Spice and Wolf, Vol. 6

by Isuna Hasekura

  “Never mind.”

  “All right, then.”

  Lawrence, of course, knew what Holo was trying to say.

  And yet he got the feeling he shouldn’t be thinking about it.

  “By the way—,” said Lawrence.

  “Mm?”

  “Col’s hometown, apparently it’s called Pinu. Have you heard of it?”

  Col seemed to have accidentally stepped on one of the sleeping figures in his haste.

  Lawrence smiled as he watched the boy apologize and squeezed Holo’s hand a bit.

  “What did you just say?” Holo’s voice was not her ordinary one.

  Or so Lawrence thought, but when she turned to look at him, her eyes seemed to be smiling.

  “Just kidding,” she finished.

  “…Hey.”

  Holo giggled. “Am I supposed to know everything now?”

  She had a point, but Holo did like to pretend ignorance of important matters and treat outrageous things as if they were nothing.

  If he started doubting her, there would be no end to it, but the truth was they had come far enough on this journey that making such a joke at this point was rather dubious.

  Lawrence watched Holo snicker at Col’s now-careful walking, and Holo sighed, not looking in Lawrence’s direction.

  “I suppose I shall be more temperate next time.”

  “…I would certainly appreciate that,” said Lawrence just as Col returned.

  “Did something happen?” he asked.

  “Hmm? No, not especially. We were just talking about your hometown.”

  “I see…” came Col’s tired reply; he was probably thinking that such a place wasn’t interesting enough to make a good conversation topic.

  Most people who had even a little bit of pride in their hometown would have jumped at the chance to talk about it.

  “Pinu, was it? Does your village have any legends?”

  “Legends?” Col asked as he handed over their things to Holo.

  “Aye. Surely you have one or two.”

  “Er, well…” Perhaps he hesitated because of the suddenness of the question. Even the most meager village had many legends and superstitions.

  “When you talked to me,” Lawrence said, “you said it was a problem when the Church came in, didn’t you? Which means that region, Pinu included, had other gods.”

  Hearing it explained thus, Col seemed to understand.

  He nodded and spoke. “Ah, yes. Pinu is the name of a great frog god. The elder claims to have seen it with his own eyes.”

  “Oh ho,” said Holo, her interest piqued.

  The three of them sat down, with Lawrence and Holo taking the wine and giving bread and cheese to Col.

  “The place the village is in now isn’t where it used to be—that land vanished long ago in a great landslide and wound up at the bottom of a lake that was created in a flood, it’s said. Right after that landslide, the elder—who was still a child then and helping to hunt fox in the mountains—apparently saw it. The great frog was blocking the floodwaters from flowing down the valley that led directly to the village.”

  Stories of gods that protected villages from great disasters existed all over.

  The Church was busily trying to rewrite them all to feature its own God, but looking at Col’s shining eyes, that task seemed as though it would hardly go well.

  Stories of gods and spirits were not mere fairy tales.

  If the stories were even now still trusted, the Church’s efforts were pointless.

  “So Lord Pinu blocked the floodwaters, and as he held them back, the elders came down the mountain and ran to the village to warn everyone, who barely escaped with their lives.”

  Once Col had finished the telling, he seemed to realize he had gotten a bit excited.

  He looked around, wondering if his voice had been too loud.

  “Hmm. So your god was a mere frog, then. What of, say, wolves?” Holo couldn’t help herself apparently.

  Thus asked, Col’s answer was quick. “Oh yes, there are many.”

  Holo nearly dropped the jerky she had taken out of the sack, but she managed to feign composure as she put it in her mouth.

  Lawrence pretended not to notice her trembling hand.

  “But there are more of those in Rupi. I told Master Lawrence of that place—it’s where the skilled fox and owl hunters are.”

  “Ah, the village that the Church marched into, yes?”

  Col nodded with a rueful grin, because it was that event that had been the cause of Col’s journey in the first place.

  “There is a legend that says that the ancestor of Rupi’s people was a wolf.”

  The part of the jerky that stuck out of Holo’s mouth twitched impressively.

  Lawrence was impressed she hadn’t dropped it.

  But then he thought back to the pagan town of Kumersun, where he’d talked to Diana the chronicler woman.

  She had spoken of a human and a god becoming mates.

  He had asked for Holo, who was terrified of loneliness, but now this all took on a slightly different meaning.

  As Lawrence hoped he wouldn’t be teased too much by Holo for this, Col continued. “This is just talk I heard later, but apparently the Church men who came to Rupi originally had that wolf-god as their goal.”

  “The…god?”

  “Yes. But there are no gods in Rupi. According to the stories, they died.”

  Lawrence didn’t understand.

  If the legend held that the gods were dead, it was strange that the Church would come looking for them. It would have made more sense for the Church to have come because the gods were dead, as that would make the propagation of its teachings easier.

  And the high priest that also served as the Church troop’s commander had pulled out of the area when his health failed.

  It was a strangely halfhearted engagement.

  It almost sounded like the Church had only come in search of something.

  That was when Lawrence realized.

  The men of the Church had come looking for something—they had, all the way out to a remote village, whose god had already died.

  “Long ago, the story has it that the god of Rupi returned to the village after being terribly injured, then died there. As thanks, it left its right foreleg and its offspring there. Its offspring were accepted into the village, and it’s said that the right foreleg protected the whole area from plagues and disasters. And the Church men were looking for that foreleg or some such.”

  Col’s relating of the story made it sound like a fairy tale; he did not seem to really believe it himself.

  It was not uncommon for people to consider their home village’s legends rather banal after having traveled and seen some of the breadth of the world, even if they’d never doubted those stories before.

  “That is what they say, but our village fell into a lake after a landslide, so it’s a bit doubtful whether the god of Pinu really left its leg there,” Col said with a smile.

  Having been outside and gained some wisdom, it was natural that he would see the discrepancy between legends and what happened in reality.

  Such experiences would serve only to shake his faith, the stories passed down in his village.

  But Lawrence was the opposite.

  Thanks to Holo, he now knew that such stories were no mere fairy tales.

  And it was his nature as a merchant to try to incorporate this information with what he already knew.

  It was enough to call up a vague and fuzzy memory.

  Something he had heard from Ragusa, just before passing out drunk.

  He knew full well that it was an arbitrary conclusion.

  And yet, it fit perfectly.

  “So, do you doubt the legends?”

  Holo immediately sensed the strange atmosphere and looked dubiously out from beneath her hood.

  The boy smiled slightly. “…If you mean do I not fully believe, then yes, I doubt them. But in school, I learned a lot about
reconciling the existence of gods. So it’s simple. The foreleg of Rupi’s god would decades ago have been…”

  Col had had many experiences in his school in the south, then thinking of returning home, had found himself in this area.

  Without question, it would be normal to collect stories about one’s home.

  Which meant that it would not be strange if Col had collected the same information as Lawrence.

  The big difference between Col and Lawrence was whether or not they believed in the preposterous tales.

  Lawrence did not venture to look at Holo, only taking her hand. “Treasure maps appear only once the treasure has already been stolen.”

  Col’s eyes widened.

  Then they narrowed as he smiled with faint embarrassment.

  “I won’t be fooled again,” his face said. “Still, that can’t be, can it? Buying and selling the foreleg of a god, I mean.”

  “—”

  The sound of Holo breathing in.

  It seemed Col did indeed have the same information as Lawrence.

  Holo’s hand gripped his very tightly.

  In place of speech, Holo gave him a look, but Lawrence did not return it.

  “Yes. The world is full of frauds and fakes.”

  Lesko, the town at the headwaters of the Roef River. The trading firm there had been looking for the fossilized foreleg of a wolf-god.

  Based on the information Lawrence had gotten from Ragusa over drinks, it was certainly a rumor that was circulating among the boatmen.

  And if Col, who’d been living on the road, had heard it, it was likely a topic of discussion at inns and taverns that attracted travelers.

  The saying was “where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” but it made more sense to ascribe the rumor to the pagan culture that suffused the northlands.

  In his seven years as a traveling merchant, Lawrence had heard such tales more than a few times.

  The remains of saints, the wings of angels, miraculous chalices, even the robes of God.

  And they were all laughably absurd fakes.

  “Um, I really don’t believe any of this, you know.” Col seemed to think that Lawrence’s and especially Holo’s silence was due to their being shocked at his naiveté. “I mean, of course I think I’d like to know for sure if it is true, but…”

  His lonely smile as he said this was like that of a child who has realized the trick behind a sleight of hand.

  How would he react if he knew that before his very eyes was a living relative of that same god?

  Lawrence couldn’t help but wonder.

  But when he considered whether Holo would want to show Col her true form, he couldn’t imagine it was so.

  She instead looked at Col with terribly calm eyes.

  “Still, if the Church really is chasing after that bone, what could they be thinking, I wonder?” said Lawrence to Holo, bringing her into the conversation.

  He had noticed Holo’s state, but given the topic, she must have some thoughts on the matter, he reasoned.

  “What are they…thinking?”

  “Right. I mean, if they’re trying to find that bone because it’s genuine, that would confirm the existence of the pagan gods. Surely they won’t do that.”

  “That’s true…,” murmured Col, his face blank. “Now that you mention it, that is strange.”

  If it was real, the bone was surely from a wolf like Holo, so its size would be far from ordinary.

  Lawrence’s memory was a bit hazy, but he seemed to remember Ragusa saying something about a hellhound.

  When they found the bone, perhaps they would simply call it something like that and make a religious proclamation of it.

  If it had been a martyred saint, Lawrence could think of any number of ways to use them.

  Just as Lawrence was thinking it over, Col raised his voice uncertainly.

  “Ah, er, maybe—”

  Lawrence looked at the boy; perhaps he had hit upon something. But just then, the circle of men around the fire cried out in laughter; evidently something had been funny.

  And the next moment—

  Krakk—there was the sound of something breaking.

  For a second, he suspected Holo and her ill temper.

  When he cast his gaze at her, Holo was a bit surprised but met his eyes and seemed to have understood Lawrence’s immediate reaction.

  She smacked his shoulder.

  “Wh-what was that…?” Col murmured, terrified despite having only just declared his skepticism over the existence of gods.

  Perhaps the conversation had gotten to him.

  Religious faith is not so easily lost—Holo seemed pleased to see this and looked about to laugh.

  There was no sound for a moment after that, and the men around the fire, having all got to their feet, began to sit back down, and a few of them looked at Lawrence and the rest and shrugged.

  What had it been? Everyone wondered the same thing. And then—

  Again—krak, kreak—the breaking sounds continued, now noticeably louder, as though something was splintering.

  The river.

  Just when the thought hit Lawrence, there came the sound of creaking lumber and then a great and audible splash.

  Col got to his feet.

  Lawrence was on one knee as he looked at the river.

  “The boats!” cried the men who’d been drinking around the fire.

  His gaze soon slipped to the river’s surface.

  What he saw was the gallant form of a large ship as there in the moonlight it seemed to be making its departure.

  “Ahoy! Somebody—!”

  The men who had been drinking around the fire all shot to their feet, but not a one of them took action.

  Perhaps they were all merchants and travelers. Lawrence also stood, and Col started to run, but after taking three or four steps, he realized he didn’t know what action he would actually take and stopped short.

  It was clear that the boat was about to float down the river, and it was equally clear that it had to be stopped.

  But Lawrence didn’t know how.

  Just then, a voice called out.

  “Protect the ship!”

  At the sound of that voice, the boatmen who had been sleeping scattered about like so much cow dung now jumped to their feet.

  All of them ran for the river, as though having dealt with this sort of thing more than a few times.

  Despite having been drunk not long ago, most of the boatmen’s strides were steady and confident.

  The first among them to reach the boats moored at the river’s edge were Ragusa and another man.

  They strode directly into the water, raising a splash, pushing against the hull with ox-like strength.

  Ragusa boarded first, followed by the other man.

  Shortly behind them, the rest took the next best course of action, jumping into the river with a moment’s hesitation and swimming toward the anchored boats.

  The big ship was slowly but surely being pushed over the other, sunken vessel and would soon be swept downstream.

  The sunken hulk, after so many attempts by Lawrence and the rest to haul it ashore, must have grown fragile and given way.

  And now it was being crushed under the other ship’s weight.

  If the ship was swept away, it would almost certainly run aground at the next meander or sandbar.

  And there would be other vessels anchored farther downstream, as well.

  If a smaller boat happened to be struck, even a child could tell you what would happen.

  But the reason the boatmen plunged into the crisis like well-trained knights seemed less for fear of the actual consequences and more to simply protect their good names as boatmen. If they let the same ship run aground twice, it would destroy their reputations.

  Col took another two or three steps, perhaps drawn forth by Ragusa’s bravery.

  Lawrence gulped as he watched the developing situation.

  After all, the ship was one that req
uired four or five rowers. He didn’t think it would be easily stopped.

  But unlike the rest of the onlookers, Lawrence was not simply staring at the sight.

  Next to him was Holo, who murmured, “Do you really not understand?”

  “Huh?”

  For a moment, he thought she was talking about the ship, but then he realized that wasn’t it—she was referring to the reason the Church was searching for those bones.

  “Do you understand?” he asked back.

  A cry went out.

  When he looked, he saw that Ragusa had with admirable skill managed to get his boat alongside the runaway ship, and the other boatman had jumped aboard the larger vessel and taken up its pole.

  But it did not seem like it would stop. In the moonlight, that pole seemed impossibly thin and fragile.

  He thought he could hear Ragusa’s nervously clicking tongue.

  “I do understand, in fact,” replied Holo. “Just as you live by traveling and selling, I lived on the people’s faith.” Her sharp words were the proof of her displeasure.

  Lawrence didn’t know why she was angry.

  But he knew that her anger had something to do with the Church.

  “The reason I so hated being called a god was the way people kept me at a distance, gazing on me from afar. They feared, respected, and were grateful for my slightest move. I was treated with constant and terrible caution. So if you consider the opposite of that…”

  “No!” someone called out.

  Ragusa’s boat had circled ahead of the ship. If the boatmen tried to encircle the ship and stop it that way, they could easily wind up sinking themselves.

  There was the dull sound of hull hitting hull. All who watched the scene held their breath, fists clenched tight.

  Ragusa’s boat rocked violently. Surely it would capsize at any moment. Despite the tense atmosphere on the shore, Lawrence looked back at Holo.

  He understood what she was trying to say.

  “Surely that bone, they won’t—”

  Then came the sound of a great wave crashing.

  After several moments that seemed like an eternity, the ship visibly slowed and seemed to come to a stop.

  It was safe for the nonce.

  The realization spread, along with a great cheer.

  Aboard the ship, Ragusa raised both hands in triumph.

  Yet Lawrence could take no pleasure in it.