“My apologies. I’ll come again.”
“Come anytime,” replied the shopkeeper in a flat tone. Only the words themselves were polite. It reminded him of Holo.
Holo, meanwhile, seemed to recover her good cheer as soon as they left the shop. “Food next, aye? Hurry, let us go!” she said, taking Lawrence’s hand and tugging on it as she strode ahead.
From the outside, it would have looked like a traveling merchant had lucked into the attentions of a town lass, but Lawrence only sighed his usual sigh.
When it came to food, convincing Holo of anything was no simple matter—nothing so easy as the argument about fuel.
“’Tis written all over your face, you know,” Holo said with a sly grin, and at the sight of the amber eyes that flashed at him from her upturned gaze, he could not help but stop in his tracks.
This wolf saw through everything.
“The next town will be bigger, I hear. I’ve no intention of insisting on luxury here.”
“Which means you’ll be insisting on luxury in the next town.”
Holo grinned, flashing her teeth, to which Lawrence had no reply.
Either way it would be a battle, so he decided to simply follow Holo’s lead this time. “Well, then, I’ll gladly accept your thrift.”
“Mm.”
For bread, they bought rye instead of wheat, and cheap rye at that, bread that had been bulked up with legumes and chestnut flour. For vegetables, it was turnips and carrots, along with roasted beans. They had their wineskin filled with wine that was not very good, but at least had a good deal of clarity.
It was more reserved than their usual fare, but still cost more than the rock-hard oat bread and sour, pulpy wine Lawrence had eaten in the past.
As Lawrence was doing the buying, he noticed Holo gazing at the dried fruit and roasted seeds. Thinking he had best hurry up before Holo begged him for something else, he handed the shopkeeper a blackened silver coin and received a few coppers in change—and then remembered something.
“Ah, pardon me—might I have the change in those coppers there instead?”
“Those? Oh, the schmie coppers? Passing through the northern forest, are you?”
“Yes. There’s a logging village on the way, if I remember right.”
There were many varieties of the copper coins necessary to buy supplies on the road. As to why that mattered—well, one had only to imagine trying to use one town’s coin in a rival town during a feud.
“It’s probably too small to even be called a village, but this time of year there’ll be more people there, just trying to finish their work before the snows come. Anyhow, this is the exchange rate.”
Anyone making their living by trade needed to have a grasp of the many—even dozens—of coins that circulated through the money changers.
This particular exchange rate was slightly unfavorable, but Lawrence still would not be taking a loss.
He agreed to the exchange and accepted the schmie coppers, which were smaller but thicker, before putting the shop behind him.
“You merchants are a troublesome lot,” said Holo once they’d left.
Lawrence put his hand on Holo’s head. “Not so troublesome as you. Now then, we’ll see to repairing the wagon and gathering some talk about the road ahead…” He ticked off the tasks on his fingers.
Holo looked up at him, childlike. If he ignored her, she would be angry.
Lawrence slumped and gave in. “Yes, and dinner, too.”
“Mm. Nothing like a tavern for hearing about travel conditions. ’Tis a necessary thing.”
It was hard to argue with a wisewolf.
Lawrence ascended the inn’s stairs just as some other travelers were coming down. A man tipped his hat in greeting and gave Lawrence a smile of pained sympathy.
The reason for that smile was quite obvious.
The sun had not even set yet, but Holo’s face was quite red as Lawrence carried her.
“How many times do you suppose I’ve carried a certain wisewolf away after she’s eaten and drunk too much, hmm?”
“Ungh…”
“You’re lucky I don’t make a hobby of usury, else you wouldn’t even have the clothes on your back.”
With effort, he managed to drag Holo back to the room. He laid her on the bed and removed her kerchief and cloak, as had become the usual routine. He was so efficient at it, who would blame him for stripping her naked? Though the thought had occurred to Lawrence several times, he had never once done it.
After all, as she groaned and lay back, Holo’s face was the very image of satiety.
“Honestly,” Lawrence murmured with a smile. A caress of her cheek with his finger was all the satisfaction he needed.
“Now then.” They’d arrived early in the town, and as a result, Holo was passed out from drunkenness earlier than usual. It was still light outside, and with the wooden windows left open, there was light enough to work without candles.
Lawrence set his knife, coin purse, and map on the desk and lazily went about his work.
First came an inspection of his knife, making sure the blade was still keen and the hilt tight. It was mostly used for eating, but during a journey it might well need to cut a man’s skin or kill an animal.
When it came to things that might save his life, it was not an exaggeration to rank the knife above any prayer to God.
As for whether his map was useful or not, it was only marginally better than wearing blinders, but there was nothing to be lost in having even a vague sense of one’s physical surroundings. Especially given that tomorrow they would be passing through a forest that would obscure their view of the horizon.
Lawrence knew from past experience that just having Holo the Wisewolf with him was not a guarantee of easy travel, but at least they would not have to worry about being attacked by wolves. Given that Holo’s true wolf form could easily swallow him in a single gulp, with her at his side, there was no need to fear mere forest wolves.
That point did make him feel a bit better.
When he had traveled alone, whenever he had to pass through areas where wolves, bears, or other dangerous creatures frequently appeared, he carried every ward and charm he could possibly find.
It was said that animals hated the smell of metal, so he wore things made of lead on his body. Likewise it was said noise would keep them away, so he would ring a small bell all day long. He would make a generous tithe to the Church in exchange for a prayer on his behalf. He even ended up buying a charm bearing the name of a famous saint who was reputed to have given sermons to the wolves.
But no matter what he did, the wolves attacked when they pleased.
Despite all the hardship he had endured, Lawrence now found himself a bit saddened at not having to worry about such attacks anymore. Humans were strange creatures indeed.
Nevertheless, it would be best not to encounter them and not to rely overmuch on Holo. Holo, after all, seemed occasionally self-conscious about the fact that she was not human, so it would not do to just send her out to fend off any wolves that appeared.
Lawrence’s attention now fell upon the contents of the open coin purse on the desk, which were the most representative of that which might be used to ward off wolves: The schmie copper pieces, which he had received as change in his various transactions around town.
Small and thick, they were perfect for carving copper off their edges, but unlike other similar coins, whose designs would have been mostly filed off, these were largely intact.
The reason why was in the design of the schmie copper.
Lawrence separated one out from the rest and held it up in his hand, gazing at it. On the red metal disc was carved the image of a single beast.
“So you’re collecting those now, are you?”
Lawrence nearly dropped the coin at the sudden voice. There had been no footsteps nor other signals that she was so close.
Holo burped a wine-soaked burp and draped herself over Lawrence’s back.
; “I see you’ve finally recognized how wonderful I am, then. Mm. Aye, ’tis well.”
“Yes, yes, fine. Hey, look out—!”
Lawrence reached out and grabbed the wobbling Holo’s hand, and she smiled, pleased.
Even when she was drunk, Lawrence could not help but redden a bit, when smiled at thusly by a girl like Holo.
“So, what—you need water?”
“Mm…my throat burns…”
It was the usual routine. Lawrence stood from his chair, letting Holo sit instead while he brought her a pitcher of water.
He handed it to her, and she drank noisily, a trickle of water spilling from the corner of her mouth.
Holo claimed that wolves did not have cheeks and that she spilled because she had yet to become accustomed to her human mouth, but Lawrence doubted that. She was probably merely coarse.
“Whew…” She burped again.
“Feel better?”
“Mm…’Twas awfully strong wine, I think. My throat is yet dry,” she said and began to drink again. She was spilling a truly terrible amount.
Lawrence felt like her footman as he offered her a handkerchief, but then he realized something—they had added a large amount of ginger to the wine, in order to cover up its poor quality.
“Even if you were to order finer wine, it would be a waste if you spilled it like that,” Lawrence said, and Holo gave him a look that made him wonder if she had long since gotten over her drunkenness. But then the corner of her mouth curled up. She declined to engage further.
“Come, if you’re feeling better, then move aside. It’s dark, and I need to light a candle.”
Holo glanced back and forth between Lawrence and the desk, then grudgingly stood. However, she seemed to have no intention of returning to the bed, instead sitting herself on the corner of the desk. “What are you doing? Are you insinuating something, huh?”
“What, do you want me to tell you it must be your conscience panging that makes you think so?”
“Hmph. Well, aren’t I a good-for-nothing glutton.” She took another drink from the water jug, then poked him in the temple with it.
He took it without argument and set it on the table. There was no one as unpleasant as a spiteful drunk. Especially when the drunk in question was such a good actor there was no way to be sure just how drunk she was—pursuing conversation with such a person was tantamount to suicide.
Lawrence turned his attention back to the coins before he could blunder into any of her traps.
“We’ll be passing through a village of woodcutters tomorrow. These are to sell there.”
“…Sell?” Holo gave him a dubious look, not unfairly.
After all, it was a copper coin that was on the table—coin used to buy, not sell.
“That’s right. Sell.”
“But…this is currency, is it not?”
“You can sell currency. In the old days…maybe not as old as you, but still old, coins were sold by smiths, who were side by side with the money changers.”
Holo’s eyes were still bleary with wine, but her interest was piqued, and she picked up one of the copper coins to regard it.
“Coins issued by legendary kings or coins circulated near abbeys where saints renowned for their healing powers lived. Coins with holes in them such that they can be strung and worn about the neck are common, too. I’ve even heard of coins being used as hilts on swords.”
The coin Holo held had a ship and a tower carved on it and was from a seaside kingdom. She looked at the obverse and the reverse sides both, holding each up to her chest experimentally.
“That’s a bit small for that—coins made to wear tend to be larger. For you…one about this size would be good, I think.”
Lawrence picked out a coin of about the right size and held it up to Holo’s chest. It was an unremarkable piece of faded silver, but strangely, it looked more like an antique piece of silversmithing when worn by Holo.
Clothes make the man, the old saying went, but in this girl’s case the opposite was true—she made anything look good.
“Heh. So, might we put a hole in this?” Holo burbled as she held the piece up.
Lawrence agonized for a moment but then hardened his heart and took the coin back. “If we do that, it’ll be useless as currency.”
“Hmph.”
“You’ve got that precious wheat about your neck anyway, don’t you? You can’t wear a coin with that.”
Holo looked forlornly at the coin Lawrence had taken back. “Huh?” she asked, her head tilted in confusion.
“There’s a scripture that prohibits usury. It says the practice is like sowing coins into a field.”
Despite her confused look, Holo was still a wisewolf. As soon as she began to think it over, she assumed an air of intellectualism. But the wine caught up to her, and she soon surrendered. “…What does that mean?”
“Coins will not send up shoots, nor blossom into flowers. Moreover, they’re metal, so they’ll poison the soil and make everything else planted there wither. In other words, it prohibits collecting interest and speaks to the evil of money.”
“Mm.” The wolf ears on her head flicked rapidly, and Holo nodded, seeming to accept this explanation. “I can’t have the wheat withering, can I?”
Lawrence had also thought about how it would look on her already-thin physique but had not mentioned that. He only had one life, after all.
“So why will we be able to sell these coins in particular, then?” Holo pointed at the schmie coppers with their wolf designs.
“These? Well…” Lawrence found himself stumbling over his words. But he quickly recovered and gave a good merchant’s answer. “The wolf device on them, you see.”
“Oh? Why’s that, I suppose. It does seem quite clever.” Holo said, pleased, as she picked one of the coins up and turned it over in her palm.
Her good mood did not seem to be from the wine. She did seem very amused by the image of the wolf. And why not? Surely a lonely traveler, far from their home, would be heartened to chance upon a coin with a famous figure from their homeland carved upon its face.
But Lawrence remained purposefully vague. She was so happy, sitting there on the desk with her tail swishing back and forth. There was no need to say it.
“Come, you. What is it?”
The question put Lawrence in a difficult place.
“Courage, perhaps? Or…good fortune? No, this is wolves like me, so…” Holo considered the various possibilities herself.
He could not tell her. He could not tell her that it was a ward against wolves.
“Hmm. And didn’t you say that you’ll be able to sell them in a woodcutters’ village?”
“Y-yes, that’s right.”
“Which means…,” Holo mused, sinking into her own thoughts as a person sinks into water.
Lawrence could only look away and close his eyes. Her second name, Wisewolf, was not merely for show, and as he expected, she seemed to have realized the truth.
Holo’s tail stopped in place, and she placed the coin she had been playing with back down on the desk.
“…Mm. Well, I figured ’twas something of the sort,” she said, seemingly out of consideration for Lawrence.
As though admitting that wolves and humans could not help but be enemies.
“I mean, look, there are bandit ward coins, too, so—”
“Come, you,” said Holo with a lonely sigh and momentary smile. “If you care so much, ’twill only make me feel lonelier,” she said, hopping off the desk and returning to the bed. It was too late to say anything to her. Her body disappeared beneath the covers, followed by her tail.
Lawrence had been careless.
He should have known, he thought and sighed and began to place the sorted coins on the table into different bags.
The next moment, something came to him.
“Hey—that’s right. Of course,” he said, leaning back in the chair so that it balanced on its back legs. He looked back over his shoulder
and saw Holo looking at him, apparently wondering what he was talking about.
“Come to think of it, with you along, don’t you suppose we could make a killing on wolf wards?”
Occasionally stubbornness led to a certain wry smile. But a smile was a smile, and sometimes that was enough to clear the skies.
Holo’s ears twitched. “So,” she said, turning over in bed to face him. “What did you have in mind?”
While she could be even more childish and selfish than she looked, she offered Lawrence such a gracious chance to redeem himself that even he could not let it slip away.
No one had a better traveling companion than he did.
“Well, say…,” Lawrence said, his gaze flitting away. “Maybe one could make some noise that would drive them away…?”
“Sometimes high-pitched noises are unpleasant for us…but that’s just as likely to attract their attention as it is to drive wolves away.”
She had a very straightforward point of view.
“What about prayers to God, then?”
“Aye, surely, if that god will give them food every day.”
“What about the talk that they can’t stand the smell of metal?”
“Metal…” Holo sat up as though they had finally hit upon something worth debating. She closed her eyes and tilted her head. “That might have some effect.”
“So a leaden apron might work, then?” Lawrence had seen craftsmen wearing such things.
“Hmmm.”
“I’ve often heard that knights or mercenaries wearing armor are difficult to attack.”
“That’s because of the long spears they carry, though, aye? Those are troublesome even for me. But swords—sometimes I don’t even notice if they’re carrying swords before I leap.”
Every one of her answers was completely reasonable.
Lawrence gave the matter honest thought. “What about something that simply smells bad?”
“Aye. Herbs often have a bitter scent. That might be worst of all.”
Several possible varieties of herbs flitted through Lawrence’s mind. Some of them were quite cheap and might well do the trick.
Given the hour, the sun would soon be setting, but even if the spice shops were closing, their wares would be identifiable from the eaves simply by the scents they gave off.
Side Colors III Page 6
