Spice and Wolf, Vol. 3

by Isuna Hasekura

  Since it was already certain that he would not be receiving any assistance from Mark, Lawrence could only place all of his hopes on Bartose.

  Yet, Lawrence recalled that when Bartose was hinting him about Amati's method of gathering money, he had mentioned that Amati was employing not-so-proper means.

  To Bartose, who carried heavy rocks while traversing precipitous mountain paths, receiving pyrite in one hand and immediately selling it off from the other hand for immense profits was surely a disgraceful act.

  Having though to this point, Lawrence could not help thinking that the chances of Bartose helping him were quite small, but he had no choice but to set aside his doubts and try paying him a visit.

  Lawrence made up his mind, made an exertion with his chest and lifted his head. The moment he lifted his head, Mark spoke: "So even someone as laid-back as you can get like this huh?”

  Mark's look was neither incredulous nor mocking. He simply spoke with a slightly surprised expression. "Ah, sorry, don't get mad. I'm just a bit surprised.”

  Seeing Mark hurrying to explain, Lawrence was of course not angered. Even Lawrence himself felt somewhat surprised.

  "Although, encountering a companion like yours, no wonder you'd become like this. Even if you don't put so much effort into trying to stop Amati, your companion wouldn't submit to him so easily would she? Even someone like me who's only seen her standing beside you once thinks so, so have a bit of confidence.”

  At this point, Mark finally revealed a smile. Lawrence, on the other hand, was expressionless as he replied: "She's handed me a signed marriage certificate. The other party is Amati of course.”

  Mark's eyes widened, then began stroking his chin so that his beard rustled, looking as if he had accidentally stepped on a landmine (note: not that there would have been landmines during that period, but that's the word the book uses, so that's how I translated it).

  Seeing Mark's appearance, Lawrence involuntarily loosened the strength in his shoulders.

  "If nothing had happened, I would of course be confident. But, something really happened…," he said. "It happened after you came here and went back? A single step's difference in life can be hell….even so, you still need to have hope, and that's why you're working so hard trying to come up with a solution, right?" Perceiving a nod from Lawrence in response, Mark thrust his chin out, then said with a sigh: "Though I can tell that companion of yours is no simple character, I didn't think she'd do something so bold..is there anyone else you can find to help you?”

  "Well, I'll try asking Mr. Bartose for starters.”

  "Mr. Bartose huh. I see. You intend to have him ask that woman for you?" Hearing Mark say this in a low voice, Lawrence asked in turn: "….That woman?”

  "Huh? You're not planning on having him ask that woman for you? You know, the chronicler. Didn't you meet her already?”

  "If you're referring to Miss Deanna, I have met her already, but I don't quite understand what you're getting at.”

  "If you don't mind the trouble it might cause you later on, I think you can try consulting with that woman.” “What exactly are you saying?”

  Lawrence asked. After looking about for a moment, Mark lowered his voice a bit and spoke: "That woman is someone who has control over the northern regions. She can even be said to be the window of correspondence among the alchemists. From our point of view, it's all because of the presence of that woman that the alchemists, who are vulnerable to attack for various reasons, are able to gather in one spot. Of course, the truth could only be known by the town's aristocrats and the elders of the town council. And also…”

  Mark took a drink of his beer and continued: "Any citizen here would immediately think, 'The alchemists should all possess pyrite.' However, in order not to stir up any trouble and be able to do business in peace, it's necessary not to associate with those people. For Mr. Bartose, it's also because he has dealings with the alchemists that he rarely does business with anyone else. Although, it's probably more appropriate to say he can't do business with anyone else. If you're not afraid of causing trouble for yourself, having Mr. Bartose ask that woman for you is also a possible solution.”

  Faced with the sudden revelation, Lawrence could not immediately tell whether it was true or not, but he figured that Mark had nothing to gain from lying.

  "Depending on the situation, it may be worth a try. Aren't the flames already burning quite close to you (note: in case the meaning didn't quite get through, "Isn't your situation already pretty desperate?")?" said Mark.

  Although Lawrence felt pretty useless, he could not deny that Mark's surprising refusal had caused his situation to become rather dangerous.

  "I'm truly happy that you'd come to me for help here. But, all I can do is give you suggestions.” “No, you've already done a great deal for me. I almost missed such a big opportunity.”

  Besides, Lawrence himself felt that Mark's reason for refusing him was completely justified.

  Mark was a town merchant, and Lawrence was a traveling merchant. When the standpoints were different, there would naturally be a great difference between the things that could and could not be done.

  "It might be strange for someone who just refused to help you to say this…but, I will pray for your success," said Mark.

  This time it was Lawrence who revealed a smile.

  "You've given me a good lesson. That in itself is worthwhile,”

  Lawrence said without the slightest bit of sarcasm or hidden intentions. In the future when Lawrence was to have dealings with town merchants, he would be sure to take this day's experience into consideration. Lawrence was not lying in saying that he had learned a lesson.

  Yet, having heard Lawrence's words, Mark began stroking his chin back and forth so that his beard made rustling sounds.

  Then, Mark furrowed his brow deeply and looked off in another direction as he said: "I may not be able to take action openly, but if it's just whispering the amount of money someone has in his money pouch, that wouldn't really be any trouble.”

  Perceiving Lawrence's surprised expression, Mark closed his eyes as he continued to speak: "Come back over later. I'll tell you whom you can buy stuff from. I can do this much for you at least.” “….Thank you.”

  Seeing Lawrence utter this from the bottom of his heart, Mark suddenly burst into laughter, as if he had given up something.

  "Seeing that expression on your face, I say it's no wonder the little miss would do something so bold," he said.

  "….What do you mean?”

  "Nothing. A merchant need only focus on how to do business.”

  Even though Lawrence was tempted to ask the laughing Mark to clarify, his mind had long since drifted toward Bartose and Deanna.

  "Anyway, good luck," said Mark. "Ah…oh.”

  Although Lawrence still felt a knot in his heart, he also felt that there was no time to lose, and it was better to begin negotiations as soon as possible.

  Lawrence expressed a brief thanks to Mark, and left the vending stand.

  However, as he walked along, Lawrence thought to himself: perhaps the common saying that traveling merchants could not make any friends was wrong.

  First, Lawrence headed directly to the foreign firm.

  He had two goals. The first was to inquire of Bartose whether he had a stock of pyrite, and whether he had any other connections he could introduce to Lawrence. The other was to request Bartose to take him to see Deanna once more.

  Yet, Lawrence remembered Bartose had said that Amati's means of buying and selling pyrite was not entirely decent.

  Bartose was a merchant who carried precious stones and metals from the mining regions through dangerous paths. Perhaps in his eyes, such opportunistic pyrite dealing was a disgraceful act.

  Even so, even though he knew he was really pushing it, Lawrence still had to pay Bartose a visit. Lawrence completely disregarded the festival, which had continued into late night and whose atmosphere bordered on riotous, making his way throu
gh small alleys as he headed toward the foreign firm.

  When Lawrence had finally arrived at the main street before the firm, densely lined with buildings on each side, he saw that each foreign firm had lighted lanterns, and large groups of people were dancing in circular formations. Every now and then he would see people from the firms, long sword in hand and practicing with one another in unseasoned manner. This kind of party activity was perhaps an extension of the festival itself.

  Lawrence approached the Rowen Business Guild building, pushing his way through the crowded street. He slipped right into the building without greeting the guild members who were gathered near the wide-open front door, drinking.

  Those who wanted to drink and relax within the building, and those who wanted to revel outside the building seemed to have clearly demarcated their own separate territories. Under the lighting of the suspended fish oil lamps, which gave off a unique scent, the entire main hall was suffused with soft chatting and laughter.

  Though a few people in the hall noticed Lawrence and shot him curious glances, the greater majority seemed completely wrapped up within the joyous feasting atmosphere.

  Among these people, Lawrence located his target person, then approached the man.

  The man was seated at a table where a group of older merchants were gathered. Under the dim lighting of the lamps, he appeared very much like a hermit.

  The man was Guy Bartose.

  "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt your drinking,”

  Lawrence said in a voice even lower than the surrounding chitchat. The seasoned merchants seemed to perceive at once the purpose of Lawrence's visit.

  Each person continued to drink quietly, giving Bartose a brief glance. The watched Bartose revealed a warm smile and spoke: "Hey, Mr. Lawrence, what can I do for you?”

  "Sorry for thus intruding, but there is something I wish to discuss with you.” “Is it something to do with business?”

  Lawrence hesitated for a moment, and nodded his head.

  "Then let's talk over there. We couldn't possibly allow others to overhear an opportunity to get rich now could we?”

  The other merchants at the table laughed, raising their mugs slightly as if to say, "We'll continue to drink happily in your absence.”

  Lawrence nodded his head lightly and caught up with Bartose, who was already moving further into the firm.

  As a contrast to the main hall, suffused with the scent of liquor and sounds of talk and laughter, proceeding further along the corridor within the firm, the surrounding atmosphere became akin to that of the alleys. In the turn of an eye, the two had come to an unlighted spot, and the clamor became as remote as a fire on the opposite shore.

  At that moment, Bartose stopped in his tracks, turning around to speak: "What's the matter?”

  Lawrence figured that beating around the bush would not get him anywhere, so he cut straight to the point: "Yes. To be honest, I wish to purchase some pyrite, and am currently searching for someone with a large stockpile. Mr. Bartose, I'm sure you must have connections.”

  "Pyrite?” “Yes.”

  Bartose's dark blue, almost black eyes appeared gray under the red lighting with a faint trace of yellow. And such a pair of eyes was gazing directly at Lawrence.

  "Do you have any connections?”

  Hearing Lawrence repeat his question, Bartose gave a sigh, and rubbed his eyes as he spoke: "Mr. Lawrence.”

  "Yes.”

  "Don't you remember what I said when I was hinting you on Amati's means of gathering money?" Lawrence immediately nodded his head. Of course he remembered.

  "Not only do I remember what you said, I also remember that Miss Deanna seems to dislike people discussing business with her," he said.

  Bartose pulled his hand away from the corner of his eye and let it remain suspended in midair. At that moment, he finally showed a merchant-like gaze.

  It was a gaze that belonged to a traveling merchant devoted to a business full of hardships, who cared not for the means of making more money, but only how to transport goods safely.

  Perhaps it was his mind playing games with him, but Lawrence felt that such a gaze was similar to a wolf's. "You have your mind set on the alchemists' stockpile?" asked Bartose.

  "You certainly are easy to communicate with. However, I heard they are not allowed to conduct business without obtaining Miss Deanna's permission. Therefore, I wish to seek your help.”

  Lawrence recalled the days when he had first become a traveling merchant, when, needing to increase his customers but having no connections, he would give visits without notice and negotiate forcefully.

  Bartose widened his eyes, somewhat surprised, then with some difficulty squeezed out his voice to say: "Knowing that much, you still wish to deal with them. Could it be because pyrite is really that profiting?” “No, it's not like that.”

  "Then…it's because of what's been said in the rumors, you wish to know your fortune, or use it to cure illnesses?”

  Bartose smiled as he said this, in a way that seemed as if he were playing around with his grandson. This was probably Bartose's unique way of poking fun of someone.

  Even so, Lawrence of course did not get angry, nor did he get impatient.

  For the sake of his own profit, a merchant wouldn't hesitate even to spend an entire night doing nothing but staring at a slowly-swinging scale.

  "I am taking action for the sake of my own benefit. I do not plan to deny the fact," said Lawrence. Bartose's body did not make the slightest movement. He simply stared, wide-eyed.

  If Lawrence were to meet with refusal from Bartose here, it was extremely likely that his hopes of gathering a stockpile of pyrite would vanish.

  The current Lawrence was not so leisurely as to be able to allow such a thing to happen.

  "However, I do not intend to make a profit out of the value of pyrite that is growing uncontrollably like swelling bubbles. I am working for a..a more basic purpose.”

  Bartose did not interrupt him to speak. Lawrence took this as a signal beckoning him to continue speaking, and so he continued: "Mr. Bartose, you are also a traveling merchant after all, so you have probably had numerous experiences in which the goods carried upon your shoulders almost fell into a deep gorge?”

  Bartose remained silent.

  "When our horse-drawn cart sinks into mud and cannot budge, we weigh the choices of abandoning the cart and doing whatever it takes to pull the cart out of the mud on a scale. The value of the merchandise on board, profit, the amount of cash on hand, the route of travel, along with the sum needed to pay for someone's help. Also, the danger of encountering bandits that may result from lingering around in panic and despair. We take such things into account when deciding whether or not to abandon our cargo.”

  Bartose opened his mouth slowly and spoke: "You mean to say that you're in such a situation?” “It is so.”

  Bartose's eyes looked as if they could clearly see what lay ahead even on a poorly-lit road.

  He had been traveling along the same route for decades, and sought out Deanna to hear about ancient legends in order to make up for the things he could not see along that route.

  Under such a gaze, a merchant's lies would undoubtedly be seen through immediately. Yet, Lawrence did not back down.

  Because he was not telling a lie.

  "I do not wish to abandon my cargo. As long as I can load the cargo back into the cart, I don't care about the trouble it might cause.”

  Surely it was impossible for Bartose not to have realized what the cargo was that Lawrence was referring to, as well as the situation he was in.

  Even so, Bartose still closed his eyes slowly and remained silent.

  Was there something that should be said? Should he take advantage of the moment and push further? The talk and laughter that came from the main hall behind the two men sounded mocking.

  The limited amount of time was slipping away little by little. Lawrence prepared to speak.

  Then, at the very last moment
, he changed his mind.

  Lawrence remembered his master had said that the golden rule when begging someone's favor was to wait. "That was exactly the response I was waiting for,”

  Bartose said with a light smile at the moment Lawrence recalled his master's words.

  "Because even when time is limited, if there are no alternatives, all that can be done is to wait patiently. That is how a truly prosperous merchant acts.”

  The moment Lawrence discovered that he had just been put through a test, he felt a large amount of cold perspiration pour forth from his back.

  "On the other hand, back when I was in a similar situation, my attitude was even tougher than yours," Bartose continued.

  "Erh….”

  "Oh, I don't have any pyrite on hand. However, I do believe the alchemists do.” “Then….”

  Bartose nodded lightly and spoke: "All you have to say is, 'I've come to buy a crate of white feathers.' What happens after that all depends on your own effort. Please think of a good way to persuade big sis. I don't think anyone has gone there to purchase pyrite yet.”

  "Thank you. I will be sure to repay-”

  "As long as you can share an ancient legend with me, that would be good enough. How's that? Do I sound as impressive as big sis saying this?”

  Bartose revealed a childlike smile, and Lawrence could not help but laugh.

  "With someone like big sis, you never really know when she goes to sleep, so it should be fine for you to go and see her now. If you're going to go, you'd better go soon, because time is money,”

  Bartose pointed to the back of the firm as he said this.

  "If you take the back door, you can leave without having to speak to anyone.”

  After expressing his thanks, Lawrence proceeded down the corridor. Looking back on the way, he saw Bartose, still wearing a smile.

  The form of Bartose, with his back to the light of the main hall, looked a bit like his master's.

  Not long after leaving the foreign firm and sprinting north, Lawrence arrived at the stone wall.

  Because he had not been fortunate enough to arrive directly at the entrance to the stone wall, Lawrence ran along the wall until he finally located it and, prying open the somewhat broken gate latch with considerable force, slipped through.