Spice & Wolf Omnibus

by Isuna Hasekura

  “What’s wrong?”

  Holo shook her head in response to Lawrence’s question, looking down at her hands. “… It is nothing.”

  Yet even Holo, who was a brilliant liar, could not plausibly insist that it was, in fact, nothing.

  “You could be a little more subtle, you know.”

  Lawrence expected that would anger her a bit, but Holo seemed to be a cut above that.

  She smiled self-derisively, then took up the papers to put them in order. “I am just thinking about tiresome things, that is all.”

  Finally turning a page over with a flip, Holo slowly closed her eyes.

  “What kinds of things?”

  “Truly tiresome things… I was wondering what sort of town awaits us once we have made our way down the river.”

  At Holo’s words, Lawrence looked downriver.

  No sign of the sea was yet visible; there were only the flat plains and the gentle flow of the river.

  Of course, the port town of Kerube was not yet visible, either.

  But Lawrence got the feeling that Holo’s statement carried another meaning.

  More than anything, when Holo called something “tiresome,” it was not just that it was simply boring.

  “I’ve only passed through it by boat two or three times, so I haven’t gotten a proper look at it, if I’m honest.”

  “That is enough. What sort of town is it?”

  Since she had asked, there was no reason to hide it. Lawrence called up the memories of his past experiences. “The river meets the sea in a wide delta, and where townspeople do not live, it is lively indeed, with taverns and trading companies’ loading docks and money changers’ counters. Homes are located on the northern and southern edges of the delta. Collectively it’s known as Kerube, but the upper, middle, and lower sections do not get along well at all.”

  “Oh ho.” Holo looked down at the paper in her hands, though it was not clear whether she was reading the letters there or not.

  “I visited it from a large trading ship that connects distant nations. It had stopped in Kerube to take on supplies midway through the voyage. Since it was a large ship, it couldn’t navigate the shallow delta, so we boarded a smaller boat to make the trip.”

  Lawrence stopped there to check Holo’s reaction.

  If this was what she wanted to know, it would have been faster to simply let her see the place when they arrived – but Holo did not seem to think so.

  “And then what did you see once you went up the delta?” Holo was looking vaguely at the paper in her hand, but her focus seemed to be on a point far beyond it.

  Seeing her like that and explaining the sights of Kerube to her in this way, Lawrence felt like he was leading a blind person.

  But when he slowed his speech, Holo looked at him and wordlessly pressed him for more.

  Lawrence was concerned, but continued. “… Right. Going up the delta, the first thing that greets us is the wind – and tide – bleached wreckage of a ship that’s run aground. The hull is broken cleanly in two, and we pass through it like it’s a gate. Once on the other side, we’re surrounded by energy and noise, but not like in a town market. A town market sells goods one at a time, but here goods are bought and sold in amounts that would make your head spin – it’s a market for merchants. The goods piled high there will be taken to lands near and far. Let’s see… ah, yes. There are many shops dedicated to providing a brief moment of pleasure in the long and difficult voyages. Inside them, well… it would probably make your brow wrinkle to hear of it,” said Lawrence with a deliberate shrug, at which Holo guffawed.

  “From within the rows of two-story buildings come the constant sounds of laughter and lute music all day long.”

  Holo nodded, and without raising either her head or her gaze, she asked, “Where was the ship going?”

  “The ship?”

  “The one you were riding on.”

  “Ah, that ship was bound far south along the coast, arriving at a port town called Yordos, a place known for its skilled artisans. The ship was carrying mostly amber from the north, and the town was famous for its amber craft. It’s even farther south than Pazzio, where you and I wound up running around underground, or even Pasloe, where we met. The sea is very warm there and dark.”

  Lawrence had been younger and more carefree then; he had owned no wagon and had been rather careless with his life as he flitted from place to place.

  It didn’t enter the conversation, but there was no comparison between a long sea voyage spent in a dim room below decks and a short riverboat trip.

  On the voyage, he had held desperately onto the cow bladder that contained his drinking water, trying not to spill it as the boat rocked so violently that it had been impossible to even sit properly.

  And with that much rocking, a poor traveling merchant – who was hardly a sailor – would soon fall prey to seasickness.

  When there was nothing left in his stomach, he had vomited blood, and he had been thin and haggard by the time the boat arrived.

  It was bad enough that Lawrence could scarcely believe he’d made the journey three times.

  “Mm. Though I do not know this ‘amber’ of which you speak.”

  “Huh? You don’t?” asked Lawrence, and Holo shot him an irritated glance.

  He would have guessed that living the life of a forest god, it would be the kind of thing she would know – but then, she hadn’t known about pyrite, either.

  “It’s tree sap that’s hardened underground, and it looks just like a jewel. It’s rather like… ah, yes. It looks a bit like your eyes actually.”

  Lawrence pointed at Holo’s face, whereupon she seemed to unconsciously try to look at her own eyes. He couldn’t help but laugh when she went cross-eyed.

  “You did that on purpose,” she said – but if that had truly been so, Holo would not have said it.

  Since Lawrence could tell that she was irritated at his remark, he answered, “Well, in any case, they’re like beautiful jewels.”

  Despite her irritation, Holo couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the obvious words. “Hmph! Not bad, for you. So after you got off that ship, where did you go next?”

  “Next? Next was…” began Lawrence, when a question appeared in his mind.

  What could she be getting at by asking him this all of a sudden?

  “You can tell me that, or you can tell me where that vixen’s destination is.”

  Perhaps Holo thought Lawrence’s hesitation was due to the vagueness of his memory.

  But no – he soon realized that was not it.

  It was because she was afraid of even a moment of silence – even the amount of time it took him to wonder why she was asking all this.

  “Eve’s destination, eh? If she’s going to sell the fur to fur craftsmen, it’ll be still farther south than Yordos. Probably a town named Urva.”

  “How much do you think she’ll make?”

  “Hmm… Perhaps triple… though that might be tough. If she were to turn that much profit, she’d never speak to a traveling merchant like me again, I’d wager.”

  At Lawrence’s smile, Holo smacked him on the shoulder, her face displeased.

  But their eyes did not meet.

  It was as though if she looked him in the eye, she was afraid he would see her mind.

  “Ha-ha. But that’s no joke – if she turns a profit of one or two thousand gold pieces, she’ll be launched into the ranks of high-level merchants. Once you’ve got that kind of money, the done thing is to hire help, open a shop, buy a ship, and get involved in long-distance trading. Buy gold from desert nations and spices from scorching lands. Then bring back silk or glasswares, volumes of ancient writing that detail the history of bygone empires, exotic foods and animals, mountains of sea jewels like pearls or coral. A ship full of such things returning safely to port could bring a profit ten or twenty times what I’ll make in my life. Then you can open branch offices for your trading company and most likely get into bankin
g transactions. Loaning huge sums to local nobility in exchange for various special privileges allows you to seize control of the local economy. Then you finally become the official merchant for the southern emperor. You handle the ordering of the king’s coronation crown, which could be worth two or three hundred thousand lumione. Once you’re a merchant of that magnitude, you can send any sort of good anywhere to any nation from your seat, and you’re received like a king anywhere you go. Your throne of gold coins is complete.”

  It was the path of gold every merchant had dreamed of at least once.

  What made this absurd was the number of merchants who followed that path, only to have it end in martial rule.

  Yet the merchants who used force on the way toward martial rule were so many that even an omnipotent god could hardly count them.

  Even if Eve gained some inkling of this, there was no telling if things would go well for her.

  To gain the huge profits that could be had via long-distance trade, the vessel had to arrive safely in port – and that was no mean feat.

  Lawrence could not count on both hands the number of merchants he personally knew who had seen their entire fortunes literally vanish beneath the waves.

  “’Tis like a path of gold leading to a nation of gold,” said Holo, amused. It was not clear to what extent she realized Lawrence’s story was fantastical, but from her tone, it seemed clear she understood it to be a fantasy. “Still, it does not seem that it would be so very frustrating to let the entrance to that path pass you by.”

  Lawrence naturally nodded at her words.

  It wasn’t especially frustrating.

  After all, the path Lawrence wished to tread was not the path of gold.

  But he couldn’t help feeling that if Holo was with him, he could walk it.

  Surely he could arrive at that mountain of jewels, along the path of avarice that swirled with trickery and wiles, undeceived by devils and unharmed by evil gods, pushing forward at every chance.

  It would be an adventure tale worthy of the term and worthy, too, of being passed down through the centuries.

  He and Holo would contest a gold transaction with a powerful merchant as their rival and bargain with the royal family of an ancient nation over purebred sheep. They might cross swords with a pirate armada or be betrayed by a trusted underling.

  Lawrence wondered how much fun such adventures would be with Holo by his side.

  And yet for some reason, he got the feeling that Holo wanted no part of this.

  So he asked.

  “Do you not wish to walk that path?”

  Looking disinterested, Holo did indeed nod. “I will have to pass on your tales. ’Twould be better if such tales were fewer.”

  Lawrence chuckled soundlessly at her obstinacy, earning him a glare from Holo.

  She was surely lying, to claim that she wished for tales to be few. What she wanted to be few were people who would tell those tales. For example, if Lawrence saw someone triumphantly talking about Holo’s sleeping form, he would certainly bear said person ill will.

  “Rather than talk of the path of gold, I would sooner hear of what’s beyond this amber village.”

  Instead of tales of wild adventure, she wanted tales of a journey like the one they’d had so far.

  As to why she wanted to hear something like that, the reason was obvious.

  The sensation he had felt while describing the delta of Kerube – when it was put into words, he understood it immediately.

  But Lawrence only shut his mouth and smiled faintly, and without saying anything else, he answered Holo’s question as it was asked.

  At the amber village, he would sell animal bones and teeth acquired in the north and buy up salt and salted herring before heading inland. He would go on foot, by wagon, even occasionally traveling with a caravan. He would walk plains, cross rivers, hike mountains, and wander forests. There would be injuries and sickness. Lawrence would rejoice at meeting a merchant he had heard was dead and laugh at hearing rumors of his own demise.

  Holo listened to the story happily, asking her questions quietly, as if she enjoyed hearing about the vast stretches of land she had not yet seen, despite her centuries. As if surprised at the frequency of amusing incidents.

  And as if imagining herself along for the journey, as a matter of course, not worthy of any particular mention.

  At length, Lawrence would make his way deep into the mountains and trade salt there for marten fur – but he stopped the tale before that. Telling any further, he felt, would be a breach of the unspoken promise that they shared.

  For Holo’s part, she had leaned idly against him and held his hand in her own.

  The journey that Lawrence described would take two years in reality.

  Perhaps the fatigue from the long journey the two had undertaken had finally reared its head.

  That long journey that would never be realized.

  After exchanging salt for marten fur in the mountain village, if Lawrence was to continue the tale, which village would be next?

  The great wheat fields. The port town. If Lawrence was to continue, the circle of the journey would be closed, and it would continue forever.

  But Holo did not press him further.

  She knew that if she was to speak, to press him on, this strangely dreamlike atmosphere would be destroyed.

  Lawrence wondered if Holo was regretting the trip. Or could she be reflecting on how much fun it had been?

  For Lawrence it was both. He had regrets because it had been such fun.

  Their travel would go no farther south than Kerube. Neither would they head west. What lay beyond that was a vast unknown world. Though it did indeed exist should they choose to set foot there, it was a world they would never enter.

  “In the beginning was the word,” said God.

  And if the world had been created by those words–

  Was Holo, who was known to some as a god, borrowing Lawrence’s words to create a temporary world of her own?

  Lawrence, naturally, did not ask her what she hoped to accomplish by doing so.

  Holo had spent hundreds of years in the wheat fields by herself. She was well used to playing in a made-up world.

  But looking at the dazed Holo, who sat there motionless, Lawrence couldn’t help wondering if she would really be all right on her own after their journey was over.

  According to the book in the village of Tereo, Holo’s homeland had been destroyed.

  It would be fortunate if after so much time, the old inhabitants of the place had returned.

  But what if they hadn’t?

  This worried Lawrence.

  When he imagined Holo, listless and alone in the moonlight of the cold, quiet mountains, it didn’t seem possible that she could get by on her own.

  No doubt she would feel like howling from time to time, but none were there who would answer.

  But if he voiced any of these thoughts, Lawrence knew her anger would be like a raging fire, and it was obvious that she would admit none of it. And what she had to recognize above all else was that no matter how hard Lawrence might try, her loneliness would never be eased.

  It would be a lie to say Lawrence did not feel powerless.

  Yet he had considered all this when he had gone to collect Holo at the Delink Company.

  He spoke with forced cheer; it was the least he could do. “So, what say you? Not an especially exciting journey, is it?”

  Holo gave Lawrence a listless look and fixed it upon him for a time.

  When she finally smiled, it may have been because she had spotted something stuck on Lawrence’s face.

  She sat up with exaggerated effort and spoke as though it was a great burden. “… Right you are. Still–”

  “Still?”

  The expression Holo made as she looked doubtfully over her shoulder might well have been a specialty of hers. “As it’s such an ordinary journey, we can travel at a leisurely pace, hand in hand, without an excess of suspense.”
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  A malicious smile.

  But it wasn’t Holo whose smile was malicious.

  It was God up in his heaven whose intent was ill.

  Before Lawrence could say anything, the expression on Holo’s face disappeared, as though she had simply been enjoying a mild diversion. She turned over a page and voiced a slight exclamation. As she proudly took the paper in hand and showed it to Lawrence, there wasn’t so much as a hint of the emotion from a moment ago.

  A mere human like Lawrence could hardly manage such a feat.

  And being a mere human, it took Lawrence a moment to regain his own composure.

  Holo smiled indulgently and waited.

  This was, in truth, an ordinary journey.

  And peaceful, as well; Holo was close enough that he could reach out and touch her any time he wanted.

  “This is indeed from the Jean Company. It’s a memo of their exports from last summer.”

  “Hn.” Holo sniffed. Lawrence couldn’t help but smile at her proud manner, as though she’d discovered a treasure map.

  He just couldn’t match her.

  “And yes, it looks like they exported sixteen chests. So this… no… is it…?”

  As Lawrence compared the paper to other export lists, he was soon submerged in thought.

  A fragile bubble of a dream rose within his mind; he wanted to seal it away in the deepest corner.

  It was too sweet a dream.

  Lawrence was not so naive as to be ignorant of the word corruption.

  “Well, hurry and look for more papers,” said Holo, suddenly irritated, grabbing Lawrence’s ear and hauling him forcibly out of the well of his own thoughts.

  Surprised, Lawrence held his ear, and looked at Holo’s profile as she dropped her gaze to the paper she held. Suddenly he remembered something – that she had volunteered to help him look for the company’s name in the sheaf of papers because she wanted him to pay attention to her.

  But thanks to her rigid expression of rejection, he couldn’t bring himself to say, “Let’s puzzle this out together.”

  It was strange that what was once such a tender mood could become like this so quickly.