Her eyes weren’t just blue; they seemed forged from blue steel.
Her hair was short and blond. If she smiled, she would look like an uncommonly beautiful boy.
And when she wasn’t smiling, she looked like a wolf – a wolf that would bite your finger off if you tried to touch it.
“I’m Kraft Lawrence.”
“Kraft? Or Lawrence?”
“In business, Lawrence.”
“Call me Eve. I’m none too fond of Bolan, and I know all too well how I look to men when I wear makeup and a wig, and I don’t like that sort of compliment, either.”
His initiative stolen, Lawrence was silent for a moment.
“I’d planned to hide it, if I could,” she continued.
It surely being the fact of her sex.
Not wanting to be discovered by anyone else, she replaced the cowl on her head and fixed it again with the tie.
In his mind, Lawrence couldn’t help picturing a knife wrapped in cotton.
“I’m really not a particularly retiring person. If anything, I’m talkative and quite courteous, if I do say so myself.”
For whatever reason, Eve was now being open and garrulous, so Lawrence matched her small talk.
She was a woman, yes, but hardly some sheltered princess. He had little reason to be nervous.
“You’re an interesting fellow. I can see why the old man likes you,” said Eve.
“Nice of you to say so. But I’ve only exchanged the briefest of pleasantries with you, so I’ve no idea why you would be interested in me.”
“Merchants don’t get infatuated that easily, so unfortunately – not quite. But you’re no fool, you know this. Anyway, the reason I talked to you is simple. I just wanted someone to talk to.”
Judging by the features on the face beneath the cowl, something about her reminded Lawrence of Holo, despite Eve’s slightly crude manners.
If he wasn’t careful, she’d pull the rug out from under him, just like Holo.
“And the reason you chose me for that particular honor is…?”
“One reason would be the fact that old Arold likes you. He’s got a good eye for people. Another reason would be your companion, the one who saw through my disguise.”
“My companion?”
“Yes. Your companion. A girl, yes?”
If she had called Holo a boy, it would’ve been exactly the kind of story some wealthy libertine nobleman would love.
But Lawrence understood what Eve was trying to say.
If he was traveling with a woman, he would be a safe person to talk to.
“It’s one thing when I’m negotiating, but hiding the fact that I’m a woman while making chitchat is no easy thing. I know I’m unusual. And it’s not like I don’t understand why someone would want me to take off the cowl sometimes,” said Eve.
“This is going to sound like a compliment, but if you were to take it off while you were drinking with some fellow merchants, I’m sure they’d love it.”
Eve smiled with a lopsided smirk, and even that was an impressive gesture. “Like I said, I think about who I can chat with, and in the end, you need to be either an old geezer or with a woman.”
Female merchants were rarer than fairies. Lawrence couldn’t even begin to imagine her day-to-day worries.
“You don’t see merchants traveling with women very often. Clergy, perhaps, or the odd artisan or minstrel couple. But none of them have anything interesting to say to a merchant like me.”
Lawrence smiled a bit. “Well, there are quite a few circumstances around my companion.”
“And I won’t be nosy. The two of you seem used to travel and don’t seem connected by money, so I figured you’d be safe to talk to. That’s all.”
Eve finished talking and held her hand out for the pitcher.
It wasn’t polite to hang onto a pitcher of wine that was being passed around in lieu of a cup, so Lawrence apologized and handed it back.
“Anyway, that’s about the size of it, but you can’t just walk up to somebody and say, ‘Hey, how about a chat?’ That’s why I mentioned Rigolo’s name, but it wasn’t just talk. You want to see him, right?”
Eve looked at Lawrence from underneath her cowl, but he couldn’t read her expression at all. She was clearly an excellent negotiator.
This hardly seemed like small talk to Lawrence. He answered carefully. “Yes, as soon as I can.”
“Might I ask why?”
Lawrence could not imagine why she would want to know this.
It may have been simple curiosity or she wanted to use that knowledge somehow or she was testing Lawrence based on his response to being asked such a question.
If Holo had been with him, he would have had an advantage, but as it was, he felt like he was being cornered.
The situation was frustrating, but he would have to go on the defensive.
“I’ve heard Rigolo is the town’s chronicler. I’d like to ask him to let me see any of the old tales of Lenos.”
The subject of fur was too delicate to broach. As long as he couldn’t see Eve’s expression, it was dangerous to bring up. He had no cloak to hide behind, so it would be easy for her to see if he was being too guarded.
Nonetheless, Eve seemed to detect a certain truth to Lawrence’s words. “Now that’s a strange reason. And here I was sure you’d want information on the fur trade.”
“Well, I am a merchant, so I wouldn’t pass that information up if I could get it. But it’s dangerous, and my companion doesn’t wish it.” Lawrence couldn’t help but feel that trying any ham-fisted trickery in front of Eve would get him burned.
“It’s true that the man’s study is piled high with volumes passed down over the generations. His dream is to be able to spend his days reading them, I hear. He’s always going on about how he wants to resign his position as secretary to the Council of Fifty.”
“Is that so?”
“Quite. He’s not a very sociable fellow to begin with, but his position means he knows all the ins and outs of the council, so there’s no end of people trying to cozy up to him. If you tried to just go and see him now, he’d give you the evil eye and send you away at the gate.”
Admirably, Lawrence managed a neutral “I see,” but he doubted that Eve thought he was as neutral as he tried to seem.
Eve was, after all, hinting that she would be able to introduce Lawrence to Rigolo.
“Oh, indeed. So if that’s what you’re interested in, I do quite a bit of trade with the church here. Rigolo normally works as a scribe for the church, you see. I’ve known him for some time.”
Lawrence did not question her.
If he was to do so, there was the danger that he would reveal his own motivations, which she would easily be able to see.
So he spoke the plain truth.
“It would certainly be of great help to me if you could arrange for me to see those records,” Lawrence said.
The corner of Eve’s mouth might have quirked for just a moment, but perhaps it was just his imagination.
She seemed to be enjoying something about this exchange.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what I trade in?”
“You didn’t inquire after the occupation of my companion so I’ll extend you the same courtesy.”
This conversation made Lawrence nervous in a way entirely different from his exchanges with Holo.
And yet this is fun, he thought to himself, which is why when a chuckle echoed through the room, he didn’t realize it wasn’t from him for a moment.
“Heh-heh-heh. Excellent. Excellent indeed! More than a few times have I hoped to meet a young merchant with a female companion, but I’m truly glad I spoke up, Lawrence! I don’t know whether you’re as remarkable as you seem, but you’re surely not some two-copper peddler.”
“I’m honored by your compliments, but I’d ask you to wait a moment before shaking my hand.”
Eve grinned.
Her smile reminded him so much of a certain someone
that he half expected to see sharp canines bared.
“I know you’re not some sweaty-palmed fool,” said Eve. “Your face has been unreadable from the start. I can see why old man Arold likes you.”
Lawrence accepted the flattery. “Well then, instead of asking what it is you deal in, might I ask a different question?”
Eve still smiled, but Lawrence was quite sure her smile did not reach her eyes.
“And what might that be?”
“How much will your introduction fee be?” Lawrence dropped a pebble into the dark and bottomless well.
How deep was it? And was there water in the bottom?
Presently the sound echoed back to him.
“I’ll ask for neither coin nor goods.”
Lawrence wondered if she was thirsty, but she offered him the pitcher as she continued.
“All I ask is that you chat with me.”
The wetly sentimental echo had returned.
Lawrence wiped his face clean of any emotion as he coolly regarded Eve and her statement.
Eve chuckled and shrugged. “You’re good. But no, it’s not a lie. It’s only natural you’d think it strange, but someone I can talk to without hiding the fact that I’m a woman – and a merchant, to boot – is worth more than limar gold.”
“But less than lumione?”
Her reaction to some teasing would reveal the depth of her character.
Eve seemed to know this. “I’m a merchant. In the end, money is what matters most,” she replied with an even smile.
Lawrence laughed.
With someone like this to talk to, he could easily chat all night.
“But I don’t know what sort your companion is. I prefer my conversations uninterrupted. A sulky companion spoils the wine.”
Lawrence searched his memory. Was Holo the sort to be jealous over such things?
He felt like she had been somewhat irritated by Norah the shepherdess, but had that not been because of her profession?
“I don’t think that will be a problem.”
“Oh? Nothing is more mysterious than the heart of a woman. I myself don’t understand a whit of what they talk about.”
Lawrence opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it.
Eve chuckled. “Still, I’m here for business. I can’t afford to waste time, but if we get along, then I’d be pleased to have your acquaintance. I may look harsh–”
“–But you’re actually talkative and sociable, right?”
At Lawrence’s counterattack, Eve laughed, her shoulders shaking with girlish delight despite her low, hoarse voice. “Ha, quite right.”
Her words were casual, but they had the tone of sincerity.
Lawrence had no notion of how a single woman would come to tread the path of the merchant, but any woman who could swim in the whirlpools of avarice that made up the mercantile world was a force to be reckoned with. No doubt she avoided casual conversation out of simple self-defense.
He took a drink of wine from the pitcher, then stood and headed for the stairs to the third floor. “Well, so long as my companion isn’t jealous,” he said.
“That’s a terrible condition, indeed.”
The two merchants smiled wordlessly at each other.
The council meeting would end shortly before nightfall. Eve had business to attend to and could not accompany Lawrence and Holo, but she went on ahead to speak to Rigolo’s family on their behalf.
So after taking a moderate recess after midday, Lawrence and Holo left the inn.
Rigolo’s house was apparently slightly north of the center of town.
That particular district seemed relatively wealthy, given the stone foundations and ground floors of the buildings there, but the ambience was nonetheless poor. Many houses had been repeatedly expanded with carpentry, and their walls jutted into the street, almost meeting overhead.
The area seemed to have once been a wealthy neighborhood but had declined over time.
While families who had been prosperous for generations knew that money did not always bring happiness, the nouveau riche were different. So long as they had money, they wished to flaunt it by expanding their homes.
That was all fine and good, but those expansions ruined the atmosphere of the neighborhood. Stray dogs and beggars began to wander the ever-dim streets.
When that happened, the truly wealthy moved elsewhere, and the value of homes in the area fell, and with that value went the quality of the neighborhood. Once it had been mostly moneylenders and masters of middling trade companies that lived here, but now the area was populated by apprentice craftsmen and market stall owners.
“Quite a cramped street this,” said Holo.
Perhaps owing to the weight of the buildings on either side of it, the street was warped and buckled, and here and there cobblestones were missing, perhaps having been pried free and sold off by someone hurting for money. Water would then pool in the holes left behind, contributing to the feeling of general disrepair, an impression that the narrowness of the lane only heightened.
Lawrence couldn’t walk side by side with Holo, and if someone was to come the other way, they would have to flatten themselves against the wall in order to pass.
“I’ll admit it’s inconvenient,” Lawrence said, “but I like this kind of disorderly place.”
“Oh ho.”
“You can really feel how it comes out of years and years of change. Just like a beat-up old tool that gradually takes on a different shape over time, turning into something unique.”
Lawrence looked back at Holo who walked behind him. She traced her fingers along the walls as she followed.
“Like the way a river changes shape?”
“… I’m sorry to say I don’t follow your comparison.”
“Mm. In that case… like the way the heart changes shape. The soul, is it called?”
Holo’s example was so much closer to home that Lawrence was a bit sluggish to keep up. “I suppose so,” he finally answered. “If we could take it out and get a look at it, I imagine that’s what it would look like. The heart becomes scratched and dented and repaired over time, and with one glance, you’d be able to tell your own from others.”
As Lawrence and Holo walked, they encountered one of the large puddles that dotted the lane. Lawrence crossed with a single bound first, then turned and extended his hand to Holo.
“Milady,” he said with courtesy. Holo offered her hand with exaggerated magnanimity in reply, hopping over the puddle to land next to Lawrence.
“And what would your soul look like, eh?” she asked.
“Mm?”
“No doubt it would be tinged with my color.”
Lawrence no longer flinched at the chestnut-red eyes that looked up at him.
Their effect on him was indeed fading.
Lawrence shrugged and resumed walking. “I’d say poisoned is a better word than colored.”
“Then ’tis a potent poison, indeed,” said Holo over her shoulder haughtily as she ran ahead. “After all, my smile still knocks you right over.”
“So what color is your soul?” shot back Lawrence, still and always impressed with her wit.
“What color?” Holo repeated, then looked ahead as if pondering the matter. She slowed for a moment, and Lawrence caught up to her from behind. The street was too narrow for him to pass, so he simply peered down at her.
She muttered, apparently counting something on her fingers. “Hmm,” she intoned. She then noticed Lawrence looking over her shoulder and tilted her head up, leaning back into him a bit. “There are many.”
“… Oh.”
For a moment, Lawrence didn’t follow her meaning, but then he understood that she was referring to the history of her romances.
Holo had lived for centuries, so it stood to reason that she would have experienced love once or twice. Given her clever wit, no doubt some of her partners had been human.
With Holo blocking the path ahead, Lawrence lightly pushed her small
back, urging her forward.
Holo obediently began to walk.
They usually walked side by side, so Lawrence had few opportunities to see her form from behind. It was strangely novel.
Seen from behind, she was slender, the lines of her body lovely even through the thick clothes she wore. Her strides were neither too long nor too quick; the word graceful came to Lawrence’s mind. There was also something lonely about her form, something soft when embraced.
Is this what is was to feel protective? Lawrence wondered with a self-deprecating smile but was suddenly filled with doubt.
Holo had ticked the numbers off on her fingers, but just how many men had held her slender shoulders?
He wondered what her expression had been like. Had she been pleased? Had she narrowed her eyes, being coy? Or had her ears twitched and her tail swished to and fro as she was unable to conceal her happiness?
They had held hands, embraced… Holo was not a child, after all…
Who else has she had? Lawrence thought to himself.
“…”
As soon as the thought appeared in his mind, he hurried to dismiss it. An awful tongue of flame reached up from the depths of his heart.
His chest pounded as though he had fallen from a cliff. The shock was like touching a hot coal, thinking the fire had gone out, only to be badly burned.
She had counted them off on her fingers.
It was the most obvious thing in the world, but as she ticked off each finger in his imagination, something deep in him collapsed, leaving only a smoldering anger.
The feeling was unmistakable.
It was the blackest jealousy.
Lawrence was annoyed with himself. It was incredibly selfish of him, even if he had been born to the avarice that leads one to take on the occupation of merchant.
But the love of money was nothing compared to this feeling.
So it was that when Holo turned to him with accusation in her eyes, this had a deeper effect on him than any clergyman’s sermon ever could.
“So, have you finished your introspection?”
“… You see through just about everything, don’t you?” he answered wearily.
His heart felt so heavy it made him want to sit and rest.
But surprisingly, Holo smiled, showing her sharp canines. “I’m no better myself, though.”
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