His eyes had not yet adjusted to the dark, but he could see Holo’s open eyes in the bed next to his.
“So he’s gone, has he?” she said, seeming to disappear for a moment, probably because she had turned in the opposite direction.
Lawrence closed his eyes briefly. “Sorry to put you through all that,” he said.
“Still, I was relieved you did not speak up to me immediately after,” said an amused Holo, sitting on the bed.
As Lawrence had guessed, Reynolds had probably crept quietly back up the stairs and pressed his ear to the door, in case Lawrence were to tell the truth of the situation to Holo or Col.
“I suppose I’m not surprised,” said Lawrence, smiling. “I suppose I did well, then.”
“Heh-heh. He was acting so truly sad that I nearly fell for it myself. I wouldn’t have thought him capable of such guile!”
“Merchants carry items both hot and cold in their purses. While his feelings may have been true, he won’t be giving up just yet.”
“Merchants are rather stubborn creatures, are they not?”
“They surely are.” Lawrence grinned. “But” – he added – “what do you think Reynolds’s true goal was?” He ventured to put the question to Holo, since he had already figured it out for himself.
Holo’s answer was immediate. “He wishes to contact the vixen. He’ll do anything to do it.”
“So that’s really it…”
“What are you thinking?” Holo grinned maliciously as she pushed off the bed with her hands. Despite her question, her face made it dear she already knew the answer.
“Nothing. I only thought it was an interesting conversation.”
Holo continued to smile as she flicked her ears, obviously able to tell the half-truth from the half-lie.
Merchants put both hot things and cold things in their purses.
At a loss for anything else, Lawrence put his hands behind his head.
Hopefully the posture would convey that despite his trepidation, his curiosity had overcome his fear and he was now interested in getting involved.
No matter how easily Holo might see through him, he still had his pride as a man – but Holo could no doubt already tell that was exactly what he was thinking.
She sat beside him on the bed, smiling a full, bright smile.
If he went along with her on this, no doubt the wisewolf would be very pleased indeed. But that was only as long as his curiosity was greater than his fear.
Holo had but to playfully tug at the facade and it would come tumbling down. It was too miserable to imagine.
If it came to that, this carefully balanced feeling of play would be destroyed.
“I’m going to sleep,” said Lawrence, turning his back to Holo and lying down.
If the mood turned sour, he would be able to sense it.
But Holo only swished her tail once and said a quiet “Good night.”
The sound of her rustling beneath the covers was strangely loud.
Holo would not break her favorite toy.
Which meant Lawrence’s course of action was clear.
He loved seeing her happy, so he would be the toughest toy he possibly could.
The next morning.
Lawrence was no Holo, but he did have premonitions of his own sometimes.
One came as Holo put an extra-large piece of cheese atop the rye bread left over from the provisions they had laid in for their river journey; she excused this by saying she was finishing up leftovers.
Even Col had to laugh at her wolfing the bread down, until Holo’s face went pale and her smile disappeared.
Lawrence wondered if she had bit her tongue, but fortunately before he could say so, he understood the true cause.
The innkeeper, who should have been busy seeing off departing patrons or tending to breakfast service, had come to visit their room.
Had that been all, Holo would have been content to cover herself with her robe.
But Lawrence caught a sudden, meaningful glance from her, and when Col opened the door, the innkeeper was indeed there – accompanied by one other.
“Good morning, Mr. Lawrence” came a steady, clear voice matching its owner’s confidence.
Dressed impeccably, it was none other than Lud Kieman.
“… Good morning to you,” replied Lawrence, by which time the innkeeper had already accepted a few silver coins from Kieman.
They were nothing to Kieman, who offered them by way of a vague apology for bothering the innkeeper during his busy morning. And although he made it seem quite natural, he was purposely allowing Lawrence to witness this display.
“I see you’re taking breakfast. My apologies for the interruption.”
Lawrence got the distinct sense that Kieman was thinking, You’re a mere merchant, and yet you take breakfast like a nobleman? but decided he was being paranoid. From the perspective of people who lived in a town that had no tradition of breakfast, he knew they found the idea of eating just after rising to be bizarre. “Not at all – we’re nearly done. What can I do for you?”
There were a limited number of reasons why Kieman would go to the trouble of visiting after sending that letter.
Given that Lawrence had not fled, it was reasonable to conclude he was going to cooperate. But from Kieman s point of view, their current location was a den of treacherous temptations, and so Lawrence was quite sure they would be taken to the south side.
Kieman stared openly across the room, and with a voice like a child pleased at being able to deliver a clever answer, replied, “Might we conduct this outside? I feel as though a mouse might appear in here at any moment.”
Lawrence did not have to wonder what he meant by that.
While mice might make pleasant companions for a traveler taking a lonely meal out on the road, for those who stored goods in town, they were practically demons.
Kieman was either worried about eavesdroppers or he sincerely hated mice.
“If possible, I’d like to leave the inn. As for your things… ah, they seem to be ready.”
Lawrence knew perfectly well that the “if possible” was simply for politeness’s sake. He had accepted that. He was, however, a bit concerned that his bags were packed a bit too neatly there in the corner.
Whoever saw them might well catch the whiff of imminent escape about them.
“I shall await you downstairs, then.” Whether or not Kieman had noticed what the bags’ readiness implied, he turned on his heel and left the room.
A nobleman’s arrival was pompous, and his departure was quick – and Lawrence felt as if he had just witnessed a perfect example of this.
“Hmph. He seems like something you’d loathe,” said Holo.
“Doesn’t he?”
Holo flicked her ears as she popped the last bite of bread into her mouth – perhaps Kieman had rubbed her the wrong way as well.
“Huh…? I thought he was sort of handsome…” said Col.
Lawrence and Holo looked at each other and then advanced upon the boy together, speaking in unison: “You mustn’t grow up to be like him.”
Col blinked rapidly before giving an uncertain nod.
Descending to the first floor, they found Kieman, who seemed to have been discussing something with the innkeeper.
“Now then, shall we leave through the back door and board the carriage?”
He seemed to know that Lawrence had entered the inn through the back door after receiving the letter from Eve.
Given that Lawrence had spoken of his acquaintance with Eve, Kieman must have considered the possibility that he was spying for her. Nevertheless, he seemed to regard Lawrence as useful.
“I was unable to prepare a covered carriage – my apologies. Ah, please, do get in.”
The carriage that waited alongside the inn could seat six people and was very fine indeed.
The driver was an old, bearded man with one eye, and he gave Lawrence a brief look before silently turning his gaze forward again.
The driver’s left hand was missing a pinkie and ring finger, and the back of his hand was covered in scars.
He seemed usefully silent.
The carriage had seats facing both forward and backward, so Lawrence and company faced the direction of their travel while Kieman sat opposite them.
“Now, to the port,” said Kieman, and the driver gave a quiet nod. The carriage began moving. “So, as to my reason for coming here this morning.”
“The best trades are made in enemy territory, I assumed.”
Kieman’s face froze in a smile at Lawrence’s interruption, and he then nodded, impressed.
He clearly did not take Lawrence seriously and was just as clearly surprised by such a reply – Lawrence was supposed to be thoroughly cowed by now.
And naturally, had Holo not been there, Lawrence would indeed have been withering.
“Ah, yes, just so. When there’s trouble in the town, people like us are prohibited from crossing the river in order to prevent the trouble from escalating. Further communication is usually done via notes attached to arrows, but this time both sides require haste. It’s been decided to resolve the dispute on the delta. We young ones are just the heralds, you see. Right about now, the others are consulting with the landlords to decide upon a schedule for the proceedings.”
Most likely Kieman’s ilk, who so enjoyed the attention, would be gathering on the north side of town, each of them trying to take advantage of the situation in order to improve the standing of his own name or the name of his company.
The only reason Kieman himself was not there was his confidence that he was above them all and that only he possessed the means to meet with Eve.
“May I presume that the source of all this commotion is the narwhal?” Lawrence asked, at which Kieman seemed unsurprised.
Quite the contrary, he looked pleased not to have to explain the situation. “Yes, exactly. They say a narwhal’s horn is even better for gout than the heart blood of a fowl. You can imagine just how much the nobility would want something like that.”
“Indeed, given that gout is the punishment for gluttony, one of the Church’s seven deadly sins.” Lawrence was relaxed enough to even aim a few words at Holo.
He was still wary, knowing that Kieman’s words could not be trusted, but the unreasoning fear he had felt earlier was gone.
“The house merchants of the nobility who live in the city will surely have sent word to their masters on fast horses. Of course, we can already list those who most want the narwhal.”
“So you’re prepared for battle, then?”
Kieman’s eyes narrowed as he smiled. “Quite.”
The carriage emerged from a narrow street onto a wide avenue that ran alongside the river.
Not so much time had passed, but large numbers of people inconvenienced by the prohibition on river crossing had begun to appear. Lawrence wondered if the prohibition had been lifted since from the fine view of the river the avenue afforded, he could see ferries filled with people making their way across.
“Incidentally,” said Kieman as the salt-scented breeze ruffled his fine blond hair, “how much did you discuss with Miss Eve?”
Lawrence got the sense that this was the threshold. He feigned an open smile. “Er, Miss Eve…?”
He could hardly fail to miss the twitch at Kieman’s temple.
“Ah, I’m sorry. My mistake,” said Kieman, falling silent and turning his attention to the river.
Given the region of town where Lawrence had been staying, it was obvious with whom he’d met. Kieman was trying to draw the truth out and thereby slip a leash around Lawrence’s neck.
Kieman’s sudden silence was because he had underestimated Lawrence.
Or perhaps he was considering a different use for Lawrence, who was cleverer than Kieman had imagined.
Lawrence spoke next, but not because he thought he could suddenly overwhelm Kieman. “Speaking of Miss Eve, I did chat with her a bit at the spring of gold.”
“… Did you?” Kieman looked over at Lawrence casually. His eyes were the cold, profit-calculating eyes of a merchant who could look at another human and see only what he hoped to gain.
“She said there was nothing so troublesome as being sold something that can’t be bought with money.”
For the first time, Kieman looked surprised. “I’ll bet,” he said with a smile.
Lawrence had no intention of opposing Kieman.
The reason he insinuated Eve’s being pursued by the landlord’s son was to hide the true subject of their conversation, given that he could not hope to disguise that the conversation had occurred.
Now everything depended on what Kieman did. Lawrence was confident he had gotten that across.
Kieman was silent after that, which in itself was response enough.
If he had underestimated Lawrence’s significance, he would have to change his plans.
They all boarded a ferry and crossed to the south side of the river.
As they waited for Kieman to pay the boatman, Holo stepped on Lawrence’s foot playfully, as though reminding him not to get too full of himself.
He knew she was confident in him but did not want him to be overconfident.
He had taken the best course of action he could think of, but his palms were still sweaty.
While on the south side the buildings were uniformly built and aligned and the paving stones clean and straight, the scenery here was very different, and for the first time Lawrence realized he was no longer on friendly ground.
“Well, shall we go?”
Led on by Kieman, Lawrence and his companions moved deeper into enemy territory.
Chapter Six
“I vow not to cause any inconveniences.”
They were led to a five-story inn not far from the Rowen Trade Guild. Its entrance and interior were both very familiar looking, so it was probably commonly used by members of the guild. Lawrence and company were shown to a room on the third floor, which faced the inn’s courtyard.
There were no complaints about the room, and compared to the inn on the north side that Eve had recommended, the atmosphere of the place – where they would evidently be allowed to stay free of charge – was far better.
But Kieman’s words could not be taken at face value.
He probably meant that he would not keep them under surveillance in a way that would cause them inconvenience.
“Should you need anything, please tell the innkeeper. And if you would be so kind as to inform us of your destination should you leave the inn, you’ll avoid any unfortunate encounters.”
Lawrence had expected not to be allowed to leave at all, so these words came as a surprise.
Of course, the reverse side of such graciousness was that they were obviously confident they would be able to follow him no matter whom he tried to meet with.
And that confidence was probably justified.
Lawrence hid such thoughts behind his merchant’s mask and answered with a simple “Understood.”
“Well, then, please be at ease and enjoy your stay,” said Kieman with a smile; then he turned before anyone could reply and closed the door behind him.
Lawrence, taken aback, stared at the door for a few moments.
He had assumed that Kieman would explain what role he expected Lawrence to play in his view and Eve’s, but instead the issue had been completely evaded.
“… What was that all about?” Lawrence scratched his head and sighed and then noticed that Holo was rolling happily around on the bed. Meanwhile, Col had his hand on that same bed and a look of surprise on his face.
“What are you doing?” Lawrence asked, and Col turned to him, eyes shining.
“Cotton! It’s filled with cotton!”
“Cotton?”
“Come, lie upon it yourself! ’Tis soft, like a cloud.
”
If the beds used cotton, then the room would have cost quite a bit if Lawrence had been paying for it himself.
Given Kieman’s enthusiasm and the basic principles of return on investment, it meant that he expected to use Lawrence in a way that would earn him more than this room was costing.
The size of this exchange was becoming more and more concrete.
Now that it had been pointed out, Lawrence noticed that the room itself was quite fine. He approached the window and saw that its joints were very tight so as to block drafts. When he opened it, he could look down onto a lovely courtyard where many flowers bloomed despite the season.
“…”
Given all this, the food served at this inn would likely be quite luxurious as well.
Lawrence was not unfamiliar with such methods. If one compensated someone only as well as his station demanded, he would do only what was expected of them. But if he were showered with overwhelming generosity, his embarrassment would make him easy to control, and this would force him to put forward extraordinary effort.
The fear that Lawrence had bottled up began to creep back into his view.
At the very least, should he have asked Kieman for an explanation?
He mulled it over as he turned his gaze back into the room from the courtyard, when–
“Fool,” said Holo, startling Lawrence so thoroughly he nearly fell out of the window.
“Wh-what–”
“That’s what I should be asking you! What are you doing with that serious expression of yours? You’re staying here in a room far beyond your purse’s means to let, yet you cannot enjoy it?” demanded Holo, sounding annoyed.
Behind her, Col looked on nervously as he sat on the cotton-stuffed bed.
“Well, I…”
Lawrence stumbled over his words, and Holo stabbed her index finger at his chest, continuing to talk.
“You truly are a weakling when it comes to such things. Why do you think that nasty little whelp left you here without explaining anything? There won’t be anything like last night’s eavesdropper, either. Our whelp is a bit more interesting than that.”
Holo turned to the door, continuing to show her fangs.
“If the explanation you gave me is correct, he’s still mistrustful of you. And ’tis a fact you’ve a connection to that vixen. So what does it mean that he’s brought you to his territory and is trying to make you one of his pawns? Naturally, he must make sure you haven’t any strings attached.”
Spice & Wolf Omnibus Page 158