Spice & Wolf III

by Hasekura Isuna

  Lawrence did not move. He’d had not the slightest inkling that Amati’s infatuation would come to this.

  “Mr. Lawrence.” The words were as piercing as Amati’s gaze.

  Neither flimsy excuses nor disregard would sway the boy, Lawrence guessed.

  Desperate to buy himself some time, he said, “It is true that Holo is indebted to me and that she prays for me as we travel to repay that debt, but she will not necessarily abandon our journey­ing once that debt is lifted.”

  “True. But I am confident she will for my sake.”

  A murmur ran through the crowd, which was impressed at Amati’s audacity.

  He didn’t seem drunk, but he was the very image of Philip the Third.

  “Also, while she may not be perfectly devout, Holo is a nun, which makes marriage—”

  “If you are worried that I do not fully understand the situation, then your concern, sir, is misplaced. I am aware that Holo is unat­tached to any convent.”

  Lawrence snapped his mouth shut to avoid the expletive that came to mind.

  There were two types of so-called traveling nuns. The first type were women in a church-sanctioned mendicant order that nonetheless lacked a fixed base of operations. The second type were totally self-styled, unattached to any Church organization.

  Such self-proclaimed itinerant nuns made up the greater part of the group, and they referred to themselves as such simply for the convenience it afforded them while traveling. Since they were not officially attached to any Church organization, they were not dis­allowed from marriage the way true nuns are.

  Amati knew Holo was a self-styled nun, so it was too late to arrange any sort of pretense with a convent now.

  Amati continued speaking, his voice smooth and confident. “It is in truth not my desire to propose a contract to you thus, Mr. Lawrence. No doubt everyone here thinks me like Philip the Third from the tale of Haschmidt the Knight. However, according to Kumersun law, when a woman is indebted, her creditor is considered to be her guardian. Of course—”

  Amati paused, clearing his throat, then continued, “If you will unconditionally assent to my proposal of marriage, there is no need for this contract.”

  This sort of rare competition over a woman made for the best drinking stories.

  The assembled merchants spoke in low tones as they watched the developing drama.

  Most experienced merchants would not take Lawrence and Holo's relationship at face value. It would have been the height of naiveté to think that an indebted nun was really paying off her obligation by praying for her creditor as they traveled. It was much more likely that she didn’t want to be sold off by whoever held her debt or that she was traveling with him simply because she wanted to.

  Amati certainly realized this and undoubtedly thought it was the former.

  Freeing the poor, beautiful maiden from the bonds of debt was a moral imperative that justified this ridiculous display of gal­lantry, Amati must have felt.

  And even if he didn’t think this, Lawrence still came away looking like the villain.

  “Mr. Lawrence, will you accept this contract dagger?”

  The merchants looked on, grinning silently.

  The traveling merchant was about to lose his fetching compan­ion to the young fishmonger out of sheer inattentiveness.

  It made for rare entertainment—and there was no acceptable way for Lawrence to escape.

  His only option was to best Amati by being the nobler man.

  In any case, he didn’t believe that if Holo's debt were paid she would stop traveling with him just because Amati told her to.

  “I am not so careless to agree to a contract I have not read,”

  Lawrence said.

  Amati nodded, withdrawing the knife and extending the con­tract to Lawrence.

  Lawrence walked toward Amati, watched by everyone in the room, and took the parchment, scanning its contents quickly.

  As he expected, what was written there was a more tortuously worded version of the declaration Amati had just made.

  What Lawrence was most interested in was the amount that Amati proposed to pay.

  What had Holo claimed her debt to be?

  For Amati to be so brimming with confidence, it had to be a relatively small amount.

  Finally, he found the amount in one of the lines of the contract.

  For a moment, he doubted his eyes.

  One thousand pieces of trenni silver.

  Relief washed over him, bodily.

  “I assume this contract is to your satisfaction?”

  Lawrence checked again, making sure there were no obvious traps hidden in the contracts language. He also looked for any points he might turn to his own advantage.

  But the contract language was stiff enough to leave no such room to trip up the first party.

  Lawrence had no choice but to return Amati’s contract.

  “Understood,” he said, handing the contract back to the boy and looking him in the eye.

  Lawrence reached out to grasp the knife, and the contract was sealed.

  Every merchant in the hall—and more importantly, the patron saint of the trade guild, Saint Lambardos—was witness to the dagger contract.

  The merchants raised their voices in a cry, clinking their cups together, bringing an end to the entertainment.

  Amid the din, the two men looked at each other and left the contract parchment and dagger with the firm’s master.

  “The terms of the contract extend until the end of the festival—sundown tomorrow, in other words. Will that do?” Lawrence nodded. “Bring the thousand trenni in cash. I will not accept a partial payment or anything less than that.”

  Even if Amati was the sort of merchant that routinely hauled three wagonloads of fresh fish, there was no way he would be able to simply produce one thousand trenni. If he were that successful, Lawrence would know about it.

  Of course, if it was stock whose worth amounted to a thousand trenni, that could easily be produced.

  To put it in the ugliest manner possible, this agreement amounted to Amati buying Holo for a thousand pieces of silver. Assuming Amati had no intention of trying to resell her some­where else, it was as though a thousand pieces of silver were sim­ply moving from Amati’s pocket to Lawrence’s.

  If that was the case, Amati would surely have problems paying for his next day’s stock of fish. Even if by some wild chance Holo did accept his proposal of marriage, what awaited them was a dif­ficult future. The minstrels might claim that coin could not buy love, but the opposite was also true.

  “In that case, Mr. Lawrence, we’ll meet again here tomorrow.” His face still betraying his heightened emotion, Amati strode out of the guild hall. No one said a word to him, and soon all eyes were on Lawrence.

  If he did not say something here, all would think him a mere rube taken for a ride by the cleverer Amati.

  Lawrence straightened his collar. “I don’t expect my companion will follow him simply because her debt has been lifted.”

  A grand huzzah arose from the gathered merchants, immedi­ately followed by cries of “Double for Lawrence, four times for Amati—who’s betting?”

  It was a salt merchant of Lawrence’s acquaintance who offered his services as a bookmaker—he caught Lawrence’s eye and grinned.

  The fact that the odds for Lawrence were lower meant that the merchants in this hall thought Amati's chances of winning were worse. The sense of relief he’d felt at seeing the sum of one thou sand trenni in the contract was not wild-eyed optimism. Common sense dictated that Amati had overextended himself.

  The bets rolled in, the majority of them on Lawrence. The more money that was placed on his odds for victory, the more his confidence grew.

  Though his blood had run cold momentarily when Amati hail made his proposal of marriage, the odds of it happening in reality were low.

  Not only were the numbers against Amati—Lawrence took solace in knowing there was another barrier he would have
to surmount.

  Amati could never marry Holo unless she gave her assent.

  On this point, Lawrence had absolute confidence.

  There was no way Amati could know that Holo was traveling with Lawrence to the northlands.

  He had told Holo already that knowledge was a merchant’s best friend and that an ignorant trader was like a soldier walking blindfolded onto a battlefield.

  Amati’s situation was a perfect example. Even if he did manage to run all over town and scrape together a thousand trenni, in all likelihood Holo would remain with Lawrence as they traveled north.

  He mulled the subject over as he apologized to the master for the unavoidable commotion and then put the guild hall behind him.

  It seemed prudent to leave before the merchants finished plating their bets and the attention returned to him. He did not want to be the appetizer for their drinking.

  Once Lawrence made his way through the considerable crowd and out of the hall, he recognized a familiar face.

  It was Batos, who had introduced him to Diana the chronicler.

  “It seems you’ve gotten wrapped up in quite a to-do.”

  Lawrence grinned, embarrassed, at which Batos smiled sympathetically.

  Batos then continued ominously, “However, I think the young Mr. Amati has hit on a way to raise the capital.”

  Lawrence’s smile disappeared at Batos’s unexpected statement. "Surely not.”

  “I can’t say it’s the most admirable method, of course.”

  He couldn’t be doing anything like Lawrence did in Ruvinheigen.

  Kumersun lacked the steep import tariffs of Ruvinheigen, and with no tariffs, there was no point in smuggling.

  “It won’t be long before the news is all over town, so I can’t say too much. If I show too much support for you, it wouldn’t be fair to poor Amati—after all, he screwed up his courage and made that impressive declaration. But I wanted to give you some warning.”

  “Why?”

  Batos grinned boyishly. “Whatever the circumstances, it is a good thing to have a traveling companion. It’s hard to watch one be taken from a fellow wandering merchant.”

  Lawrence felt the sincerity in the man’s smile.

  “You might do well to return to your inn and formulate a counter plan.”

  Lawrence bowed to Batos as though Batos was a business part­ner who had just agreed to very favorable terms on a very large ileal, and then he hurried back to the inn.

  Amati had found a way to secure the funds.

  Lawrence had miscalculated, but there were still things between him and Holo that Batos knew nothing about.

  He turned the situation over in his mind as he walked down the broad avenue, whose traffic was limited owing to the festival.

  He was confident that there was no way Holo would be swayed by Amati.

  When Lawrence had returned to the inn and explained the situa­tion to Holo, her reaction was unexpectedly vague.

  She had been surprised enough upon hearing the message that Marks apprentice delivered, but now she seemed to find the grooming of her tail to be the weightier matter. She sat cross-legged, her tail curling around her lap as she tended to it.

  “So did you accept this contract?”

  “I did.”

  “Mm...” she said vaguely, looking back down at her tail. Holo was unimpressed; Lawrence felt sorry for Amati.

  He looked out the wooden window, telling himself there was nothing to be worried about, when Holo spoke abruptly.

  “Listen, you.”

  “What?”

  “What will you do if the boy actually gives you the money?”

  He knew if he answered by saying “What do you mean, what will I do?” she would be unamused.

  When she asked him questions like this, Holo wanted to know the first thing that came to his mind.

  Lawrence pretended to think about it for a moment and then purposely gave a less-than-ideal answer. “After I’d calculated the amount you’ve used, I’d give it to you.”

  Holo’s ears moved up slowly and she narrowed her eyes. “Do not test me.”

  “It’s a bit unfair that I’m the only one who’s tested, eh?”

  “Hmph.” Holo sniffed, unamused, then looked back down at the tail she tended to.

  Lawrence had purposefully avoided saying the first thing that came to mind.

  He wanted to test whether she had noticed that fact.

  “If Amati should fulfill his part of the contract, I will certainly fulfill mine,” he said.

  “Oh ho.” Holo didn’t look up, but Lawrence could tell she wasn’t really looking at her tail, either.

  “Of course, you’ve been free all along. You may act as you wish.”

  “Brimming with confidence, aren’t you?” Holo straightened her legs and dangled them off the edge of the bed.

  It looked as if she was getting ready to spring upon him like she so often did, and Lawrence flinched but regained his composure and answered.

  “It’s not confidence. I merely trust you.”

  That was one way to put it.

  There were any number of ways to indicate the same idea, but this one seemed the most gallant.

  Holo was speechless for a moment, but her quick wits divined this soon enough.

  She smiled and then stood up suddenly.

  “In truth, you’re much more charming when you’re nervous.”

  “Even I can tell how much I’ve matured.”

  “So it’s more adult to simply pretend composure?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Having room to boast because you’ve seen a gamble that’s to your advantage just means you’re a bit clever. It does not an adult make.”

  Hearing the sage words of the centuries-old wisewolf, Lawrence made a suspicious expression, as though he were the subject of a shady sales pitch.

  “For example, when Amati proposed the contract to you, would it not have been more admirable to refuse it?”

  Far from it, Lawrence was about to say, but Holo cut him off. “But you looked around and judged whether or not you would be embarrassed.”

  “Uh—”

  “Consider if our positions had been reversed. For example, thus—”

  Holo cleared her throat, put her right hand to her breast, and began to recite:

  “I cannot consider entering into such a contract. I wish to stay always with Lawrence. It may be a bond of debt that binds us, but it is still a bond. No matter how many different threads may entwine us, I cannot bear to cut even a one. Even if it shames me, I cannot accept your contract—or some such statement. What do you think?”

  It was like a scene from a stage play.

  Holo’s expression had been absolutely serious, and her words echoed in Lawrence’s heart.

  “If someone said something like that about me, I would be beside myself with joy, I daresay,” said Holo.

  That was undoubtedly a joke, but she had a point.

  Lawrence was not willing to simply admit her correctness—doing so was tantamount to admitting he was a coward who had only accepted the contract in order to avoid embarrassment. And in any case, being so frank and open in front of so many people was all well and good, but it would have had consequences.

  “Well, that might have been the manly thing to do, but whether or not it’s the adult thing to do is another issue.”

  Holo folded her arms, looking aside and nodding minutely. “True. It might be both the action of a good male and a reckless, youthful thing to do. One might be happy to hear it, but it is still rather rich.”

  “You see?”

  “Mm. Now that I think on it, the actions that make a good male and those that make a good adult may be mutually exclusive. A good male is like a child. A good adult has a measure of cowardice.”

  It was easy to imagine a stalwart knight drawing his sword in anger at Holo’s light dismissal of the male sex.

  Lawrence naturally felt obligated to strike back. “Well then,
how would Holo the Wisewolf, who is both a good woman and a good adult, respond to such a proposal?”

  Holo’s smile remained.

  Her arms still folded, she replied, “Why, I would smile and accept it, of course.”

  Her light, effortless smile as she so easily claimed to agree to the contract made Lawrence realize just how profound her confi­dence and ease was.

  He would have had no such ideas.

  It truly was Holo the Wisewolf that stood before him.

  “Of course, upon accepting the contract, I would return to the inn and, saying nothing, draw near to you like so—she contin­ued, unfolding her arms and walking toward Lawrence, backing him up against the windowsill. She reached out to him. “Then I would look down...Her ears and tail drooped, her shoulders slumped, and she looked positively miserable. If this was a trap, it would be impossible to see through.

  Holo’s snicker that came soon after was genuinely frightening.

  “Still,” she said lightly, “you’re a good enough merchant. You entered the contract because you think you can win. No doubt you’ll do some under-the-table deals just to make sure.”

  Holo looked back up, her tail and ears flicking playfully. She spun around and arrived smoothly at Lawrence’s side.

  He soon understood what she was getting at.

  “‘Take me to the festival,’ is it?”

  “Surely a fine merchant like yourself isn’t shy of bribery to fulfill a contract, right?”

  Lawrence’s contract with Amati did not directly involve Holo, but the true issue was whether or not Amati’s marriage proposal would succeed. To put it bluntly, one thousand pieces of silver might or might not find their way into Lawrence’s pocket depending entirely on Holo’s mood.

  For his part, Lawrence could hardly afford not to bribe Holo, on whose judgment this all depended.

  “Well, I’ve got to go gather information on Amati either way. I may as well bring you along.”

  “What you mean is you’ll take me to the festival and gather information on the way.”

  “Fine, fine,” Lawrence replied, sighing as Holo jabbed him in the ribs.

  The first thing that needed to be investigated was Amati’s assets.

  Batos had said the boy was going to use some not altogether admirable methods to get the cash, which Lawrence guessed was probably true. He couldn’t imagine that Amati could produce a thousand trenni out of nowhere.