Spice & Wolf I (18 page)

Holo gave a self-deprecating smile.

“A friend, eh?”

“Mm.”

Lawrence would have thought this topic unpleasant for her, but Holo’s answers had been strangely upbeat, so he asked the question that was on his mind.

“And did you find one?”

Holo smiled bashfully and did not immediately answer.

Given her expression, her answer was obvious. She smiled as she was thinking of the friend she’d made.

“Yes.”

But Lawrence didn’t find her happy nodding at all funny.

“He’s a fellow from the village of Pasloe,” she continued.

“Oh, the one whose wheat you borrowed?”

“Mm. He’s a bit foolish, but very cheerful. He wasn’t the least hit surprised when he saw my wolf form. I suppose he is a bit odd, but a good fellow nonetheless.”

To hear her speaking as though of a loved one, Lawrence wrinkled his nose but hid it behind his wine cup—he didn’t want her to see.

“He really is a fool though. Sometimes I’m at a loss.”

Holo spoke happily, seeming slightly bashful to be discussing the past. She no longer looked at Lawrence but hugged her tail, playing absently with its fur.

Suddenly she let out a childish giggle and tumbled back on the bed, sounding for all the world like a child sharing a secret with a friend.

She was probably just tired, but to Lawrence’s eyes it seemed as though she had left him behind and was letting her memories flood over her.

That was no reason to rouse her, though, so with a small sigh, he drained his wine cup.

“Friends, eh?” he murmured, then placed the cup on the table and stood. He walked over to the bed and drew the blanket up over Holo.

Her cheeks were slightly flushed as she slept innocently, but the longer he looked at her the more clouded his thoughts became, so he turned his back to her and headed for his own bed.

But as he blew the tallow candle out and lay down, he felt certain regret.

He wished he’d claimed a lack of money and gotten a room with a single bed.

Lawrence sighed more deeply this time as he faced away from her.

If his horse had been there, it probably would’ve sighed at him, too, he thought.

“We accept your proposal,” said the head of the Milone Company’s Pazzio branch, Richten Marheit, in an even tone. It had been only two days since Lawrence had come to the Milone Company with his proposal. The company was indeed very efficient.

“I am very grateful. May I assume that you’ve discovered who is backing Zheren?”

“He has the support of the Medio Company. I hardly need mention that they’re the second-largest company in the city.”

“The Medio Company, eh?”

Based in Pazzio, Medio had many branches. They were the largest agricultural broker in Pazzio, particularly for wheat, and were all the more impressive for having their own ships with which to move their product.

Yet something stuck in Lawrence’s mind. The Medio Company was large, but he’d expected Zheren’s backer to be even larger—perhaps a nobleman.

“We believe there is a still-larger figure behind the Medio Company. With their resources alone, it would probably be impossible to enact the plan you’ve described. There is probably a nobleman operating behind the Medio Company, but there are many such figures who deal with them, and we’ve been unable to narrow it down to a single person. But as you yourself said, it won’t matter as long as we’re first to act.”

Marheit smiled slyly, showing a confidence borne of having the immense resources of the Milone Company to call on, the likes of which Lawrence could barely imagine. Their main branch was patronized by none but royalty and high priests. They had nothing to fear from a deal like this.

It was important for Lawrence not to betray any temerity. In negotiation, showing weakness or servility was tantamount to losing. He had to be bold.

He replied in an even tone.

“Well, then, shall we discuss how to split the profits?”

It went without saying that these negotiations would give rise to his dreams.

Seen off by all the employees of the Milone Company branch except the boss, Lawrence left humming a tune, unable to suppress his happiness.

He’d proposed that the company give him five percent of its profits from the currency exchange. This was a mere one-twentieth of its take, but Lawrence couldn’t stop smiling.

After all, if the Milone Company moved as he suggested, the amount of
trenni
silver that could be bought up was not one or two thousand, but rather two or three
hundred
thousand. If—as the rough estimates suggested—they exacted a ten-percent return from the deal, Lawrence’s share could exceed a thousand coins of pure profit. If he topped two thousand coins, and wasn’t too extravagant, he would be able to set up a shop in a town somewhere.

However, when compared to the gain the Milone Company was anticipating, the profit made from unloading the silver coin was a mere bonus. They moved as a company, so such profits were insignificant.

Lawrence could never actually hold that kind of gain. It was simply too huge and would never fit in his purse—but if the Milone Company could realize the profit, Lawrence would be owed a significant debt and, once he opened his shop, could make a large profit on that loan.

So it was no surprise that he was humming so cheerfully.

“You seem pleased,” said Holo, finally at the end of her patience as she walked beside him.

“I’d like to see the man who wouldn’t be pleased at a time like this. This is the greatest day of my life.” Lawrence gestured expansively. The gesture matched his mood—as if he were ready to catch anything in those outstretched arms.

The shop he’d long dreamed of opening was right before him.

“Well, I’m glad it’s going so well,” said Holo listlessly, her mood in stark contrast to Lawrence’s. She covered her mouth with her hand.

It was nothing—she was merely hungover.

“I told you to go sleep in the hotel if you’re feeling unwell.”

“I was worried you’d get sucked into something unsavory un less I came with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why, precisely what I said...
urp
.”

“Honestly—just bear up a little longer. There’s a shop ahead. We’ll rest there.”

“...All right.” Holo nodded with a vulnerability that seemed deliberate and grabbed hold of his outstretched arm. Wisewolf or not, one could hardly accuse her of having any self-restraint.

Lawrence, at a loss, muttered “honestly,” again. Holo had no response.

The shop they entered was a tavern attached to a small inn Though it was ostensibly a drinking establishment, it specialized in light meals and morning to night had a constant stream of merchants and travelers that used it as a rest stop. It was about a third full when they entered.

“Juice for one—any kind’s fine—and bread for two,” said Lawrence.

“Coming right up!” said the shopkeeper behind the counter cheerfully, then repeated the order to the kitchen.

Lawrence listened to the shopkeeper as he led Holo to an empty table inside the tavern.

Holo’s manner was more kitten than wolf as she sprawled over the table. The walk from the Milone Company exacerbated the fatigue of the alcohol working its way through her system.

“Your tolerance is far from weak—you drank a lot yesterday.” said Lawrence.

Holo’s ears pricked under her hood at Lawrence’s statement, but she seemed to lack the energy to look at him.

“Uugh,” she groaned.

“Here y’are, apple juice and two servings of bread.”

“The bill?”

“You’ll pay now, then? It comes to thirty-two
lute
'.’

“One moment, please,” said Lawrence, opening the coin purse that was attached to his waist and rummaging inside it. As he collected the black coins that could easily be mistaken for bronze, the shopkeeper noticed Holo’s condition and smiled ruefully.

“A hangover, eh?”

“Too much wine,” said Lawrence.

“Such are the mistakes of youth! It’s the same with drinking as it is with anything else—there’s a price. Plenty of young merchants stagger out of here with pale faces.”

Any traveling merchant had indeed experienced this a few times. Lawrence himself was guilty of it on any number of occasions.

“Here you are, thirty-two
lutes
’.’

“So it is. You should rest here awhile. I take it you couldn’t make it all the way back to your own inn?”

Lawrence nodded, at which point the shopkeeper laughed heartily and retreated behind the counter.

“Have some juice,” said Lawrence. “It was pressed at just the right time.” Holo raised her head lethargically. Her features were so fine that even her pained expression had a certain charm. No doubt Weiz would’ve been happy to take the day off to nurse her back to health. Even the slightest smile from her would’ve been thanks enough. Lawrence chuckled at the thought as Holo sipped the juice and regarded him strangely.

“Whew...I’ve not been hungover in centuries,” sighed Holo after drinking half the juice and regaining a bit of vigor.

“A hung-over wolf is a sad sight indeed. I suppose I can imagine a bear drinking too much, but a wolf. ..”

Bears often took bags filled with fermenting grapes hanging from the eaves of buildings. They had to be fermented to make wine, and as they did, they exuded a sweet scent.

There were even stories of bears making off with such bags only to later collapse drunkenly in the forest.

“It was probably bears I drank with the most in the forest,” said Holo. “There was a bit of tribute from humans, too.”

The idea of bears and wolves drinking wine together sounded like something out of a fairy tale. What would the Church make of this if they overheard?

“No matter how many times I’m hungover, though, I never seem to learn.”

“Humans are the same way,” said Lawrence to the ruefully grinning Holo.

“Now that you mention it...what was I going to say? I had something to tell you, but now it’s gone. I feel like it was something rather important, too . ..” said Holo.