They had once fought mightily when Holo pretended to be illiterate, but now Lawrence wondered if she was a swifter reader than he.
“Yes. The men of the alliance aren’t fools, and given the men like Piasky in their employ, they want stability for this land. Huskins and his people may find their territory a bit smaller, but their goals are similar.”
Holo narrowed her eyes, like a wealthy noblewoman evaluating a precious gem, but her gaze was directed at Huskins, who still slept by the fire.
But when she realized that Lawrence was watching her, she looked back at him and grinned in embarrassment.
Lawrence was too frightened to make sure, but he guessed there were more years separating Huskins and Holo than their appearances would suggest. Holo’s sense of duty and her queer integrity probably led her to give Huskins a measure of respect for his greater experience, even if he was a sheep.
For Holo, extending a helping hand to another might not have sat well, even as she took pride in it.
“So what can Kraft Lawrence, a mere traveling merchant, hope to do here?”
She so rarely called him by name that to hear it felt to Lawrence like something of a reward in and of itself, which he had to admit was strangely pathetic.
Lawrence grinned a fearless grin, like a man challenged to drink a cup of strong liquor in one go. He took a breath and answered slowly. “The wolf bones must be of crucial importance to the other side. Our information points to them as being the only real possibility. So the information will be taken very seriously, and the greater its potential to break the stalemate, the more seriously it will be taken. And that’s where traveling merchants like me have room to maneuver.”
“And this is the way of it truly? Are you sure this is correct? Will all truly be well? Truly? For certain? I believe you—I trust you, I do.” Holo laughed as she posed her childish questions.
Lawrence took in each one, elbow propped on the crate, with the poise of a proper merchant. “In exchange for the proof, I’ll ask you to hear a few of my questions, as well.”
“The notice of taxation or whatever ’tis called will make them starved for time.”
“I don’t think they’ll be able to avoid the negotiating table. Once a messenger arrives with the notice, there will be very little time left. If they dawdle, the profit will vanish. Better the coin purse starve than the belly, they say.”
“Hmph.” Holo sniffed as though mocking his optimistic prediction and turned away, unamused. “’Tis well, I suppose.”
She thrust the paper back at him, and Lawrence received the royal decree politely, rolling it up like a nobleman given an order from the king. “Well, then, so be it.”
And with those words, Lawrence was again a merchant—slave to contracts, servant of coin.
And one of the hidden kings that controlled the world from the shadows.
“Now, then.” Lawrence had neatened his beard, combed his hair, and straightened his collar.
Everything had to be perfectly in order before commencing with a business plan, though he was well aware that nothing truly proceeded according to plan.
The first problem would be finding a way to make the Ruvik Alliance take the bait of the story of the wolf bones. If he could not succeed in doing that, nothing else could happen.
“I suppose I’m off.”
Seen by an outsider he would have seemed a dwarf about to enter a giant’s lair—but back when he had been first starting out, every merchant had seemed a giant to him. He had managed to survive among them, so he would manage this, too. Holo and Col saw him off, and he put the shepherds’ dormitory behind him.
Still suffering from the effects of his march through the blizzard, Huskins was not yet recovered, but his color improved noticeably upon Lawrence informing him that he planned to cooperate.
Huskins had always supported the abbey in secret, so as far as the abbey was concerned, he was a shepherd like any other.
Thus, it was probably true that the only person Lawrence could count on was himself.
Conditions outside were still awful with buildings mostly covered in snow. Only a few eaves were still visible with small patches of stone or wood managing to peek out.
But even in such conditions, no merchant could simply sit still and wait. When Lawrence finally arrived at the alliance inn, another man was returning there from the building across the street.
“Ho! To think we’d have a customer so early, even in this weather.”
“Of course. The worse the weather, the larger the gain.”
“Ha-ha-ha. Too right!”
Perhaps he was a member of the Ruvik Alliance; he did not hesitate to open the door and hurry inside.
Lawrence followed behind him. One of the merchants just by the entrance asked, “Looking for Lag?”
Evidently they had already remembered him. “Is it written so obviously on my face?” Lawrence asked, rubbing the face in question.
The man laughed. “You’ll find him in the study.” Given that the man who minded the front door looked like something of a theology scholar, no doubt the word study was an apt one.
“My thanks to you.”
“Here for business?” It was the standard merchant’s greeting.
Lawrence smiled pleasantly. “Indeed. Big business.”
Then he was out in the snow again, making his way to Piasky’s place of work.
Lawrence told the theology scholar–seeming man at the front desk that he wanted to see Piasky, and the man disappeared inside without even asking Lawrence’s name.
His job was probably to watch for spies coming from rival alliances. As Lawrence was considering the possibility, the man returned and wordlessly gestured inside.
Lawrence bowed and proceeded in.
As he approached, Piasky opened the door and waited for him.
“Good morning to you.”
“And to you. What brings you here?” said Piasky, closing the door behind Lawrence as they entered Piasky’s private room.
Piasky was surely aware that Lawrence would not brave the terrible weather for idle chitchat.
Lawrence patted off what snow still remained on him, cleared his throat to conceal the nervousness he felt, and put on his best merchant’s smile. “Actually, something happened last night that bothered me.”
“Bothered you? Please, have a seat.” Piasky offered a chair, in which Lawrence sat, and rubbed his nose. He opened and closed his hand, dropping his gaze to it. It was an obvious affectation, but that was probably appropriate.
“Yes. It was so extraordinary that I couldn’t sleep at all for thinking it over,” said Lawrence, pointing to the bags under his eyes.
A merchant that came to a negotiation with tired eyes could not help but be regarded with a healthy measure of suspicion. But Piasky simply laughed. “Oh?”
The blizzard outside raged, and the stalemate continued. An extraordinary tale was the perfect companion for some wine.
“Whatever could it be? Don’t tell me you’ve found a way to break the abbey’s resistance.”
This was the moment to strike. “Yes, that’s it exactly.”
The smile on each man’s face froze, and Lawrence did not know how much time passed like that.
Piasky rubbed his hands several times, his expression unchanging, then silently rose and opened the door.
“And?” he asked, a split second after closing the door again. Evidently Piasky was something of an actor himself.
“Are you familiar with the port town of Kerube, across the Strait of Winfiel?”
“I know it. It’s a trade point between the north and the south. I’ve never conducted business there, but the delta there is a fine place.”
“Quite so. That’s the town. Are you familiar with a silly rumor that arrived there around two years ago?”
Piasky was a merchant who lived on the road, so he might not have heard of it—or so Lawrence thought—but Piasky made a face as though something had just occurred to him and then put a finger to
his lips. Was he going to speak his mind?
“As I recall…something about the bones of a pagan god?”
“Indeed. The bones of a wolf.”
Piasky looked off into the distance, as though thinking something over. When he looked back at Lawrence, his gaze had become guarded, as though genuinely surprised he had brought up something so unlikely.
“And what about those bones?”
If Lawrence had to guess, Piasky’s humoring manner meant that he was either making fun of Lawrence or he simply found the situation completely absurd.
Lawrence nonetheless mustered up the energy to reply. “Suppose the abbey purchased the bones.”
“The abbey…?”
“Yes. Even if they are the bones of a pagan god, they could be used to reinforce the authority of the Church’s God. They could be used to preach to all who gather in the sanctuary to pray for salvation, and they could be treated by the abbey as an investment, becoming something for those searching for a practical way to break the deadlock to cling to.”
Piasky let Lawrence finish, then closed his eyes, his expression bitter—and not because he was taking Lawrence’s statements seriously. He was surely considering how to gently reject the idea.
“I think that even if wool sales have been falling over the years, it would take a certain amount of time for the situation to become this dire. The abbey would have chosen a way to shelter its assets years ago because the nation’s coin has been falling in value all along. For one, they would buy up goods with that coin—if possible, goods that could be sold anywhere in the world for about as much as they’d been bought for. That way, if the local currency did indeed crash years later, the abbey could sell the bones for foreign currency and then bring that coin back to this kingdom. And just as we were able to stay at that fine inn in Kerube, they’d be treated as the richest men in the land.”
Piasky seemed sincerely troubled by Lawrence’s froth-mouthed explanation.
“What say you?” Lawrence asked.
Pressed by Lawrence, Piasky held up a palm as though to say, “Wait, I’m too shocked to speak.”
When Piasky finally did speak, it was after clearing his throat three times. “Mr. Lawrence.”
“Yes.”
“It’s true that what you’re saying seems plausible.”
“It does,” Lawrence said with a happy smile. He was well aware of the sweat breaking out on his brow.
“But we are the Ruvik Alliance. That is…This is difficult to say, but…”
“What is?”
If Holo had been there, Lawrence was sure her eyes would have gone round at his acting.
“Well, er, I’ll be blunt. We long ago considered that possibility.”
“…Huh?”
“It’s a well-known rumor. And well—” Piasky sighed as though he simply couldn’t stand to hold back any longer. “Truly, many people, many of our brightest comrades have put their minds to this problem.”
Lawrence fell silent, still leaning forward.
Piasky spread his palms and looked at Lawrence out of the corner of his eye.
Lawrence looked away, then looked back at Piasky, and then averted his eyes again.
A gust of wind rattled the windows’ shutters.
“We concluded that no such relic existed. When the story first appeared, one of our men was in Kerube at the time, and he looked into it through a company we’re connected with there. What he found was that only a single other company was searching for the bones, and it was a half jest even to them. They didn’t have the size to purchase a true holy relic, nor did they have such funds. It was just to improve their reputation. Such things happen, you know, after drunken boasting in taverns or exchanges of jokes.”
His long-windedness came from anger, it seemed. Anger at having had his time wasted.
Or anger at having hoped for more and been made a fool of.
Lawrence had no response. He shifted in his chair, rubbing his hands uneasily. An awkward silence descended.
“It’s just a fairy tale,” Piasky finally spit out with disdain. Lawrence pounced.
“And what if it isn’t just a fairy tale?” Had he been unable to smile as he said it, Lawrence would have been a third-rate merchant.
He grinned. He pulled his chin in and looked at Piasky with an upturned gaze.
“…Surely you jest.” Piasky was then silent for a while before replying, and while his expression feigned placidity, Lawrence did not fail to miss the way he casually dried his palms.
“I will leave it to you to decide whether I am in earnest or not.”
“No, Mr. Lawrence, you must stop this. If my reply was unfair, I apologize. But we’ve all thought this through together very thoroughly—that’s why I lost my temper. So please—”
“So please don’t upset you by saying such baseless things?”
The shutters rattled, and the windblown snow audibly impacted against them. It sounded like a ship being battered by waves, and Piasky’s face was starting to look distinctly seasick.
He bit his lower lip and widened his eyes, his face paling.
“Fifteen hundred coins.”
“What?”
“How many crates do you suppose it takes to hold fifteen hundred gold lumione pieces?”
Lawrence could still clearly remember the image of the Jean Company proudly carrying a mountain of crates into the church.
Piasky’s face twitched into a stiff smile. “M-Mr. Lawrence.” A trickle of sweat left his temple and rolled down his cheek.
Facial expression, tone, even tears—all of these could be feigned by a skilled actor.
But sweat was not so easy to fake.
“What say you, Mr. Piasky?” Lawrence leaned forward in his chair, bringing his face close enough to Piasky to tell what he had eaten for dinner the previous night.
This was the moment of truth.
If Lawrence couldn’t snare Piasky here, his claws would never reach his next prey.
“I’d like to continue to use you for all contact with the alliance.” Piasky would surely understand what he meant. He gazed at Lawrence fearfully, like a pilgrim with a blade held to his throat.
“We can break this stalemate. I’d like you to take that critical role. It’s not such a bad proposition, is it?”
“B-but…” When Piasky finally spoke, his words smelled of fine wine. “But do you have any proof?”
“Trust is always invisible.” Lawrence grinned and drew back.
Thus mocked, Piasky started to turn red, but Lawrence quickly continued and headed him off.
“The abbey wouldn’t be so foolish as to write ‘wolf bones’ in their records. They would make up some other term and record that instead. But nothing can stay hidden forever. If you read over the records expecting to find nothing, nothing is precisely what you’ll find—but if you suspect something of being hidden and look again, things may be different. What say you, eh?”
Piasky had no reply. He seemed unable to.
“To be perfectly honest, I happen to have something that lends some credence to the story of the wolf bones. But truthfully, it’s too big a story for a traveling merchant like me. If I told this directly to the alliance officials, there’s no telling whether they’d trust me or not. I need someone to vouch for me.”
Lawrence had brought goods from far-off lands into many towns, and he had built up some experience with such situations. Having someone local to the town or village agree with his sales pitch could make a tremendous difference.
Lawrence was not so naive as to believe that simply telling the truth was enough to earn trust. A single person might not be able to sell even the finest goods, but two people could make a killing selling nothing but trash.
That was the truth, and it was the secret to trade.
“But…”
“Please think it over. I did manage to win Mr. Deutchmann’s trust in the port town. Me—nothing more than a simple traveling merchant.”
Piasky
breathed out a pained chuckle and then closed his eyes.
Lawrence had heard that particular saying came from the capital of the great southern kingdom, whose trade network had grown over the decades into a net that covered the land, like a great spiderweb. Lawrence had never visited the city, but he could feel the truth of those words: Trust is invisible.
It was invisible, yes, but it could not be ignored.
“Mr. Piasky.”
Piasky trembled when Lawrence spoke, and a few drops of sweat fell from his chin.
If the wolf bones were real and not a fairy tale, then helping Lawrence would be a good way for Piasky to get promoted. But if they were the ravings of a mad traveling merchant and Piasky let himself believe in them, they would be his undoing.
Heaven or hell—if their sum was zero, then the only thing to be gained by getting involved was the thrill of the gamble. When the price of failure was ruin, anyone would hesitate, given enough time to do so.
And hesitation often gave rise to fear.
“…I just…I simply can’t…” Piasky agonizingly forced the words from his mouth, even as he wondered if what Lawrence had said was true.
He was escaping!
Lawrence had no choice but to block his path.
“What if—” said Lawrence with a voice as sharp as a needle, but then he hesitated. If he said what he was about to say, there would be no turning back from the path it would lead them down. Lawrence swallowed and continued, “What if I told you the king was taking action?”
“Wha…huh? What—what sort of…?”
“A tax.”
He had said it.
Piasky’s face went blank, and he stared at Lawrence. But unlike his dumbfounded face, his mind was surely calculating at unbelievable speeds.
Piasky stood swiftly from the chair. But Lawrence would not let him escape. “What good will it do to tell them now?”
As he shook his arm to try to free it from Lawrence’s grasp, it was obvious where Piasky was headed.
No matter the group, loyalty made its members into dogs. It was natural to assume Piasky was running to deliver the crucial information to his betters.
“What good—? I must inform them immediately!”
“Inform them? And then make a plan?”
Spice and Wolf, Vol. 10 Page 16
