Spice & Wolf Omnibus

by Isuna Hasekura

  It wasn’t just the food required daily. For example, the lumber industry needed not only timber, but also tools – saws, chisels, nails, hammers – so traveling metalworkers would come to the town to repair and maintain those tools. Packaging and overland transport of the lumber took rope and leatherwork and horses or donkeys along with the tack those animals required – the list went on and on.

  Also, the simple fact that the town was a port meant that ship-builders and their tools were a brisk trade as were ships themselves. Only an omniscient deity could hope to grasp the amounts and varieties of goods involved.

  Looking at the overwhelming liveliness and energy of this motley port town, any subtle, small problems would be immediately lost in the jumble.

  Using a knife she had borrowed from Lawrence, Holo deftly scooped the minced clam out of its shell and popped it into her mouth, scanning their surroundings upon hearing Lawrence’s words. She then took a drink of ale. “From far away, the forest can seem calm, even when two wolf packs are in a fierce battle for territory within it.”

  “Even with your eyes and ears, you cannot tell that from afar?”

  Holo did not immediately answer, instead looking down with exaggerated gravity and twitching her ears beneath her hood.

  Normally Lawrence would have grown impatient with Holo, who would have then teased him, but today he had his tart mulled wine. He sipped it and waited for her response.

  “Can you see over there?” she asked after a time, pointing with the knife she held to a man surrounded by some kind of steam. The man leaned against a large, waist-high bucket, which had been filled to heaping with finely crushed rock. He was thickly muscled, and it was not hard to imagine him as a pirate.

  He scowled, and the object of that scowl was a slim merchant holding a bundle of what might have been sheepskins.

  Lawrence nodded in response to Holo’s question.

  “The man’s angry,” she said seriously.

  “Oh?”

  “It seems the tax on the ship’s cargo was too high, and he does not want to hand over the goods at the original price. Something about a head price?”

  “A hostage tax. Because ships heading up the river are essentially hostages of the landlord that owns that section of the river.”

  “Mm. In any case, the skinny fellow’s reply is this: ‘The town’s in crisis because the military did not hold its northern campaign this year.’ He’s saying they should be grateful to get any money at all.”

  Every winter, the Church funded a great military campaign into the northlands as a way of displaying its power, but a shadow had fallen over the relationship between the Church and the nation of Ploania, through which its campaign passed, so this year’s incursion had been canceled. As a consequence, Lawrence had once been driven to the brink of bankruptcy.

  Lawrence looked at Holo a bit surprised. She continued to listen carefully, head bowed and eyes shut.

  Then Lawrence looked back at the two men. Even from this distance, he could see the merchant give what seemed to be his final word on the subject to the sailor.

  “‘In that case, you and those furs can just wait on the outcome of the meeting,’” said Holo, opening her eyes.

  Was it too far-fetched to consider if he was merely standing on Holo’s shoulders? Lawrence wondered.

  “There are many conversations like this one. I’d say… four. Taxes are too high. Northern campaign. Town imports – and so on.” Holo scraped the meat out of a clam as she spoke. The more meat accumulated on the blade of the knife, the more her attention turned to it.

  By the time she finally brought the pile of meat to her mouth, the blade might as well have been the whole of creation as far as she was concerned.

  “Now that you mention it… I reckon there’s no way a town founded on distribution wouldn’t feel the effects of a canceled northern campaign. That’s how I got into trouble back in Ruvinheigen. But what’s the relationship between that and the encampment of merchants outside the town?” mused Lawrence.

  If conditions in the town were abnormal, then abnormal business opportunities would follow.

  Lawrence was lost in deep thought until Holo gave a vulgar burp and pounded on the table.

  “You want seconds?”

  Lawrence’s attention was utterly captured by the situation in Lenos. A quick cost-benefit calculation made it clear that if he could get Holo to be quiet or to perhaps even help him in his conjectures, buying her a drink or two was a bargain.

  He hailed the shopkeeper and ordered again, at which Holo gave a satisfied smile, cocking her head.

  “I daresay the wine you just ordered was more for your sake than my own.”

  “Mm?”

  “I become drunk on liquor, but your liquor is something different entirely.” Her pleased face had a slight flush to it.

  Evidently she had noticed that though Lawrence would generally have hesitated and furrowed his brow, this time he’d ordered her another round without any trouble at all.

  “Aye, but it takes coin to buy liquor, while becoming drunk on the business possibilities right in front of your eyes is free.”

  “And you’re surely thinking that if I’ll stop my howling or even deign to assist you, a drink or two would be a small price to pay, are you not?”

  She was a girl-sized giant.

  Lawrence expressed his capitulation to Holo, who had a fleck of ale foam at the corner of her mouth.

  “Ah, though ’tis amusing to watch you puzzle things over, I’ll sit here drinking and watch from the side,” said Holo.

  When the order of wine and crackling, hot-from-the-fire clams came back, Lawrence handed a few worn-out copper ryut coins to the shopkeeper, looking steadily at Holo. “I imagine I should glance at you every so often to make sure you haven’t disappeared?”

  He passed the full cup of ale to Holo who smiled. “… Not bad.”

  Holo was a tough grader, so Lawrence took this as a compliment. “Why, thank you,” he said sagely.

  A bit before midday, Lawrence wound up walking around Lenos by himself.

  Holo found herself surprised by the degree to which the travel fatigue that still lingered exaggerated the effects of the alcohol. She could get to her feet easily enough, but she was so sleepy, there was nothing for it.

  Lawrence saw her back to the inn, simultaneously at a loss and slightly amused.

  Part of Holo hated the idea of Lawrence sticking his nose into whatever was going on in this town. Looking back at their experiences so far, Lawrence couldn’t really disagree with her, but if he looked even further back, to experiences before his time with Holo, it became even more difficult to sit still.

  Thus, it was rather convenient to now be able to wander around the town as he pleased.

  Not that he had any particularly close acquaintances here.

  After a moment of agonizing over it, Lawrence ultimately decided to head for a tavern with which he’d once done business.

  It was an establishment with the strange name of The Beast and Fish Tail. A large bronze sign cast in the shape of a rodent hung from the eaves. The curious, clever creature it depicted built dams across rivers and had a mammal’s body – except for its wide, flat tail and webbed, paddle like rear feet, which had caused the Church to declare it a fish.

  Thus, despite the delicious, savory smell of cooking meat that wafted out of the tavern, it attracted a not-insignificant number of clergy. No matter how much “fish” they ate, no one could criticize them.

  While the tavern’s ability to serve this rare meat made it popular in the evenings, at this hour, not yet midday, even the Beast and Fish Tail was mostly empty. There were no customers, only a shop girl sitting at a table in the corner, mending her apron.

  “Are you open?” Lawrence asked from the entrance.

  A piece of thread held in the corner of her mouth, the red-haired girl lifted her apron to examine her work, smiling playfully. “I just patched a hole. Have a look?” said the fet
ching lass in reply.

  “I’ll pass. You know what they say, ‘eyes like daggers’ and all. If I look too closely, I’m liable to open holes anew.”

  The girl put her needle away in a sewing box, then stood and tried on the newly mended apron, shaking her head playfully. “So the reason my apron wears thin is from customers staring at it rather than me?”

  No doubt the girl dealt with many a drunken patron.

  But as a merchant, Lawrence couldn’t very well lose this little duel of wits.

  “I’m sure they’re merely being thoughtful – they don’t wish to ruin your beauty by staring a new nostril into your nose, after all.”

  “Oh? That’s a shame. That might let me sniff out suspicious customers a bit more easily,” said the girl ruefully as she finished cinching up her apron.

  Lawrence slumped, defeated. He had to give the girl credit.

  She giggled. “I guess it’s true that out-of-town customers really are different. So what’ll it be? Wine? A meal?”

  “Two orders of fish tail. Wrapped, please.”

  A momentary look of worry passed over the girl’s face, probably because of the sounds of clattering pots that issued from the kitchen.

  They were most likely preparing the lunches to serve the rush of workers that would soon be coming from the docks.

  “I’m not in a hurry,” said Lawrence.

  “Perhaps some wine, then?”

  In other words, was he willing to wait?

  Lawrence smiled at the girl’s business acumen, then nodded.

  “We’ve barley and grape wine, as well as pear.”

  “Pear wine at this time of year?”

  Fruit wine spoiled quickly.

  “For some reason, it never went bad in storage. Oops–” said the girl, covering her mouth in an exaggerated fashion.

  The tavern had always been jam-packed when Lawrence had visited before, so he’d never had a proper conversation with this girl, but now it was easy to see that the tavern owed the comely lass much of its success.

  “Pear, then.”

  “Coming right up! Just a moment if you please.” She disappeared into the back of the tavern, her skirt – which was a dark, ashen red that made it impossible to know its original color – fluttering behind her.

  A clever, cheerful barmaid like her in a port town such as this might wind up the wife of the second son of a successful merchant with many ships to his name.

  Or she might turn a cold shoulder to any rich man or pretty lad that came courting, instead falling for a completely normal merchant that happened into the tavern.

  When it came to knowing where a purchased commodity should be taken, Lawrence had some idea, but this sort of thing was outside his area of expertise. If he asked Holo, she probably could have told him the truth, but that was somehow frustrating.

  “Here you are. The rest will take a bit of time, but that will give you a chance to ask any questions you might have.”

  She really was a clever girl.

  If he could get her to talk to Holo, it would be a magnificent display.

  “Merchants coming in here at this time of day really only have one thing on their minds. If it is something I can answer, I’ll be more than happy to,” said the girl.

  “I’ll pay first.”

  Lawrence put two dark copper coins down before taking the cup of pear wine.

  In this tavern, one copper was enough for two or three cups.

  The girl’s face was now the very image of a tavern barmaid. “And?”

  “Ah, yes, well, it’s nothing serious. The town seems a bit different from usual. Suppose I was to ask about the encampment of merchants just outside the walls.”

  Given the generosity of the tip, the girl probably expected to be asked for inside information on one of the trading companies. She seemed relieved to hear Lawrence’s actual question.

  “Oh, them. They all deal in furs or fur-related products.”

  “Furs?”

  “Quite. About half of them have come from afar to buy up furs. The other half deal in the materials needed for tanning and treating furs and skins. Let’s see…”

  “Lime and alum?”

  They were the most common materials needed for tanning work. Pigeon droppings strangely were also used. If the skins were to be dyed, many more goods would be needed.

  “That sounds right, yes.”

  Lawrence thought back to Arold’s words.

  There was no question that the Council of Fifty’s meeting had something to do with the fur trade.

  “And you wanted to know why all those merchants are camped out there, right? Well, right now, all the leaders of the town are meeting to decide whether or not to sell furs to them. In the meantime, buying and selling furs is forbidden. So naturally, the craftsmen don’t know whether there’s any point in buying any of the supplies they need for tanning, so – that’s where we are right now.”

  Having been asked about it over and over again, the girl was probably used to explaining the matter. But if it was true, the situation was serious.

  “So what caused this?” asked Lawrence, forgetting about his pear wine entirely.

  “That thing, you know – where lots of people come through in the wintertime.”

  “The northern campaign.”

  “Right, that. It was canceled, so they say none of the usual people are coming through to buy leather clothes. Usually there would be a lot more people in this city this time of year.”

  When people came, so, too, came coin. Furs from the north were especially popular in the south, so they made excellent souvenirs.

  But why then was there a meeting discussing whether to prohibit fur trade entirely?

  Were the merchants camped in front of the town not there to purchase furs? Even without the normal boom in leather clothing sales that came with the northern campaign, shouldn’t they sell to what buyers had come?

  He needed more information.

  “I understand that the usual people that come through to buy leather clothing aren’t around this year, but shouldn’t they still sell to the merchants outside of town?” Lawrence asked.

  The girl looked at the untouched cup of pear wine in Lawrence’s hand and with a smile gestured for him to drink.

  She had an instinctual understanding of how to incite a man.

  If he tried to resist, she would either become irritated or flirt emptily with him.

  He meekly put the cup to his lips, at which point the girl smiled as if to say, Good answer. “Knights and mercenaries, they’re free with their coin. But the merchants that come to town are as miserly as they come.” She played idly with the two copper coins that Lawrence had set down. “I’ve been given things, overly frilly dresses like some nobleman’s daughter would wear, really expensive ones. But…”

  “Oh,” Lawrence mouthed. When he was out drinking with Holo, his head had been dulled by the wine. “I see now. Before it’s made into clothing, skins are surprisingly cheap. But once they’re made into clothing, they won’t sell – the money coming into the town will drop,” he said.

  The girl smiled beatifically like a saint with a humble supplicant before her, as if to say, “Well done.”

  With this, Lawrence could see the basic situation.

  However, before he could take a step back and confirm all the details, the girl suddenly leaned forward across the table.

  Softly clutching one of the copper coins to her breast, her expression shifted. “So far, you could hear this from any floozy in any tavern in town,” she said, her words turning a bit vulgar as she looked at him through upturned eyes, chin tucked down. Lawrence tried to look at her, but her posture naturally drew his gaze to her slender, shapely collarbones.

  The lass certainly understood how to press an intoxicated patron.

  Lawrence reminded himself that this was about business.

  “One must treat generous customers properly, after all,” said the girl. “Let’s keep what I’m about to
tell you between the two of us, shall we?”

  Lawrence nodded, pretending to be entirely taken in by the girl’s actions.

  “There’s an eight-or nine-tenths chance that the merchants outside town will be banned from buying furs, though I’m sure the craftsmen and fur brokers will be angry.”

  “How do you know this?” Lawrence asked.

  The girl only closed her mouth enticingly.

  Lawrence’s intuition told him that the girl’s source of information was solid. It was likely that a member of the Council of Fifty was also a patron of the tavern, but she, of course, could not say so.

  She did not even explain this fact since her statement had been nothing more than her talking to herself, and its veracity was impossible to gauge.

  In a way, she might have been testing Lawrence, as otherwise she would hardly be letting slip such vital information.

  “I’m a simple barmaid, so I care little for the price of furs, but merchants like you enjoy such things with your ale, do you not?”

  “Aye, enough that we sometimes drink too much,” said Lawrence with his best merchants smile.

  The girl smiled slightly, her eyes closing. “A good tavern sends all its patrons home drunk. I’d be pleased if you were among them.”

  “Well, I’ve drunk my wine, so I’m sure I’ll feel it soon.”

  The girl opened her eyes.

  The smile was on her lips, but it did not reach her eyes.

  Lawrence was about to open his mouth to speak, but a voice from the kitchen called for the girl.

  “Ah, it seems your food is ready,” she said, standing from the chair and returning to the barmaid she’d been when Lawrence had first entered the tavern. “By the way, sir–” she said, looking over her shoulder before leaving the table.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you have a wife?”

  Lawrence was taken momentarily aback at the unexpected question, but perhaps thanks to Holo constantly springing traps upon him, he was able to recover and reply. “My coin purse’s strings are not tied. However… my reins are firmly held,” he answered.

  The girl grinned widely as though she were talking to a friend. “My but that’s frustrating. I’m sure she’s a fine person, too.”