Spice and Wolf, Vol. 4

by Isuna Hasekura

  “It is said that demons trick humans through dreams.”

  Though he could tell that Holo was not being entirely serious, Lawrence was less sure about Elsa.

  He looked at Holo; her annoyed expression suggested that she was at least partly in earnest.

  The tension between the two had more to do with conflicting personalities, Lawrence guessed, than it did with the fact that one was a devout member of the Church while the other was a spirit of the harvest.

  “So long as we reach our goal, we will disappear like a dream and trouble you no further. I ask you again: Will you show us the writings of Father Franz?” asked Lawrence, coming between the two.

  “I…I still cannot be sure that you were not sent from Enberch. But if that is indeed the case…what is your goal?”

  Lawrence was unsure whether he should answer this question. He looked at Holo, who nodded slowly.

  “I wish to return to my home,” she said.

  “Your home…?”

  “But ages have passed since I was there. I have forgotten the way, and I know not if my old friends are well. Indeed, I cannot even be sure it still exists,” explained Holo plainly. “What would you do if you learned there might be someone who knew something of your home?”

  Even someone who had spent a lifetime in the same village would want to know how that village was viewed by others.

  It was all the more true for people who had left their homes.

  Elsa was silent for some time, and Holo did not press her.

  Her downcast eyes made it clear that she was deep in thought.

  Despite her youth, it was obvious that she was no maiden who blithely floated through life, picking flowers and singing songs.

  When Lawrence had claimed to want to confess his sins, he could tell that her solemnity was no affectation.

  Though she may have fainted upon first seeing Holo’s inhuman nature, Lawrence felt she was smart enough to make the best decision given the situation.

  Elsa put her hand to her chest and recited a prayer, then looked up. “I am a servant of God,” she said, continuing before Lawrence or Holo could interrupt. “But at the same time, I am Father Franz’s successor.” She got off the bed, smoothing the wrinkles in her cassock, then clearing her throat. “I do not believe that you have been possessed by a demon, because Father Franz always said there was no such thing.”

  Lawrence was more than a little surprised at Elsa’s statement, but Holo’s expression seemed to say that as long as she could see the records, all was well.

  Eventually Holo seemed to become aware of Elsa’s willingness to give in, and though her face remained serious, the tip of her tail wagged restlessly.

  “Please come with me. I will show you.”

  For a moment Lawrence wondered if she had only said this to escape, but Holo followed without question, so evidently there was no need to worry.

  Once they came to the living room on the first floor, Elsa lightly touched the brick wall next to the fireplace with her fingers.

  Then coming to a particular stone, she slowly pulled it free.

  Having pulled it out like a drawer, Elsa turned the brick over, and a slender golden key fell into her hand.

  From behind, her form was every bit the stoic girl she was.

  She lit a candle and put it on a stand, then turned to Lawrence and Holo.

  “Let us go,” she said quietly, then walked down the hallway that continued deeper into the church.

  The church was deeper than Lawrence had guessed.

  Unlike the sanctuary, clean and well used thanks to constant prayer, the state of the hallway could hardly be complimented.

  The candlesticks on the walls were covered with cobwebs, and little pieces of stone that had crumbled off from the walls crunched constantly underfoot.

  “Here we are,” said Elsa, stopping. The direction she pointed in was probably directly behind the sanctuary.

  There on a pedestal was a statue of the Holy Mother roughly as large as a young child. The Holy Mother held her hands together in prayer and faced the entrance to the church.

  The space behind the sanctuary was the holiest place in the church.

  Saintly remains or bones—so-called “holy relics”—and other items important to the Church were stored here.

  It was the standard place for the Church to keep precious things, and so to use it to store writings on pagan stories took a good deal of nerve.

  “May God forgive us,” murmured Elsa. She took the brass key in her hand and inserted it into a small hole at the base of the statue.

  The tiny keyhole was not easy to spot in the gloom. Elsa turned the key with some force, and from within the statue came the distinct sound of something unlocking.

  “In his will, Father Franz said that the statue could be removed from the pedestal…but I have never seen it opened.”

  “Understood,” said Lawrence with a nod.

  As soon as he approached the statue, Elsa backed away, worry in her eyes.

  Taking hold of the statue, Lawrence hefted it with force, but it lifted unexpectedly easily.

  Evidently it was hollow.

  “Oof!…There.” Lawrence set the statue down beside the wall, taking care that it didn’t fall over.

  Elsa looked at the space left by the statue, hesitating for a moment, but under Holo’s insistent gaze, she approached it again.

  She turned the key in the opposite direction and removed it, this time inserting it into a small hole in the floor some distance away from the pedestal and turning it twice clockwise.

  “Now…we should be able to lift the pedestal and stone free from the floor,” Elsa said, still crouching. Holo looked at Lawrence.

  Offering any opposition now would bring her sincere ire down upon him, so he sighed and prepared himself. But at that moment, he glimpsed her making an uneasy expression.

  She had made a similar expression before, only to then tease Lawrence by saying, “So you like to see me this way?” Thus he could not be sure whether or not she was truly concerned, but the possibility of it was enough to give him renewed vigor.

  “It seems like the only place to take hold of it…is the pedestal. Something like this—”

  Not knowing exactly how to open the floor, Lawrence looked it over, then planted his feet and took hold of the pedestal. Given the way the seams of the floor stones went, it appeared that the stone nearest the church entrance would lift.

  “Hng!” Lawrence braced himself and pulled up. There was an unpleasant grinding sound, like sand in a millstone—but sure enough, the pedestal lifted, along with the floor stones.

  Keeping his position, he shifted his grip and lifted with all his might.

  Stone ground against stone, and rusted metal creaked as the floor lifted up, revealing a dark cellar.

  It did not appear to be very deep; at the foot of the stone stairs was something that looked like a bookcase.

  “Shall we go in?”

  “…I will go first,” said Elsa.

  It seemed that at the very least, Elsa had no intention of letting Lawrence and Holo enter first and then closing the door behind them.

  And in any case, having come this far, there was no point in hesitation.

  “Understood. The air seems a bit stale, so be careful,” said Lawrence.

  Elsa nodded, and then holding the candle in one hand, she made her way carefully down the steep steps.

  Two or three steps past the point where her head was just beneath the floor, Elsa stopped to place the candle in a hollow carved in the wall. She then proceeded.

  Lawrence had worried that she planned to set fire to the contents of the room, but apparently he could relax on that count.

  “You seem still more suspicious than I,” said Holo, perhaps having noticed his concern.

  Elsa returned shortly.

  In her hands she carried a sealed letter along with a bundle of parchment.

  She was half crawling back up the steps, so Lawre
nce extended a hand to help her.

  “…Thank you. I apologize for the wait.”

  “Not at all. Are those…?” asked Lawrence.

  “Letters,” answered Elsa briefly. “The books within are what you seek, I believe.”

  “May we take them out to read them?” asked Lawrence.

  “I would ask you to read them within the church.” It was a reasonable answer.

  “I shall enter, then,” said Holo, quickly descending the stairs and entering the cellar. She was soon out of sight.

  Though he didn’t follow Holo down, it wasn’t because Lawrence wanted to watch over Elsa.

  “I know it’s late to be saying this, but I know that we forced you into this. I thank you and offer my apologies,” said Lawrence to Elsa, who stared vaguely down into the cellar entrance.

  “Yes, you did indeed force me,” said Elsa.

  Lawrence had no words in the face of her glare.

  “Still…still, I think Father Franz would have been pleased.”

  “Eh?”

  “He was fond of saying, ‘The stories I collect are no mere fairy tales.’” Elsa’s grip on the letter she held tightened.

  Those letters had probably been left behind by the late Father.

  “This is my first time entering this cellar as well. I did not expect there to be so many books. If you plan to read them all, you may wish to make new arrangements at the inn.”

  At her statement, Lawrence suddenly remembered that he and Holo had worn traveling clothes in order to trick her.

  They had of course also settled their account with the inn.

  “Ah, but you might call someone else while we go,” said Lawrence.

  He hadn’t been entirely joking, but Elsa in any case seemed unamused. “I serve this church. It is my intention to embrace the true faith. I would never lay such a trap,” she said, smoothing her tightly bound hair and shooting Lawrence a stern glance, even sharper than the ones he had received upon first meeting her. “Even in the sanctuary, I did not tell a lie.”

  It was true that her silence then did not constitute a lie.

  Yet in spite of her resolve and the keenness of her gaze, her childlike insistence on this point reminded Lawrence of a certain someone else he knew.

  So he merely nodded and agreed. “I was the one who set a trap. However, had I not done so, you would never have agreed to my request.”

  “I shall remember never to let my guard down around a merchant,” said Elsa with a sigh.

  Holo came staggering back up the stairs, carrying a heavy volume with her. “Hey—you—”

  Lawrence hurried to help Holo, who seemed unable to bear the weight of the book and looked as though she might topple over backward. He grabbed her arms, helping her support the book.

  The magnificent tome was bound in leather and reinforced at the corners with iron.

  “Whew. This is certainly not something one simply wanders about with. May I read it here?” asked Holo.

  “I do not mind, but please extinguish the candle when you are finished. This church is not wealthy, after all.”

  “Hmph,” said Holo, looking at Lawrence.

  Since none of the villagers attended services, there were no tithes.

  It was easy to assume that Elsa spoke not out of malice or spite but simply because that was the truth.

  Lawrence opened his coin purse, taking out some money—his thanks for having his confession heard and for having troubled her so.

  “I have heard that if a merchant wishes to rise to the kingdom of heaven, he must lighten his coin purse,” he said.

  “…”

  He offered three silver coins.

  They would be enough to buy a roomful of candles.

  “God’s blessing be on you,” said Elsa, taking the coins, then turning and walking away.

  Lawrence guessed that if she was willing to accept the coins, she must not consider them tainted.

  “So what do you think? Can you read it yourself?” he asked Holo.

  “I can. I am lucky on that count. I owe it to my exemplary conduct.”

  She had gall to make jokes like that in a church.

  “And which god is it that blesses people with luck according to their righteousness?”

  “If you want to know, you’d best get me an offering.”

  Lawrence felt sure that if he was to turn and look at the statue of the Holy Mother leaning against the wall, a bitter smile would have been on her face.

  Once they returned to the inn and secured their room again—after enduring some teasing from the laughing innkeeper—Lawrence pondered what he would do next.

  They had gotten Elsa to reveal her secret and discovered Father Franz’s books. So far, so good.

  Though Holo had revealed her ears and tail, as long as Enberch continued to watch for a chance to strike, Elsa could not reveal the truth.

  Lawrence admitted to himself that it was possible Elsa would tell the truth of Holo’s nature to the villagers in order to goad them into action, saying she was a servant of evil come to bring calamity upon the village.

  But as to the question of whether she had anything to gain from such an action, the answer was an obvious “no.”

  Though Elsa had fainted upon first seeing Holo’s ears, ever since she’d awoken, she had regarded Holo with neither fear nor loathing.

  Truthfully she probably saved her loathing for Lawrence.

  All that being the case, the next problem would be the people surrounding Elsa—Sem the village elder and Evan. If they were to learn of Holo’s nature, there was no telling what would happen.

  There were a considerable number of books to read in the cellar. Holo and Lawrence would need some time to go through all of them.

  If he could, he wanted to let Holo read to her heart’s content while he took responsibility for keeping her safe as she did so.

  Though she had accused him of being paranoid, he felt that he had not been suspicious enough.

  But there was no guarantee that taking this or that action wouldn’t rouse a sleeping snake, so to speak.

  He returned to the church, thinking that in any case they needed to come up with some kind of pretense for why they were spending time there.

  He found Elsa reading letters at a desk that looked far too big for her in the living room, which was every bit as painfully simple as her bedroom. She did not look as though she had secretly informed the villagers and was merely waiting for his return to spring the trap.

  When he had knocked on the church’s front door, there’d been no response, so he took the liberty of coming in. There was little reaction from her when he entered the living room.

  Elsa merely glanced at Lawrence, saying nothing.

  He couldn’t very well just walk by her into the back of the church without saying anything.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to keep an eye on us? We might steal the books, you know,” he said jokingly.

  “If you planned to do that, there would be no reason not to tie me up,” she shot back correctly.

  Evidently Holo was not the only tough girl in the world.

  “And if you were from Enberch, you’d already be speeding back to the town on a fast horse.”

  “Ah, but is that really true? There’s nothing to say you wouldn’t set fire to the books in the cellar. If the books were ash within the time it takes to get to Enberch and back, there’d be no proof.”

  The exchange was both light banter and irritated conversation.

  Elsa sighed and looked at Lawrence. “So long as you do not plan to bring calamity upon the village, I have not the slightest intention of raising a fuss. Though it’s true that your companion has no business being in a church, I…”

  She trailed off, closing her eyes as if not wanting to see a question that had no answer.

  “All we wish to do is learn more of the northlands. Your suspicion is completely understandable.”

  “No,” said Elsa, her voice unexpectedly firm.<
br />
  Having done so, she seemed to realize she hadn’t prepared for words that would follow this denial.

  It was only after letting out a deep sigh that she was able to continue. “No…if the question is whether I feel suspicion, I admit I do. If it were possible, I wish that I could consult with someone else. But…my problem is of a larger…”

  “You wish to know if my companion is truly what she claims to be?”

  Elsa’s face froze as though she had swallowed a needle. “There is that as well, yes…”

  She looked down, the only remaining hint of her steadfast nature being her ramrod-straight spine.

  She seemed unable to continue.

  Lawrence then asked, “And what else?”

  Elsa did not reply.

  Lawrence’s livelihood was negotiating with people.

  When a person withdrew, he knew when to pursue and when to wait for that person to open up again.

  This was undoubtedly the former.

  “I cannot take your confession, but I may be able to give you some advice. However…”

  Elsa peered at him as though from within a deep cave.

  “…However, you will only be able to get sincere answers on things outside of business,” Lawrence finished with a smile. He felt that just for a moment, Elsa also smiled.

  “No,” she said, “the question I have may well be best asked of a person like you. Might I ask you, then?”

  When asking a favor, it is a very difficult thing to avoid seeming servile and to also preserve one’s dignity without appearing high-handed.

  Yet Elsa managed it.

  She was the image of the clergy.

  “I cannot guarantee that any answer I give will be satisfying.”

  Elsa nodded and spoke slowly, as if to be sure of every word she said. “If…if the stories collected in the books in the cellar are not false…”

  “Yes…?”

  “Does that mean the God we believe in is false?”

  “…”

  It was a simple question but an extremely serious one at the same time.

  The God of the Church was omnipotent, omniscient; there were none but him.

  His existence was incompatible with the many gods of the pagan tradition.

  “My father—I mean, Father Franz—gathered many tales of the pagan gods of the northlands. He was suspected of heresy more than a few times, yet he was a fine priest who never once missed his daily prayers. If your companion truly is a pagan spirit, that means the God we believe in is a lie. And Father never once doubted God, not even on his deathbed.”