All sorts of fish, big and small, were kept in it, and occasionally groups of turtles or waterfowl would congregate there.
But no golden-haired poet would sit at the water’s edge spinning rhyme, and the words spoken there were not verses of the place’s surpassing beauty.
Because the fish in the reservoir swam in circles within nets and the turtles and waterfowl would eventually have their legs or mouths bound.
The words spoken at the waterfront were straightforward amounts and negotiations. The throats that shouted them were stout and strong, as were the hands that grabbed at the fish.
The people who came to the market to do business called the reservoir the spring of gold.
Kerube’s delta market extended two hundred paces north from the reservoir, two hundred paces south, three hundred to the east, and four hundred to the west.
This extent had been decided in the distant past, and while it seemed the delta had plenty of space to accommodate the market, as far as Lawrence had heard or seen, it had never been expanded.
Which meant, of course, that the buildings were built to conserve land area.
The constant complaint about the overcrowding was that it was so bad you could see your neighbor’s ledger.
No sooner had Lawrence and company arrived on the delta than Holo flattened her ears back.
It might have been a bit of a joke, but Lawrence didn’t think it was necessarily for show.
No matter when you came, the largest market in the port town of Kerube possessed an unbelievable commotion.
“Is today a festival day or something?” a taken-aback Col asked Holo, who stood next to him as they crossed the pier after Lawrence had paid the boatman.
The delta had three docks, and Lawrence and company had arrived at the one used almost exclusively by traffic going to and from the north side of the town. So instead of the gate made from run-aground ships that was the market’s most famous landmark, there was a quarried stone that had been brought ashore and simply left there.
The market proper started just past that with crowds of people standing shoulder to shoulder, none of them looking directly ahead but instead gazing intently at the shops they passed as they walked by.
“Hmm? This is hardly the only place so crowded, you know. I have been to towns where they’re like this through and through,” Holo said sagely, puffing up in a matter not so unlike Col himself.
“I-is that so…? The only really crowded place I’ve ever been is Aquent…”
“Aye. Do not worry; youth is an ignorant time. All you need do is watch and learn.”
“That’s surely true. After all, you said nearly the same thing to me the first time we visited a port town,” said Lawrence from behind the two, putting his hand on Holo’s head.
In the centuries Holo had spent in Pasloe, the world had changed enough for even a god to grow old. When it came to being ignorant about the state of the world, Holo was surely the worse offender.
But when it came to boasting, the same was true.
Irritated, she brushed Lawrence’s hand off her head and glared at him threateningly. “As the contents of your coin purse are so small, aye, you must truly enjoy boasting of how much more worldly you are than I!”
“I could say precisely the same thing to you. The only large city you’ve ever visited is Ruvinheigen!”
Holo drew her chin in and puffed her cheeks out.
Col had been watching the exchange nervously, but this made Holo’s “play with me!” attitude all too obvious.
“Only because you’re a skinflint of a traveling merchant who pinches every penny, even for food. I lived a captive’s life, unable to go where I wished. Or will you take me where I wish to go?”
They were difficult words, heavy with implication and calling into question their entire journey so far – if Lawrence misinterpreted even one, he could expect a sound kick in the rear.
Col seemed not to know how much of it was a joke, and he was unable to hide his discomfort.
So Lawrence answered courteously and carefully. “Merchants interpret everything through money. So as long as it costs nothing, I will cooperate with you as much as you need.”
“For example?” asked Holo, giving a rare half smile beneath her hood.
She seemed incapable of hiding the absurdity of her own performance.
“For example… hmm…” said Lawrence, thinking. Holo irritatedly struck him, then grabbed his clothes and pulled him close.
“In that case, how about some pillow talk? Or do I need to make it clearer than that?”
She had made it quite clear enough, Lawrence stopped himself from saying.
Just when he thought they were fighting, the tone of the exchange had taken a sudden change, and Col’s face reddened as he swallowed and watched the two.
Lawrence mused that being an actor would not be so bad.
“It’s true that pillow talk doesn’t cost anything. Although whenever I carry you to bed, you’re always drunk.”
Holo slipped away from Lawrence, a malicious smile on her face.
Lawrence prepared himself to show his best you-got-me face.
“What else can I do? Your conversation is far too boring to endure sober.”
Lawrence wanted someone to compliment them on having matured so much that they could engage in such an obvious parody of their usual conversation.
“Now then, shall we have a look around?” suggested Holo, smacking her lips with relish, apparently satisfied with their joking.
What she wanted to have a look at was not the market itself, but rather the food arrayed within it.
Despite having just eaten her fill of chicken, her belly was evidently already empty.
“U-um, what food is this town known for, I wonder…” said Col to Holo, still trying to be polite to her despite being totally unable to keep up with the rapid shifts in the conversation thus far.
“Hmph. When you say it like that, it makes it sound like all I care about is food.”
“Wha–? N-no, that’s not what I–”
If her robe had been pulled off, no doubt Holo’s tail would have been swishing to and fro as she toyed with Col mercilessly. In any case, Lawrence was not listening to Col’s stumbling words as he was teased.
He started walking alone, then passed the stone that served as a gate and turned back.
“Come, hurry!”
Despite the noise of the bustling market, the clear tone of a lass’s voice would still attract attention.
A merchant who was sitting on the stone and writing something glanced at Holo, the hand on his slate going awry. Paradoxically, her slim, chaste features made it obvious she was abstaining for profit. From the perspective of an ascetic hermit, this was a grave sin.
Following Holo’s gaze led to Lawrence, which at the very least made things unfavorable.
And though the merchant soon dropped his gaze back to his slate and continued writing, Lawrence could clearly see that he could not help occasionally letting it slip past the edge of the slate, and only with effort did Lawrence hide a rueful chuckle.
“Stop your dallying! Come, now–” shouted Holo. Though it was unclear whether she was aware of the gaze upon her, she felt rushed enough that the tip of her swishing tail poked out from under her robe, and having shouted, she suddenly fell silent.
“…?”
No matter how good at acting she might have been, even the best disguise would wear thin if it was worn long enough.
And this did not seem like an act, so like the young merchant before him had just done, Lawrence followed Holo’s gaze.
And then he saw.
Col looked back, too, and clapped his hand over his mouth, glancing surreptitiously at Lawrence.
At the end of Holo’s gaze, just getting off the boat, was the familiar form of a certain merchant.
Wearing the same clothes as usual, regarding everything in the world as so many coins to be counted past sleepy, half-lidded eyes, the owner
of that fearless gaze turned it upon Lawrence.
But the faint surprise that Eve evinced was surely not a skillful act, but genuine.
For around Eve were two men, both well dressed and well fed, trailed by two men also well dressed but with sinister looks in their eyes – the encounter had to be a coincidence.
The young merchant who had been sitting on the rock pondering his business noticed Eve and the others and scrambled to his feet, trotting into the marketplace as though making his escape.
An older fishmonger, standing idly beside his fish cart as he waited for his broker to show up, bowed respectfully as if he were meeting an ocean spirit.
The men around Eve seemed to regard the actions of the young merchant and the old fishmonger as completely ordinary. It was as though Lawrence were the abnormal one, and they stared at him openly, as though appraising him.
Then they sniffed, as if he was beneath their contempt.
They turned and regarded Eve as if asking what this boy’s problem was.
“I thought for sure you’d headed south… but maybe sightseeing comes first,” said Eve in an amused tone.
The youngest of the four men handled the payment of their ferryman’s fee.
Eve did not even glance at them, instead facing Lawrence as she spoke.
She spared Holo only a moment’s look, and Lawrence was sure that if he had checked, Holo’s eyes would have been full of hostility.
The men around Eve murmured into each other’s ears as they considered Lawrence.
“Yes, as a bit of a break from work. My wound still aches a bit, you see.” Lawrence let some hostility slip into his voice as he could feel Holo’s gaze boring into his back.
Eve would surely understand that much.
She narrowed her eyes faintly, and raising her hand, gave two, then three signals to the men.
The two well-fed men directed unfriendly smiles at Lawrence, and the two mean-eyed ones completely ignored the group as they passed, heading into the marketplace.
Just as in the legend from the scriptures, as they walked, the sea of people seemed to part before them.
They had to be powerful figures in the town.
Just as they walked away, Holo approached Lawrence.
“For my part, I was in the middle of resting up when that lot flushed me out. They’re big fish on the north side for Kerube,” said Eve.
“Are they merchants?” Lawrence asked, at which Eve shook her head.
“They’re not involved in buying or selling goods, but they’re awfully good at bookkeeping.”
Eve’s eyes were colored with her distaste, and in an instant, Lawrence understood exactly what sort of men they were. They probably had special privileges in Kerube.
They might have been landowners, or perhaps they controlled tax collection or fishing licensure. At the very least, it was clear that they lived in a world where simply relaxing in a chair would bring money flowing to them.
If they were making even the slightest bow in Eve’s direction, they must know how useful she could be.
Or perhaps despite their power, they still lacked a noble title.
Lawrence could not be sure, but the situation smelled highly amusing.
“If you’re interested, come to the spring of gold. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Just as Eve left, she shot Holo a quick glance.
Then her form entered the throng in the marketplace, and she disappeared – as if she could blend into or stand out of a crowd at will.
Impressed, Lawrence watched her go before a kick from Holo brought him back to the present.
“You’ve some nerve, watching another female right in front of me.”
Lawrence had heard that line somewhere before but only shrugged, not offering a proper answer. “Shall I look only at you from now on, then?” he inquired, playfully bring his face close to Holo’s and boldly touching her cheek.
An irritated Holo then immediately started walking toward the marketplace.
“Ah, Miss Holo!” Col reflexively followed her but stopped short after a step.
He looked back hesitantly. “E-er–”
“Hmm?”
“Are you not going to…?”
By which he of course meant following Holo.
Col was probably worried that by running after Holo, he was usurping Lawrence’s role.
“I am not. I think she’d like you to go with her.”
“I don’t–”
“You don’t think so?” asked Lawrence, and Col shook his head.
Even if he were released, Col surely would not try to fix his mussed hair.
Evidently, he was too busy thinking about other things to bother with it.
“I’ll admit that you’re clever, but even a bit of thought should have led you to conclude that I’ve got no leg to stand on.” Lawrence smiled and fixed Col’s hair. “It’s true that she’s angry with me. But the part where she’s quarreling with me, that’s a lie.”
Lawrence reached into the leather coin purse slung around his hip and produced a single silver trenni.
He then touched the coin to Col’s nose. “This should be more than enough for all the food and drink you could want. Be careful that Holo doesn’t have too much wine.”
“…”
Col seemed not to understand why Lawrence was not pursuing Holo, and he accepted the coin with a deeply perplexed expression.
“She can see right through me, you see. She knows Eve’s words have caught my interest. But she also hates Eve and doesn’t want to have to see her face.”
Col wore a look that said, “And then?” but Lawrence explained no further, giving Col’s back a little shove, adding that if he wanted to know more, he should ask Holo.
He hesitated for a moment, but he was a smart boy and walked away as he was told.
Though she had already disappeared into the crowd, Holo would surely find Col.
“Well, then.”
Eve had said to come to the spring of gold.
Lawrence understood what that meant.
He had learned that any important meeting regarding the port town of Kerube would be held by the delta’s spring of gold.
If it were held on the north side, the northerners would try to press their advantage, likewise for the south side; this was a measure against that.
If an impoverished noblewoman with her eye on becoming a wealthy merchant would go there with such powerful townsmen, it was certain to be something that any merchant worthy of the name would want to attend.
In the face of that, no possible amusement could compare.
Of course, it would have been easy enough for Holo to take Lawrence by the scruff of the neck and turn his attention back toward her, but a clever wolf like her understood the cost of doing so.
Far better for her to withdraw, thereby drawing something out of Lawrence.
And Lawrence had accepted the bargain.
He ran his hand through his hair ruefully, wishing that he could read Holo’s heart as easily as he had understood the bargain they had just struck.
No doubt Holo was at a loss herself.
“A trenni for sightseeing, eh?”
As he folded his arms and craned his neck, he wondered if he had gotten too brave and handed over too much money.
But at least he would hear no complaints.
Lawrence walked, heading into the market for the first time in quite a while.
He felt he had melted into the crowd quite well.
All that was left was the squalid hustle and bustle of the marketplace, humming like an army of ants.
The marketplace was a little world of its own.
Whether it was true or not, it was said that the delta marketplace was built upon countless piles driven into the sand. Most of the buildings were stone to prevent – it was rumored – the pile-supported marketplace from being washed away by the river. Lawrence could understand that much, as the nails of wooden construction would instantly start to rust and rot,
but he could not help but worry that stone buildings would sink into the sand.
Of course, he had never heard of anything like that happening so far, so it had to be working.
Due to the way things were, wind would carry sand through the spaces between buildings, where it would accumulate, calling to mind the markets of desert towns far to the south.
Words carried on the wind directed him through the twists and turns of the market’s center, and he arrived without incident at the spring of gold.
Around the spring, a round plaza was constructed with roads leading away from it to the north, south, east, and west.
Marking the spring’s very center was a long and high pylon.
Three blackened, dried fish were affixed to the pylon, perhaps as a kind of charm, and atop it perched a single seagull.
At one spot at the edge of the spring, three sets of tables and chairs were arranged, around which stood three guards with leather chest pieces. The men carried spears nearly twice as long as they were tall.
Taking a look around, Lawrence saw that the inns and lodgings surrounding the spring all had their second-story windows left open. All the faces peering out through them seemed to be those of well-to-do merchants, perhaps among them some who had women waiting on them within and were indulging themselves a bit.
Lawrence was, of course, not so wealthy that he could indulge in spectating from an inn, so he bought an ale from one of the opportunistically positioned open-air stalls, settling himself at an appropriate distance so that he could hear the conversation at the tables.
He did not see Eve, but there were already men he recognized for who they were, sitting in the chairs, each whispering into the ears of his staff.
There was no need to bother asking anybody the topic of discussion.
No tongue was as loose as that of a merchant anticipating amusement.
Merchants who were tight-lipped when talk of profit came up were only too happy to gossip.
Just by listening to the strong spirit seller talking loudly to his neighbor, Lawrence could glean the general idea.
The man seemed to be a merchant who was stopping over during a sea voyage, but he was extremely drunk, making him harder to understand. But the gist seemed to be that there was a debate going on over whether to expand the marketplace.
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