hypothetical. Am I wrong?” said Lawrence.
“… You are not,” said Holo, lightly hitting his chest yet again.
“If shortly after you left Yoitsu, you had heard that the Moon-Hunting Bear was coming, I’ve no doubt you would have rushed back. But that is not what happened. We don’t know how much time passed between when you left and disaster came to Yoitsu, but in any case it happened while you could not have known of it.”
Holo had seen Elsa’s thoughts.
Should she abandon her village? Or should she fight on despite being shunned, despite there being no chance of victory? This was the choice Elsa faced.
Holo had never been given that choice – by the time she learned of her village’s fate, it was all over.
What would Holo have felt, seeing Elsa thus?
She would have wanted Elsa to choose the path of least regret.
But by doing so Elsa made Holo see with perfect clarity the path she herself had never been able to take.
“I cannot abandon the villagers,” Elsa had said – but to Holo, those words crossed time and space, accusing her.
So it was that Lawrence came at her from the same time and place. “The fact that you’re not crying shows that you yourself understand how foolish it is to feel this way.”
“I–!” Holo bared her sharp teeth, eyes red with anger.
But Lawrence was unworried as he let Holo sit there on his chest. He brushed aside a bit of mulch that remained from when she had pushed him over.
“I know that,” she finished.
Lawrence sighed and propped himself up on his elbows.
Still straddling him, Holo looked away like a scolded child.
She slid stiffly to one side, moving her legs together to sit on Lawrence’s right leg, finally offering her hand.
Lawrence took it and sat up, pulling his body from where it had half sunk into the soft earth. He sighed, fatigue showing on his face.
“What excuse were you going to give Elsa and Evan if they’d returned?”
The still-unclothed Holo turned away from Lawrence. “What do you mean, what excuse?”
“For killing me.”
Holo gave a rare look of genuine embarrassment, then wrinkled her nose. “Were I a human female, you’d have no cause to complain if I killed you.”
“I’d have no ability to complain, being dead.”
Holo looked so cold that Lawrence wanted to hold her simply to warm her up. She looked up at his face and waited for him to continue.
“What do you wish to do?” he asked.
“That’s what I should ask you.”
Holo’s quick retort took him by surprise. He looked up at the sky.
Even now, Holo was still Holo.
She would always be grabbing the reins.
Lawrence embraced her. “Just you wait,” he said as payback for that ever-present rein grabbing.
She shifted slightly in his embrace. “Can we not do something for them?” she asked, obviously referring to Elsa, Evan, and the village of Tereo. “Yoitsu can no longer be saved, but this village might yet be.”
“I’m a simple traveling merchant.”
Holo’s tail swished audibly. “I am not a simple wolf.”
She was offering her complete cooperation.
Yet even with that, what could possibly be done?
She could not very well kill every person she didn’t happen to like.
“The problem is the poison wheat, yes? If it’s mixed in with the good wheat, I can still tell the difference.”
“I’ve thought of that. I don’t think that can help us.”
“So there is no way to make them believe, then.”
“Short of a miracle, I don’t think so.” Lawrence paused, then said it again, “Short of a miracle…”
“What is it?”
Lawrence’s eyes moved to and fro, trying to connect the thoughts that rilled his mind.
He had considered that Holo would be able to distinguish poison wheat from good. What had stopped him short was how to convince others of the wheat’s purity – or lack thereof.
Somewhere, he had heard of a similar story.
But where?
He flipped through his memories rapidly.
What finally emerged was an image of Elsa and her church.
“That’s right… a miracle…”
“Mm.”
“What do you think is the single best way for the Church to increase its followers?�
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Holo made a face as though she had been made fun of. “Producing a miracle?”
“Quite. But a miracle’s fruit is always half-seed. They are not what they seem.”
Now it was Holo whose gaze darted to and fro as she chased her own frantic thoughts.
“So it would need to be something that the eye can see…” she said thoughtfully. “Indeed. You – give me my wheat.”
Lawrence pointed at the bags he had dropped when Holo had pushed him over.
“Then reach out and fetch it for me.” Evidently she had no intention of moving from her place on his lap.
Realizing that quibbling would be pointless, Lawrence twisted around as he was told, reaching out and grabbing the sack in question, then pulling it closer to extract the pouch of wheat from within – the pouch of wheat in which Holo dwelled.
“Here,” said Lawrence.
“Mm. Now watch closely.”
She took a grain of wheat from the pouch, and placing it in the palm of her hand, she took a deep breath.
The next moment–
“Wha–!”
Before Lawrence’s eyes the grain quivered minutely, then cracked, sending a green shoot straight up, which lengthened into a white stem as it pushed skyward, its green leaves expanding outward.
Soon a new ear of wheat appeared, sagging as it ripened and the once-green wheat stalk turned golden brown.
The process had taken but a moment.
“That is about as far as it goes, and I cannot do many at once. Also” – Holo held the wheat stalk that she had grown, tickling Lawrence’s nose with the top of the wheat ear – “as you can see, this miracle, too, has seeds within it.”
“If I were to laugh, it would hardly sound natural.”
Holo frowned and thrust the stalk at Lawrence. “Well? This is all I can do that is visible to the eye. Well, this and assuming my wolf form.”
“No, this will be quite enough,” said Lawrence. He took the wheat from Holo’s hand and continued. “All that remains is to see if Elsa will accept this trick. Also–”
“Is there more?”
Lawrence nodded. “Still…” he muttered, shaking his head. “Then it will be time to show my skill as a merchant.”
Even showing beyond all doubt which of the wheat returned by Enberch was poisonous and which was safe would not instantly deliver Tereo from the danger it faced.
By Sem’s estimate, the funds they would owe Tereo would come to around seventy limar. Without addressing that shortfall, the villagers could still be devoured by Enberch.
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