“We’re both patient but overreact in equal measure to our stored-up frustration,” said Holo with a self-reproachful smile.
Lawrence looked at a rock that was jutting so far out it seemed about to fall at any moment and replied, “Like jumping naked into the wagon bed of a traveling merchant?”
“Or heading south in search of a friend.”
Lawrence wanted to reach his hand out to Holo’s face but thought better of it. Ever since arriving in the snowy mountains, Holo had surely been thinking about it. What would she do after they arrived in Yoitsu? The remains of one possible choice lay back in that cottage and in the reaction of the surrounding villagers. He just could not get used to her lightly frolicsome mood.
Lawrence and Holo held hands and made their way slowly around the waterfall. It seemed as though they might walk without any particular goal, but Fran’s and Col’s footprints ran there, so Lawrence and Holo followed them.
It was as though they were looking for some kind of precedent, any kind – but to say it aloud would be far too sentimental. As the thought occurred to Lawrence, he looked at Holo, and she lifted her gaze from the footprints in front of them and met his. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing.
She had long since kicked such worries aside, though.
That was the right answer, but above all they would avoid regret this way.
Lawrence squeezed Holo’s hand a bit tighter as the thought struck him.
“So, is the story that an angel passed this way true?”
The path that led to the lake wound around the side of the waterfall, and it seemed Fran and Col were up at its head.
Holo and Lawrence ran up the shortcut, and as they came suddenly face-to-face with the waterfall, Holo spoke. “If they were anything like you or Mr. Hugues, they might have been mistaken for an angel.”
“Mmm… I did see a bird once on the island.” Holo sniffed the air.
“How long would a scent even last?”
“Hmph. It was just a try. And anyway, even years later, I can still get a sense of the place. This doesn’t have that feel. ’Tis a weak forest that humans might easily do as they wish to it.”
The statement had a certain level of authority behind it, given that Holo had once led a pack that protected such a forest.
Holo seemed to notice Lawrence’s concern and smiled a deliberately sharp-fanged smile. “It was probably just a drift of snow blown up into the air. You humans are cowards, but cowards invent the best monsters.”
She sounded so amused as she said it that Lawrence wondered if she had personal experience. “Do you know of any?”
The path that zigzagged up the slope behind the waterfall was surprisingly well made. Since they were following Col and Fran, progress was comparatively easy to make.
“Plenty from back when I lived among the wheat. When night fell, youngsters would get up to mischief in the fields. I’d say there were ten kinds of wheat monsters, at least.”
Lawrence felt bad for the mischief-making youngsters but suddenly understood where many eerie stories must have originated.
“Though sometimes they saw monsters that had nothing to do with my kind.” Holo had a nostalgic look in her eye.
“For example?”
“The one I’m remembering now was a boy who tripped and fell in the mountains and thought the sound of his own crying as it echoed through the valley was the howl of a monster. So then he got even more scared and cried louder.”
“Oh, like that. But… ah… I see.”
“Hmm?”
The path wound left, then right, and before they knew it, they were making good progress up the steep slope. Whoever had come up with this way of constructing a trail was very clever. They had come a good distance but were still only halfway.
“I just remembered the story of a famous miracle whose trick was revealed.”
“Oh ho.” A large tree root formed a steep step, so Lawrence climbed it first and then held out a hand to pull Holo up.
“It has to do with the northern campaign. Every traveler knows the story.” Just as Lawrence began to talk, he suddenly paused. “But it involves the Church, so don’t tell Col.”
Holo’s blank expression shifted to a mischievous smile. “Fortunately there’s nothing else between us that needs to be kept a secret.”
Lawrence could only smile ruefully, and at Holo’s urging, he continued his story. “A famous troupe of knights was participating in the campaign and was losing a fierce battle to pagan forces. As the sky grew red with approaching night, the knights’ commander was about to order the retreat – when suddenly, a huge shadow covered the battlefield. The moment he looked up to see what it was, everyone there seemed to spot it. A huge, white Church crest drifting across the sky.”
Lawrence looked up at the sky, which prompted Holo to do the same. She looked back down, her voice thoughtful. “Birds, weren’t they?”
Always so clever. Lawrence nodded and continued, “That’s right. A flock of birds migrating. But the knights took it as a sign that victory was assured and somehow, in the small amount of daylight left, managed to escape their poor position and win the day. The flag of the nation that was founded on that land has a red background with a white Church crest on it to commemorate that day. And thus had a miracle occurred. The end!”
So there was no small possibility that the angel legend had come from some sort of natural phenomenon. No doubt Fran had taken Col along to investigate just that possibility.
“Mm. But if so, how might one summon the angel again?”
They came around the last switchback and continued on to the top of the hill. Looking down, the waterfall’s splash pool was strangely tiny.
“What a beautiful lake,” said Holo in a bright voice, not the least bit winded.
The lake was like a mirror bordering the mountains, reflecting the gray clouds that threatened snow at any moment.
Unlike the riverbank below, there were many small rocks fringing the lake. The dusting of snow atop the small black rocks made for a lovely contrast.
The lake was mostly free of reeds and quite transparent, and it seemed entirely possible to walk all the way around its edge. It would be easily navigable by boat and easy, too, to catch fish.
“I’d rather come in summertime,” said Holo, and Lawrence could understand why.
“Can you swim?” Lawrence asked.
“Aye. ’Tis a lovely feeling, having most of one’s weight borne by the water.”
Lawrence could not help but smile at the thought of a wolf so huge it could eat a human in a single bite jumping into a lake and swimming about like a dog. “But if you jumped into the lake in that huge body of yours, all the water would overflow.”
In reality, it was the water from the waterfall that caused the lake to overflow. Lawrence had meant it as a little joke, but Holo fell silent, her expression serious.
“But if I were to jump in with this body, then you’d be the one to overflow.”
She was like a boomerang. Lawrence ignored her; she replied with a deep breath, which she then exhaled.
Taking a walk around such a beautiful lakefront was quite a luxury for a busy traveling merchant. “I suppose Col and Fran must have gone quite a ways.”
Their footprints seemed to go all the way around to the foggy opposite shore that lay at the foot of a tall mountain, its peak entirely obscured by clouds.
“Mm,” Holo muttered noncommittally, looking at the waterfall to which they had walked.
“Is something the matter?”
“Mm. This waterfall may be quite new.”
“Huh?” Lawrence said, and Holo nodded after taking another glance around their surroundings.
“I suppose you humans wouldn’t exactly call it recent, but look, there. Does it not look as though that cliff collapsed?” Holo said, pointing at the base of the mountain by the waterfall. “The rocks or whatever fell from there piled up to create the waterfall spot. The lake was originally bowl
shaped and surrounded by mountains like so.” She made a circle with her arms, perfectly demonstrating what she meant.
It did seem like the sort of thing that Holo, who had lived for centuries, was likely to know.
“But if the river level dropped, that means…”
“That’s why. You can’t fill a chipped bowl past the edge of its chip. If the water rises, it will drain down to that level.”
Now that she pointed it out, Lawrence saw that there was a sharp rock at the top of the waterfall that divided its flow in two, and it looked as though it had been somehow stuck there after the fact.
Perhaps someone had seen the moment of that landslide and mistaken it for the angel’s ascension. Lawrence thought about it and decided it was unlikely. It was hard, after all, to mistake falling rocks for an angel’s wings.
“Or perhaps the angel made a foothold so that it could leap up into the heavens from it,” said Lawrence a bit affectedly, at which Holo made a face and pulled away.
“You truly are a dreamer,” she said, heaving a great sigh.
They prepared dinner and waited, and when Col and Fran finally returned, they were soaking wet, as though they had played around in the snow all day. Their bodies had stayed warm beneath their coats, but their arms and legs were like sticks of ice.
Holo reluctantly covered Fran’s hands with her own and placed her feet against Fran’s feet because the best way to warm someone up was with another body. Lawrence stuck Col’s hands underneath his own coat and warmed the boy’s feet up with his own hands.
“So, did you find anything?”
Col’s fine, layered leather boots had soaked up so much water they were like lead. Wherever they had gone must have had thick snow, so they would have needed good reason to be there, Lawrence reasoned – but Fran shook her head. She looked a bit sad as she did so, perhaps out of exhaustion.
“Well, once you’re settled in, we’ll have dinner.”
At these words, Col nodded. Lawrence looked at him and saw him begin to nod off now that he was suddenly in a much warmer place.
Lawrence removed Col’s wet coat and replaced it with a dry blanket, wrapping it around Col’s arms. He was a bit smaller than Holo, so it was easily managed. He smelled faintly musty. Perhaps after having spent so much time around Holo, he was beginning to take on a hint of her scent.
Fran’s limbs seemed to finally thaw, and she said a brief word of thanks to Holo before drawing her arms and legs back in toward herself.
“You have a fine traveling companion,” she said as she accepted a bowlful of the pot’s contents.
When Lawrence realized she was talking about Col, he smiled. “He’s been a great help to us. Though it seems he was a bit short on stamina today.”
Col looked frail and thin, but he had been perfectly fine managing winter travel with thin, meager clothing, and his endurance was at least equal to Lawrence’s, perhaps better. If they had walked around enough to tire him out so thoroughly, then it might be that Fran was the exceptional one.
“Not at all…” said Fran, sipping the soup. Even when eating, she seemed to have a certain aura about her.
Anyone who came inside after wandering around in the cold all day would have a moment of unguarded relief – but not Fran. Her alertness reminded Lawrence of some forest animal.
“By the way, we did some thinking about the legend of the angel,” said Lawrence as he filled Holo’s bowl with meat, at which Fran’s hand froze. “Have you ever seen the flag of the Torhildt Republic?”
Fran’s eyes were fixed intently on Lawrence. She had taken the bait more thoroughly than he had anticipated.
“… Have you knowledge of the story?”
“Some.” The ember of her interest, so bright before, seemed to have gone out. Fran did not elaborate and sipped her soup as though deliberately regaining her composure. She cut the contents of the bowl up with her wooden spoon and then ate them, carefully scooping the last bite up and bringing it to her mouth.
Her every movement was smooth and efficient, and she ate rather quickly.
The higher in status one rose, the slower one tended to take one’s meals – and so went the opposite. Col was a perfect example, being a traveling scholar whose eating was mostly indistinguishable from that of a thief or beggar.
According to Hugues, Fran had identified herself as a former slave. Perhaps that was true, Lawrence mused.
“I suppose I also think it was a bit of snow or something being blown up on the wind,” she said. The same thing Vino the villager said. Going by boring common sense, it was the most reasonable response.
“Or maybe the real thing.”
Fran revealed a surprisingly honest smile at Lawrence’s joke. “That would certainly be the best answer. However…”
“… I understand you’ve investigated too many legends to truly believe that.”
Fran’s eyes closed and her smile vanished. Her slow breathing made it seem as though she were trying to control her anger, but Lawrence felt it was just the opposite. She was trying to keep herself from laughing.
Her slow breathing stopped, and she exhaled. Her expression was soft, just as Lawrence had expected. “That’s right. Most were shams. A few were from people who mistook what they saw and jumped to conclusions. And still fewer were truly special, truly real, as though something genuinely extraordinary had happened there.”
“And which do you suppose this is?” Lawrence asked, at which Fran shook her head. It seemed like she was both giving her answer and admitting that she did not know.
But Fran’s gaze went into the distance and suddenly she spoke. “I originally heard the angel legend from a dear friend.”
Lawrence was surprised. He had not expected Fran to talk about such a thing. Fran herself seemed to understand this. She glanced at him, embarrassed, a slight bashfulness playing about the corners of her mouth.
“They admitted they could not remember where they’d seen it. But what they told me about was largely the same as this legend.”
Eyes that looked into the past were always sad. In front of the flickering light of the hearth, this was doubly true.
“They exaggerate, but they don’t lie. And after so many years…”
“You think you’ve finally found out.”
Fran nodded and relaxed her sitting posture a bit. It seemed to Lawrence that she had finally taken down some of the barriers she had built. He offered her some wine.
Fran took it without much hesitation. “I can’t bring myself to believe that the legend here is nonsense. I believe it exists and is something that can be seen. The–” Fran’s gaze moved to the rough, tanned skin hanging over the entrance to the back room. “–The nun there believed in it and came here.”
Her faith had caused her to be driven from towns and villages and to be dubbed a witch. It was hard to imagine someone with such deep faith, no matter how eccentric she might be, following a truly phony legend. Such legends and stories were countless. Only a truly special occurrence would remain in minds and capture hearts the way this one had.
“I do believe my friend saw it as well. Something that could be called a miracle…” Her eyes were slightly downcast, a sad smile on her face that was not merely a trick of the hearth’s flickering shadows. “But it is to laugh… to see such a thing and not remember where you saw it.”
Her smile was an almost exasperated one.
Any man would find himself faintly jealous seeing such a smile. Lawrence wondered if she was fond of the person she was talking about. Her use of the word friend felt like an attempt to hide her embarrassment.
But with this, it seemed as though Fran’s desire to discover the truth behind the legend was not merely out of passion as a silversmith. She had another reason in her heart, and that was what had driven her to come all this way.
In any case, Fran’s smile was full of shadows.
“Ah, I shouldn’t,” said Fran, putting her wine cup down. She had not drunk much, but perhaps
she lacked much tolerance for drink. Or perhaps she was more worried about the temptation to let it loosen her tongue so that she would spill the contents of her heart.
Silence fell.
Lawrence could not help but ask, “Why would you tell me this?”
Her reply was quick. “As an apology.”
“An apology?” Lawrence echoed, hearing a derisive sniff from behind him.
He looked and saw Holo glaring at Fran with suspicious eyes.
“Back at the trading company…”
Had something happened that required an apology? Was she talking about her utter intractability? Even so, an apology would be strange, so Lawrence just sat there stupidly as Fran looked into her reflection in the wine cup on the floor and continued.
“I could have spoken with you differently. I thought you were merely another greedy merchant.”
“No, that’s quite all right…”
“I thought you only wanted a map of the north so you could profit from it.” Fran looked up and smiled apologetically.
Lawrence had told her the previous night that he wanted the map in order to help Holo. So what reason did she have for apologizing? She was apologizing not for her response, but rather the manner of her response. What a strange notion.
Lawrence remained at a loss, and it was finally Holo who spoke up. “So what was it that changed your mind, eh?” Her tone was still a bit harsh, but she seemed amused, too. Looking at her face, Lawrence saw that she seemed in better spirits and wore a faint smile.
Fran drew back deliberately at the question and regarded Holo silently. For a while, the two girls seemed to have a conversation entirely with their eyes.
“Now that we’ve come this far, you wish our help, perhaps?”
Fran nodded slowly.
Lawrence still had no idea what they were talking about, but at the familiar sound of the word help, he started to see where this was going. But before he could interject, Holo spoke.
“Aye, fine then.” The haste with which Holo agreed reminded him of his own failure at the Hugues Company. Lawrence could not help but open his mouth to speak, but then Holo slapped his back. “We’re asking for your help as well, so ’tis hardly the time for holding grudges.”
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