“Did someone make a move?” It was Col who asked the question, his cheek still midpinch.
Lawrence felt bad for thinking it, but having someone around who was more nervous than he was made him feel calmer. The situation was fluid, and no matter how wary they were, if they simply waited around, their chance to bring about the best outcome would vanish.
But if they saw their chance, they would have to take it. Lawrence nodded, prompting Holo to continue.
“Reynolds seemed so humble the other night, but he’s quite the actor. Now he’s full of boasting. The oppressed can be strong—they wish to pay back in full those who’ve made them suffer, after all.”
“He was negotiating? With the southerners?”
“He kept railing that he was a customer, demanded to be shown what he was buying. I’ve no particular hatred for the people of this side, but I had to laugh at their nervousness.”
Lawrence and Col shared a look. If Reynolds wanted to see the goods, it was clear where he would go next.
“Ah, I suppose your ears cannot hear them. They’re three blocks away from us.”
“But does that mean he’s actually raised the money to buy it?” asked Lawrence.
Holo tilted her head, and despite what she was doing to him, Col’s gaze was far away. Just as his face wrinkled in thought, something occurred to Lawrence.
“D-does he have the money?” Col was the first to speak up.
In the dark alley, Holo’s ears swiveled as she answered. “’Twas a war of words. He demanded to see the goods, while they demanded to see the money. They were out of their seats in anger, and this Reynolds fellow matched them every time.”
“Mr. Lawrence—”
“Yes, but…why? What could this mean?”
Holo’s shoulders shook with laughter. She’d abandoned thinking about it anymore, seemingly saying that it was a man’s duty to save a captured woman.
“It would be strange for him to have the coin. No matter how quickly he’s been able to rally support, it still takes time to turn that into cash. So has he had it hidden away all this time?”
If so, there was no reason to wait until things had gotten so out of hand. As it was there was enough risk of someone like Kieman taking some kind of irreparable independent action.
And then there was an issue Lawrence had long considered ever since they had started chasing the wolf bones—moving a large amount of cash was like moving a giant. Someone was always sure to notice.
So how could he have collected enough money to buy the narwhal without anyone realizing it?
Lawrence was well aware of how clever town merchants could be. They watched over the ports, always careful to note who was dealing in how much goods. Goods were physical things, and physical things could be observed. Which meant that if Kieman determined that Reynolds didn’t have the money that had to be the truth.
“I know not how. But ’twill be simple enough to discover the truth.” Holo stretched and took a deep breath.
Her eyes narrowed, and she looked off into the distance as though she were reminiscing, although Lawrence was sure Reynolds was in that same direction.
“We know their move. They will go to the church.”
“Why? How does he have the money? Whose is it?”
Kieman was at the church; so was Eve.
What sort of farce would happen when Reynolds’s party arrived in force, dragging crates of money with them?
Money was money, no matter what—so the saying went—but that simply wasn’t true. What kind of money it was, whose it was, its provenance—these things were all of deep importance.
Kieman and the others had to be terrified.
Already busy with destroying evidence, now their subordinates were probably fleeing with important documents like rats from a sinking ship. And when it came out that Eve was being held in the church cellar, who would be in the worst position?
Naturally that would be Kieman and Kieman’s superior, Chief Jeeta.
It was impossible for Reynolds not to have realized the secret deal between Eve and Kieman. And as the backbone of the northern landlords’ support, he would have learned of Eve’s sudden disappearance. A bit of thought would make her location clear, at which point all he had to decide was what sort of hole to drop them all in.
Being completely on the defensive, Kieman and the rest could do nothing but run. Lawrence wondered if he had already dragged Eve out of the cellar and begun running her through the alleyways.
But Kieman wasn’t the only one with spies and lookouts all over the town. And how many of those were foolish enough to overlook important figures like Kieman and Eve if they were exposed? If they were discovered escaping, excuses would be less and less effective.
This was what it meant to have one’s back against the wall.
“Mr. Lawrence, at this rate, Miss Eve will—” Col cried, grabbing Lawrence’s shoulder.
Kieman and his comrades were out of time. They had no way to discover whose money it was that Reynolds held. So what action could he take in order to protect himself?
The answer was simple. He’d surround himself with only those who would agree on a story with him.
There was no chance Eve would be among that group.
“I see three paths.”
The transformed wolf who dwelled within wheat yet refused to be called a god narrowed her eyes at the pinprick of torchlight that lit the end of the alleyway.
“One, you can give up. Two, ask me for help. Three—”
“—Go see for ourselves.”
Holo smiled an unfriendly smile. “Go…and do what?”
“Things will work out one way or another. When you’re cornered, nothing’s more powerful than a little misdirection. With no way to be sure of the truth one way or another, whoever makes the most irrefutable argument wins.”
“If you can convince Kieman, the vixen may yet be saved.”
Col’s eyes flicked unblinkingly back and forth between Holo and Lawrence, as though he were being forced to watch a drama he didn’t want to see.
“So are you sure?”
Lawrence couldn’t look Col in the eyes. Growing up meant learning how to deceive one’s own self above all others.
“Even if not, we have to move,” said Lawrence.
“But that’s—”
“Not every problem has a satisfactory solution.”
At Holo’s words, Col’s eyes filled up with tears. “But, but then, Miss Holo, you could—”
“If you were to break into someplace with so many people, could you make sure that they were all unharmed?” Lawrence asked Holo, carefully lowering his voice.
At his question, she scratched her cheek and cocked her head. “If the building does not collapse once I smash through the stained glass, aye. Else…”
Lawrence recalled the church’s great bell tower. Anything so tall, be they toy blocks or brick, sacrificed stability for height. If the building fell, even Holo might not escape safely, and many people would surely be trapped in the rubble.
That said, attacking the front entrance of the church would put them in front of countless spears.
Holo was not a god.
She was not.
“We can still run now, if we wish. There are good and bad in your pack, and not all of them are your enemies, aye?”
Betting on that possibility certainly was an option.
When Kieman’s plans became public, he would certainly be considered the ringleader. Lawrence was merely a poor traveling merchant he’d used. Lawrence surely had comrades who would support him as such.
“…”
Wilting with despair, Col wasn’t even bothering to dry his tears.
The boy had journeyed south in an attempt to save his own village. To do that would have taken not just firm resolve and strength, but also greater kindness as well.
Eve had looked at Col as though he shone, and it was that light that caused her to treat him so kindly.
“The
re are many options we can choose, but only one outcome can result.”
“Should we not then decide the outcome we want and make our choices thereby?”
Travelers sometimes had to leave behind belongings and opportunities and even friends or injured people they encountered by the roadside. Sometimes they pulled at one’s hair or clung to one’s clothes.
So what of Eve?
Lawrence thought back to her strange honesty—she had said she was tired and slept, lying down right there on the spot.
He could guess at what would happen.
There were always infinite choices, but there could only ever be a single result. Dramatic turnarounds were uncommon, because the natural progression of events was a difficult force to resist.
“If Reynolds were handling shipments of gold coins…”
“Hmm?”
“…Using the method Col discovered, he could’ve put aside quite a lot of capital.”
Lawrence had once been attacked by a pack of wolves on a snowy mountain. He and his party had had to leave a friend with a broken leg behind and escape into a woodcutter’s cabin. Unable to stay quiet, they had chattered the night away, faces flushed as though they’d been drinking, yet there was no wine.
“Taxes are no more than twenty or thirty percent of the value of the goods. Still, twenty percent of a crate of gold coins is a huge amount of money. Of course, the coin counts are much stricter for gold, so he couldn’t have used the same method, I don’t think.”
Lawrence held Col’s shoulders, and with his eyes gestured for Holo to start walking. If they were going to flee, they would need to take advantage of the chaos.
“Hmm. The scheme Col noticed—’twould work better the other way, I should think.”
“The other way?” Lawrence asked.
Holo stepped over a stick that was leaning against a wall. “Aye,” she answered. “He brings in sixty crates, then sends along fifty-eight. If he keeps two full crates of copper coins, that’s quite a bit of profit, is it not?”
“Yes, true. Or he could receive sixty and send sixty along.”
“But that would just amount to breaking even, would it not?”
“Oh? The crates he’d send along would simply contain fewer coins than the ones he receives down the river, and he’d pocket the difference. At that rate I’ll bet he could put aside a bit more than two crates’ worth every time. Of course, in doing so the Debau Company would take a loss.”
So how would that work? Lawrence wondered to himself.
“Huh?” Col said hastily, looking up at them.
The only reason Lawrence was not surprised by this was because he was too preoccupied with the hole he had just discovered in his reasoning.
“I just said something odd, didn’t I?”
Holo looked back and forth between Col and Lawrence quizzically.
Lawrence thought back to his own words. Frantically.
Reynolds’s copper coin–importing scheme would yield only a small profit. To make a large profit, he would have to hit either the Debau Company or the Winfiel kingdom with a significant loss.
“The absolute number of copper coins won’t change. What changes is the number of crates, the tax, and…and?” The last word stuck in Lawrence’s throat out of sheer frustration as he knew he was missing something obvious.
Col was almost gagging, as though he had a fish bone caught in his throat. By the time Lawrence realized it was Col’s sheer nervousness that was stopping him from speaking, the answer exploded into his head with a flash.
“The payment! If he can’t reverse the money he’s trading, he just does it with the payment itself! The Debau Company wouldn’t be troubled at all! Because—”
“—If the accounts all balance in the end, there’s no problem. No problem at all! I wonder what instructions have come downriver to Reynolds? That would explain why he could have a huge amount of cash somewhere yet hesitate to use it! That’s it!”
Everything he had seen and heard in Kerube finally connected as though by a single thread. It explained how Reynolds had been able to prepare enough money to buy the narwhal as well as all the incongruities Lawrence had felt.
The money was Reynolds’s.
Even if he did have someone backing him, they were far, far away. They wouldn’t have a single notion of what was happening in Kerube. By the time word reached them, everything would be over, which was exactly why Reynolds was placing his pawns in the church.
If he could gain just cause, all would be forgiven.
It wasn’t amusing, but Lawrence couldn’t stop the smile that spread over his face. He wasn’t going to let Reynolds snatch all the profit away before his very eyes.
Everything was within his reach. And the time to grasp it was now!
“Let’s go,” said Lawrence and started running. “Come, what are you—” He looked over his shoulder and called out.
“I am not going,” said Holo, standing and smiling.
“Now of all times? It’s fine! I’m not jumping to conclusions—the reasoning is true.”
Holo shook her head. “’Tis not what I mean,” she said.
“So—” What? Lawrence didn’t finish his sentence.
“I’ve no wish to see you parading about in front of other females,” said Holo like a bashful maiden, sticking her tongue out as she smiled.
Where had she learned to act like that?
Lawrence could only smile, as she wanted him to.
“I suppose I can’t say I’m shocked.”
“Mm. You can leave me behind and run off, can’t you?”
Lawrence closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Eve’s words had been heavy with meaning.
Mere flowers would not be enough of a present for Holo.
“Col.”
“Yes! Leave it to me!” Col’s tear-streaked smile was genuine. If he had to leave Holo in someone else’s care and feel security rather than jealousy, Col was the only person he had.
“Heh. I suppose ’tis not such a poor arrangement.” Holo smiled and exhaled a short sigh. “Now then, you should go. They may be strutting around as though ’tis a festival day, but they’ll arrive soon.”
Understanding her meaning, Lawrence turned on his heel and ran, though he knew it was dangerous to turn his back on someone in an alley. He looked over his shoulder.
There were Holo and Col, waving at him.
A moment’s glance was enough. Lawrence ran. He ran to the church.
Emerging from an alleyway in front of the church, Lawrence found it to be oddly busy.
Once the curtain of night fell, ordinary citizens would be in their homes, smacking their lips over dinner. The only ones who knew about what was transpiring here were merchants, compelled by their curiosity to watch, but swirling about at a safe distance away, out of fear of the possible consequences.
Which meant the space in front of the church was clear, as the crowd waited for the arrival of Reynolds and his cohorts.
It was indeed the calm before the storm.
And in that calm, Lawrence walked straight up the open path and made directly for the church.
“…”
At first neither the guards nor the onlookers understood what was happening. They seemed to think he was some sort of formal messenger.
All eyes were on Lawrence, but no one moved, and it was only as he went to enter the church that a single guard finally shouted at him from behind.
But Lawrence did not, of course, stop.
The door was already wide-open in anticipation of Reynolds’s arrival, and once within it, he turned immediately right, heading down the hallway.
Farther in he saw what he thought were letters dropped in midcarry, illuminated by the candles in the walls.
The door to Kieman’s room was half-open. Lawrence pushed unhesitatingly past it and went inside, but no one was there.
Suddenly attacked by a wave of vertigo, Lawrence realized how quickly events were moving. Please let me be in time, he crie
d out in his mind, running to the stairs that led into the cellar.
He saw a faint light from farther down.
Someone had to be there, but the silence worried him. He started descending the stairs, hoping against hope.
Then, perhaps having heard his footsteps, a man emerged and started coming up. His clothes had blood on them, the sight of which made the hairs on Lawrence’s body stand up.
“Y-you—”
The man was shorter than Lawrence and the stairs were steep, and Lawrence used both of these to their full advantage. He dug his nails into the man’s face, then with a dull thud slammed his head against the wall. The man then slid to the floor.
In his hand was a silver dagger, which Lawrence hadn’t noticed before.
Lawrence kept running, pushing the iron cellar door open and bounding in.
At the sight that greeted him, he shouted with all his might. “Please, stop!”
All but one flinched in surprise.
Kieman was the first to turn around, then the man who had guarded the room. Eve’s head was held fast by the man’s thick arms, a blank expression on her face.
Her arms were bound behind her, her legs tied; perhaps they wanted to avoid a struggle. Perhaps they had chosen not to slit her throat because of the bloody mess that would result.
“Please, wait! There’s no need for this!”
The guard’s eyes went to Kieman, and Lawrence could tell his grip loosened slightly.
Eve wasn’t dead yet.
Just as Lawrence came to this realization, Kieman came at him, his face blank and his hair wild. “Who put you to this?! Who paid you off?! Tell me, merchant!”
Kieman’s composure was gone, and when he grabbed Lawrence’s collar, Lawrence saw that his thumbnail was chewed ragged. But Kieman was not his enemy, not now.
Lawrence lowered his stance and let Kieman’s energy take him over, grabbing his waist and flipping him end to end.
Kieman saw the floor and ceiling trade places in an instant. “Guh—” he croaked like a frog, struggling under Lawrence’s weight.
“You’ve got to release Eve! Immediately!” Lawrence said, straddling Kieman and holding a dagger to his throat.
The guard had no grudge with Eve but was probably not unfamiliar with the grisly business at hand. Now Lawrence just had to wait for him to decide what he would do. Lawrence never took his eyes off Kieman for a moment, and eventually the guard decided that a turnaround was impossible.
Town of Strife II Page 15
