Spice & Wolf Omnibus

by Isuna Hasekura

  It was possible that he would have been in a bind, unable to do anything at all, but in the end it was Philon, watching the conversation from outside, who answered.

  “If he told you, he’d never get to talk to you again, you see,” said Philon jokingly and with such a devastating accuracy that Holo herself may as well have said it.

  Despite being similarly simple, this shop was clearly very different from Philon’s. It was decorated in small ways, and the stonework was so precise that one could not fit a hair between the seams.

  In a depressingly long row of magnificent trading houses, this one was in no way insufficient.

  It was terribly silent inside the Delink Company, and the feeling was so overwhelming that even the clamor from outside seemed to shrink away from the aura.

  “What a happy development, that you’d finally take me up on my offer of wine,” said Luz Eringin with a low smile.

  The Delink Company was somewhat unusual in that it had four masters of equal rank. But the other three seemed to be out on other business, so in this large room, with its four great chairs, Eringin was the only one sitting.

  “And I see you’ve brought a friend.”

  Of all the people Lawrence knew, Eringin was probably in the top three in terms of people he would never wish to introduce a friend to. Eringin himself was certainly aware that this was how he was viewed by others and, if anything, seemed to enjoy it.

  He chuckled at his own words. “Do have a seat,” he said, gesturing that Lawrence and Le Roi should sit.

  The chairs were magnificent; if Lawrence were the master of his own company, he would never let customers sit in their like. The one Le Roi sat in did not so much as creak under his considerable weight.

  “I notice that you’re alone today.”

  When dealing with someone who had an overwhelming advantage, it was usually best to be as direct as possible. When the difference in power was so clear, the more conversation there was, the more such disadvantage could be exploited. This was why wise men stayed silent – with every word spoken, it became that much more difficult to remain a wise man.

  But Lawrence’s nerves had gotten the better of him, and before he knew it, he had opened with small talk.

  “Indeed. We don’t normally gather except to make a ‘purchase.’ As a rule, we only allow people we know into this room.”

  “I’m honored, then.”

  At Lawrence’s words, Eringin shifted upon the table, the overlapping thumbs of his clasped hands exchanging positions. “There’s no need to feel honored. I’ve heard about what happened in Kerube,” he said, speaking without betraying any attempt to intimidate.

  It was as though he were saying, We know all about you, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

  Eringin smiled and continued.

  “All it takes for men like us to live on is to adhere to a few simple principles. One of those is to know everything we can about the individuals with whom we share a connection. When it comes time to expand our business, we simply follow that connection.”

  If Holo had been there, Lawrence was certain she would have stepped on his foot or kicked his leg. They had started with small talk but had somehow arrived at the real business at hand.

  Eringin’s words were meant to imply that because Lawrence was a man known to him, he was willing to listen.

  “Heh. Seems you decided not to show your fangs today, though,” said Eringin. He looked at Lawrence, who had realized just how he was being led around, and smiled an amused smile. “Have more confidence, Mr. Lawrence. You surprised us once before, and you survived that woman’s plans. Moreover, I hear that once you arrived downriver, you rather brilliantly got your revenge. It would be incorrect of you to either underestimate yourself or overestimate us. The only difference between us is the choice of weapons.”

  Compliments were cheap. Bowing in response to a compliment given was also cheap. No doubt Le Roi would readily agree to this common merchant’s rule.

  And yet, the man before him had been called “sir” by a town official and was clearly someone whose favor was dearly sought. He undoubtedly took pride in the weight of his words and actions.

  “My thanks to you for saying so,” said Lawrence, giving not a merchant’s smile but an honest one.

  Eringin’s eyes narrowed. “Now, then. Tell me your business.”

  They had cut through the fog and crossed the thin ice; the first danger was passed.

  The bookseller straightened and took a deep breath.

  “A forbidden book of knowledge?” Eringin repeated briefly, his eyes fixed closely on Le Roi.

  The man who wielded joviality as a weapon allowed himself to now, for once, become serious. “I believe it is a copy of a book that was banned thirty-four years ago at the second Remenon Ecumenical Council. The original was burned. The author was confined, and that’s where the official record ends. Among booksellers like me, there’s a rumor that an apprentice of his escaped with a rough draft of the book and made a copy. But there’s been no way to verify that, and I’ve heard of countless swindlers using the story to their own ends.”

  The existence of secret copies or annotations of books was a common tactic among swindlers. Col had been snared by one and had ended up having to flee the academic center of Aquent.

  “But this time is different?”

  “Yes. As I’ve just explained.” Le Roi had smoothly and efficiently relayed the story, from the discovery at the abbey to the letter from the friend in the acting troupe.

  The explanation was, in a way, too smooth, but whether Le Roi was telling the truth or not, his passion was obvious.

  “Mr. Lawrence, you’ve no notion of how much of this story is true. Correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Given the particulars, it ought to be regarded with suspicion. For you to make this introduction… you understand what that means, do you not?”

  Lawrence nodded in response to Eringin’s slightly wry way of speaking. “I’ve heard from sources I trust of this man’s tenacity.”

  Of course, this was of Le Roi’s tenacity when it came to his quick wits and cheap shots, but generously interpreted they spoke of his strength when pursuing his goals, as well.

  Eringin cocked his head and smiled a smile that did not reach his eyes.

  Le Roi’s face was severe, and he wiped sweat from it nervously.

  “This isn’t about money, is it?” Eringin closed his eyes and nodded his head forward slightly, as though searching his memory. No doubt he was thinking of what had happened the day of the rioting in Lenos. Lawrence had kicked aside the vast profit Eve promised him and returned to this very shop – to retrieve Holo.

  “I am deeply attached to the northlands,” said Le Roi evasively.

  Eringin bared his teeth. It was a smile of impatience. “For someone who does business like mine, that’s a terrible thing to hear.”

  Philon had refused to deal with the Delink precisely because they were slave traders.

  Mercenaries made their living in two main ways: plunder and slave selling. Salary did not enter into their calculations. It was not guaranteed, and even if they did receive one, it would be tiny at first. But the reason they continued to fight for their masters was for the promise of plunder.

  Though it was a very roundabout way, Lawrence had introduced Le Roi to this company because he thought it would help the northlands. But the Delink Company stood to earn a great deal from the unrest that the schemes of the Debau Company would wreak upon those lands.

  Lawrence could not even begin to imagine how many people would be captured and sold into slavery or see their village burned to the ground.

  “But let us leave such agonizing to the philosophers and righteousness to the clergy. Our role is to fill the needs of others. So my question to you is: Whose need are you fulfilling, Mr. Le Roi?”

  The negotiation had taken a step forward.

  Le Roi cleared his throat and answered. “There is
a man, Lord Nicholas of the Raondille duchy. If a book is not forbidden, he… he has no lust for it.”

  Eringin chuckled silently at the choice of words and thumped his chest with his closed fist, as though trying to cough. Given that he was a slaver, perhaps he was remembering a difficult-to-fill request from a customer. “Ahem. Apologies. You were saying, this Sir Nicholas.”

  “Yes.”

  “Here in our customer list – it’s all up here, of course – there’s no such person.” Eringin tapped meaningfully at his temple. “Setting aside whether or not such an individual actually exists…”

  Le Roi was summoning the energy to explain further, but Eringin stopped him with a hand. He did not seem especially interested in the question of the individual’s existence.

  So what was it that he was asking? They could emphasize the veracity of their information as much as they wanted, but if he was not going to hear the explanations, then what was his intention?

  Lawrence’s heart was filled with genuine curiosity.

  Eringin asked an insightful question. “How much profit do you expect to make?”

  Merchants were fundamentally motivated by their own profit. Which meant this was exactly the question to ask.

  In making up a plan, one’s footing had to be solid. And there was no merchant who failed to consider profit. What was interesting was that even the most coolheaded merchant found it hard to stay calm when it came time to estimate the amount of profit to be had. And so, that profit was sometimes extremely overestimated or deeply underestimated.

  Lawrence had been taught the larger the deal, the greater the gap between the prediction and the realized profit could be – because no matter how much they might struggle against it, there was a limit to how coolheaded a person could stay, his master had said.

  If Le Roi had some other nefarious plan in his mind, he would surely claim a suspicious amount.

  Someone trying to make a plan to turn a profit would overestimate their profit, and someone who was making a plan to lie would overestimate their plan.

  But the liar would believe their own lie and would not overestimate their profit.

  “In lumione gold,” said Le Roi matter-of-factly, “I expect to sell it for one hundred and twenty pieces.”

  “I’ve heard the mantle of the Queen of Alain was about that much.”

  Eringin was asking what the basis for this figure was.

  “This marketplace is filled with pride and supposition, but from what I’ve learned, the alchemist Aran Mihail’s The Heart of Gods and Iron sold for a hundred lumione. I do not think this will fetch less than that.”

  It was an unbelievable sum for a mere book.

  But considering it objectively, it seemed terribly likely that the collection of absurd items would lead some individuals to aim for the collection of absurd profits.

  Eringin gave Le Roi an unblinking gaze. When his eyes finally closed, Le Roi exhaled his held breath.

  “And the value of the book you’ve brought as collateral?”

  “If you show it to a first-rate bookseller, you’ll easily get thirty gold pieces.”

  Le Roi had set the book down on the table at the beginning of the conversation. It was large, but the binding was very plain, and seemed that even if it were decorating some large bookshelf, it would probably be filling some gap on the bottom shelf.

  It did not seem to Lawrence like it could be so valuable, but such an amount of money would put his dream of opening a shop in a town much closer. He knew perfectly well that there was always a bigger fish, but sometimes there were too many big fish.

  Eringin did not so much as nod but rang a small bell that was on the table. At the sound, a door to the room opened silently and a single boy entered, who drew close to his master’s ear. At length, Eringin nodded, and the boy gave a deep bow, then left the room.

  “I can lend you eighty lumione. That will be enough, I trust?”

  Le Roi drew a shallow breath and almost whimpered. “That will be enough.”

  “However, regardless of whether your purchase goes well or not, we’re charging a commission of twenty lumione.”

  It was marginally less than the worth of the collateral. It meant that even if they failed in their purchase, they would be left enough to use as travel money to return south.

  “And there’s a condition.”

  “Wha–!” Le Roi was not surprised so much as he was overly willing to accommodate.

  Eringin waited for Le Roi to calm himself, then continued. “Our business is not unlike a sort of gambling. Luck can be very instrumental. If at all possible, we would like to ride the winning horse while sitting in these very chairs.” His eyes were on Lawrence. “The condition is that you go with this man to make the purchase. You will watch, and listen, and if there are no problems, we will lend the money. That is the condition.”

  It was an expected condition.

  Eringin spoke as though he was offering a prayer to God asking for good fortune, but in actuality there was nothing but realistic practicality in his words. By basing the loan on what Lawrence saw and heard, it placed the burden of responsibility firmly on Lawrence.

  If Le Roi were planning something dishonest, or failed terribly and lost the loaned amount, the blame would fall to Lawrence.

  But the moment he heard those words, it was a different emotion that arose within him.

  “Any complaints?” Eringin asked, looking at Lawrence a bit curiously.

  “Not at all,” Lawrence hastily replied. He had realized that he was deeply discouraged.

  Unbelievably, he had subconsciously been holding onto the ridiculous hope that they would be rejected here, which would have let him travel north, albeit with some regrets. He was nervous, and he could tell his knees were trembling at the pressure.

  He nearly laughed out loud at his own foolishness.

  “Still, it’ll be a tiresome journey all the way out there and back, so I’ll send someone with you,” said Eringin as he rang the bell again. A different boy soon entered the room. “We’ll issue a money order to several companies we deal with there, with a proviso that all three of you must be there to collect the coin.”

  It was a perfectly reasonable condition, one that ensured nobody could betray anyone else.

  Eringin gave the boy instructions in a quiet voice, and the boy quickly withdrew.

  “Ah, that’s right. It may be pointless to say so, but the man I’m sending with you has my utmost trust. And the companies in Kieschen where you’ll redeem the money order all have large debts to us.”

  Threatening the attendant was pointless. And trying to escape with the purchased book would also be pointless, since the companies in Kieschen would be watching. That Eringin could say all this with such a smile was the greatest threat of all.

  “Still,” continued Eringin. With the negotiation concluded, the atmosphere had relaxed somewhat and Le Roi wiped his face again – he was sweating so much it seemed like he would melt. It was very like the master of the Delink Company to make one final surprise attack. “When you refer to the company in Kieschen, do you mean them?”

  In negotiations like these, it was customary not to reveal one’s purchasing destination until the very end.

  Le Roi froze in his chair disbelievingly.

  Eringin’s smile was more terrifying than any mercenary’s. “The master there has a great fondness for the desert nations.” It would not be strange for the sort of collector who was fond of such books to also be a slaver’s customer. All the more so if he had eccentric tastes. “I’ve introduced him to many lovely dark-skinned ladies. So… he’s the one, eh?”

  The only reason Lawrence was able to remain calm was because, in a certain sense, this deal had nothing to do with him. Otherwise, he would have been sweating waterfalls just like Le Roi was next to him.

  “Oh, worry not.” Eringin’s voice was quiet. “It’s our custom to leave unfamiliar business in the hands of those better suited to it.”

&
nbsp; One could say whatever one wanted. But nothing could begin without trust.

  Slavers traded in people who were brought to them filled with pain and fear, or at the very least anger and hatred.

  One could not help but commend such a magnificent ability.

  With negotiations completed, Eringin shook the hand of each man and invited them both to dinner.

  Le Roi looked as though, were he to endure his anxiety any longer, he would die, and Lawrence had his own doubts about being able to eat with them and keep his food down.

  So they made their apologies, and Eringin looked as deeply disappointed as ever. It was hard to know how much of that was an act, but it was possible that he truly was disappointed.

  Eringin and a servant boy saw them out, and Lawrence and Le Roi left the shop. It was long since dark outside.

  But the night was young, and the port was lit by lamplight – lamps hanging from the bows of ships and lamps hung aloft by those working to sort through the cargo. And, of course, lamps hung in all the establishments selling wine around the port, where the carousing to wash away the day’s frustration was beginning.

  “… Surely no marquis or count could be so terrible,” were the first words out of Le Roi’s mouth.

  “Well, the town officials call him ‘sir.’”

  “If a man like him had a formal title, he’d rule the country. What a horrifying thought.”

  Le Roi was sweating as though he really was horrified. Seeing this, Lawrence wondered if he himself had above-average courage, but doubted it was so. According to Holo, it was simple thickheadedness.

  “But we’ve made the deal.”

  On that count, at least, there was no mistake. Lawrence took the hand Le Roi offered and shook it firmly. The opportunity they had just negotiated was of a life-changing scale.

  “I may not be worth much, but I’ll do what I can,” offered Lawrence.

  “Ha-ha-ha! What are you saying? If you hadn’t been there with me, I would’ve suffocated! I’ll be borrowing your knowledge, too. I’m paying you three hundred silver pieces, after all!”