“I’m honored,” answered Lawrence. He heard Eve’s rough laugh.
“Are you sure you’re not the son of some wealthy merchant house?”
“There are evenings when I feel like that.”
“I give up,” murmured Eve, and for once, the eyes beneath her cowl were not harsh as she spoke. “Are you not thirsty after such speech?”
They hadn’t completed the entire deal, but the first barrier had been overcome.
Lawrence was not so dry as to disagree.
Even after nightfall, there were many stalls still selling liquor near the docks.
Lawrence ordered three cups of wine, and the three of them sat on discarded packing crates nearby.
“Here’s to success,” said Eve, raising her cup in a toast.
The three of them merely pretended to bump their chipped wooden cups together before drinking the wine.
“I suppose it’s a bit late to be asking this—,” started Eve.
“What’s that?”
“Where did you pick up your companion?”
“Wha-?”
Lawrence was unable to conceal his surprise but not because he was relaxing after tense negotiations.
It was simply because he had never expected Eve to care about such things.
“Is it that odd for me to ask?” inquired Eve with a rueful grin. Thankfully, Holo merely held her earthen cup in both hands and said nothing. “I did say I wouldn’t pry, but I am curious.”
“Yes, well...people often ask.”
“So where did you pick her up? I won’t be surprised if you tell me she’s the daughter of some rich landlord, overthrown in a peasant uprising.”
It was the kind of joke that could only have come from Eve, herself being fallen nobility, but even so it was surprising. Lawrence heard a faint swishing sound coming from Holo’s back, and ever so casually, he stepped on her foot.
“Evidently she was born in the north. She lived for a long time in the wheat fields of the south.”
“Oh?”
“I’d done many deals in a town in the area, so I stopped in on my travels to see a friend, but then she snuck into my wagon bed."
Thinking back to that time, Lawrence realized Holo had been snuggled in among the furs he’d been hauling at the time.
Perhaps her tail gave her some kind of strange connection to fur.
“She said she wanted to return to her homeland, and after various twists and turns, I wound up acting as her escort.”
It was a simple story to relate. There were no lies. Holo nodded and Eve took a sip of her wine.
“Sounds like an encounter dreamt up by some two-copper bard,” she said.
Lawrence had to laugh.
It was true, after all.
And yet what had happened after that was something that couldn’t be turned into money.
It was absurd, it was delightful, and Lawrence wanted it to continue for the rest of his life.
“It’s those twists and turns that I wonder about,” said Eve. “But I doubt you’d even tell that to a priest.”
“I certainly couldn’t tell a priest would be more accurate.”
It was the truth, and yet what Lawrence meant and what Eve assumed were two very different things.
Eve laughed loudly, but the port was not so quiet as to give someone cause to turn and look.
“Well, you’ve surely dressed her nicely. It’s clear enough it was an encounter you cherish.”
“The moment I let my guard down, she bought them herself.”
“I don’t doubt it. She seems a clever girl.”
No doubt the clever girl was smiling to herself beneath her hood.
“And you seem to get along well,” continued Eve. “Though I’d recommend you keep your voices just a bit lower in the inn.”
Lawrence’s hand froze just short of bringing his wine cup to his lips. For a moment he wondered if he and Holo’s exchanges had been audible to others in the inn, but then he realized Eve was trying to trick him into revealing something.
Holo now stepped on his foot, as if telling him not to fall for the trick.
“It’s to be treasured. Money can buy companionship but not its quality.”
Lawrence’s gaze strayed to what lay beneath Eve's cowl.
Her blue eyes peered out at him—a rare, fine blue they were.
“The rich merchant who bought me was a terrible man," she said, looking away, glancing at Holo before her eyes strayed to the docks. It was her self-loathing smirk that finally drove Lawrence's gaze away from her profile. “If I claimed not to want your sympathy, I’d be lying, but it’s ancient history now. And he died soon after."
“Is that...so.”
“Yeah. You probably know this, but in my homeland, it's the wool trade that prospers. He made a fortune competing with foreign rivals in wool futures, and just when he’d gotten gold sufficient to boost his own status, he went bankrupt when the king changed policies. The deal was huge, an unbelievable amount to fallen nobles like us, who had trouble even buying bread. But he was a proud man, prouder even than the nobility, so when his ruin was certain he slit his own throat. That was the only part about him worthy of the Bolan name.”
Eve spoke with neither anger nor sadness nor grim amusement at the fate of her nouveau riche master. She sounded almost nostalgic.
If this was an act, Lawrence would never be able to believe any one again.
“The marriage ceremony was grand. My butler cried, saying how it was one of the finest in the history of the Bolan house. Of course, to me it was a funeral. But there were good things about it. I didn’t have to worry about how I would eat. And I didn't get pregnant.”
Blood ties were more important to the nobility than to anyone else.
Children were not gifts from God, but rather political tools.
“And nobody saw me stealing money from his coin purse, bit by bit. Once he was bankrupt and the entire household was forfeit, it was enough for me to start on my own as a merchant.”
To have enough wealth to buy a noble family outright, he must have owned a grand trading house indeed.
For a noble girl like Eve to choose the path of the merchant, she must have had the help of those within the firm so that she could arrange such things.
“It’s my dream, you see, to build something bigger than him and his company,” said Eve plainly. “It was only good luck that allowed him to buy me. In truth, I’m not so cheap as to be bought by a merchant like him, and I want to prove it. Childish, no?” she asked in her hoarse voice, and when she smiled, her face looked very young indeed.
When they shook hands agreeing to do this deal, her hand had been shaking.
No one was perfect. In this world, everyone had a weakness.
“Ha, please, forget all this. Sometimes I just feel like I want to talk about it, that’s all. I suppose it means I’ve a ways to go yet,” said Eve, draining her wine cup and burping quietly. “No, that’s not it.”
She lifted the edge of her cowl up. Lawrence wondered as to her aim.
“I was jealous of you two,” said Eve. Her blue eyes narrowed and were bright.
Lawrence wondered how to answer and finally escaped into his wine cup.
Holo would make fun of him for it, no doubt.
Eve chuckled. “How absurd. What we should be worrying about is profit. Am I wrong?”
Lawrence looked at his reflection in the wine.
Just like Eve’s, it was not the face of a merchant.
“Right you are,” he said, tossing back his wine. He dreaded hearing what Holo would have to say about this later, but as Eve raised her voice in a short, dry laugh, both of them stood and resumed their proper merchant expressions.
“We’ll make for the deal as soon as the council announces its decision. Keep Arold informed as to your location.”
“I shall.”
Eve was every inch the rugged merchant as she extended her hand to him. “This deal will go well,” she said.
Lawrence remembered Holo’s reply, back upon entering Leons, when he had told her not to become angry should they happen to find wolf fur.
He wasn’t worried about himself, but he could not be at peace with someone he knew was being hunted.
That seemed to apply to business, too.
Buying a child to adopt into a family or buying a slave to use for labor...this was a necessary trade and not something anyone questioned.
But to even briefly consider the thought of actually selling Holo put Lawrence’s heart into disarray. He felt as though he understood for the first time the Church’s fussy denouncement of the slave trade.
Once they returned to the inn, Eve remained on the first floor, saying she was going to drink with Arold.
Holo was the only one involved in this affair to collapse onto the bed, a worn-out expression on her face.
“That was certainly an aggravating way to spend time,” she declared.
Lawrence smiled wearily as he lit the tallow lamp. “You were as meek as a kitten.”
“Well, this ‘kitten’ is what you’re borrowing money on. I had no choice.”
Lawrence had decided he could trust Eve’s story, and in return. Eve had helped the deal proceed smoothly. As long as nothing unexpected happened, it wasn’t blind optimism to believe that their fur deal would be successful and that their coin purses would soon swell with money.
No one would laugh at him for prematurely feeling that fuzzy warmth in his stomach of which the beggar had spoken.
It had been a very long time since he had felt that sensation.
After all, his long-held desire of being a town merchant was finally beginning to materialize.
“You were a great help,” said Lawrence, stroking his chin lightly. “Thank you.”
Holo looked at him in a none-too-friendly manner. She flickered her ears as if to brush the dust from them, sighed resignedly, then rolled over from lying on her back to her front and opened a book.
Yet in truth, she seemed a bit bashful.
“Was there anything that worried you?” asked Lawrence.
Holo wriggled out of her robe as she looked at the book, a task Lawrence good-naturedly helped her with. She was not being difficult, so his guess that she was felt bashful about his thanks was probably not far from the mark.
“There were many things that bothered me. There is a saying that there’s a demon who sings an ill-omened song buried at the crossroads.”
“I’ve heard that one.”
“Oh?” Her hair spilled out like oil over water after having taken her cloak off. She gathered it up.
“There are traveling musicians who carry instruments and wander from town to town, and sometimes they’re accused of being servants of a demon and blamed for bringing bad luck or sickness with them. And the place where they hang such musicians is always the crossroads outside of town.”
“Oh ho.” Holo’s sash, undone, had slipped off onto her tail.
Lawrence took it off as she tried to brush it free. She nuzzled her tail as if in thanks.
When he playfully made as if to touch it himself, she dodged quickly away.
“Then, once the demon musician is dead, they wish for its spirit to go haunt some other place. That’s why crossroads near towns are kept so carefully free of stones with holes in the road quickly filled. If someone were to stumble there, it’s said the buried demon could come back to life.”
“Hmph. Humans believe all sorts of things,” muttered Holo, seeming genuinely impressed, then turned her attention back to her book.
“Do wolves have no superstitions?”
Holo was suddenly serious, making Lawrence wonder if he had accidentally stepped on her tail, but she seemed to be simply thinking. After a time, she looked over at him.
“Now that you mention it, I’ve realized—we don’t.”
“Well, it’s nice you’ve nothing that stops children from being able to pee at night.”
Holo looked stunned for a moment, then laughed.
“Just so you know, I’m not talking about me,” Lawrence added.
“Heh.” Holo smiled, her tail wagging.
Lawrence patted her head ever so lightly, and she ducked away as though it tickled.
He then casually placed his hand on her head.
He was sure his hand would be swatted away, but Holo let it stay there, her ears moving slightly. Through his hand, Lawrence could feel the warmth of her body, just a fraction taller than a child’s.
The room was so quiet as to be sad. This time was precious.
Then, as if she was finally prepared, Holo abruptly spoke.
“You never asked me if her words were true.”
She had to be talking about Eve.
Lawrence removed his hand from Holo, his only reply a nod.
Holo did not so much as look at him. His gesture was all she needed.
“As though if you had, I would’ve teased you, looked down on you, made fun of you. Then I would’ve told you, and you'd owe me."
“It was a close shave, indeed,” said Lawrence.
Holo smiled happily.
She let her head drop to the bed, then looked over at him.
“I understand why it is that you’re trying to determine everything for yourself. Selling me is making you feel a strange sense of responsibility, isn’t it? But I also know that people aren't that strong. If they have a way of knowing for certain what the truth is, they’ll want to use it. And yet you don’t—why?”
Lawrence wanted to know what Holo’s intention was in asking this, but as clumsy attempts to get this out of her would only end badly, he answered honestly.
“If I forget the distinction there, you’ll be the one that gets angry”
“...You’re so honest. Why don’t you try relying on me a bit more?”
Once he started wholly relying on her, the threshold for doing so would certainly drop.
People could become accustomed to anything. It took the selfawareness of a saint not to forget that.
“I’m not so clever,” said Lawrence.
“You can get used to anything with practice.” The hair that Lawrence had put in order swished quietly as it spilled out again “Would you like to practice?”
“Practice relying on you?” Lawrence retorted playfully. Holo's gently waving tail gradually stopped moving.
She closed her eyes, then opened them slowly Her smile was gentle, as though she would forgive any mistake.
Her face said that she would accept any way Lawrence could think of to rely on her.
If she was doing this to tease him, then it was a cruel joke indeed.
Who would fault him for being caught by something like this?
Thus Lawrence’s mind became still colder.
He went so far as to consider if this actually showed how irritated she was and if this was all a trap to try and get him to smile.
It seemed Holo’s main goal was to enjoy watching him like this.
Eventually he grinned, a touch maliciously.
"Are you telling me not to set such a nasty trap? I’m not angry,” said Holo.
“If you are, you are.”
"Well then, this time ’tis no trap. Practice relying on me as much as you like.”
"...That’s just what you’d say, isn’t it?”
Lawrence shrugged as Holo snickered, then lay her head down on her arms once she was done laughing.
"Being read by you—I’m a disgrace as a wisewolf.”
“Even I learn eventually.”
Holo neither laughed nor looked frustrated, but there was the barest hint of a smile on her face as she pointed to the corner of the bed.
"Sit,” she seemed to say “Ah, but you’re just as softhearted as you ever were.”
Lawrence sat on the corner of the bed as Holo sat up and continued.
Even if I lure you into a trap and laugh my fill, and you become angry, you’l
l still not exhaust your patience with me.”
Lawrence smiled. “Well, I don’t know about that.” So you’d best mind yourself in the future, he was going to add but thought better of it, because when he expected Holo to smile her invincible smile and come back with her usual wit, she instead seemed sad.
“No, you will not. I know it,” she murmured, before doing something completely unexpected.
She sat up and inched over to Lawrence’s side, then sat herself sideways on his lap. Having accomplished that, she wrapped her arms around him without any hesitation.
Her face pressed against his left shoulder.
He couldn’t see her expression.
Despite this frank display, Lawrence didn’t think she was planning anything untoward.
“’Tis a truth that people change over time. Even a little while ago, you’d be frozen in fright if I were to do this kind of thing "
No matter what Holo was trying to feign, her ears and tail never lied.
Between the sound of her tail and the way it felt as it brushed against his left hand, Lawrence could tell that it was waving uncertainly.
He grabbed hold of it lightly.
That instant, Holo flinched and stiffened. He let go immediately.
Before he could apologize, her head roughly bumped into the side of his. “No careless touching!”
From time to time, Holo would claim that she would let him touch her tail as some sort of reward, but this seemed to be a weak point of hers.
Ascertaining that had not been Lawrence’s goal nor was he motivated by simple mischief.
He didn’t know the cause, but inasmuch as Holo did not seem to be completely dispirited, he felt slightly relieved.
“Fool,” she added, sighing.
Silence descended.
The intermittent sound of Holo’s swishing tail mingled with the quiet crackling sound of the tallow lamp’s wick.
Just as Lawrence was wondering if he should say something, Holo spoke.
“I truly am a failure as a wisewolf, having you fret over me so.”
She must have sensed that he was about to speak.
Her words seemed to Lawrence like simple bravado, but perhaps that was just his imagination.
“Honestly, me relying on you is another story entirely. We were speaking of you relying upon me!”
Spice & Wolf V Page 16