Spice & Wolf Omnibus

by Isuna Hasekura

  As a merchant, Lawrence was surprised at these words. This storeroom contained a great many valuable paintings, as well as examples of gold- and silver-smithing. To leave perfect strangers unattended in such a room was an act of significant courage, Lawrence reflexively thought. Hugues noticed this and smiled.

  “If she wanted to steal from me, it would be faster for her to simply bite my head off. And anyway, we forest dwellers don’t lie.”

  It would have sounded as if he was trying to flatter Holo, but perhaps that was reading too much into it.

  Lawrence bowed his head politely. “Ah, my apologies.”

  Hugues chatted with Lawrence for a while before retreating to the rear of his shop to work.

  Lawrence sat in the room waiting for Fran, reading through the travel account of a merchant who claimed to have journeyed the world over and found a city of gold in the Far East. But just like the information that Lawrence had sought from Hugues, the knowledge that could be gathered in a trip around the world would be incredibly valuable if true, and therefore making it public would be the height of idiocy. In other words, the travel account was merely nonsense, but it was amusing nonsense.

  Just as Lawrence found himself laughing at the absurdity of one of the more improbable details, a golden something flew through the space between his eye and the book and landed in his lap.

  He looked up in surprise, and there was Holo, looking as though she had dropped something. His eyes were next drawn to the dropped object in his lap – it was the golden apple he had been so amused to discover in the storeroom.

  “Was it not tasty?” He picked the apple up. It was warm.

  Size-wise it seemed just about a fit for Holo’s hand, he thought, whereupon that same hand snatched it away from him.

  “You humans do love your gold. Though ’twould be a bother if everything turned to gold.”

  Too much of a good thing, went the old saying. But Lawrence was a merchant. “In that case, find something that’s not gold, and sell it high.”

  Holo sniffed and then sat down beside him, looking displeased. She did not groom her tail; she simply toyed with the golden apple in her hands.

  “Where’s Col?” Lawrence asked, which made Holo tilt her head.

  Her ears were flattened, which did not suggest anything good about her mood. She had probably left him in the storeroom. It was a rare state of events, and Lawrence could not imagine many possibilities.

  “Couldn’t find anything, eh?” Any paintings of Yoitsu, or its region, or any landscape that Holo remembered.

  No doubt she had thought that with so many paintings, surely at least one of them would hold what she sought.

  Her disappointment would not have been so great if she had thought from the beginning that nothing would turn up. What stung was having hopes dashed.

  Worse, they had surely found many landscapes that Col recognized.

  “Mm.” Holo held the golden apple in both hands and nodded faintly.

  “That just means you’ve still something to look forward to, eh?” Lawrence knew he would rouse her anger by saying so, and indeed, her ears pricked up.

  But that did not last long. The strength slowly slipped from her, and the words came tumbling out of her mouth like water from an uncorked bottle. “Is it… wrong of me?”

  “Wrong?” Lawrence repeated, at which Holo nodded.

  “Like those sheep, Hugues said. Most of them plugged their ears and shut their eyes…”

  Lawrence looked away from Holo momentarily and closed the book. It was a delightful, beautifully bound volume. No doubt the name of the raconteur merchant responsible would be remembered for centuries.

  “You mean about wanting to get involved after hearing the truth?” asked Lawrence, which Holo nodded at.

  Holo seemed cold and calculating but was quite hot-blooded, and whenever she saw someone suffering or in trouble, she wanted to help. If humans were to assemble and march upon the forests and mounts, ravaging the land and killing the animals, she would want to help the resistance even if the land weren’t Yoitsu.

  And while the outcome might well be recorded in legend and song, victory was surely impossible – because if it was possible, someone else would already have won it.

  “I may say this or that, but the truth is that I think of myself as special,” said Holo, sounding faintly amused, perhaps to cover her embarrassment. “I can get through most things simply by showing my fangs. I can draw out the way of things. That’s what I thought. But…”

  When Lawrence held out his arm, Holo glanced at him with a look of hollow amusement pasted onto her face and then took it, wrapping it around herself like a muffler and clinging to him.

  “There were no paintings there of the land I knew. What does that mean?”

  Each of the pieces had either been commissioned by a specific buyer or stored away in anticipation of someone from the region appearing and recognizing the landscape. It was not hard, therefore, to come to this conclusion: There were no paintings of Yoitsu because there was no one from Yoitsu to order them. It was easy to imagine her wolf comrades leaving on an eternal journey.

  And what was the basis for this?

  No doubt many of them, having confidence in their own teeth and claws, chose to fight. And even if they had likely fled from the Moon-Hunting Bear, the world was abundant with absurdities. If they had been able to find weapons, they would have risen up and fought – somewhere.

  The ones who ran away from everything, who instead of taking up arms simply fled, would have been called cowards at first. But it was those cowards whose roots still clung to the earth, even now.

  “Plugging one’s ears and closing one’s eyes for fear of the truth? ’Tis all I can do to laugh at such foolishness. But who is the master of this shop? Who is it who still knows many of his old friends? Who is it who even now still works to offer comfort to his kind? Compared with that…” The nails of Holo’s small hand dug into Lawrence’s arm. “… What am I doing?”

  She was not crying.

  Holo was not sad. She was ashamed.

  The raging river of time had changed the world, and she and her kind had stood on the shore, not only powerless, but their very existence suddenly in doubt.

  It was more than enough reason for Holo to gnash her teeth.

  Lawrence put more strength into his embrace, drawing Holo in.

  “Nobody knows what the right thing to do is.” Holo’s head smelled faintly of dust, perhaps because of the time she had spent in the storeroom. “You yourself have been prepared to put your life at risk for the sake of your principles. Am I wrong?”

  Holo did not move for several moments.

  “Just think about when you were buried in the ground. You’re Holo the Wisewolf, aren’t you?”

  No doubt her comrades would be very pleased to know that Holo was thinking of them. But what would they think of her standing in front of their gravestone forever? Regret could mean struggling to turn back time, or it could mean swearing not to let the same thing happen again. The two meanings were very different.

  Holo nodded. She was neither a child, nor a fool. And yet she still could not contain these emotions on her own.

  “And I do know one thing,” said Lawrence, which made Holo’s ears prick up. He smiled, but not to cheer her up. “When you worry, so do I.”

  When he had traveled alone, there had been no one to whom he would have uttered such words, nor anyone who would say them to him. When he would get involved in a risky trade, he would make boastful jokes about dying by the side of the road.

  A dead friend was dead forever. But a living one existed only in the here and now.

  “Fool,” she whispered, though it was by no means clear to whom. Perhaps both to herself and to Lawrence alike.

  “Quite right,” said Lawrence. “So, the next thing to do is…?”

  Holo’s voice caught in her throat.

  She had not left Col alone in the storeroom simply because they had fou
nd only landscapes he recognized and none that she knew. Given Col’s disposition, if they were unable to find any paintings of Holo’s homeland, he would just keep looking.

  And the more he looked, the heavier the weight of not finding anything became. Holo had not exactly taken her frustration out on him, but back in the storeroom, just how bad was Col feeling?

  “I’ll go apologize,” said Holo.

  “You do that,” said Lawrence paternally, and Holo broke free from his embrace and grinned a toothy grin.

  Time could not be turned back and the correct choice was never obvious, so one had to try to enjoy the present, at least.

  That was all Lawrence could say. The rest was up to Holo, he thought as he reopened the book.

  “Miss Fran Vonely has returned.”

  Before standing, Lawrence lightly tapped Holo’s knee. He looked back – she was wearing a bright smile, which was more than a little suspicious.

  From behind Hugues, who was no doubt unused to having such a smile directed at him by a wolf so nearby, appeared a young girl.

  She was not much taller than Col, which put her at about Holo’s height.

  It was her appearance that made Lawrence’s face pale despite himself. She did not have Holo’s ears, nor horns like Huskins had. She was just a normal girl – if you ignored the color of her skin and her eyes.

  “Is this the merchant who called after me?” Her voice was beautiful and clear and spoke of a good upbringing.

  There are many forms of beauty in the world, but Lawrence had never before seen the sort that Fran possessed. Her hair and eyes were jet-black, and she had the dark brown skin common in the desert lands of the south. Hers was a bewitching beauty; she had a mysterious charm to her, the power of all who survived in the hellish deserts. It felt as though she would not quail, even if Holo took her wolf form then and there.

  Lawrence swallowed and then finally managed to speak. “I am Kraft Lawrence.”

  Fran Vonely smiled and gave a slow nod. She introduced herself. “I am Fran Vonely.”

  “Shall we sit?” said the considerate Hugues, and Lawrence and company all took a seat.

  Col clung to Holo’s clothing before finally managing to sit, seemingly dazed by Fran’s mysterious quality.

  “So, what is it that you wished to ask me about?”

  The people of the desert spoke a very different language, but Fran’s words were well practiced. Her pronunciation was careful and precise, and her education must have been a costly one.

  They were said to be a difficult people, but perhaps such worries were unfounded, Lawrence thought behind his merchant’s smile. He told her his business. “Yes. We’re journeying in search of a certain place in the northlands. All we know is the ancient name of the place. We’ve heard that you’re very well-versed in the old tales, which is what brought us to visit this company.”

  Fran’s face was serious as she listened to Lawrence. “And what is the name of the place?”

  “Yoitsu.”

  Fran narrowed her eyes at Lawrence’s answer. “That’s the old name of a rather remote area.”

  “So you’re familiar with it?” Lawrence asked with emotion that was half-act, half-genuine. Fran was unmoved, like some stoic seer.

  “I am aware of it, but few are able to draw maps of the north, making them extremely precious.”

  “We would compensate you properly.” The moment Lawrence said it, Holo’s foot came down upon his, but it was too late.

  Perhaps Holo had seen through to Fran’s true nature.

  “Properly?” said Fran, surprised. Standing behind the chair in which Fran sat, Hugues covered his eyes. “In that case, fifty lumione ought to suffice.”

  Hers was the attitude of an artisan inexperienced in the ways of negotiation. Lawrence asked himself if he had let his guard down so badly, but even if he had, there was no going back now. There was no way he was going to pay fifty lumione for a single map.

  It was such a basic technique that it bordered on child’s play. Lawrence found himself at a loss for words, both because of his own foolishness and because of Fran’s unexpected boldness. But Holo was standing right there, so he had to say something. He was just about to when Fran’s clear voice rang out again.

  “However, given the circumstances, I suppose I wouldn’t mind doing it for free.”

  “Huh?” Lawrence could not help but let his mask slip completely, and he could feel Holo slump in annoyance.

  It was hard to fix a cog once it had gone askew.

  But it was not the foolish Lawrence to whom Fran directed her words. It was Holo. “I notice you’re dressed as a nun.”

  “… My name is Holo.” Even Holo seemed surprised to be addressed, and she replied only after a short pause.

  “Miss Holo, is it? Pleased to meet you. I am Fran Vonely.”

  Holo, who called herself the wisewolf, was a calm huntress and never let excitement get the better of her during a hunt. “Have you something for me?”

  “Yes. If you’re a nun, then I would ask a favor of you.”

  It was Hugues who seemed flustered at these words, probably because he had realized Fran’s aim. He took a breath and seemed about to protest, but Fran raised her hand and silenced him. She was a prickly artist, indeed. The very image of one.

  “So long as it’s in my power.”

  Fran cocked her head rather than smiling. “It’s not so very difficult a thing. Miss Holo, Mr. Lawrence, and…”

  “Ah, er – Col! My name’s Col.”

  She nodded at Col. “Mr. Col, then.” Just what would she have them do? “With the three of you, it should be fine.”

  Hugues looked at Lawrence with a desperate look that said, “Stop!”

  Fran spoke. “I’d like your help in Taussig.”

  “… Is that…?”

  “Yes. I suppose you’ve heard from Mr. Hugues? It’s the reason I’m in this town. I would ask your assistance in learning more about the village’s legend.”

  Lawrence was underwhelmed. It seemed so simple a thing. But from Hugues’s nervousness, it was not as simple as it sounded.

  Despite his failure moments earlier, Lawrence prepared himself for the irritation he would earn from Fran when he begged more time to consider. But it was Holo who skipped past that entirely.

  “And you’ll draw us a map if we assist you?” she asked.

  “Yes. So long as you’ll gather information and verify its truth.”

  Lawrence was not unaware of the reason for Holo’s smile. Fran was a clever girl-more than clever enough to inflame Holo’s love of competition.

  Normally she would have laughed off such a vague request as “gather information and verify its truth,” demanding a clearer request. Depending on the circumstances, she was not above arm-twisting.

  And yet without asking even one more question, Holo simply nodded. “It’s a promise, then.”

  “My thanks.” Fran bowed her head, standing after she looked back up. She faced Hugues, who had tried so hard to get a word in and hold her up. “And the preparations for departure?”

  “Ah, th-they’re all finished.”

  “Very well. We’ll leave tomorrow. Mr. Lawrence, you can handle a wagon?”

  Lawrence nodded, and though Fran seemed ready to continue speaking, he headed her off in a final effort to save some small amount of face. “Tomorrow should be fine.”

  At this, Fran smiled faintly. Perhaps she found Lawrence’s attempt to puff himself up amusing. Her smile was that of an innocent maiden. Lawrence again regretted his misstep. It was surprisingly easy to manipulate an innocently and honestly stubborn person. What was truly difficult was someone who knew how to use her smile, which was why Lawrence was constantly burning his hands when dealing with Holo.

  Had he known he would be facing someone who could deploy a smile like that at will, Lawrence would have prepared better. He had been too hasty in embracing the impression of her that Kieman and Hugues had given him.

 
“Mr. Hugues,” said Fran, causing Hugues’s round body to stiffen straight. “I’ll take my dinner in my room. I have preparations to attend to.”

  “V-very well. Ah, er, but…”

  “But?” She used the same smile Holo so often favored.

  Hugues fell silent and swallowed. He nodded obediently.

  “Please explain the details to Miss Holo and her company, if you will,” said Fran, and then she took her leave.

  The tail next to Lawrence was puffed up, but the smile was a pleasant one, which was all the more alarming.

  Lawrence attempted to at least avoid the mistake of trying to make an excuse. “I’m sorry.”

  “Fool,” said Holo, not so much as looking at him.

  Col cringed away as though trying to let sleeping gods lie, and Holo, still smiling, made no move to speak further.

  Perhaps feeling the awkwardness, it was Hugues who finally raised his voice. “I’ve suffered my share at her boldness and unyielding smile, too. She is a stubborn, obstinate silversmith. I chased her in town, across fields, and into the mountains, finally saving her from an accident before she would finally speak to me. So… you are fortunate she was even willing to deal with you, even on the vaguest of terms.”

  These last words were directed at Holo.

  Holo nodded decisively, finally wiping the eerie smile from her face.

  “Er, so… Is there something important in Taussig?” Lawrence asked after recovering his composure.

  Hugues merely shook his head. “It’s just a village like any other.”

  “So why, then?”

  Hugues looked down briefly, then back up, as though peering over spectacles. “Their legend of the forest and lake isn’t so special a thing. It’s said that once an angel walked alongside the river that flows from the lake, then leapt up a waterfall to a golden door that opened along with the sound of a heavenly beast’s cry.”

  It did indeed sound like the sort of legend one could hear anywhere. But Hugues continued.

  “In addition to that, there’s another story like that.”

  “Another one?” Lawrence asked, at which Hugues nodded and began to explain, a certain tone of exhaustion in his voice.