Spice & Wolf III

by Isuna Hasekura

  But rumors can wield a terrible power.

  There was a tale of a kingdom long ago that met its destruction because of a simple rumor that the king was ill, which was started by a young town boy. The rumor eventually circulated beyond the kingdom’s borders, leading to the dissolution of alliances and finally invasion.

  It turns out that people do not have that much to talk about in their daily lives.

  It seemed that their ears existed only to pick up on small rumors, so they could then shout them to the world.

  Mark gestured with his chin, as if to say, “Go on.”

  “At my signal, I want someone to begin saying that it seems about time for the price of wheat to rise.”

  Mark froze, his eyes staring through Lawrence and off into the distance. He was considering the implications of what Lawrence had said.

  “You’re trying to lower the price of that mineral.”

  “Exactly so.”

  Lawrence imagined that most of the people who were trying their hand at the pyrite business had come to town to sell some­thing, and they would be buying something before they left.

  And as they left, the product they would buy the most of was undoubtedly wheat.

  If people heard that wheat was going to rise in price, they would surely sell off their pyrite in order to buy whatever it was they had originally come to town to buy.

  And as a result, demand for pyrite would fall off.

  As the price fell with less demand, it would reach a certain point and then plunge uncontrollably downward.

  The wheat merchant drank deeply from his ale cup before speaking. “I wouldn’t have figured you to come up with such a simpleminded idea.”

  “What if I told you that I was planning to sell off a considerable amount of pyrite at the same time?”

  Mark blinked, and after a moment of thought, he asked, “How much?”

  “One thousand trenni worth.”

  “Wha—! One thousand? Are you insane? Do you have any idea how much you might lose in the process?”

  Mark scowled and scratched his beard, muttering as he looked about. Judging by his reaction, he had no idea what Lawrence was thinking.

  “So long as I’ve five hundred silver pieces’ worth of pyrite when this is all over, it matters nothing to me whether the price rises or falls.”

  It was Amati who had greater risk in the deal Lawrence hail brought to him.

  And this was the reason.

  “Damn. Selling on margin, are you?”

  Obviously no one complained when a commodity they had on hand went up in price, but there weren’t many situations where someone didn’t mind if their goods dropped in value.

  If the goods sold on margin depreciated, all one had to do was repurchase the product at the new lower price to ensure a profit. If the product rose in value, as long as it were paired up with a conventional transaction, Lawrence could create a situation where he would come out the same whether or not the price rose or fell.

  His most decisive advantage was that the price of pyrite would definitely fall once it was sold in large quantities, but Amati absolutely needed the price to rise in order to turn a profit.

  Lawrence’s plan was, in essence, to use the five hundred silver pieces he’d received from Amati plus his own assets to buy up as much pyrite as possible; then he would sell it off all at once in order to drive the price sharply down.

  It was only possible to do this upon abandoning any notion of profit.

  Mark, once a traveling merchant himself, soon worked all this out—including who the victim was.

  “I must say I feel bad for that poor, ignorant fishmonger.”

  Lawrence shrugged in reply.

  Although the plan looked flawless, there was a reason why Law­rence was not completely comfortable with it.

  There was no such thing as a perfect plan.

  “You’d think he would understand how dangerous it is to take part in a deal he’s not used to,” said Mark.

  “No—he knows the risks, and he accepted. I explained that much.”

  Mark gave a throaty chuckle and polished off his beer. “So, was that all you needed?”

  “No, there’s one more thing.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “I want you to help me buy up pyrite.”

  Mark stared blankly at Lawrence. “You didn’t secure a source before making the margin contract?”

  “There wasn’t time. Will you help me?”

  This was the flaw in his plan.

  No matter how ideal the plan, without all the components in place it would come to nothing.

  And what Lawrence needed to do was far from easy.

  He could wait until dawn to purchase pyrite in the marketplace like any other merchant. But if he bought several hundred trenni worth of pyrite all at once, a sudden spike in price was inevitable.

  He had to work behind the scenes and buy up pyrite in such a way that his purchasing would not disturb the market value.

  To do this, the best way would be to make many small pur­chases via various town merchants.

  “Payments will be in cash. I’ll even pay over market value. If the quantity is enough, I can even pay in lumione.”

  If trenni silver was a sword, then lumione gold was a phalanx ol spears. When buying high-value commodities, a more powerful weapon did not exist.

  Lawrence had coin but lacked connections, and outside ol Mark, he had no one he could turn to for aid.

  If Mark refused, Lawrence would have no choice but to gather pyrite on his own.

  He couldn’t even consider how difficult it would be to buy up the mineral in an aboveboard fashion in this town, where he only did business a few days of the year.

  Mark was unmoving, staring off in some unclear direction.

  “I’ll make it worth your trouble,” Lawrence added. It was clear he was offering more than a simple service fee.

  Mark glanced over upon hearing those words.

  He was, after all, a merchant. He wouldn’t work for free.

  Mark’s answer was short. “I can’t.”

  “I see, so...Wait, what?”

  “I can’t,” he said again, looking Lawrence in the eye.

  “Wha-”

  “I cannot help you with this,” he said flatly.

  Lawrence leaned forward. “I’ll pay you a consideration and not a paltry service fee, either. You’ve nothing to lose. It’s a good trade, is it not?”

  “I’ve nothing to lose?” He frowned, his square-cut beard making his face look even stonier.

  “But you don’t, do you? I’m asking you to help me find and purchase pyrite, not shoulder a risky investment. What have you to lose?”

  “Lawrence.” The sound of his name cut Lawrence off.

  Yet Lawrence did not understand what Mark was thinking. It made no sense for a merchant to refuse a deal that promised a sizable reward with no risk.

  Why then the refusal?

  He wondered if Mark was trying to take advantage of him, and something like anger roiled in his gut.

  Mark continued, “You’d be able to pay me, say, ten lumione at the outside, am I right?”

  “Well, given that you’re simply making some purchases for me, that’s more than generous, I should think. It is not as though I’m asking you to cross a mountain range alone and bring back an entire caravan’s worth of ore.”

  “But you are asking me to go about the marketplace and buy up pyrite, are you not? It amounts to the same thing.”

  “How is that—?” Lawrence stood suddenly, knocking back the log chair with a clatter. He was a moment from bodily grabbing the wheat merchant when he regained his composure.

  Mark was unmoved.

  His even, businesslike expression did not change.

  “Er—I mean, how is that the same thing? I’m hardly asking you to run around all night or to traverse some treacherous mountain pass. I’m simply asking you to help me buy pyrite with your connections.”

&
nbsp; “It’s the same thing, Lawrence,” said Mark almost patiently. “You’re a traveling merchant who crosses the plains; I do battle in the marketplace. The dangers you see, they’re the dangers of the traveling merchant.”

  “So...” Lawrence swallowed his protest. Mark’s face was also strained, as if he’d swallowed something bitter.

  Mark continued, “To a town merchant, leaping at every chance to make a quick profit is no virtue. It’s making a steady living through an honest, reliable business that makes my reputation, not making big profits on fleeting side jobs. I may be the owner of this stall, but its reputation is not just mine. It extends to my wife, my relatives, and anyone connected with it. If it’s making a bit of coin on the side, that’s surely not a bad thing...”

  Mark paused here, taking another quaff of ale. His knit brow was surely not owing to the ale's bitter taste. “...But helping you find and buy five hundred trenni of pyrite is quite another matter. How do you think the townspeople would view me and mine? Would they not think of me as a villain, who cares nothing for his real business and has eyes only on easy riches? Can you pay me enough to take that risk? I was once a traveling merchant myself, and I’d venture to say the trifling sums a traveling merchant handles cannot compare to the amounts town merchants deal with.”

  Lawrence could say nothing.

  Mark made his final statement. “This shop may seem small, but the value of its name is surprisingly high. If the name were to be tarnished, ten or twenty gold pieces would be far from enough to cover it.”

  It was a compelling statement.

  Lawrence had nothing to say in return and stared at the table.

  “That’s how it is.”

  Mark was neither taking advantage of Lawrence nor mocking him.

  It was simply the truth.

  Lawrence saw that though both he and Mark were merchants, they lived in different worlds.

  “I am sorry,” said Mark.

  Lawrence still had no good reply.

  It was hardly worth counting the number of allies that remained to him.

  “N-no, I should apologize for asking the impossible.”

  Lawrence tried to think of who else he might turn to; only Batos came to mind.

  Since Mark would not help him, Batos was the only option.

  But Lawrence remembered that when Batos tipped him off about Amati’s plan, he’d said the boy's plan was not exactly praiseworthy.

  Batos hauled ore through dangerous mountain passes—he would no doubt consider the quick buying and selling of pyrite to be rather odious.

  He doubted that Batos would help him, but Lawrence had no choice but to put aside his misgivings and ask nonetheless. Lawrence steeled himself and looked up.

  It was just then that Mark spoke again. “So even the ever-composed Lawrence gets like this sometimes, eh?”

  Mark’s face was neither upset nor amused; he simply seemed surprised.

  “Ah, apologies,” Mark continued. “Don’t be angry. It just seems unusual,” he said, hurriedly explaining. Lawrence was also sur­prised at his own behavior and far from angry.

  “I can’t say I’m surprised with your companion being who she is and all. But you needn’t go to all this effort to stop Amati, do you? Surely she won’t leave you so easily. I thought as much the first time I saw her at your side. Have more confidence, man!” Mark finally smiled, but Lawrence was expressionless as he replied, “She gave me a signed marriage certificate. The other party is Amati naturally.”

  Mark’s eyes widened, and he realized that he’d said the wrong thing. He scratched his beard awkwardly.

  Lawrence saw this and slackened his shoulders. “If nothing had happened, sure, I’d have more confidence. But something did happen.”

  “So it happened after you came by here? We never know what lies even a step ahead in life, do we? But you still have hope, so you’re still running—I see.”

  Lawrence nodded, and Mark stuck out his lower lip and sighed. “Still,” said Mark, “I knew she was a person to be reckoned with, but I can’t believe she’d be so bold...Anyway, do you have any other leads?”

  “I expect I’ll go talk to Mr. Batos next.”

  “Batos, eh? Ah, so you’re going to have him talk to the woman for you,” murmured Mark.

  “...The woman?” asked Lawrence in reply.

  “Huh? Oh, so you’re not going to have him talk to her for you? The chronicler, I mean. You met her, right?”

  “If you mean Miss Diana, I’ve met her, but I don’t see what she has to do with this.”

  “So long as you’re not worried about the consequences, you might try dealing with her.”

  “Look, what are you talking about?” asked Lawrence.

  Mark looked over his shoulder conspiratorially, then lowering his voice, he spoke. “She practically coordinates the northern regions. Especially the alchemists—you might as well call her their storefront. It’s because of her that the alchemists that have managed to escape persecution gather here, from our perspective. Of course, only the local nobility and elders of the town council know the details. Oh, and—”

  Mark took a sip of ale and continued, “Everybody knows that the alchemists have pyrite, but nobody wants to make waves, so they don’t do business with alchemists. In old Batos’s case, he deals mostly with the alchemists and rarely with anybody else. No it's more accurate to say he can't deal with anyone else because he deals with alchemists. So if you can risk the trouble it might bring, getting Batos to talk to the woman for you is an option."

  It wasn’t clear to Lawrence whether this sudden revelation was the truth, but Mark had nothing to gain from lying.

  “Depending on the circumstances, it might be worth trying. The flames are getting quite close, after all, are they not?”

  It was pathetic, but Lawrence had to admit that with Mark's refusal to help, the situation was quite desperate.

  “I’m actually quite pleased that you’d turn to me for help, but this is all I can do for you,” said Mark.

  “No, I appreciate it. I nearly overlooked a huge opportunity” Even Lawrence felt that Mark’s reason for refusing him was completely justified.

  Mark was a town merchant, and Lawrence was a traveling mer­chant. The abilities and limitations of each were naturally very different.

  “I know I refused you...but I’ll be praying for your success nonetheless.”

  Now it was Lawrence’s turn to smile. “You’ve taught me some­thing valuable. That alone was worth my time,” he said with complete sincerity. In the future, when he dealt with town merchants, Lawrence would have today’s experience to draw upon. It was indeed something valuable.

  Whether or not it was in response to Lawrence’s words, Mark stroked his beard noisily.

  He frowned and looked off to the side as he spoke. “I may not be able to help you directly, but I might be able to whisper the condition of someone’s wallet in your ear.”

  Lawrence was visibly surprised, at which Mark closed his eyes. “Come by the shop later. I can at least tell you who to buy from.”

  “...Thank you, truly,” said Lawrence with complete honesty. Mark shook his head as if at a loss, sighing. “When you make that face, I guess I see why that girl would be so bold.”

  ...What do you mean?”

  “Ah, nothing. Just that merchants should stick to business.” Lawrence wanted the laughing Mark to explain himself, but he was already focusing on Batos and Diana.

  “Good luck to you,” said Mark.

  “Thanks.”

  Lawrence’s chest was still tight with anxiety, and if he was to go negotiate, the sooner he did so the better.

  He thanked Mark again and put Mark’s stall behind him.

  It was often said that the traveling merchant has no friends. As he walked the streets, Lawrence decided this was not true.

  Lawrence first headed directly to the trade guild.

  He had two goals: first, to discover whether Batos had a stock of pyrite
on hand or any connections to buy some, and second, to have Batos take him to Diana.

  He remembered Batos’s dismissal of Amati’s plan to raise money—not entirely praiseworthy, Batos had said.

  The man hauled ore and precious stones from the mines over dangerous mountain paths. He might well find this pyrite-speculation business downright shameful.

  Even though he knew he might be asking the impossible, Lawrence still had to go.

  He made his way through the back alleys to the guild house, turning a blind eye to the festival, which was even at this late hour continuing with an atmosphere that was near riotous.

  He finally arrived at his destination—a street lined with trade companies. Each company had lit lanterns, and there were circles of people dancing about here and there. Now and then, Lawrence caught sight of employees continuing the festivities by holding clumsy mock sword battles.

  Pushing his way through the congested street, Lawrence approached the Rowen Trade Guild building. He silently slipped through the open doors and passed the guild members that were drinking and carrying on there.

  The delineation between those who wanted to quietly drink inside and those who wished to join in the clamor outside seemed quite clear. Beneath the glow of the distinctive-smelling fish oil lamps, the guild hall was filled with quiet conversation and pleas­ant laughter.

  A few seemed to notice Lawrence’s arrival and looked at him curiously, but the greater part were wholly concerned with enjoying themselves.

  Lawrence spied the man he was looking for among those gath­ered and walked straight toward him.

  The man sat at a table with several other older merchants. Beneath the dim lamplight, he looked somehow hermitlike.

  It was Gi Batos.

  “I apologize for interrupting in the middle of your celebration,” said Lawrence quietly. The older merchants with their decades of experience immediately understood that he was here for business.

  They sipped their wine wordlessly, glancing at Batos.

  Batos smiled briefly. “Ho there, Mr. Lawrence. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m sorry this is so sudden, but I need to speak with you.”

  “Business, is it?”

  After a short hesitation, Lawrence nodded.

  “We’ll talk over there. We can’t let these old codgers steal all our profit, after all.”