Spice & Wolf Omnibus

by Isuna Hasekura

  But it was hard to imagine that was only a few months ago. Not even half a year had passed, and yet it felt like those things had happened in the distant past.

  Holo curled up into a ball on the blanket, facing Lawrence, her tail wrapped under her in such a way that it came up to the tip of her chin. “Nothing defends its nest like a human male does.”

  “Er–” was all that Lawrence could manage at her statement.

  He only realized it now that he’d been told. The fortress that had grown within him was a defensive one, created when he had felt he would be alone forever.

  “But I cannot blame you for that. You… no, I always found your face rather charming when it was so scared of me.”

  This last jape of hers threw Holo’s feelings into still sharper relief.

  Of course, that might have been part of her plan.

  “I was always quite selfish in my dealings with you. You could stand to be a bit selfish with me, too. And if you’d rather forget about me…”

  Lawrence was about to quickly say that he wanted to do no such thing, but he noticed what Holo was trying to do and swallowed his words.

  “You can safely turn your back to me. Right up until you get bitten.”

  Holo smiled, showing her fangs.

  There probably wasn’t a merchant alive who kept track of their debts and obligations as carefully as Holo did.

  And Lawrence knew many merchants who had established households, and though they were tenacious men, they had fully lost their fight.

  If he himself was happy being a thrifty, traveling merchant, then so be it.

  But when he asked himself if he was indeed happy with that, Lawrence found he was not so worn-out that he could answer in the affirmative.

  After he saw Holo to her homeland and returned to his travel and trading, it would not be so very long before he could raise the capital to open a shop.

  But when compared with an inn and the management rights to go with it, that dream seemed desperately humble. With a building and those rights, plus assets to spend as he wished, just thinking about the possibilities was almost frightening.

  Could he do it? Lawrence realized he wanted to try.

  “Still, there were things about the deal they proposed that made me hesitate.”

  “Oh?” Holo looked up, interested.

  Lawrence scratched his head and mustered his strength. “In order to raise the amount of money they need for the deal, they have to use you.”

  Holo’s expression remained neutral, as if to say, “Go on.”

  “They’re going to pass you off as a noble maiden and put you in pawn to a trading company.”

  Holo snorted as soon as she heard this. “Don’t tell me that’s what gave you such sweats last night.”

  “… You aren’t angry?”

  “I am only angry if you thought I would be.”

  He had heard that line before.

  Yet Lawrence did not understand what she was getting at.

  “You still do not understand?”

  Lawrence felt like a young merchant’s apprentice, who had been asked a simple question but was unable to answer it.

  “You truly are just unbelievable…” said Holo. “Am I not your partner? Or am I just a maiden you fancy yourself protecting?”

  When it was put to him that way, Lawrence finally understood.

  “Do I not have some of my own virtues? If I can be of some use to your trade, then happily would I turn myself in!”

  That was definitely a lie, but it was clear that as long as certain conditions were fulfilled, Holo trusted Lawrence enough to risk even a significant amount of danger.

  If Lawrence had failed to recognize her trust in him… well, no wonder she was angry.

  And those conditions were to trust her as a partner to grant his mildly unreasonable requests, to trust her as a wisewolf to keep him from falling into disaster, and finally, to respect her as a person of equal status.

  As long as he didn’t forget these things, Lawrence could ask her whatever he wished, and she wouldn’t feel used.

  “So I truly need your cooperation,” he said.

  “Hmph. I was a stand-in for you once before, but that was to thank you for being kind to me. This time, there’s no thanking.”

  It wasn’t as thanks nor was it a favor given or received.

  Then what was it?

  Not money nor obligation.

  All of Lawrence’s relationships so far had been zero-sum; the amount given equaled the amount taken. If something was lent, he expected it returned, and if he was the borrower, he had to pay the debt. Even “friendly” relationships were changed by credit into ones of transaction.

  Holo was different, an entirely new kind of relationship.

  But just as Lawrence realized what the most suitable term for it was, Holo gave him a look that said unmistakably, “Stop what you’re saying.”

  “So, is there aught else you’re worried about?” she asked.

  “Of course. I’m worried it may be a trap.”

  Holo giggled. “If your opponent has a scheme, counter it. The bigger their scheme…”

  She had said the same thing just after they’d met and a shady young merchant had tried to bring Lawrence in on a deal.

  “The bigger the scheme, the bigger the profit when you upset it.”

  Holo stroked her tail and nodded. “I am Holo the Wisewolf. ’Twould be a fine thing, indeed, if my partner were some worthless merchant.”

  Lawrence laughed – they had had this conversation before.

  Time did pass, and people changed.

  He didn’t know whether that was good or bad.

  But he did know that having a partner to share this with made him happy.

  “So, then,” said Holo.

  “Yes?”

  And in any case, her name was deeply engraved on his soul, it seemed.

  Her thoughts were entirely clear to him.

  Lawrence smiled. “Breakfast, right?”

  The first thing they needed to do was lay the groundwork.

  If they could ascertain whether Eve was truly a statue merchant, whether her source of payment was really the Church, and whether she had really quarreled with them, this would tell them a lot.

  Holo stayed in their room, saying she was going to read the books they had borrowed from Rigolo.

  When she told him to go run about the city as he wished, Lawrence found himself wanting to say thanks. That seemed rather awkward, though, so instead he told her, “Enjoy your books, and don’t cry too much.”

  Lying on her stomach, flipping through the pages, her only reply was to swish her tail dismissively. Her ears flicked minutely, probably because he had said something she didn’t want to hear.

  The mood downstairs was a bit strange given the previous night, but Lawrence gave Arold a quick greeting before heading out.

  As long as he had the brisk morning air, the energetic town, and the warm sunlight, things could not be so very bad.

  Lawrence started walking immediately.

  He had no acquaintances in this city, and his only source of information was the barmaid of the Beast and Fish Tail. As this time of day was particularly busy for wine sellers and butchers who needed to buy up their supplies, though, Lawrence decided to head first to the church.

  The town was of moderate size and the streets were complicated, so Lawrence had not yet seen the church, but he did have the impression that its standing within the town was reasonably strong.

  By the time one got into the vicinity of Lenos, pagans were hardly rare, and it was common enough to have one as a neighbor.

  One would think this would imply a lessening of power on the part of the Church, but on the contrary, it only drove the true believers’ morale higher.

  They believed that hardships were trials sent by God, so it made a certain amount of sense. Arold’s strong desire to go on a pilgrimage to the south was probably rather common here.

  The most ferv
ent believers could always be found where the Church’s power was weakest.

  Perhaps this was because without being prepared to endure, the flame of their faith would surely be extinguished by the storms of paganism – or perhaps those storms were like a wind to a bonfire.

  On that count, there was no reason to doubt Eve’s importation of stone statues. There was surely a demand for them.

  But that didn’t mean there was no call for doubt at all.

  Lawrence bought some rye bread from a baker and asked directions, and when he saw the church, he immediately gave voice to his impressions.

  “It’s like a vault.”

  It was less a church and more a stone-carved temple.

  The design was familiar, but the atmosphere itself was different. He passed through the doors and into the church where a handful of people were performing their morning worship.

  One could tell if a church had money by looking at its entrance. Nobody appreciated a church interior that lacked a sense of age, of ancientness, but the entrance was different. As the entrance was worn down and warped by people walking through it, a church with money could pay for appropriate maintenance. It was purely a display of wealth.

  And this particular church’s entrance, despite all the people that passed through it, was a series of beautifully carved stone steps.

  It was clear that the church of Lenos had money.

  So – what about their expenditures?

  Lawrence cast his eye about, looking for a likely spot.

  Between the church and a group of three smaller buildings was an alley that ran into the interior of the block. Just a short distance down it was a space where the hustle and bustle of the town and the light of day did not reach – along with those who lived in that space.

  As Lawrence walked down the path, none of the people so much as looked up at him.

  It would take a keen incantation indeed to rouse them from their sleep.

  “The blessings of God be upon you,” said Lawrence to one of them.

  It had been hard to tell whether the man was dead or just sleeping, but his eyes now snapped open. “Hnn!… Oh. Not giving alms, are you?” he said, his voice a mixture of anticipation and disappointment.

  Lawrence looked the man over from head to toe – he certainly didn’t seem to be a man of the Church.

  Offering some of the still-warm rye bread to the man, Lawrence gave his best merchant’s smile. “No alms, I’m afraid. I’d like to ask you some questions.”

  The man’s face flushed at the sight of the bread. He didn’t seem to be one to quibble. “Hell, ask anything you like.”

  He devoured the rye bread with a speed that surprised even Lawrence, who had grown used to Holo’s gluttonous eating, then grinned a toothy grin.

  “It’s about the church,” Lawrence said.

  “What do you want to know? How many mistresses the priest has? Who the father of the child that nun gave birth to a while back was?”

  “Those are fascinating, but no. I was wondering how much bread this church bakes.”

  Obviously the church was not a bakery. He was asking instead how much bread the church distributed to the needy. There were churches and abbeys whose finances declined to the point where they did not do such work, but most of them did in proportion to the state of their coffers.

  And as a result, the recipients of that charity naturally knew the state of the church’s kitchen.

  “Heh, it’s been some time since I’ve been asked that.”

  “Oh?”

  “Used to be, merchants like you would come to ask all the time. You want to know how the church here fares, yes? Seems it’s not bringing people in the way it used to. Guess God needs more propaganda.”

  There was a saying in business: “Look at the feet.” It meant looking at your opponent to understand not just his weaknesses, but his entire situation.

  And on that count, who better to look at the feet than the beggars who spent their days lying in the street, looking at the feet of all who passed by?

  Occasionally, such beggars would be expelled en masse from a town because those in power were afraid of how much knowledge the beggars had of their coffers.

  “I’ve been to many towns in this area, but the church here is the best. They may not give out huge amounts of bread or beans, but the quality is always good. Although…”

  “Although?” repeated Lawrence back to the man.

  The man closed his mouth and scratched his cheek.

  There was a hierarchy among beggars. Those closer to the church entrance, where it was easier to solicit, had more complete information.

  Lawrence took two cheap copper coins out and handed them over to the beggar.

  The beggar chuckled. “Although – the bishop scatters more money about the town than he does bread among the beggars.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Oh, I can tell. When a splendid carriage that has its own escort to drive away beggars like me drives up, I can tell. And it’s plain as day what kind of dinner was served from the garbage they throw away. And looking at how many cocky men about town come to that dinner, I can tell how important the guest was. Impressive, is it not?”

  People in power did not hold grand dinners without motivation to do so. Since they evidently had a business based on buying statues from Eve, then consecrating and selling them for far more money, such dinners had to be political in nature – nothing less than an investment.

  So while it still wasn’t clear what the Church was trying to achieve, given this information, Lawrence now saw that it wielded power within the Council of Fifty.

  And yet, thought Lawrence to himself as he regarded the beggar.

  When a town was invaded in times of war, he could see why it was always the beggars who were first put to the spear.

  Each and every one of them was like a spy.

  “Could you not use your insight to raise your position in society?” asked Lawrence in spite of himself.

  The man shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you, pal? God said, ‘Blessed are the poor,’ didn’t he? Do you get a warm, happy feeling in your gut from just a piece of crusty black bread and two copper coins?” The man stared hard at Lawrence. “I know I do.”

  Not all wise men wrapped themselves in leather coats.

  Lawrence had the feeling that this man was a better embodiment of God’s teachings than anybody within the church next to which he begged.

  “Anyway, so I don’t know what it is you’re planning,” continued the beggar, “but if you try to deal with this church, they’ll just hang you out to dry. I only know one merchant who worked with them for a long time, and even he wound up screaming at them in that hoarse voice of his.”

  Lawrence knew immediately who the beggar was talking about.

  “The statue dealer?” he asked.

  “Statues? Ah yeah, I guess he did haul some of those. He a friend of yours?”

  “Sort of. So… did he deal in anything else?” There hadn’t been any talk of side businesses, but merchants frequently packed smaller items in between their main cargo.

  That was Lawrence’s thinking, but the beggar s answer made his eyes widen in surprise.

  “I thought for certain he was a salt merchant. Wasn’t he?”

  If Lawrence had been asked to name three particularly heavy goods to haul, he would have been able to do it instantly – stones for masonry, alum for dying clothes, and salt as a food preservative.

  All of them were ill suited to running as a small sideline.

  Excited, Lawrence pressed the man. “Why would you think that?”

  “Whoa, easy there, friend. Is he some kind of rival? I don’t want to get in trouble just because you asked me some questions,” said the man, pulling away and looking at Lawrence dubiously.

  “Sorry,” said Lawrence, returning to himself. “He’s not a rival. He’s someone I’m going into business with myself.”

  “… Ah, so you’re looking fo
r scraps from his background, eh? Well, you look like a good sort. I suppose you wouldn’t tell an out-and-out lie. Sure, I’ll tell you.”

  Lawrence, like any merchant, wasn’t sure whether he was happy about being told he looked like a good person.

  On one hand, it was good that people would let their guard down around him, but it might also keep them from taking him seriously.

  The beggar cackled. “Oh, I only meant that there are plenty of merchants who try to use us, but most of them think they’re better than us. And even fewer spare me any admiration for my words. That’s all I meant.”

  Lawrence was so flustered by this that he almost told the beggar that flattery wouldn’t gain him any more coin.

  “Ah, but anyway, it’s a simple thing,” said the beggar. “Sometimes when that merchant would visit the church, salt would fall from between the cracks of his cargo. I would have been able to tell from the smell if it had been salt used for packing fish or meat – it would’ve made a fine addition to some liquor. But as salt goes, it tasted poorly. That’s why I made him as a salt merchant.”

  The farther inland one moved, the more precious salt became.

  Eve had said she brought statues in from a town that faced the western sea.

  It would be an easy matter to pack sea salt in the same boxes that carried the statues.

  Or she might have been smuggling it in.

  If she had been trading with the church for a long time, they might have eased up their inspections of her cargo as a perk.

  “So that’s how it is. Anything else you want to know?”

  It wasn’t just that the beggar had given him useful information; his prone, dirty form had a strange dignity to it.

  But Lawrence had heard everything he needed to hear. “You’ve given me the secret to living a happy life. That’s more than enough.”

  It seemed there really were gold nuggets to be found by the roadside.

  It appeared that Eve had indeed conducted deals with the Church.

  And Lawrence now knew that the bishop was throwing money around the town in order to accomplish some kind of political goal.

  If that was the case, it was hardly strange that she would be prepared to risk some blame and make some money. After the statues were cheaply bought and blessed, it was the selling of them so dear that had charm, no doubt.