Spice & Wolf I (26 page)

Her expression was the height of disgust. She bared her fangs slightly in rage, and Lawrence unconsciously let go of her hand.

“Who was there?” he asked.

Who was it who could so enrage Holo? Perhaps someone from her past.

Holo wrinkled her nose as Lawrence considered. She spoke.

“It was Yarei. You remember him, no doubt.”

“That -”

Can’t be, he was going to say—but Lawrence never got that far because something else suddenly occurred to him.

“That’s it! The figure backing the Medio Company is Count Ehrendott!”

Holo had been ready to vent her spleen at Lawrence, but now her eyes widened in surprise at his outburst.

“As someone with huge tracts of wheat, he can request payment in whatever coin he wants! And if he could arrange favorable duties for his wheat, it would be like a gift from heaven to the Medio Company, the count, or even the villagers! Of course! And that explains why there was someone there who knew you were a wolf!”

Holo looked at Lawrence blankly, but Lawrence didn’t notice her as he leapt up to the window that faced the carriage drivers. He opened the small window, and one of them leaned down to listen.

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“I did indeed.”

“The one backing the Medio Company is Count Ehrendott. The count and the merchants that deal with his wheat are the reason silver is being collected. Please inform Mr. Marheit.”

“It shall be done,” he said, then jumped immediately off the carriage and took off running.

Lawrence imagined that the horses carrying the negotiators bound for Trenni had already left, but if the negotiations were at all prolonged, they would be able to propose additional conditions. Knowing the source of the Medio Company’s silver meant it might be possible for a company with the reputation and resources of Milone to snatch the deal right out from under them.

If he’d figured this out earlier, perhaps Holo’s capture could have been avoided and this entire transaction could have gone much more smoothly.

It frustrated Lawrence to think about it, but there was nothing to do about it now. It was good they’d discovered the truth when they had.

“...I do not follow you.”

Lawrence returned to his seat, arms folded as the possibilities raced through his head, when he heard Holo’s complaint. That’s when he realized he’d cut her off mid-sentence.

“Explaining it all could take some time. Let’s just say that your information was the key to figuring everything out.”

“Huh.”

Lawrence knew that it would not take much effort on Holo’s part to understand what was going on, but she didn’t seem inclined to bother.

Holo simply nodded her head, uninterested, and closed her eyes.

She seemed irritated at the sudden change of subject.

Lawrence chided himself for finding her sulking as charming as he did.

It might have been a trap she’d set for him, after all, to demonstrate how irritated she was at the interruption.

“I’m sorry I interrupted you,” said Lawrence by way of an honest apology.

She opened a single eye briefly to glance at him, then brushed off his apology with a small “It’s nothing.”

Undaunted, Lawrence continued speaking. Holo was either childish or cunning—one extreme or the other.

“Yarei
should
still be locked away in the storehouse for the harvest festival. If he’s in the city, that means he’s involved in the deal. He’s acquainted with the merchants that buy wheat from the village, and the village leader trusts him to do the dealing. Also, the bulk of the wheat sales are conducted immediately after the festival,” said Lawrence.

Her eyes closed, Holo seemed to consider this, finally opening both eyes at length. Her mood appeared to have brightened.

“He must have heard my name from that boy Zheren. That Yarei was wearing clothes far too fine for any village and thought rather highly of himself.”

“He must be deeply connected to the Medio Company. Did you talk to him?”

“Just a bit,” said Holo. She rid herself of the last of her anger with a sigh. Perhaps it was the recollection of her conversation with Yarei that had angered her so.

Lawrence wondered what he could have possibly said to her. Holo had no love for the villagers, that was true enough, but she had decided to leave.

He didn’t think her grudge went any further than that.

As Lawrence pondered these things, Holo spoke.

“I don’t know how many years I lived there. Maybe as many as there are hairs on my tail.”

Holo’s tail swished beneath her coat.

“I am Holo the Wisewolf. In order to provide the greatest harvest, there were years I had to let the land rest, so there were seasons of meager harvest, too. Still, the fields I lent my aid should’ve been more productive than others over time.”

This was the second time she’d explained this, but Lawrence nodded for her to continue.

“The villagers did treat me as the god of the harvest—but not out of respect. It was akin to a desire to control me. Do they not chase after the person who cuts the last sheaf of wheat, after all? Do they not bind him with rope?”

“I’ve heard they lock the harvester away in the storehouse for a week with treats to eat and all the tools they’ll use in the following year.”

“The pork and duck were tasty, ’tis true.”

It was an amusing reflection. The tales were apparently true—tales of people locked up for a week only to be released with no recollection of having eaten all the food. And the perpetrator sat right in front of him.

The vague fear that accompanied these stories now possessed a concrete form: the image of Holo in her wolf form, devouring duck and pork.

“Still,” said Holo seriously as she set out to explain the reason for her anger. Lawrence composed himself.

“What do you think Yarei said to me?” Holo bit her lip, momentarily at a loss for words. She rubbed the corner of her eye with her finger and continued. “He said he heard my name from Zheren, and it made him wonder. I...it is pathetic, but I was so happy to hear that...”

Holo’s head hung low, and tears overflowed from her eyes. “Then he told me that the days when they had to worry about my mood were over. That they need no longer fear my fickle nature. That since the Church was already after me, they should just hand me over and be done with the old ways for good!”

Lawrence knew about Count Ehrendott’s exchanges with natural philosophers and how he’d introduced new agricultural techniques to boost crop yield.

Even the most devout prayer must eventually show results, or the spirit or god responsible will be discarded, and people will begin to find the idea of depending on their own efforts much more appealing. If new farming methods brought prosperity where prayer failed, it was not surprising that the people would start to believe that the god or spirit to whom they prayed was capricious, unreliable.

Lawrence himself sometimes ascribed the vicissitudes of fortune to some inscrutable god.

But the girl before him was not what came to mind.

She had said her reason for staying in the village was that she got along with the villagers, that her friend from long ago had asked her to see to the harvest. She had always meant for the fields to prosper. But after she oversaw the land for centuries, people began denying her existence, and now to hear that they wished to be rid of her—how must that feel?

Tears fell freely from Holo’s eyes. Her face showed a mixture of frustration and sorrow.

She’d said she hated being alone. When a god forced people to worship it, perhaps it was only out of loneliness.

If Holo’s predicament elicited such wild-eyed notions in Lawrence, it was hardly surprising it also made him want to wipe her tears away.

“It doesn’t really matter, in the end. I want to return to the northland, so I must leave one way or another. If they have no love for me, I’ll simply kick the dust from my hind legs and leave. ’Twill be a cleaner break that way. Still...I can’t just leave it like this.”

She seemed to have stopped crying, but Lawrence could still hear her sniffing as he stroked her head gently. He smiled as broadly as he could manage and spoke.

“I—no,
we
—are merchants. As long as we profit, we triumph. We laugh when money comes in, and cry only in bankruptcy. And we will
laugh
" he said.

Holo glanced up momentarily, then down again, tears falling from her eyes once more. She nodded, then looked back up. Lawrence wiped her tears away a second time, and Holo took a deep breath. She wiped the lingering tears from the corners of her eyes almost violently

For several moments afterward, her long, damp eyelashes sparkled.

Holo sighed. “...I feel better.”

She smudged away the final remnants of tears with one hand and, looking sheepish over her outburst, lightly punched Lawrence in the chest with a small fist.

“It’s been centuries since I’ve had a proper conversation. My emotions are far too fragile. I’ve cried before you twice now, but I would have done it even if you had not been here. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Lawrence raised his hands and shrugged. “You’re telling me not to misunderstand.”

“Mm-hm.”

Holo happily rubbed her balled-up fist around on Lawrence’s chest.

She was being almost unbearably dear just then, and Lawrence couldn’t help but tease her a bit.

“I only brought you along to help me make money anyway. Until the Milone Company concludes its negotiations, our job is to escape. Having someone crying and carrying on in the middle of that is just a burden. So regardless of who was crying in front of me, I’d—”

Lawrence could proceed no further with his jape.

Holo looked at him as if stricken.

“...That’s not fair,” he grumbled.

“Mm-hm. Female privilege.”

Lawrence poked her head lightly for being so shameless.

The window by the driver’s seat opened, as if the driver had been waiting for the opportune moment. He smiled reluctantly.

“We have arrived. Are you quite finished with your conversation?”

“We surely are,” said Lawrence with affected enthusiasm as he removed the carriage floorboards. Beside him, Holo snickered madly.

“It’s true, then, that people who bring talk of profit are rather odd,” said the driver.

“What, you mean my ears?” said Holo mischievously.

The driver laughed—she’d gotten the better of him. “It makes me want to return to my traveling merchant days, looking at you two.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” said Lawrence, shoving the stone and confirming the tunnel was the right one. He then climbed back into the carriage to let Holo go first. “You might end up running into someone like her.”

“Ah, but a wagon bench is too wide for just one. I’d wish to be so lucky!”

Lawrence chuckled; nearly any merchant would feel the same way.

Without another word, he descended into the tunnel. Had he continued, he was sure he’d embarrass himself. And in any case, Holo awaited him.