Holo struck him in the face, right where Eve had hit him with the haft of the cleaver, and the pain was enough to make him collapse.
Holo then mercilessly hauled him back up.
“And then you came traipsing back, even knowing that, to appear before me, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu? What do you wish for? What do you desire? Tell me! Just tell me, damn you!”
Lawrence remembered when he had seen her like this before.
Back then, too, Lawrence had been beaten, had lost all his assets, and faced death.
Holo had pitched in to help bail him out that time.
What about now?
He had been robbed, injured, yet had managed to get away while somehow safeguarding Holo’s life… Would she not see it that way?
If not, the words Holo expected were obvious.
She wanted to part ways from him here in this town, smiling all the way.
“Your… wolf form.”
Holo nodded, baring her fangs. “Leave it to me. You’ll become a full-fledged merchant thanks to meeting me. We can end the story with a smile. It must be so!” she said, producing the pouch that held the wheat grains about her neck.
Lawrence watched her, smiling.
“What’s the m–”
She never got to finish the word.
“Did you think I was going to ask you to use your wolf form to get the money back?”
Lawrence pulled Holo’s body into his embrace. Immediately the sound of something scattering could be heard, no doubt the wheat grains upon the floor.
Perhaps among them were some tears, but he dismissed that as wishful thinking.
“Eve is pursuing a deal tantamount to suicide. If the Church learns of it, our lives will be in danger, too. We should leave this town before the disturbance is over.”
“–!”
Holo tried to twist away, but Lawrence stopped her and continued speaking as coolly as he could manage.
“I didn’t see Eve’s true nature. She is obsessed with money. She thinks nothing of throwing her life away for it. But no number of lives will satisfy a deal like that.”
“What deal are you going to go along with, then?” asked Holo. She again attempted to escape from Lawrence’s embrace but eventually surrendered.
“When crossing a dangerous bridge, once is enough.”
“…”
Back when Lawrence had visited the village of Pasloe, there had been no particular reason for Holo, hiding in his wagon bed, to travel with him. She could have stolen his clothes and taken the wheat, and she would have been just fine on her own.
If she had truly believed that becoming close to another led only and always to despair, if she genuinely feared that, no matter how much she longed for company, she would never have spoken to him.
A dog that burns itself on the fireplace will always be wary.
Those who approach the fireplace are the ones who think that within it smolder roasted chestnuts and are unable to forget that sweet taste.
Even if he could see what hardships lay ahead or even if at the end there would be nothing at all, Lawrence had to reach out. He had to.
He needed to see.
He needed to see what was at the end of all of this.
When Eve had struck Lawrence, he had laughed from the humiliation of it. He’d laughed like a girl.
Lawrence was a bit too young to turn into an enlightened recluse.
He put his hand around the back of Holo’s head, and she flinched.
Becoming closer than they already were couldn’t possibly be the right decision. Holo’s view of the matter was the right one, he supposed.
The end would surely come, and so staying like this was not the wisest course.
And yet Lawrence embraced Holo. And then–
“I love you.”
He kissed her right cheek ever so lightly.
Holo froze, then looked Lawrence straight in the eyes, so close that their foreheads nearly touched. Her expression shifted slowly to rage.
“What do you even know about me?”
“I don’t know much. I don’t know if the decision your centuries of life has led you to is correct. But I do know one thing.”
He felt as if he might melt into her red-brown pupils.
There was no doubt that he would die before her, and the fact of his aging meant that his values would be quicker to change.
Surely Lawrence would be the one for whom delight would fade first.
And yet, he didn’t let her go.
“Wishing for you to be mine might not make it so. But if I don’t wish it, you’ll never be mine.”
Holo looked down, then wrenched herself away violently, finally succeeding in pulling herself free.
Her tail bristled and her ears pricked up with her overwhelming anger.
But she did not change to her wolf form. She remained human, glaring at him.
“Eve chases profit, even though it puts her life in danger. Even though the moment she gets what she wants, it fades. There’s a lesson to be learned there as a merchant. Call it a mirror. I thought I should try to be more like that,” finished Lawrence without any embarrassment, clearing his throat once.
He then stooped to gather up the wheat grains that had been spilled beneath the chair.
Holo stood there stock-still.
She stood there without looking at anything in particular.
When droplets began to hit the floor where Lawrence gathered up the wheat, he looked up.
“You fool…” said Holo, wiping her tears with one hand. They welled up one after another, but she wiped them anyway.
Lawrence offered the now-refilled wheat pouch up toward Holo’s free hand, whereupon she grabbed it.
“You’ll take proper responsibility, won’t you?” Her smile was not deliberate.
“When the times comes, we’ll part ways with smiles and leave it at that. There’s no such thing as a journey that doesn’t end. But–”
Tears continued to fall, but by now it seemed Holo was crying more at her own pathetic visage than anything else.
Even a human girl rarely looked so unsightly.
Lawrence smiled. “But as it is, I don’t think we could part with smiles right now. That’s all.”
Holo nodded at Lawrence’s words as she wiped her tears.
“Anyway, why are you so pessimistic?” he asked.
There had to be a reason.
There was no question that the many years she had weathered contained within them reasons enough for her timidity.
Nonetheless, Holo dried her tears, grasped the wheat pouch, and curled her index finger around Lawrence’s. Despite the many changes of heart and happiness, the many hardships, she had yet enough hope to crawl into his wagon bed that day.
The conclusion that in order to achieve happiness one must wish for nothing was inadmissible.
Even Holo, having lived so many centuries, could not have forgotten the innocence of her youth.
Eventually she looked up at the ceiling, sniffing loudly.
A moment passed.
“You wish to know why I am pessimistic?” she asked, looking back at Lawrence. “Don’t you prefer me tearful and sobbing?”
Lawrence could only laugh at the unexpected attack.
He did not stand but sat there as he took Holo’s hand in his own and kissed it, as a knight kisses a maidens hand.
She was Holo the Wisewolf. When she spoke next, it was in a tone that befit the situation, as though she was handing down a pronouncement from on high.
“You’ve rejected my notion, so you had best be prepared to take responsibility for what may come.”
“… I will,” answered Lawrence.
Holo was silent for a moment, then sighed.
“You took my foolishness seriously – seriously enough to lose all your profit. So I–”
She stopped herself, shook her head, then continued.
“I’ll go along with your foolish plan. However!”
“How
ever?”
No sooner had Lawrence spoken than Holo kicked him hard on his shoulder, then looked down on him as a person looks down on an insect.
“I can’t have a worthless merchant for my companion. Don’t tell me you’ll let your deal be stolen, then turn tail and run.”
Given that this was what passed for kindness from Holo, Lawrence had but one thing to say.
He took her hand and got to his feet, then wiped what remained of the tears from her face. “Your kindness is quite frightening as well.”
Lawrence could not be sure whether or not she would call him a fool for this.
As to why, surely Holo would not be spoken of in the tales that were passed down through eternity.
There were only a handful of things that would stop her from speaking her mind.
“… So, how will you get the money back?” Holo’s eyes were cool and piercing, as if to say that he had no choice.
And yet Lawrence felt like making a joke.
Those eyes of hers hid her embarrassment, after all.
“Forget the profit. I’d rather have you give me back my initiative.”
“Fool,” declared Holo flatly, slapping his swollen cheek and pulling away. “Do you think I would ever allow such a thing?”
Lawrence wanted to double over in pain, but her tone suggested she was totally unconcerned with that.
She spun around as if to show him the magnificent tail of Holo, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu, then put a hand on her hip and looked at him over her shoulder. “I’d be in trouble if I fell for you.”
Lawrence would never forget her mischievous smile.
Holo giggled, causing her chestnut fall of hair to shake.
It was a foolish conversation.
It really is, he thought.
“I suppose you would be,” he said.
“Mm.”
Lawrence and Holo left the room.
They held hands, and though neither of them had initiated it, their fingers were intertwined.
Prologue
Holo’s strides were long and quick.
She walked as though she meant to punch holes in the cobblestones with her heels, and although Lawrence usually found himself slowing his walking pace to let her keep up, suddenly the tables were turned.
The town was still chaotic; the clamor of the waves of humanity was violent as they crossed the harbor. Lawrence found himself pulled toward the water’s edge by Holo, as she took his hand and led the way.
From outside, it might well have looked as though a kind-hearted nun was pulling along a haggard traveling merchant in an effort to protect him.
But in reality, there was nothing kindhearted about her.
After all, just a short time ago, she had struck a forceful blow to the already-swelled-up right side of his head.
“Come, can you not walk a bit faster?!”
Holo showed not a shred of kindness now, pulling hard on his hand and scolding him roundly if he slowed even a little, her expression sharp, as though she had been about to eat some honey-drizzled raspberry tarts but had dropped them on the floor.
But Lawrence said nothing.
That her expression did not seem to accuse him made her actions difficult to criticize.
Lawrence was well aware of the fact that she was angry at herself.
That said, here in the town of Lenos, he had worked up a scheme to sell furs with Eve that had put his life on the line and even wound up injuring him, only to then have a dizzyingly difficult exchange with Holo.
A bit of a rest would have been nice.
“Can we walk a bit slower? Just for a little while.”
It wasn’t as though Lawrence had lost a significant amount of blood, but the earlier scuffle involving knives and cleavers had left him more than usually tired. His feet were leaden, and his arms felt like those of a wood-carved mannequin.
And in any case, hurrying was pointless.
Lawrence tried to convince Holo of as much, but she looked back at him with a glare as hot as boiling oil.
“Walk? Walk, you say? So did you walk when you came to meet me then?”
The town of Lenos was on the edge of chaos; no one turned to look at Holo when she shouted.
“N-no! I ran. I ran!”
Holo looked ahead again without bothering to voice her reply – then a bit more running will hardly kill you – and continued to walk with large strides. Because she was still gripping his hand so tightly, he had no choice but to keep up.
He was just as he had been when going to the Delink Company, pressuring them into giving up Holo, then convincing Holo not to go through with her plan of ending their journey right then and there, instead resuming their business together.
Holo’s slender fingers intertwined tightly with his. She was not so much holding his hand as their hands were joined.
And so Lawrence had no choice but to be pulled along. If Holo moved forward, so did he. If he stopped, his fingers would be yanked painfully, and the only solution was to catch up with her.
The forced march brought them shortly to Arold’s inn.
“Out of my way!” cried Holo to the crowd of merchants that had gathered there to exchange information on the upheaval in the town.
Despite being well used to being yelled at, the merchants gave way to Holo’s threatening stance.
Their eyes followed her in, peering closely at Lawrence as he trailed behind her.
Lawrence felt a bit oppressed, already anticipating the things that would be said about him when next he returned to this town to do business.
“Where is the old man?” Holo demanded.
Upon entering the inn, instead of finding Arold in his usual place, there were two men who looked like traveling craftsmen sitting in front of the charcoal brazier and drinking mulled wine.
“Th-the old man?”
“The old man with the beard! The master of this shop. Where is he? “
Going by their outwardly apparent ages, the two craftsmen would have been three times Holo’s age, but they were so cowed by her threatening attitude that they looked to each other hastily before one spoke. “Er, he just asked us to look after the place while he was gone, but we don’t know where…”
“Rrrrrr,” growled Holo; it was enough to make even Lawrence flinch, to say nothing of the two craftsmen.
Her sharp canines might well have been visible, and little was as intimidating as an angry woman baring her fangs.
That would have been Lawrence’s answer, he guessed, had anybody said anything to him.
“He must have gone off with that fox… Perhaps they think to make fools of us. Come, you! Let us go!” shouted Holo, pulling again on Lawrence’s hand and leading him farther into the inn and up the stairs.
The two craftsmen watched them go.
No doubt they had looked back at each other once Holo and Lawrence disappeared up the stairs. The scene seemed amusingly plausible in Lawrence’s mind.
For Arold, the master of this inn, to do something like leaving these two craftsmen to watch over his place while he was out, Lawrence could think of only one possibility: It had to be because of Eve, whose plan for fur trading was so dangerous that not even Lawrence could be party to it. Arold must have headed downriver with her. While Eve’s goal was the port town of Kerube, Arold was probably taking his pilgrimage south.
Arold had never talked about himself very much, so Lawrence didn’t know exactly what it was that could spur him to such action. Eve seemed quite familiar with him, so perhaps there was something in their shared past that led them to a mutual understanding.
In the same way that one had nostalgia for one’s hometown, no place was so comforting as a house one had become used to living in.
The inn was darkened with age, and the sediment of passing time had accumulated within its walls, which had once contained the leather strap tannery where Arold had worked as master.
It would take something significant indeed to make him abandon all that and head sou
th on pilgrimage.
Would he count on Eve to handle traveling expenses and to act as a guide for the difficult journey?
Just as Holo had lived for many years and experienced much, Arold’s life had not been a short one.
What someone valued, and how he or she conducted his or her judgments, varied from person to person.
Weighing that value on the balance of the world and testing which way the scales tipped was life itself – and so Lawrence had gone to see Holo at the Delink Company.
Having let Holo pull him bodily into and out of the room, he now pulled back. Holo turned to face him.
“There’s something I’d like to ask you,” he said.
Holo had not been expecting Lawrence to pull away, and as she looked at him, her expression was so simple it was funny – her earlier fierceness had peeled away, revealing her true feelings.
She seemed both upset and strangely resolute.
In a word, she was lost.
As to what it was that had her so confused, Lawrence could hazard a guess.
“What do you plan to do next?” he asked.
But that was that. As soon as Lawrence voiced his question, Holo, who was also called the wisewolf, regained her composure.
“What shall I do, you ask?”
Her tone was such that Lawrence would have been hardly surprised to hear her follow up by saying, I’ll rip your throat out for asking, that’s what I’ll do.
Yet Lawrence didn’t flinch, instead bringing up his hand – which still held Holo’s – and brushing a red speck from the corner of her mouth with his knuckle.
No doubt it was a fleck of dried blood from Lawrence’s own face.
Her expression seemed angry, but even at a glance, it was clear that her mask was slipping.
She was angry at herself.
Her own feelings were too much for her to handle.
“Even if we’re leaving the town,” said Lawrence, “we’ll need a travel plan.”
“A-a travel plan, you say?!” Her expression was complicated; it seemed Holo was less and less certain of exactly why she was yelling at Lawrence.
“It wouldn’t be good to charge out of town on some vague notion.”
“Some… vague notion? Do you not wish to recover our profit from that vixen?” Holo’s face was suddenly very close to Lawrence’s as she confronted him, but because of the height difference, she was unavoidably looking up.
Spice & Wolf Omnibus Page 104