Side Colors

by Isuna Hasekura

Realizing it had suddenly become quiet, Lawrence looked up.

  But the street noise that entered along with sunlight through the open window hadn’t changed.

  So why had it suddenly turned so quiet? He put a bundle of sheepskins that his eyes lit upon in order, then cracked his neck.

  A girl on the bed wiped her mouth. Perhaps that was the cause.

  “So you were eating all along…? How many did you have?”

  The girl, Holo, who had beautiful chestnut hair that would be the envy of any noblewoman, flicked her wolf ears, then counted on her fingers. “Ten and…seven. No, nine.”

  “And what’s left?”

  This time she flicked her tail, a tail that would’ve caused any furrier to drool with envy.

  The gesture made her seem like a scolded puppy.

  “…E-eight…”

  “Eight?”

  “Eighty…one.”

  Lawrence sighed, and Holo’s expression shifted completely; she glared at him. “You’re going to ask me if I’m going to eat them all.”

  “I haven’t said anything yet.”

  “So what was to follow that sigh, eh?”

  After a short pause, Lawrence answered. “Can you eat them all?”

  Letting Holo’s glare wash over him, Lawrence returned his attention to the bundle of sheepskins before him, trying to tie it up with some twine before remembering that he couldn’t use his left hand.

  This was because in some recent unpleasantness, he’d blundered into getting stabbed.

  Nevertheless, the disturbance had had the effect of creating a new and priceless bond between him and Holo, whom he’d happened to meet earlier in his travels.

  When he thought about it like that, it was cheap indeed, he reminded himself, standing up from a chair.

  There was a pile of wooden crates filled with apples in the corner of the room. The bill was for 120 apples, but—including today’s count—thirty-nine had been eaten.

  Even if they were her favorite food, eating them all before they spoiled would be no mean feat.

  “You don’t have to be so stubborn,” said Lawrence.

  “I’m not being stubborn.”

  “Really?”

  Holo turned away sullenly, every bit as childish as her appearance would lead one to expect, even though she’d lived scores of years longer than Lawrence and was a centuries-old wolf spirit who dwelled in wheat and could yield whatever harvest she saw fit.

  But she remained that way for only a moment, finally laying her wolf ears back in defeat. “…The truth is…I’m a bit full of them…”

  Knowing he’d rouse her anger if he laughed at her, Lawrence merely agreed. “I’ll bet. Even if they’re your favorite food, that’s a lot of apples.”

  “Still—”

  “Hmm?”

  “Still, I swear I’ll eat them all.”

  Unlike when she’d given him that angry glare, she said this with what seemed like grim determination.

  Lawrence was briefly surprised at this sudden change but soon realized Holo’s position.

  Holo had used Lawrence’s name without his consent to order 120 apples, a fruit that was by no means inexpensive.

  But she hadn’t done it just for her own gluttonous purposes.

  As strange as it sounded, Holo needed to waste a large amount of Lawrence’s money in order for them to continue their travels.

  Holo had originally been bound to a village that grew wheat, but had asked Lawrence to take her to her homeland in the north country—thus their journey had begun.

  But it is the way of the world that plans made for simple reasons do not proceed simply.

  Lawrence was not at all angry at Holo for buying the apples. Quite the contrary, and it wasn’t just apples; she’d also bought some rather expensive clothes, but he had wished for her to do exactly that.

  However, though they did understand each other on this count, Holo still seemed to feel some sense of responsibility for having gone and advanced a contract.

  Lawrence was not some nobleman’s prodigal son; he was a hardworking traveling merchant.

  She was surely entirely aware of that.

  Holo was a self-proclaimed wisewolf, after all.

  She was also a wolf who cared so much about him he wanted to laugh.

  “You needn’t get so worked up about it,” said Lawrence, picking up an apple. “Even if you tire of eating them raw, there are many ways to eat an apple.”

  He took a bite of the fruit, which was so ripe it seemed near bursting, but stopped at Holo’s gaze.

  Even before a mountain of apples she couldn’t possibly finish, she evidently wouldn’t allow anyone else to have one.

  “If you bring yourself to ruin, apples will be the cause, I tell you.” He grinned and tossed the apple to her, which she caught with a displeased face.

  “So, tell me of these ‘other ways’ to eat them.”

  “Hmm, well, you could bake them.”

  Holo moved her face away from the apple he’d bitten into, and after scrutinizing it, she looked at Lawrence. “You’d best prepare for the consequences if you’re making sport of me.”

  “Can’t your ears always tell lies from truth?”

  At these words her ears twitched as if flicked, and she grumbled, “Baking apples…I’ve never heard of the like.”

  “Ha-ha, I suppose not. It’s not as though one roasts them on a spit over an open flame. It’s more like bread baked in an oven.”

  “Hmph.”

  Evidently she had trouble understanding this, even once it was explained. She cocked her head as she chewed the apple.

  “So you’ve never had apple pie, then?”

  At this question, too, she shook her head.

  “Hmm. I suppose it would be quickest to just show it to you. When you bake apples, they turn soft—it’s a bad example, but they’re almost as soft baked as they are when rotten.”

  “Mmph.”

  “But just as something on the verge of spoiling can be tasty, baked apples are amazing. You know how a raw apple is good for a parched throat? Baked apples are so sweet you actually get thirsty.”

  “I…see,” she said, feigning an even tone, but her tail was busily wagging to and fro.

  While her clever mind and quick tongue were always making fun of Lawrence, when it came to food, Holo had a distinct weakness.

  And no matter what her mouth said, her ears and tail always showed her true feelings.

  “Anyway, they’re good apples to begin with, so they’ll be good no matter how you prepare them. Though you’ll tire of sweetness, too, won’t you?”

  Holo’s tail suddenly stopped.

  “Salted meat or salted fish—which do you prefer?”

  Her answer came instantly. “Meat!”

  “So, for dinner—” Lawrence started but was cut off when his eyes met Holo’s as she jumped off the bed and cheerfully threw on her robe. “What, you intend to go right now?”

  “Aren’t we?”

  Giving up on trying to figure out where inside that small body of hers all those apples were fitting, he did recall that her true form was a wolf big enough to eat him in one bite.

  He didn’t want to think about it, but perhaps her stomach stayed as big as it was when she was a wolf.

  “…So I’ll ask you again, do you think you can eat all those apples?”

  “After hearing you, I’ve made up my mind to do it. You needn’t worry.” Quickly fixing her robe about her with a sash, she spun about and was ready in a flash.

  Not much time had passed since midday, but Lawrence quietly gave up.

  Persuading her otherwise would be impossible, he was quite sure.

  “I suppose I have business, so why not? Let’s go.”

  “Right!” Holo nodded, smiling, every bit as carefree as the young girl she looked like.

  Lawrence had been a traveling merchant for seven years, since his eighteenth birthday, and still could not find any words to argue with her when sh
e smiled at him like that.

  Such thoughts occupied him he watched her impatiently flounce out the door, leaving behind the echo of her smile, sweeter than any apple.

  Still, if she found that out, she’d only use it to tease him.

  Lawrence cleared his throat and prepared himself to go out, but as he went to follow Holo, his feet suddenly stopped short.

  Holo looked happily at him through the open door.

  “You should smile like that more; ’tis nice.”

  They may well have been setting out to wash away the taste of apples, but she truly was malicious.

  As he followed her out of the room, Lawrence spoke to the cheeky little wolf. “You’re really rather unpalatable, you know.”

  Holo looked over one shoulder. “Am I to claim deliciousness, then?” she said, feigning irritation.

  Lawrence’s shoulders went slack, signaling his defeat, at which Holo snickered audibly.

  Situated on the Slaude River, the port town of Pazzio was always crowded.

  Even without any festival or battle preparations, the streets were busy and filled with people going here and there.

  Farmers leading livestock, traveling merchants hauling their wares, tidily dressed servant children running errands, and confused-looking monks on their first visit in ages to a bustling town—all were in evidence.

  It was said that wherever three roads converged, a city would grow—and there were many, many streets in the town, outnumbered only by the kinds of people that trod them.

  But none among them imagined that one of the visitors to the town was not a person at all.

  “Far from it,” Lawrence said. “You look every bit the nun.”

  “Mm?” Holo looked back at Lawrence talking to himself, her mouth full. Despite having eaten so many apples, one look at the raisin stand was all it took for her to start begging like a pauper.

  “I was saying I don’t want to think about how much your food bill is running.”

  “Humph. Is there some inconvenience with my looking like a nun?” Holo couldn’t hide her malicious pleasure at proving to Lawrence she’d heard exactly what he said.

  “Far from it; it makes travel all the more convenient.”

  “Hmm. To be able to so easily change so much by simply choosing clothes—the human world surely is a strange one.”

  “I’m sure wolves would find something convenient in wearing sheepskins, if they could manage it.”

  Holo thought for a moment, then grinned. “Aye, and if I wore a rabbit skin, you’d happily walk right into any trap.”

  “So for you, I’ll bait my trap with apples.”

  Lawrence had to laugh at the sight of Holo trying to sneer with her cheeks stuffed with raisins.

  This was a pleasure no lone merchant could enjoy, whose conversation was either for business or to himself.

  “Anyway, it’s not without inconveniences, especially in your case.”

  Seeming to realize from his tone that he’d turned serious, Holo looked up again, this time without poking fun, as she walked beside him.

  “There are all sorts of problems with a nun drinking wine in the middle of the day. Most taverns will overlook it, but you could stand to consider such things a bit more.”

  “Mm. ’Tis like drinking on a rickety bridge that could fall at any moment.”

  Lawrence found himself impressed that she’d come up with such an apt example so quickly.

  “Also, different towns have different circumstances. Especially as we head north, there may be places where a nun would be a very bad disguise, indeed.”

  “What shall I do then?”

  “It would be safest to have a change of clothes that would make you look like a town girl.”

  Holo nodded politely, then popped the rest of the raisins into her mouth. “In that case, can we not buy them before dinner? Anything that lessens our safety will make the food taste worse.”

  “I’m glad you understand. There’s no time to waste convincing you.”

  “What, did you think I would insist on food and wine first? I’m not so blinded by gluttony as that.”

  Lawrence shrugged as if to say, “Aren’t you?” Holo licked her fingers, unamused.

  “Humph. You’re trying to take care of me. I’ve got to take advantage of that, haven’t I?” said Holo quietly, looking at the street ahead instead of at Lawrence. She then smiled slightly and sighed. “That’s quite a grand excuse to buy new clothes. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

  Lawrence put his hand to his mouth but not to stop an exclamation of surprise from slipping through—no, it was because he felt a bit embarrassed.

  “Heh. Ah, well, if you’re buying me some new things, I’m happy to impose on you. The cold winter awaits, after all.”

  “You could impose a bit less.”

  Holo smiled like a child telling a joke, entwining her fingers around Lawrence’s right hand.

  She was concerned about his coin purse in her own Holoish way. Though if it came down to this, having one’s purse pitied was humiliating in its own way for a man.

  The wisewolf seemed to have long since understood the conflict within him.

  He didn’t have near enough wisdom to outthink Holo.

  “’Tis cold. My hand will freeze.”

  Lawrence did not, of course, believe a word of that.

  “Yes, it certainly is cold.”

  “Aye.”

  They each knew the other was lying, which was somehow more fun than simply telling the truth.

  Walking down the crowded street, they were the only two who understood the meaning hidden there.

  That was enough to make him feel even better than he had when he’d finished his big trade and had a purse full of coins with laurel-topped queens’ heads on them.

  “Yeah.”

  But as he thought about it, Lawrence realized something that brought him out of his reverie and back to the crowded reality of the street.

  “What is the matter?”

  “I’ve…no money.”

  Holo looked blank for a moment, then gave him a look that went past irritation right on into pure disdain.

  Whatever she might say, in this regard she was no different from a regular town girl.

  If one didn’t buy a town girl what one had promised her, her tenacity would be deeper than any merchant’s.

  That was one thing Lawrence had learned in his seven years of experience.

  “However, for the sake of my honor, I must explain that when I say, ‘I have no money,’ I don’t mean what you think I mean.”

  “Huh?”

  “I mean I’ve got no small change.” As he spoke, Lawrence felt for his coin purse but realized he couldn’t use his left arm.

  It was unfortunate, but he casually let go of Holo’s hand. “Yup, none,” he said upon examining the pouch’s contents.

  “They say too big is better than too small. ’Tis not as though you’ve no money at all.”

  “They also say not to kill a fly with a sledgehammer. Didn’t you say the same thing to me when buying bread?”

  “Mph. So we’ll need change, then.”

  “We’ll have to exchange it. If we gave gold coins to the tailor, there’s no telling what kind of a terrible face he’d make.”

  “Mm…still—” said Holo as Lawrence closed his coin purse and replaced it at his waist. “Are gold coins really so very valuable?”

  “Huh? They certainly are. The lumione coins in my purse now are trading for around thirty-five pieces of trenni silver. If you don’t stay at an inn and don’t drink any wine, you can live for a week on a single trenni. So think about thirty-five times that.”

  “…That’s quite something, indeed. So why would a tailor be bothered to get one in payment?” Holo said. Lawrence looked at her and could guess what she was going to ask next. “Unlike apples, a gold coin might buy only one or two pieces of clothing. I was told these clothes cost two gold pieces.”

  When noble houses w
ere attacked by rioting commoners, Lawrence had heard that it was often a trivial statement that was the trigger. He grimaced, wondering if what Holo had just said was a good example of that kind of statement.

  “If all clothing cost that much, the greater part of the townsfolk would be walking around totally naked.”

  Writing an IOU for a robe that cost two gold pieces, there was no doubt that the clothier would be wondering whether he was actually going to get paid or not—so much so that it was strange that a contract hadn’t been signed in front of a public witness.

  And it hadn’t just been two pieces of clothing—there’d been a silk sash, too.

  But the clothier hadn’t thought it was some sort of childish prank, probably because Holo seemed like the private nun of some wealthy nobleman somewhere.

  “Hmm…this was so costly, was it?” Holo looked down and fingered the robe she wore.

  “That’s right. So from now on, let’s keep our purchases to the poorer stuff.”

  At this Holo looked up, her lip twisted, looking like her fun had been spoiled. “I’m Holo, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu. ’Twill wound my reputation to wear poor clothes.”

  Lawrence drew his chin in as his words stuck in his throat; his mind spun as he searched for a good response but could find none.

  Holo struck his right arm like a child having a temper tantrum.

  “Still, money changing…” He put thoughts of Holo aside and considered the matter with a sigh.

  There would be a fee involved in changing gold coins to silver, and something about him was never too pleased with letting go of gold.

  He’d been laughed at for this, told that merchants saved money because they were in love with gold, but for Lawrence’s part, he didn’t think of it as a joke.

  But right now he had a bigger problem to face.

  When exchanging coins in a town, it was his routine to go to a cambist he knew, because seeing a money changer for the first time, they’d always swindle him and take him for a loss. What was worse, this was viewed as a sort of tax, so he couldn’t even complain about it. “If you don’t like it, you better get to know us better,” was the standard line from cambists on the subject.

  Of course, Lawrence had a preferred cambist and was not too worried about this.

  He had a different problem.

  Which was that his cambist was a notorious womanizer and had become instantly taken with Holo.