Spice & Wolf III

by Hasekura Isuna

  It was a surprising development since people had already been dancing and drinking all day long.

  But if he wanted to view the festival, it would be easy to do so from the front-row seat that was the inn room.

  He hurried through the throng and made for the inn.

  Lawrence had some thinking to do.

  Amati’s chances of actually pulling together a thousand trenni had increased, but Lawrence still didn’t feel perturbed or worried about losing Holo.

  What he worried about was how much he could make with the pyrite he had on hand and how cheaply he could convince Holo lo sell him the piece she’d gotten from Amati.

  Sometimes worthless items turned into gold.

  Festivals were special times indeed.

  Along the quieter alleys slightly removed from the clamor and lights of the festival, knights and mercenaries made passes at girls or draped their arms around the already-convinced.

  The girls who leaned so easily into the arms of dark-eyed, dangerous, bandit-like knights did not seem to be women of the night, but rather ordinary town girls, who on any other night would only speak to men of more serious disposition and stature.

  The strange aphrodisiac that was the passionate festival atmo­sphere clouded their eyes—and so long as it also did things like drive the price of pyrite upward, Lawrence had no complaints.

  As he was mulling this over, Lawrence caught sight of a shop selling sweet melons to soothe throats burning from too much wine and bought two for Holo.

  There was no telling how angry she might be should he return empty-handed. The melons were like the eggs of some huge bird; he smiled, resigned, carrying one under his arm and one in his hand.

  The inn’s first-floor dining hall was just as lively as the streets, but Lawrence only glanced at it as he made his way up to the second story.

  Upon reaching the second floor, Lawrence noticed that the noise from below seemed strangely unreal, as though he were watching a fire burn from the opposite shore.

  The sound of the chatter brought to mind a babbling brook; he listened to it as he opened the door and entered the room.

  For a moment, he wondered why it was so well lit, but then he saw that the window had been left open.

  It had probably been too dark to read the letter otherwise.

  Suddenly, Lawrence realized something was wrong with that notion.

  The letter?

  He met Holo’s eyes as she stood before the window with the let ter in her hand.

  Those frightened eyes.

  No—not frightened.

  The eyes of someone who had just come back to their senses after being utterly stunned.

  “You...”

  ...can read? Lawrence was going to ask, but the words stuck in his throat.

  Holo’s lips quivered, followed shortly by her shoulders. He saw her try to gather strength in her numb, slim fingers, but the letter slipped from them and fluttered to the floor.

  Lawrence did not move. He was afraid she would shatter like an Ice sculpture if he moved.

  It was the letter from Diana that she’d held.

  If reading that letter brought Holo to this state, there were not many possibilities Lawrence could imagine.

  It had to be about Yoitsu.

  “Whatever is the matter?” she asked.

  Her voice sounded as it always did. Despite being visibly on the brink of collapse, she managed a thin smile; the contrast was unreal, dreamlike.

  “Is there something s-stuck to my face?” Holo tried maintain­ing her smile, but her lips trembled and it was clearly difficult for her to speak.

  Lawrence looked into her eyes, which were unfocused.

  “There’s nothing on your face. You might be a bit drunk, though.”

  He couldn’t bear standing silently before her like that, so he tried to choose the least offensive words he could.

  What to say next? No, he had to figure out first how much she knew. Lawrence had gotten that far when Holo spoke again.

  “Y-yes, quite. I-I must be drunk. Drunk i-indeed.”

  Her teeth chattered as she smiled, and she stiffly walked over to the bed and sat.

  Lawrence finally moved away from the door and very slowly, so as not to cause this frightened bird to fly, made his way to the desk.

  He set the two melons down on the desk and casually glanced down at the letter Holo had dropped.

  Diana’s lovely handwriting was clearly illuminated by the moonlight.

  Regarding the matter we discussed yesterday of the town of Yoitsu, destroyed long ago...

  Lawrence’s eyes flicked over the words. He couldn’t help closing his eyes.

  Holo had claimed to be unable to read—probably she had planned to surprise or to tease him sometime in the future. No doubt she was surprised that the chance to do so had come so quickly, and she had read the letter immediately.

  But it had backfired.

  The letter had been about her home of Yoitsu—of course, she would want to read it.

  The image of an excited Holo tearing into the envelope suddenly flickered into Lawrence’s mind.

  And then she saw the words about Yoitsu’s destruction. He couldn’t even imagine how bad the shock must have been.

  Holo sat on the bed, staring at the floor.

  While Lawrence struggled to think of the right words, she looked up.

  “What—what shall I do?” Her lips curled into a forced smile. “I’ve...I’ve nowhere to return to...

  She neither blinked nor cried, but a steady stream of tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “What shall I do...,” she murmured again, like a child who had broken her favorite toy. Lawrence couldn’t bear to see her this way. Everyone was a child when they remembered their homelands.

  Holo was a wisewolf of many centuries’ experience; she had certainly considered the possibility that Yoitsu had been buried within the flow of time.

  But just as logic has no hold over a child, it was of no use in the face of such strong emotions.

  “Holo.”

  Holo flinched momentarily at the sound of her name before regaining some composure.

  “It’s just an old story, a legend. There are many legends that are mistaken.”

  Lawrence spoke almost admonishingly, in order to give his words as much weight as he could. As far as possibilities went, the chances of Yoitsu being intact were very low. The towns that sur­vived unharmed for hundreds of years were typically large ones; that everyone knew.

  But he could think of nothing else to say.

  “Mis...mistaken?”

  “That’s right. In places where a new king or faction takes over, they’ll spread all kinds of tales like this to stake a claim to the new territory.”

  It wasn’t a lie. He had heard many such examples of this.

  But Holo shook her head suddenly, her tears streaming left and right across her cheeks.

  The stillness in her eyes was the calm before the storm.

  “No, if that were true, why—why would you hide it from me?”

  “I was looking for the right time to speak. It’s a delicate issue. So-”

  “Heh,” Holo laughed, though it sounded like a cough.

  It was as though a demon had possessed her somehow.

  “I-It must have been terribly amusing, seeing me be so carefree.”

  Lawrence’s mind went instantly blank. He could never feel anything of the sort. Anger surged up within him, seizing his throat, but he restrained it somehow.

  He realized Holo just wanted to hurt something, anything.

  “Holo, please, calm down.”

  “I’m qu-quite calm. Am I not the very picture of lucidity? You must have known about Yoitsu all along.”

  Lawrence was speechless; she had discerned the truth.

  He realized that his ultimate mistake lay in hiding it from her. “You did, did you not? Did you not? You knew as soon as you met me. That explains so much.”

  Holo’s expr
ession was now that of a cornered wolf.

  “Hah. Y-you like sad, weak little lambs. So how was I, as I talked of returning to the homeland you knew was destroyed? Was I foolish enough? Charming enough? Was I sad and lovely enough? So much so that you’d forgive my selfishness and take pity on me?” Lawrence tried to speak, but Holo continued.

  “And then you told me to go back to Nyohhira alone because you’d grown tired of me, no?”

  Her smile was a despairing one. Even Holo herself should know that what she said was a deliberate, malicious distortion.

  He knew that if he was to lose his temper and strike her, she would only wag her tail happily.

  “Is that really what you think?”

  Lawrence’s words struck her; she stared through him with blazing red eyes. “Yes, it is!”

  Holo stood up, her fists trembling and white.

  Her sharp teeth clattered, and her tail puffed out like a bottle brush.

  Lawrence still did not flinch. He knew that Holo’s rage came from a place of deep sadness.

  “Yes, I do think that! You are human! The only animal that raises other animals! It must have been so amusing for you as I foolishly took the bait that was Yoitsu and—”

  “Holo.”

  Holo had been gesticulating wildly; Lawrence quickly drew close to her and grabbed her arms with all his might.

  She was as angry and frightened as a trapped stray dog, and she could put up no more resistance than that of the young girl she appeared to be.

  With Lawrence holding on to her arms, the difference in their strength was clear.

  “I-I’m all alone. Wh-what shall I-I do? No one awaits my return. There is no one for me. I’m...I’m alone...”

  “You have me, don’t you?” he said, completely serious.

  They were not words that could be said lightly.

  But Holo merely scoffed and shot back, “What are you to me? Nay—what am I to you?”

  Lawrence had no quick reply. He had to think.

  It was a moment later that he realized he should have answered quickly, even if it had to be a lie.

  “No! I do not want to be alone anymore! I can’t!” shouted Holo, then froze. “Come now...Would...would you lie with me?”

  Lawrence was just about to loosen his grip on her arms.

  But then he noticed that her smile was empty. She was mocking her own unhinged state.

  “I am all alone, I am. But with a child, that would make two. Look, I have taken human form. It is not impossible that with you, I could...Come, please...”

  “Don’t talk. I’m begging you.”

  Lawrence understood the overflowing emotions that boiled up within her, which could only come out as sharp, poisonous words. He understood too well.

  But he could not manage the trick of tying those emotions up and setting them aside to cool.

  Telling her not to speak was all he could do.

  Holo’s smile strengthened, and a new wave of tears poured from her eyes.

  “Heh. Aha...ha-ha-ha-ha. ’Tis true. You’re too softhearted. I can expect nothing like that from you. But I care not. I’ve remembered, you see. There’s...Yes, there’s someone who loves me.”

  She couldn’t overcome Lawrence’s grip with force, so in order to take advantage of any gap that might appear, Holo relaxed her fists and let the tension drain from her body. Lawrence let go of her wrists, and words now came from her like so many sickly butterflies.

  “That is why such talk did not cause you worry, is it not? That if you could receive a thousand silver coins for me, it would not be so regrettable to let me go?”

  Lawrence knew that anything he said would be meaningless, so he only listened silently.

  The silence continued, as if Holo had burned up the last of her fuel.

  At length, just when Lawrence reached out to her again, Holo spoke weakly.

  “...I am sorry,” she said.

  Lawrence felt he could hear the slam that came with those words as Holo closed the door to her heart.

  He froze. It was all he could do to back away.

  Holo sat down again, staring at the floor, unmoving.

  Lawrence retreated, but he found himself unable to stand still, so he picked up the letter from Diana that Holo had dropped, reading it as if to escape.

  In it, Diana said that there was a monk who lived in a town on the way to Lenos, specializing in the legends of the northlands and that Lawrence would do well to visit him. On the back of the letter was written the name of the monk.

  Lawrence closed his eyes, anguished.

  If only he had looked at the letter first. If only.

  He was filled with a sudden urge to tear it into pieces, but he knew such an outburst was pointless.

  The letter was still an important clue to finding Yoitsu.

  It felt like one of the few thin threads still connecting Holo to him; he folded the letter and slipped it beneath his coat.

  He looked back at Holo, who still stared at the floor.

  In his mind, he heard again the word she had spoken—“sorry”—when he reached out to her.

  All he could do now was silently leave the room.

  He took one step back. Two steps.

  A loud cheer came through the window. Lawrence took this opportunity and left the room.

  For just an instant, he thought that Holo had lifted her face to look at him, but he knew it was just hope’s illusion.

  He reached behind himself to close the door, averting his eyes as if to make it clear he wished to see nothing.

  But that would not undo all of this.

  He would have to do something.

  He would have to do something—but what and how?

  Lawrence left the inn.

  The streets were again overflowing with strangers.

  Chapter 4

  Lawrence headed out into the town only to find there was no place for him there.

  The festival that had started when the sun set was the precise opposite of its daytime counterpart, and it lacked the latter's sense of fun entirely.

  Every straw or wooden puppet was now armed with a weapon, to say nothing of every costumed reveler. The larger puppets that had no weapons were themselves used as weapons as the fighting spread.

  The straw puppets collided amid angry cries, the crowds yelling each time debris went flying. Around them instruments blared their raucous tunes so as not to be drowned out by the clamor of fighting. The black-robed figures sang an ominous war hymn.

  Lawrence avoided the crowds and headed north. The awful din churned over and over in his head unbearably.

  No matter how long he walked down the long avenue, the festival noise seemed endless. It ate into his nerves like some witch’s spell, causing his exchange with Holo to echo through his mind. He could see her before him. He wanted to cry out at his own worthlessness but managed to restrain himself.

  If he had enough energy to scream, Lawrence reasoned, he should put that toward improving the situation.

  Yet evaluating the situation rationally, he could find no such possibilities.

  Given the state Holo was in, Lawrence saw it was entirely possible that she would accept Amati’s proposal.

  Amati was probably the first merchant to have taken advantage of the pyrite boom, so it was best to assume that he had already made a fair amount of money.

  In the worst case, Amati might not even have to wait until sun­set to bring the money and declare the contract fulfilled.

  Lawrence knew he was not just being pessimistic.

  The anxiety seized his gut, and a whimper escaped his lips.

  He looked up into the dark sky and covered his eyes.

  If he couldn’t stop Amati’s profit machine, he could at least go back to the inn and try to make up with Holo.

  But Lawrence could see plain as day that reconciling with Holo would be even more difficult than stopping Amati.

  What am I to you? Holo's question had thrown him into contemplation.


  Even now, having had a bit of time to consider the question, he could not answer it.

  He wanted her to keep traveling with him—that much he knew—and he couldn’t bear even thinking about her going to be Amati’s bride.

  Yet after ruminating on the memory of the scene, his face only contorted at the terrible acidity of it.

  He knew that Holo was precious to him, but precious in what way? If asked, it was not something he could articulate clearly.

  His jaw was clenched, and Lawrence rubbed his face to try and relax it.

  How could this have happened?

  The fun they'd had at the festival now seemed like a fleeting dream. Even an omniscient god could never have anticipated that in a few short hours, things would turn out this way.

  Ahead of him, Lawrence saw a procession of sword dancers moving down the street. The savage, sinister atmosphere was completely changed from the daytime revels. It echoed the shift in Lawrence’s relationship with Holo, and he quickened his step, averting his eyes.

  He regretted leaving the letter on the desk. It felt to him like none of this would have happened if he had only taken it with him. If he had only found the right time to talk to her, surely the clever Holo would not have become distraught.

  Beyond that, Holo’s words had laid bare his own selfishness and lack of resolve. He couldn’t imagine being able to speak to her properly now.

  Eventually Lawrence realized he’d made it all the way to Kumersun’s lonely northern district without having come up with any good ideas.

  He’d been walking slowly, and it had taken some time, but he hadn’t even noticed.

  Despite the sense that the town was crowded everywhere one might go, here in the northern section there were few pedestri­ans. The festivities did not extend this far.

  There in the silence, he was finally able to calm down and take some deep breaths.

  He turned on his heel and began to walk back, rethinking the situation.

  First—

  Sincerity alone would not be enough to convince Holo to hear him out. He didn’t even have enough confidence to look her in the eye anyway.

  So setting aside whether or not he would be able to salvage his relationship with her, he could at least avoid giving her a good reason to leave him and be with Amati.