Spice and Wolf, Vol. 10

by Isuna Hasekura

  “…It does,” he answered, which Holo gave a satisfied nod at and pushed past him into the room.

  “Col, boy, for a duty well executed, you shall have your reward,” she said, pressing her cheek to the cheek of the astonished Col and gently stroking his head.

  Lawrence saw Col’s face go red and mused that he was still a child—but if he let the sentiment show on his face, there was no telling what trap Holo might have prepared for him.

  He closed the door and returned to the hearth.

  Holo embraced Col from behind and gazed at the fire as she spoke. “I’m thinking to leave today or perhaps tomorrow.”

  “Wha—?” Col exclaimed, starting to look behind him. But as Holo’s face was right there, he seemed to think better of it.

  Holo smiled and continued, “With both of you, of course. We’ll return to that port town—Yiku or whatever it was—and find some tasty food, drink our fill of wine, and sleep. The two of you should get some rest since it’ll take three days in the snow to make our way back.”

  Col seemed to think this was a strange way for her to be speaking. His face betrayed his confusion, but Lawrence didn’t find it odd at all.

  He had more or less anticipated this, and if it was what Holo wanted to do, he did not mind.

  “You’ll sleep till midday thanks to the wine. And when you awake, the three of us will come together and eat as we leisurely discuss whether or not to cross back over the sea. After all…” Holo coughed to hide her chuckling, then wiped the corner of her mouth before continuing, “If something had happened the previous night at some far-off abbey—a great wolf attacking, say—you wouldn’t know the first thing about it. And surely no one would think to connect you to such an event. You’d have been having a quiet, peaceful time, with no risk or danger at all.”

  When she finished speaking, Holo looked at Lawrence. “How about it?” said the expression on her face, which looked ready to break into a smile at any moment.

  Holo had decided she could not let Lawrence put himself in danger for her. Yet she was not prepared to retreat empty-handed.

  So she had chosen the most practical, easiest method—that was all.

  “If that’s what you want, then I don’t mind. I’ve already said as much, after all.”

  “Aye. And I’ve made quite sure of your feelings. To doubt them now would make me the fool.”

  If her smile had been a bashful one, it would have been quite charming, but Holo’s face was as full of mischief as ever. But of course, that was why she was Holo.

  A meek Holo would be like jerky without salt.

  “I am Holo, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu. When humans see me, they fear and serve me. But if I were afraid myself, what sort of fool would I be?”

  She would employ the power of her true form. But even when she did to protect those she cared for, the people she protected might yet look upon her with fear. How much more fearful might they be when she transformed to accomplish her own purposes?

  Lawrence certainly understood Holo’s fears, but he still wanted her to show some faith in him.

  “We can’t leave today. Tomorrow or the day after perhaps.”

  “What say you, Col, my lad?” She asked either out of mischief or an effort to hide her own embarrassment.

  It seemed that Col was stunned to have his opinion asked; after he got over his surprise, he hastily agreed.

  “Well, then, that decides it. This means you’ll end up hearing nothing that might profit you, though I’m not inclined to apologize for that,” she said, resting her chin on Col’s shoulder, which did not make Lawrence feel like taking her terribly seriously.

  Depending on how they were used, the wolf bones could potentially bring Lawrence great profits, but misfortune tended to follow those who tried to gain more coin than their coin purses could hold.

  A coin purse was like a stomach—gluttony could make it burst, and death would follow.

  “If you’re feeling sorry, then why not try an apology?”

  Her jape repaid with another jape, Holo grinned. “Kindly forgive me, then.”

  Lawrence laughed at the absurdity of it and then sighed, surrendering to the peaceful camaraderie.

  At the same time, he let slip a few more words. “I suppose this isn’t so bad once in a while.”

  It was a fine, clear afternoon.

  There was no more need for a fire in the hearth.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  To journey back through the snow would require a certain amount of preparation.

  This was why merchants so frequently boarded in inns for weeks and weeks during the winter. Even the most familiar, well-trod road became a foreign country when it snowed. Worse, a treacherous spot looked no different from a harmless field when covered in snow.

  Winter travel required many things—a guide, a stout horse unfazed by deep snow, knowledge of lodges and cabins in which to pass the night. Travel took more time so food and water rations had to be calculated appropriately.

  But fortunately, as long as there was demand, there would be supply. And it was no overstatement to say that the merchant quarter of the great Brondel Abbey was filled with travelers as far as the eye could see. Lawrence went to Piasky to ask after the services of the packhorse driver who had guided them on their way in.

  Piasky was busy with documents at the alliance inn and was momentarily surprised at Lawrence’s announcement that they would be leaving. But as winter travel required quicker resolve than summer journeys, and as Lawrence had compensated him rather generously for his services, Piasky readily agreed to help.

  When a search for knowledge gave no results, a quick retreat was called for. If one had time to idly waste, it was better spent hurrying on to the next goal. While merchants greeted one another with happy smiles and handshakes, they parted just as happily.

  It was a rather lonely way of getting by, but it had its advantages.

  “This should put everything in order, then.”

  “I very much appreciate it.”

  “No, not at all. I’ve hardly been much help.”

  They exchanged merchants’ pleasantries that were meaningless, though it would not feel right to skip them.

  However, the handshake they shared next was anything but meaningless.

  Just as a person’s qualities could be seen in their bearing, their history came through in their handshake.

  The moment of that handshake was the one that decided just how long a person’s face would remain in memory.

  Lawrence took Piasky’s hand firmly and fixed his face solidly in his mind. He hoped Piasky would remember him equally well.

  “I think we’ll be able to leave tomorrow. Although…”

  “Although?”

  “A regular delivery from the capital in the west just arrived, and evidently the weather there is terrible. A messenger expected to arrive today still hasn’t been seen. Doubtless that same weather will arrive here soon.”

  A blizzard could turn the entire world literally pure white. The most capable horseman in the world would do them no good at all.

  “I’ve naturally no inclination to persevere in the face of a blizzard. There are three things you don’t defy: the Church, an infant, and the weather.”

  Piasky smiled and nodded. “With luck, it will veer north. And since the shepherds should return soon, I’ll ask their advice. They’ll have the best knowledge of conditions outside…Ah, Mr. Lawrence, aren’t you staying in the same lodging as they are?”

  “We are. It’s the best place to gather such information.” Lawrence gave a quick bow after this joke and then put the alliance inn behind him.

  Outside, the approaching twilight lent a melancholy tone to the air, and the sky was indeed cloudy, with a bit of wind.

  The merchants in the street had a quickness to their strides, their heads filled for once with thoughts of a warm dinner rather than money. For his part, Lawrence had not only his promise to uphold to prepare dinner for Huskins, but there was a
lso Holo to think about.

  “A blizzard?”

  Having tossed the last of the ingredients into the pot, Lawrence handed the ladle to Col to mind and went to sit on the bed by Holo, who was grooming her tail.

  “The weather may turn bad. If it does, our departure may be delayed. Two days, even three…”

  “Mm…now that you mention it, you may be right. My nose has gone numb from smelling naught but sheep.” Holo sniffed twice, then sneezed. Once accustomed to travel, there were even some humans who could predict the weather with their nose. “Ah, well, I suppose it’s too late to complain about a few days’ delay, isn’t it?” She grinned mischievously and chewed the tip of her tail.

  Lawrence held up both hands in his usual display of surrender.

  Holo chuckled, giving her tail a final stroke before falling back on the bed. “So, then, what of dinner?”

  “It’s not finished boiling yet. And we’re waiting for Huskins to return.”

  Holo hid her fluffy tail beneath her robes quite adroitly, but she had not pulled her hood over her head yet. Lawrence followed her as she went, and when she rather rudely stopped to snatch a piece of jerky from the pot, he covered her ears with the hood.

  “Sho, whensh he coming bhack?”

  “Soon I imagine. There’s no moon tonight, and there’s the cold.”

  Col was wrapped in a blanket as he sat by the hearth and tended the pot, and whenever anyone spoke in the room, their breath turned to white vapor. Outside the windows, the wind was growing stronger and stronger, and the night’s weather looked to be turning bad.

  “Mmph…well, I’m hungry.”

  “And he’s out there raising that mutton. You should pay him some respect.”

  “Aye, but when have you paid me any respect?”

  It was hard for Lawrence not to immediately reply with, “And just when did you raise me, hmm?” It was all he could do to express his frustration with a reserved “Honestly.”

  Holo grinned at Col, and the softhearted Col only smiled a chagrined smile.

  Just then, Holo’s gaze flicked to the door, and Lawrence knew their company had arrived. And from her cautious expression, he knew, too, that it wasn’t Huskins.

  Perhaps it was Piasky? Lawrence wondered, just as there was a knock on the door. Col, who was used to doing such menial tasks, opened the door, and there stood a shepherd with his cane.

  “Ooh, what a lovely smell. Huskins is putting up good travelers, indeed.” He seemed to recognize Col, patting the boy’s head before clearing his throat. “Apologies. It seems Huskins will be spending the night in the sheep barn. The snow’s already begun to come down, you see. My two companions and I barely made it back with our lives.”

  “I see…We’re sorry to make you go out of your way.”

  “Not at all. There’s nothing so hard as waiting for a comrade to return, not knowing when or whether they’ll come.”

  Coming from a shepherd of these snowy lands, this statement carried a special weight. When both darkness and snow fell from the sky, all people could do was huddle around their fires, wondering if their comrades were alive or dead.

  “All the more so when there’s a tasty dinner waiting!” said the shepherd with a huge smile and then raised his hand. “That’s all!” he finished, then walked off.

  A merchant would have asked for a cup of soup before leaving, but shepherds were not such greedy creatures. All they relied upon out on the wide-open plains was their staffs and their sheepdogs.

  Perhaps their great pride came from that independent spirit—and in any case, that pride of theirs reminded Lawrence very much of a certain wolf. Though he was quite sure that if he said so to Holo, he would truly bring her anger down upon him.

  “So that means we’ll have to wait until at least the day after tomorrow. Let us hope the harbor doesn’t freeze solid,” said Lawrence, closing the door and turning around.

  Holo stole the ladle from Col. “Aye. Let us hope our soup stays unfrozen as well, eh?” She appeared quite pleased, given that she seemed not to think particularly fondly of Huskins. Of course, no small part of that was doubtless due to the share of meat Huskins would have been spared.

  “It’s not even done cooking yet,” said Lawrence as he added a not inexpensive piece of firewood into the hearth.

  That night…

  Col had quickly fallen asleep, followed not long after by Holo. Outside the window, the wind howled. Their room’s window was not the only one clattering loudly, mixing with the occasional sheepdog’s bark—perhaps they, too, were being affected by the unpleasant atmosphere.

  The night before a blizzard was ever thus.

  This time there was a difference, though. Usually Lawrence would be unable to stay warm no matter how many blankets he wrapped around himself, but this time he was almost too warm.

  Holo’s tail was there, and nothing was better than another warm body to keep the cold at bay. On that count, Holo’s was always a little warmer, like a child’s, and with wine in her, she was warmer still.

  Outside the blankets it was almost painfully cold, but within them, it was as warm as spring.

  Yet there was a reason he could not sleep.

  The current episode was showing him quite clearly that he could not hope to solve all of Holo’s problems. And what haunted him still more than that was the question of what to do next.

  If Holo bared her fangs and settled the question of the wolf bones, this chapter would come to an end no matter what the outcome.

  If they existed, the story would be over, but it might end even if they didn’t. Lawrence couldn’t imagine any monk capable of lying while his head was between the jaws of Holo in her true form.

  If the answer was that the abbey had not purchased the bones or had already resold them, would they continue to pursue them?

  And what if the bones had gone south? Traveling there was possible, but in addition to the expense, it would mean throwing away all the business he’d built up over the course of his trade route. And if it was too long, his customers would be unable to receive goods they were counting on, and the trust he had worked so hard to foster would vanish.

  There was a limit to the detours Lawrence could afford.

  Though he might wish to consider his dramatic, adventure-filled travels with Holo, just as the abbey was unable to escape its financial woes, so too did Lawrence have to make a living.

  The simple, obvious truth was that he would only accompany her as long as he was able to.

  Holo certainly understood that, but as soon as Lawrence began to consider simply making straight for Yoitsu, peaceful sleep became nothing more than a memory.

  If they headed for Yoitsu, how much longer would he be able to stay with Holo?

  And the biggest problem was what would happen once they arrived there. The problems they’d kept putting off were expanding now, like yeast in bread.

  What did Holo think? At the very least he now knew she regarded him with some fondness.

  But she was not a child, and the world would not simply accommodate their preferences. They would have to be prepared. Holo was the Wisewolf of Yoitsu, and he was a simple traveling merchant. A relationship that crossed social classes was cause for worry enough, and that was when it was between two humans.

  So how prepared would they need to be?

  Holo lay next to him; he smoothed her chestnut-brown hair and placed his hand on her head. When she fell asleep after drinking, she wouldn’t wake even if he pinched her cheeks. In carrying her drunken body to the bed, he’d earned the small reward of stroking her head.

  “…”

  Holo’s hair slipped through the spaces between his fingers like silk.

  She is so dear to me, he thought.

  He wanted to stay with her as long as he was able, even if it was absurd, even if it made him miserable. No matter how foolish it seemed.

  But as soon as the thought occurred to him, he heard a quiet answer. Are you truly prepared to make
such a decision?

  Lawrence sighed and stopped his hand.

  Though he might wish to borrow the wisdom of a wisewolf, he knew it was a problem he had to solve on his own.

  Resisting the urge to curse, he looked again at Holo beside him. He was quite sure he had never made so pathetic an expression in his entire life.

  “—!”

  He froze, but not because Holo’s deep, sleeping breaths had stopped, nor because he had noticed her trying to hide her laughter.

  He thought he heard something—the sound of something being dragged perhaps.

  “…?”

  Holo seemed to still be sleeping as she had been, the sound of her blissfully ignorant breathing barely audible from where her face was buried in the blanket.

  Lawrence listened carefully but heard only the sound of the shutters rattling and the wind howling.

  Perhaps some snow had slid off the roof, he mused, relaxing—but just as he did so, he heard the sound again. This time it was definitely not his imagination.

  He raised his head, listened intently, and heard it again.

  There was no mistaking it.

  Lawrence slowly inhaled, letting the frigid air flow into his lungs. He then quickly emerged from within the blankets, placed his feet on the creaky floorboard, and stood there in the stabbing cold.

  He unsheathed his knife, opening and closing his right hand around its handle. Thieves were surprisingly common in places like this. They evidently exploited the lowered guard that came with seeing only familiar faces.

  Continuing to the room with the hearth and opening the door there, Lawrence could now clearly hear the dragging sound.

  The sound of a staff.

  If it was a thief, he was giving a poor accounting of himself, and Lawrence was not so foolish as to mistake the sound for stealthy footfalls. But who could it be at such an hour?

  “Nn…mph…”

  Holo rolled over in bed, seeming to notice that Lawrence was no longer there.

  She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and looked in Lawrence’s direction questioningly.

  But her sleepy-girl act ended there, and she soon took notice of the footsteps, her eyes becoming wolf’s eyes.