“Am I a child?”
“Huh?”
“A conversation has a certain flow, does it not? Do you suppose that by simply asking me again, I’ll just happily answer you and that will be that?”
Immediately following Holo’s words, the wagon swayed dramatically as one of its wheels hit a tree root.
Lawrence hastily looked ahead, then turned back around to see Holo. She lay prone atop the cargo, as though about to sleep. She was not facing him.
“…”
Awkwardly, Lawrence faced forward, putting his hand to his forehead. This situation was unlike anything he’d dealt with back when his only conversation partner had been his horse. He considered how best to apologize, but was certain that no matter what he said, he’d only dig himself deeper into the mud.
Finally, he braced himself and spoke.
“I’m sorry.”
The same words he’d said a moment earlier. Yet – conversation did have a flow.
“Hmph.” Her irritated snort was proof that she’d forgiven him. “So… when will we finally clear this forest?” The space between her words had probably been to put the wineskin to her lips. After all that, she still hadn’t revealed just what sort of idle conversation she preferred.
“They say the forest spirits can create new paths through the woods – I don’t suppose Holo the Wisewolf has any such abilities?”
“If this were a wheat field, it would not be impossible.”
“Oh, really? Now, that I’d like to see.”
“Perhaps if there’s an opportunity.” Holo’s tone was chilly, but if he was to object, it would only be cause for more retribution. Lawrence managed to choke back his retort.
“Still, this forest is strange.” The wagon swayed as they crossed an intersecting path.
“Strange in what way?”
“There are a lot of paths. Too many even for lumber harvesting.” Lawrence wondered if they ought to turn back before they got lost.
It was nearly midday, and once the sun passed its zenith, the shadows would shift.
He remembered the path so far, more or less, but the shifting shadows would change the landmarks, making it that much easier to become lost.
“…”
“What’s the matter?” Holo interrupted Lawrence’s musings. “Are we about to be lost?” She smirked a malicious smirk.
As a traveling merchant, Lawrence found himself irritated, even if this was a joke meant more as a friendly warning than anything else.
“We’ve come all this way and I remember our route, so it’s fine.” Lawrence knew he was being obstinate.
Whether or not Holo also knew that, she fell silent for a while, her tail swishing to and fro before she threw herself back atop the cargo.
“Aye, well, you’re the lifelong traveler, so.” She retracted her opinion – it was almost as though she was apologizing for her unsolicited question.
The wagon rattled along the road.
They continued to intersect paths, which wove this way and that but never opened to the clearing.
Time lazily passed by, and finally they found themselves at an intersection radiating paths in many directions.
Lawrence stopped the horse and cast his gaze skyward. It was just past noon – the perfect time for the hoped-for nap on the grass. Which of course meant that the longer it took to find the meadow, the less pleasant the nap would be.
Given the time necessary for the return trip, they would need to find the meadow very soon to make it worthwhile at all.
But having come so far on this detour, turning back now without even a glimpse of the meadow would be the height of foolishness. More than anything, he was feeling foolish for having ignored Holo’s warning.
“…”
Lawrence sat in silent contemplation in the driver’s seat. The horse was stopped, and having him start walking again was the furthest thing from Lawrence’s mind.
It was clear that the rational thing to do would be to turn around rather than continuing on. And yet if he suggested turning back here, there was no telling what Holo would say. He knew it was his pride talking, but some part of him resisted simply choking it down.
Whether or not she was aware of Lawrence’s conflict, Holo’s tail wagged back and forth. It was an obvious provocation.
Lawrence gripped the reins as though to continue onward, but then the realization hit him. What if he forged ahead only to become truly lost?
“…”
They would have to turn back. Then immediately after Lawrence came to his decision–
“Hmm. Goodness, but you’re adorable,” said Holo from behind him, chin propped on the back of the driver’s seat. “I wonder how much worse ’twould be if you had ears and a tail like mine.”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve never seen a male quite so transparent as you.”
“What?” Lawrence retorted, a hint of irritation mixed into his voice, which made Holo sit up and bring her face closer. The quality of her smile changed as Lawrence couldn’t help but flinch away.
“After kicking aside my warning, you can’t very well suggest we turn back, and yet continuing on could be dangerous. So, what to do?”
Bull’s-eye.
Lawrence looked away, which brought Holo’s still-grinning face even closer. “Your tiresome stubbornness is only too obvious.”
Holo, the self-proclaimed wisewolf, had lived for centuries. Her face was so close that he could feel her breath on his cheek, which only heightened Lawrence’s desire to escape.
But the driver’s seat was cramped.
He faced Holo’s amber eyes, keen and penetrating like a fortune-teller’s.
“And yet…” Holo then continued, her tone almost disappointingly gentle. She’d been close enough to devour him headfirst but suddenly pulled back.
Unable to follow her rapidly changing demeanor, Lawrence could only stare vaguely at her as she sat atop the back of the driver’s seat.
“And yet when I wonder why you’re so stubborn, I can hardly find it within myself to be angry.”
From her perch atop the seat back, she was in a position to look down at Lawrence. It was the reverse of the usual situation, and Holo’s attitude was frustratingly high-and-mighty.
“You’re trying to get the advantage of me, even if it’s a reach, aren’t you? You’re like a child. How can I be mad at a child?”
If she’d been mocking him, then he might have had some recourse.
But in trying to refute Holo, Lawrence had failed like a little boy. And she simply smiled down at him without rancor or excitement, like a benevolent elder sister.
In a situation like this, he didn’t have a leg to stand on. And she’d been dead-on accurate, so there was nowhere to run.
“Your problem is this,” Holo said conversationally as she hopped down to sit properly in the seat. Having done so, the difference in their heights meant that she now looked up at him. “You decide everything on a set of scales.”
“… Scales?”
“Aye. Which side is heavier, which is higher or lower. It’s no good, looking to that to the exclusion of all else. It might be right for a merchant, but…”
A rustling sound arose as Holo reached back to take hold of the blanket in the wagon bed, then pulled it forward. Once she finished wrapping herself in it, she then lightly smacked Lawrence’s hand, which still held the reins.
“Just how long do you plan on holding those reins for?”
“… Huh? I mean, we’ll have to turn back here, so…” said Lawrence guardedly, since he didn’t understand what Holo was getting at.
Holo’s face turned immediately incredulous. “Honestly… It’s just as I said, is it not? What you need is a better instinct for a conversation’s flow.”
It was true that she’d said as much. But what did that have to do with him taking up the reins? Lawrence started to wonder if she had again cast him into some elaborate trap – but then he realized his m
isapprehension. “Ah!”
“Huh. So you’ve finally hit upon it, have you?”
He had no retort. He had only to follow the thread of their conversation up until a moment ago, and it was simple. Considering the exchange he’d had with Holo just before they entered the forest, it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“If you’d only done as much from the start – but no, you just had to work your way in deeper. It’s not my cleverness that makes it so simple for me to trip you up, but rather your foolishness.”
Lawrence dropped the reins at her insistence, opening and closing his now-empty hands. Having had it pointed out to him, it was obvious, and yet he had never realized it.
“So you’ve understood that there’s no need to seek this meadow in order to cheer me up, aye?” She flicked the blanket open with a flourish and adroitly wrapped it around both herself and Lawrence.
That, too, had been a misunderstanding. What had Holo said she enjoyed about travel?
“You mean your favorite sort of idle chatter?”
“Aye. If you’d only thought to confirm that, not only would you not have need to make a meadow detour, you’d have been able to quite thoroughly cheer me up.” Holo’s tone was very amused.
No doubt she was very amused. She had bested him, after all.
“So, what is your favorite way to converse?” asked Lawrence. Immediately thereafter, his eye widened in surprise – Holo seemed neither angry nor exasperated. She neither scorned him nor mocked him. At Lawrence’s question, she seemed actually embarrassed.
“Heh-heh… to be quite honest, I’d never be able to admit it if the conversation had not come to this place,” she said, looking down bashfully, her voice ticklish as she giggled to herself.
If her favorite sort of conversation was indeed something so embarrassing, then this was surely the best time to admit it – she had the overwhelming advantage now.
No matter what she said, it could be forgiven.
“What I like best is… falling asleep while talking like this. Just drifting off to the sound of idle conversation…”
She was so self-conscious at this last part that she looked away when she finished speaking. And it was true, falling asleep to conversation was not so very different from falling asleep to a lullaby.
And now that Lawrence thought about it, this had happened before. Holo often drifted to sleep while they talked.
Lawrence had always attributed that to her selfishness, never dreaming that this was the truth.
He peered at Holo’s turned-away face, imagining that if this was no joke, then she would be blushing red.
“So – rather foolish, eh?”
“… Unfortunately, yes.”
Holo looked back at him, eyes resentful as she bumped her head into his shoulder. “Yet who is it that holds the advantage here?”
It hardly needed to be said who was the greater fool. If he’d asked this of her before, Lawrence would have the advantage over Holo.
There would have been no need to fixate on the meadow nor to be so pointlessly stubborn. Indeed, it might have been Holo who turned stubborn. But Holo had discerned the conversational flow more clearly, and so she was the victor.
“I just can’t win with you, can I?”
“I should say not.” Holo shifted under the blanket. Her ears twitched, and Lawrence heard her yawn. “Come now… I told you what sort of conversation I like – so will you not speak?”
She wheedled like a child, despite still holding the reins. Though Lawrence found this rather frustrating, he knew there was no cause for him to resent her. With nothing else to say, he turned the conversation to their dinner menu.
As usual, they were limited to bland bread and jerky, along with some dried fruit. If they foraged in the forest, it was possible they might catch a quail or rabbit, though, and Lawrence had to laugh at the way Holo’s ears perked up at the mention of this.
They continued to share idle conversation, and eventually Lawrence heard the sound of Holo’s sleeping breath. It was as though having toyed so thoroughly with him, the wolf had grown tired from play. When he looked at her, Lawrence wondered if he would ever become clever enough to gain the conversational advantage from Holo.
It wasn’t as warm as the meadow might have been, but nothing was so comfortable as being under the blanket, as long as two people were there together. And all the more so when the other person was Holo, whose body temperature was slightly warmer than his, like a child’s would be.
Yet he could scarcely believe how blameless she looked while sleeping. It was as though he could pinch her nose without her awakening or stick his finger into the downy fur inside her ears. Having suffered at her hands so much, Lawrence toyed with the notion of revenge as he regarded her innocent face.
And then it was as though God had heard his plea.
She seemed about to fall over, so as Lawrence moved to support her, he made his gentle counterattack.
He wrapped an arm around her slender shoulders, as if to say, “I am your guardian, you know.” Then the moment he closed his own eyes–
“You pass.”
Upon hearing Holo’s quiet voice, he froze. This was where the whole conversation had been leading all along.
Holo looked up slightly and smiled a devilish smile, her fangs glinting beneath her lips.
“’Tis best to leave your snare at the base of a waterfall.”
Lawrence couldn’t help but finish the statement. “And the foolish fish will swim right into it.”
Holo nodded and snickered.
Lawrence rolled his eyes upward, taking his arm from around her shoulders and wrapping it gently around her neck out of sheer frustration. Holo’s tail wagged happily.
He was such a fool. Truly a fool.
For a merchant, taking an indulgent detour like this was like tying a noose around his own neck. The victor had been decided the moment he’d taken this rash course of action.
And who was it that held the other end of the rope he’d so happily tied around his neck? The answer was obvious.
Exhausted, Lawrence slumped over, resting his own head on Holo’s, as though to say, “This particular conversation should end here.”
The Black Wolf’s Cradle
Having finished unloading the hay bales, she could finally take a short rest.
There were still patches of snow here and there, but Fleur found herself perspiring nonetheless, owing to the early spring sun to which she was yet unaccustomed.
“That’s good hay. The livestock will grow well this year,” said the man from the Jones Company as he counted up the bales.
Fleur brushed away the hay that clung to her clothes, and with some effort, she beamed a cheerful smile at the man, who was roughly old enough to be her father. “In truth they’ll grow too much, and come winter you’ll have nothing but meat.”
“Oh? Perhaps I should buy up more than usual, then. Hmm.”
“For how much?”
The merchant scratched his chin with his quill pen, seemingly only remembering the payment at Fleur’s words. He counted up the hay bales again and answered only after a lengthy interval. “Seventeen ligot.”
“I was promised at least twenty,” she replied immediately, at which the man only twirled his quill pen. It was the sort of pause that merchants used when they didn’t take the other party seriously.
As the last trace of the pleasant expression on Fleur’s face drained away, she heard another voice, this one from behind her.
“You’re supposed to push for more – twenty-five, say.”
“Olar!” Fleur looked back and saw an older merchant.
The man with the pen scratched his temple, then chuckled through his nose while cocking his head. “All right. Given your nerve, let’s call it twenty ligot.”
“And of course that’ll include the rental for the wagon.” Though little of Olar’s fine silver hair remained, he still treated it with egg whites every day. The other merchant was not
particularly young, but compared with Olar he looked like a child.
“Certainly. The finder’s fee is also included.”
“Thanks be to God.”
The conversation was taking place entirely over Fleur’s head, and she said nothing to interrupt. It was only when Olar finally began unloading the hay from the wagon’s bed that she hit upon something she could do.
“We’ll be going,” was all Olar said after returning the wagon and confirming the figure the other merchant wrote in his ledger. He then began to walk away.
Olar was sturdier than he looked, and even with a heavy load on his back, he could move quickly and lightly.
Despite the port’s cargo docks being crowded with men, horses, and wagons moving this way and that, Olar moved through them almost magically, never once bumping into anyone else.
Fleur was still unused to hiding the fact that she was a young woman behind a scarf and found it difficult just to travel in a straight line. She only managed to come alongside Olar when he turned down a narrow alley that was barely wide enough to admit the two of them side by side.
From above them came the sound of a crying child, and from below, the squeaking of a rat; a cat meowed from a head-high windowsill – that was the sort of place this was. Until recently, Fleur would never have imagined she would set foot in such a place.
Yet, Fleur reflected, people can adapt to almost anything.
As they passed, she stroked the throat of a cat napping next to a potted plant on a windowsill.
The life of a commoner wasn’t so bad.
“Milady.”
At the sudden sound of Olar’s stern voice, the cat dashed back into the house.
She shot the insensitive source of that voice a harsh glare but was met with eyes that were still harsher.
“Are you not regretful of your actions?”
Fleur tended to laugh in the face of criticism from those older and more experienced than her, but this was not because she was particularly fearless. Rather, she had become used to it, since from a young age her tutors had often scolded her.
“Ah. Sorry. I am a bit,” she said. In truth, she had been perfectly useless during bargaining. “I was hoping you’d appreciate how I held my temper when that merchant tried to break his promise, but it seems that ship has sailed.”
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