Remelio looked at Lawrence gravely and sat back down. “What you propose is not possible. Someone so skilled as to be able to smuggle gold in would already be making plenty of money on his own. He wouldn’t cooperate. If you plan to bring in someone from outside, you might as well give up now. There’s no end to gold-smuggling plots like this, so inspections of anybody not registered with the city are especially thorough.”
Remelio’s objections were exactly the arguments Lawrence had been expecting.
“What if there were someone who was highly skilled but not making good money?”
“If he is so skilled, finding work in this city is not difficult. There’s already a shortage of labor.”
Remelio sat and waited for Lawrence’s reply.
His expression was faintly reminiscent of Holo’s the previous night.
He’d given his objection and waited for Lawrence’s counter objection. He wanted to give up but couldn’t.
Lawrence took a deep breath.
“What if this skilled person had only ill-paying work in the city and a need for money? More importantly, what if this person’s current employer left something to be desired? I’m referring to the Church. Importing gold flies directly in the face of the Church. We’ll offer not only the opportunity for profit, but to exact some small revenge against the Church—it will be irresistible and the probability of betrayal very low, owing to a fair distaste for the employer.”
“Th-that’s far too convenient a tale.”
“That’s when business is most profitable. Am I wrong?” Procuring produce when the crop has been bad, buying fashions that go out of style only to find them booming in another city—the biggest profits are realized from the most improbable coincidences.
Remelio’s face twisted.
He wanted to believe but couldn’t quite manage it.
“If I tell you this person’s name, I think you will be able to accept it.”
“I-in that case, why would you go to the trouble of coming to me and having another party demanding a share?”
Having established smuggling as the topic, Lawrence proceeded to this tangential problem, setting aside issues of possibility or impossibility.
“There are two reasons. The first is that the debt I owe this company comes due today, and at sundown I will surely be taken into custody in lieu of payment. The second is that this is all the coin I have on hand.”
Lawrence produced the coin purse, untied its drawstring, and emptied its contents onto the table.
It was a mixture of silver and copper coins totaling three lumione.
The coins glittered in Remelio’s eyes—Remelio, who faced bankruptcy, just as Lawrence did.
“It’s three lumione. If you want to know how I raised it, just ask around among the merchant houses; you’ll soon find out.”
Hearing this, Remelio took a deep breath.
Given the situation, he surely knew how Lawrence had collected the money.
“This is truly everything I have. I want you to take it as collateral and trust what I am saying.”
Lawrence leaned forward and looked straight into Remelio’s eyes.
“I also want you to suspend the repayment of my debt and for your company to finance the purchase of gold for us to smuggle.”
Remelio’s haggard face was covered in a cold sweat, wrinkles gathering at his chin.
The only reason he didn’t deny Lawrence and Holo on the spot was that he had just enough funds to finance the plan.
—And just enough hope to want to believe them.
All it would take was one more push, but if Lawrence pushed too hard, it would only make Remelio more doubtful.
Gold smuggling could yield enormous profit, but it came with terrible risk. And given the current condition of the Remelio Company, the deal to finance the smuggling could itself be seen as fraud.
There were plenty of people willing to destroy a struggling company in order to make a quick profit, so these, doubts were hardly strange.
Lawrence had to choose his words carefully.
But before he could—
“Listen, you,” said Holo.
Surprised, Remelio looked at Holo, blinking, as if only just now realizing that there was somebody else.
Lawrence, too, turned to Holo. Holo herself regarded the floor.
“Do you think you have the luxury of wavering?”
“Wha—” Remelio was tongue-tied at the provocative, threatening question.
Thinking this an unwise approach, Lawrence was about to stop her. However—
“Another person left just now. Can you keep dillydallying like this?”
Transfixed by Holo’s sharp look, Remelio froze, as if he had swallowed a stone. “E-er...”
“I’ve excellent hearing. Shall I tell you about your workers and their plans being hatched downstairs right now? Their plans to escape while they can?”
“Uh—”
“Whoops, there goes another one. At this rate the shop will be-”
“Stop!” cried Remelio, clutching his head.
Holo regarded the man, her expression entirely unperturbed.
Lawrence half agreed with her. A company was like a boat. If there is a hole in the hull and no hope of patching it, the crew ignored the captain and abandoned ship.
But it was clear enough that Holo had chosen that line of attack for a reason. She knew better than anyone the meaning of the word loneliness.
She certainly understood Remelio’s distress.
“Mr. Remelio,” began Lawrence mildly, having understood Holo’s angle. “I propose that you take these three lumione—everything I have—as a deposit and invest in gold. We know someone who will make the smuggling possible. If this person is paid well enough, trustworthiness is assured. And given your company, I’m sure you have a means to move the smuggled gold. What say you? If you’ll postpone my loan and give me a fair portion, I want to conduct this operation with no unfavorable conditions placed on you.”
A moment passed.
“What say you?”
Remelio looked down, head in hands.
Lawrence’s words, more seductive than wine, were surely filtering through the man’s mind now. He still hadn’t looked back up.
Time silently passed.
It was quiet, as if the entire company was focused on Remelio’s decision.
Just as Lawrence began to say, “Mr. Remelio,” the master finally spoke.
“All right.” He lifted his head, his face exhausted, a flame burning in his eyes. “Let’s do it.”
Lawrence stood up without thinking and extended his hand.
The two men, both of whom faced bankruptcy, shook.
“May God forgive us.”
After settling the arrangements regarding roles and compensation with the Remelio Company, Lawrence and Holo found themselves in front of a smallish church in the eastern part of Ruvinheigen. The level of ornamentation, the size of the bells, and so on were decided based on the chapel’s standing within the Church’s organization—the reasoning being that the higher the abbey, the closer to God it was.
The church Lawrence and Holo visited was in the bottom middle of that hierarchy. Its adornment was not at all poor, but for Ruvinheigen, the church was rather subdued.
It was just after noontime, and the midday service was in progress within the parish.
“Now, then,” said Holo abruptly, sitting on the stone steps as a hymn praising the holy mother wafted out of the chapel. “Think you can really pull one over on the girl?”
“Such things you say.”
“Am I wrong, then?” asked Holo, amused.
Lawrence made a stern face and stared straight ahead as he answered. “You don’t change.”
He and Holo waited at the entrance of this house of worship because they had business with Norah the shepherdess. They did not know which church in particular she was affiliated with, but there weren’t many that housed a female shepherd. Their search had been quick.<
br />
And having gone to all the trouble of searching, they weren't here to make idle gossip.
They had come to ask her to play a crucial role in the gold smuggling operation—the carrier.
However, Norah was not facing financial ruin the way that Lawrence and the Remelio Company were. Still, proposing the gold-smuggling plan would certainly involve deception because they would need to make the profit that would come in with the plan’s success seem equal to the danger.
Any who smuggled gold bet their life on it—and nothing could compensate for loss of life. Yes, some fudging of the details would be necessary.
Yet both Norah’s skill as a shepherdess and her standing in the city were indispensable to their scheme.
And the merchant had faith that she would be their accomplice.
Lawrence felt a pang of conscience at treating someone’s heart as a commodity in the marketplace. If Norah had been a merchant, he would have no such compunctions, but she was an innocent shepherdess. Nonetheless, the fact was not lost on Lawrence’s keen merchant insight.
In addition to being a shepherd—and thus already regarded as vaguely heretical—she was a woman, which made her all the more likely to be a tool of demons. It was simple to conclude that the Church was not sheltering her out of some sense of charity, but rather to keep an eye on her. That was probably the root of her unease, which he had picked up on when talking to her about the shepherding work she did for the Church.
Also, though Norah had expressed her desire to save up enough money to become a dressmaker, it was not in the girl’s personality to be avaricious—and the extra income afforded by doing escort work did not give her that luxury. He could understand if she didn’t want to be exposed to a rather harsh work environment.
Toiling the day away doing the difficult work of a shepherd, yet never quite making ends meet—it would make it impossible to greet the morning with any joy. The future would stretch out endlessly ahead, holding only bitterness and suffering.
In contrast to that, Lawrence would propose the gold-smuggling stratagem to her: Rather than scraping tiny amounts of money together, she would make enough in one fell swoop to not only pay her guild membership dues, but also to end any worries about making ends meet. Sure, there was danger, but how could she let this opportunity pass? This was how he would persuade her.
Lawrence would hardly force her, so in that sense he wasn’t doing anything wrong, but he still had misgivings about using her adverse circumstances in this fashion.
Nonetheless, it had to be Norah.
The fact that she was a skilled shepherdess who could lead her small flock through wolf-infested areas, where few humans ventured; the fact that she was unsatisfied with her employer, the Church; the fact that she needed money to fulfill her dream—it truly seemed like every condition was divinely arranged specifically to help Lawrence succeed in smuggling gold into Ruvinheigen. It was impossible to imagine anyone better positioned to help them.
Yet Lawrence heaved a sigh. Convincing her still weighed on him.
While he was absorbed in thinking about it, Lawrence grew conscious of Holo’s eyes on him. He looked over and saw her grinning at him resignedly.
“You really are just too softhearted by half.”
It was what she had said yesterday. It was true that Lawrence was quite sentimental for a merchant. There were plenty of merchants who would happily bring misfortune to their families if it meant making money in the process.
“Still, though,” said Holo, standing and looking out over the ever-lively city street. “It’s thanks to that soft heartedness that I’ve been able to travel so easily,” she announced casually, descending a couple of the stone steps to stand next to Lawrence. “I suppose I’ll have to talk her into it. I need to be of some use, after all.”
She gave a thin smile, but her words lacked a certain spark Lawrence thought.
He studied her and sure enough, her eyes were downcast.
Maybe it was because he and Holo were close to the boisterous, busy lane, but she seemed smaller than usual.
“What, are you still thinking about yesterday?” he asked.
Holo shook her head but said nothing. It was an easy lie to see through.
“There’s no telling what would’ve happened back there if you hadn’t leaned on Remelio. I’d say you were plenty useful.”
Holo nodded; perhaps she accepted the truth of the statement, but her face remained crestfallen.
Lawrence patted her head lightly “I’ll talk to her myself. It was my eyes that were blinded by greed and got us into this mess, after all. It’d be absurd to make you do all the talking because of my reluctance.”
Though he was half trying to cheer up Holo and half being self-derisive, everything he said was certainly true.
“And anyway, if I let you help me too much, there’s no telling how much I’ll be taken advantage of later,” he said with a shrug.
After a moment, Holo looked up and smiled with a soft sigh. “And here I was thinking I’d be able to call in some favors later.”
“I certainly avoided quite a trap there,” joked Lawrence.
Holo casually put her arm to her forehead. “Indeed, you did, but you’re backing into a still larger trap. I don’t hunt a rabbit caught in a trap. ’Twould be too feeble.”
“Do you know the sort of wolf snare that uses a trapped rabbit as bait?”
“Make sure not to cower at the wolf howls when you set the trap. You’ll foul the snare else.”
It was the empty banter of familiarity.
Lawrence shook his head at the ridiculousness of it. Holo couldn’t contain herself anymore and started laughing.
“Anyway, merchants are like sabers—they’re no good if they’re not straight. They break otherwise,” said Lawrence mostly to himself, and then he cast his eyes to the sky, as if searching for the sound of the bells.
It was a beautiful blue sky with a scattering of clouds. He shifted his gaze to the east and spied a few more white clouds.
It was a fine day—and fine weather meant good business.
As Lawrence considered that, he heard a quiet knocking sound behind him—the chapel doors were opening. Lawrence and Holo backed away to the sides of the stone steps. Soon the congregation began to filter out of the church, their faces full of post prayer serenity as they descended the steps. The crowd divided into smaller groups as they dispersed to finish the day’s work—a scene that repeated itself daily.
At length, the exodus subsided.
There was once a time when it was groundlessly believed that the longer one remained in the church, the deeper one’s faith—until priests started becoming angry with anyone who lingered in the chapel. Now such things did not happen.
That said, it was not good to leave a church too quickly, lest it seem like one is trying to escape.
As a result, butchers, tanners, and other craftsmen likely to attract the Church’s baleful attention tended to leave the sanctuary more slowly.
As shepherds were counted among those suspicious professions, the shepherdess was last to leave. Her downcast eyes and reserved posture were no doubt due to the fact that the church was not a place of rest for her.
“Good day,” declared Lawrence as he stopped in front of Norah, smiling as pleasantly as he could manage. A good smile was an important part of negotiation.
“Er, L-Lawrence and...Holo, yes?” said Norah, reddening slightly and looking over at Holo, then back to Lawrence.
“It is clear that us happening to meet in front of a church is the will of God,” said Lawrence with a slightly grandiose gesture. Norah seemed to notice something and giggled in amusement.
“I won’t be fooled, Mr. Lawrence.”
“And thank heavens for that. I have heard that lately there are those at services who have drunk a bit too much of the holy blood.”
Lawrence was referring to wine. Were she drunk, he might be able to convince her to join him, but she might also lose her ne
rve or turn him down.
He was glad for her sobriety.
“I cannot drink much wine, so I mostly avoid it,” she said with a shy smile, then looked around nervously. Perhaps she had been contacted with an offer of escort work.
Lawrence did not hesitate to use that expectation. “Actually, I am here about some work for you.”
Norah’s face lit up so quickly you could nearly hear it.
“This place being what it is, perhaps we should away to a stall somewhere...”
The reason Lawrence didn’t suggest a bar was because nothing would be more conspicuous given the hour. Secret negotiations were best conducted in busy public spaces.
Norah nodded agreeably. Lawrence began walking with Holo at his right side and Norah to his left, trailing behind him slightly.
The three strolled along the busy, boisterous lane until they passed through the crowds and arrived at the plaza.
The plaza was as loud and festive as ever, but fortune smiled on them as the trio found a table at a beer stall where Lawrence ordered beer for the lot of them. Ale was cheaper, but as Norah was with them, he couldn’t very well order any.
The service was quick but rough as the three cups arrived; Lawrence paid a pittance in silver for them, then put his hand to his mug.
“Here’s to our reunion.”
The tankards clacked together noisily.
“So, Norah, did you say you were able to go as far as Lamtra?”
Taken off guard by the sudden broaching of the subject of work, Norah, who hadn’t touched her beer, eyed Lawrence guardedly. Holo watched the two, nursing her drink.
“Y-yes, I can go that far.”
“Even bring your flock?”
“As long as it’s not too large.”
She answered so directly that Lawrence wondered how many times she had crossed the fields and forests on the way to Lamtra.
But just to be sure, Lawrence glanced to Holo to check the truth of the statement. Holo nodded so imperceptibly that only Lawrence could tell.
Evidently Norah was not lying.
Lawrence took a deep breath to avoid arousing Norah’s suspicion. Being excessively roundabout might damage her resolve Better to plunge straight in.
Spice & Wolf II Page 16
