“I want to hire you for a certain job. Compensation will be twenty lumione. Not in a cheap banknote, of course—it will he hard coin.”
Norah looked at him blankly, as though he were speaking in a foreign tongue. In fact, it took time for the words to penetrate her mind—it was as if they had been written down in some faraway land and sent to her.
To some people, twenty lumione was that much money.
“However, there is risk, and the compensation is only if we succeed. Failure earns us nothing.”
Looking at someone’s finger as it traced circles or x marks on a table was one way of telling if he or she was real and not a dream or hallucination.
Norah followed the movements of Lawrence’s finger, and it seemed that he was quite real.
Yet still she had trouble believing, it seemed.
“The job will be moving sheep—then moving them back again as safely as possible. That will be all we need of your services as a shepherd.”
Norah finally seemed to wrap her head around Lawrence’s proposal, and realizing that the work and the compensation he had offered were far from comparable, she began to voice her skepticism. Lawrence seemed to have been waiting for that and cut her off
“However, the work itself involves significant danger—proportional to the risk.”
Having explained the unimaginable profit, he now explained the risk. Both could inspire shock, but the first detail would leave a stronger impression.
“Nevertheless, the pay is twenty lumione. Even the highest guild dues are but a single lumione. You could rent a house and take care of your daily expenses, working without worry. With that much, you could easily buy your own business. You would be the mistress of Norah Dressmakers.”
Norah’s face was troubled and then on the verge of tears. The enormity of the amount of money seemed to be sinking in—and with it, undoubtedly, the concern over the danger.
She had taken the bait. Now the real challenge began. If he muddled his statements at all, she would clamp a shell around her like a clam.
“Oh, that’s right—had you planned to join the tailor’s guild in this city, Norah?”
She was waiting, prepared, to hear the bad news, but Lawrence seemed to have thrown her off the trail. Inside her head,
Lawrence knew thoughts raced of both the ridiculous amount of money and the fact that she had not yet heard the risk. There wasn’t much room to ponder extraneous things, so her answer should be quite honest, Lawrence thought.
“N-no, I was thinking a different town.”
“I see! Do you not like the sprawling size of this city compared with others? It can be quite hard to live in an unfamiliar city with no friends, I find.”
While her mind was occupied with other matters, she couldn't easily voice her thoughts—such was the plan.
Norah nodded, looking troubled, saying nothing.
That was enough for Lawrence, whose merchant intuition told him a person’s heart based on the expression on their face.
The shepherdess’s mind was like glass to him.
“Well, I suppose you’ll want to get away from this city and its churches, won’t you?”
The trap was set.
Holo gave Lawrence an obvious look, but the result was instantaneous.
“N-no, I mean, not at all...Well, but...”
“The harder you work for them, the better you protect the sheep they’ve entrusted you, the more they’ll suspect you of witchcraft. Am I wrong?”
She froze, her head moving neither up nor down, left not right—Lawrence was spot on the mark.
“And as they try to expose you, you’ll have to venture where other shepherds would never go—because the alternatives are already taken by those selfsame shepherds, you said.”
That instant, Norah’s eyes snapped wide open, and she looked at Lawrence. Perhaps it was something she had vaguely considered before, since even if other shepherds had their territories, if she was willing to travel far enough, there would be safe places that remained.
“The priests will keep pushing you farther away until you're attacked by wolves or maybe mercenaries. And every day you’re not, they’ll suspect you of being a pagan.”
Lawrence clenched his fist under the table, as if to crush his guilty conscience.
He had lit a fire under the small doubt that had always lingered within Norah’s heart. There was no way to take it back. Whether it was true or not was irrelevant.
Merchants are like sabers—useless unless straight.
“I’ve been in a similar situation myself. Let me say it plainly.”
He looked straight at Norah and spoke in a voice just low enough for people around not to hear.
“The Church here is lower than pigs.”
Speaking ill of the Church was a serious crime. The shocked Norah peered around, the flames of her doubt suddenly scattered. Lawrence placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward.
“But we have a plan. We’ll give the Church some trouble, make some money, and head to a different town—that kind of plan.”
The flames of her doubt turned to anger and burned hotter, but once they burned out, they would leave behind the cinders of confidence. Within Norah, the seed of justified defiance would begin to flower.
Slowly, Lawrence articulated the heart of the matter.
“We will smuggle gold.”
Norah’s eyes widened, but she soon calmed herself. Surprise could, at best, only be felt as a slightly strong wind.
She finally spoke, her mind working again.
“But...what can I possibly do?”
It was a good question. Her skill as a shepherd wasn’t her only merit.
“As I’m sure you know, gold coming into the city is heavily regulated. Every road that enters Ruvinheigen has checkpoints and two stages of examination. If you hide something in your sleeves or among your luggage, they’ll find it on the spot. If you’re trying to bring in a lot of something, it’s even harder.”
Norah nodded fervently at Lawrence’s plain explanation, as though she was a devout believer listening to a sermon.
“We plan to get gold past the checkpoints by hiding it in the sheep’s stomachs.”
The look on Norah’s face was so astonished that Lawrence could practically hear her say, “Impossible,” but the notion gradually percolated through her mind, like water sinking into hard clay.
Many animals that eat grass year-round, including sheep, tend to swallow stones in the process. There was no reason not to scatter grains of gold among the grass and have the animals swallow them, though they might cough up gold during the long inspection process. And then there was Norah, who despite her skill as a shepherd, had but a small flock that she took far afield, wandering places where few humans traveled. When coming in from Poroson, the first checkpoint was a modest one; heavier traffic would mean a larger scale checkpoint.
Norah nodded slowly. “I see,” she murmured.
“But gold prices are absurdly high in any city affected by Ruvinheigen policy. That makes the pagan town of Lamtra the most convenient place from which to start. If you come via the safest routes from Lamtra, there’s a lot of traffic, and much of that territory has been claimed by other shepherds.
This is what makes you perfect for the job. No one will find it suspicious that you’re bringing your sheep through a low-traffic route—and that route is the quickest path from Lamtra to boot.”
Lawrence paused, clearing his throat slightly and looking carefully at Norah before continuing.
“You’ve suffered at the hands of the Church in the city, Norah," he said sharply. “This is your best chance to turn the tables on them. The Church’s two biggest sources of income are tithes and the gold trade, after all. But if we’re caught, the punishments will be heavy, and once the job is done, we’ll have to leave the city to be safe. And depending on circumstances, we may have to ask you to butcher the sheep.”
There were few shepherds who had never had to butch
er an animal—and still fewer who didn’t find the job painful. It was a good way to measure her resolve.
“On the other hand, it’s twenty lumione,” Lawrence said.
You’re being unfair, he told himself, but the more unfair her situation seemed, the more effective the result.
Finally, the girl across the table from him—who had endured heat and cold, suspicious gazes, and terrible treatment, all the while silently tending her flock—weighed the profit, risk, and nature of the job and seemed to come to a conclusion.
Lawrence could see her eyes become calm.
Strong words were uttered from a small mouth.
“Please, let me do it.”
In that moment, Lawrence had convinced another person to make a bet with her own life.
Yet he swiftly aligned himself with Norah and extended his hand—it was that hand that reached out for his own future.
“I shall count on you.”
...And I on you.”
Now the promise was firm. Norah and Holo shook hands as well, and now all three of their fates were inextricably linked. All three would laugh together or all three would weep.
“Right, now for the details.”
Lawrence then asked Norah about when she would take the sheep, how many she would take, the specifics of the landscape around Lamtra, and how much gold she thought she could compel the sheep to swallow. He would take this information to the Remelio Company.
Midday passed in a twinkling, and by the time they finished talking, business was ending and the merchants and craftsmen appeared in the streets on their way home. Having left her beer untouched, Norah stood. She had absorbed everything while entirely sober and made her decision.
If Lawrence had thought otherwise, he would have followed Norah when she left, giving her parting thanks to the man who had brought such an extraordinary opportunity. He would have tried to convince her to rethink her position.
Lawrence drained the lukewarm beer in the cup in one go. It was bitter and unpleasant.
“Come, should you not be more happy? Everything has gone well and yet!” said Holo to Lawrence with a wry grin.
But Lawrence could not be unreservedly happy. He had persuaded Norah to choose a dangerous path.
“I don’t care how great the profit; nothing exists to balance out the wager of a person’s life,” he said.
“I suppose that’s true.”
“And just talking up the profit like that is the same as fraud. Merchants have always said that it’s a fool who’s bound by an unfair contract. But what is she? Just a shepherdess!”
Though all he had done was raise his voice, regret swirled within his chest.
If all he cared about was survival, he could have accepted Holo’s help, abandoning his life as a merchant and all the people in it.
But to Lawrence that was not so very different from death.
So he had leapt at the heaven-sent chance to turn Holo’s scheme into reality, tricking Norah into helping him.
He knew what he had done but couldn’t help regretting it.
“Come, now,” chided Holo after a time, swirling the remaining beer around in her cup as she stared at its contents.
Lawrence looked over; she kept her attention focused on the cup.
“Have you heard the terrible cry that a sheep makes when you tear out its throat?”
Lawrence’s breath caught at the sudden question. Holo finally faced him.
“Sheep have no fangs, no claws, no fleet feet with which to escape when wolves come flying across the field like arrows with claws, teeth, and speed to tear at their throats. What think you of this?”
Holo spoke as if making everyday conversation—and in truth, she was.
What she talked about happened frequently—no, more than frequently.
One hunted one’s food with every method available. It was simple, obvious.
“The death cry of a lamb is indescribable, yet my empty stomach complains constantly. If I must listen to one of them, I’ll lend my ear to the louder of the two, will I not?”
Lawrence understood.
If having to sacrifice something in order to survive was a sin, then the only path remaining was to die while fasting as a saint.
But that didn’t excuse just any behavior.
It took someone else saying what he needed to hear in order to free himself from the conflict.
“You’re not so very bad.”
Lawrence saw Holo smile at him helplessly and felt his black guilt melt away.
He had very much wanted to hear those words.
“Hmph. Such a spoiled boy.”
Lawrence made a grim face at having been seen through so easily, but Holo just finished off her beer and stood.
“Still, neither humans nor wolves can live alone. Sometimes one needs a pack mate to curl up with. Am I wrong?”
Surely this was the definition of flexible strength.
Lawrence nodded in acknowledgment of Holo’s smile and stood himself.
“Still, you’re quite the dangerous one,” she said.
She was probably talking about his skillful manipulation of Norah—but a fine merchant he would be if he could not do al least that much.
“You’d best believe it. Watch yourself, lest I trick you as well.”
Holo giggled. “I’ll look forward to that.” She laughed as though she truly did anticipate it, which made Lawrence wonder if he was not the one being led on. He didn’t say it, but as Holo let slip a private smile when they began to walk, it seemed best to assume she could see right through him.
“In any case, we’ve no choice but to try and make sure we all end up laughing,” said Lawrence.
“That’s the spirit. Still...”
Lawrence looked at Holo, who had trailed off in midsentence.
“...Would it not be even better for the two of us to have the last laugh?”
It was a seductive notion, but no—better that everyone was happy.
“You really are simply too softhearted.”
“Is that so bad?”
“Far from it.”
The two smiled slightly as they walked through the city.
The road ahead was far from bright, but each sensed in the other’s face that the future was clear enough.
The smuggling would succeed.
The thought was unfounded, but Lawrence believed it anyway.
“My name is Marten Liebert, of the Remelio Company.”
“Lawrence. And this is my companion, Holo.”
“Um, I’m N-Norah. Norah Arendt.”
The Church city of Ruvinheigen had many entrances and exits, and it was in a plaza just before the northeast gate that the three introductions were made.
The morning air before the market bell rang was crisp and pleasant, and the plaza, though still cluttered with litter from the previous night’s commotion, was somehow beautiful.
Among the people gathered there, only Holo had the luxury of looking at the city.
The faces of the other three were all drawn tight with nerves.
The crime of smuggling gold into Ruvinheigen carried heavy punishments, up to and including being drawn and quartered. Under normal circumstances, they would have met many times to ensure there were no unpleasant surprises, but unfortunately the situation did not allow that.
There were many creditors who wanted to crush and devour the Remelio Company. Even a firm facing bankruptcy had land and houses and accounts receivable—all of which could be converted to money.
These creditors could hardly wait for the loan deadlines, so the Remelio Company was under pressure to finish the gold smuggling quickly and turn the results into coin.
Thus, Norah picked up her sheep from the church right after morning services, then headed immediately to join up with the others. Evidently, she had not expected anybody besides Lawrence to be involved and was surprised to hear the Remelio Company’s name, but she kept any doubts to herself. She seemed prepared to play her part.
Liebert was the man Hans Remelio had entrusted with the role of smuggling in the gold. Lawrence had no objection, and of course, neither Norah nor Holo seemed opposed.
Arousing only the slightest curiosity from the sleepily yawning guards at the gate, they left the city of Ruvinheigen without incident.
Lawrence wore his usual merchant’s clothes; Liebert dressed in the kind of traveling clothes a city merchant might wear on a hunting trip. Holo had returned to her nun’s outfit, and Norah looked as she always did.
However, neither Lawrence nor Liebert used a wagon. Liebert sat astride his own horse, and Lawrence had put Holo upon another horse, which he led by the reins as he walked. The road was likely to be poor, and traveling without a wagon was significantly faster.
With Norah leading the way as she guided her seven sheep and her sheepdog Enek, the group headed northeast to the town of Lamtra.
It was like the road from Poroson—the route was unpopular with travelers, and the group went the entire day without encountering so much as one other person.
There was nothing worth calling conversation, and the only sounds were the bell on Norah’s staff and the bleating of her sheep.
The first interaction that even approached conversation came at sunset, when Norah stopped and began to make camp, which Liebert took issue with. With his almond-shaped eyes and smooth blond hair, he was every inch the spirited young employee entrusted with an important job. He advocated, in a rather high-strung fashion, for making more progress before stopping to camp.
But Liebert lacked travel experience. Once Lawrence explained things like how shepherds work and the risks of nighttime travel, Liebert was surprisingly understanding. He may have been high strung, but he was by no means unreasonable.
Far from it, in fact, Lawrence realized Liebert was probably a good-natured man under normal circumstances once he offered a sincere apology.
“I am sorry. The pressure is getting to me, I think.”
Liebert had been entrusted with the continued existence of the Remelio Company. Sealed securely in the inside of his coat was a note for buying up gold—in the amount of six hundred lumione. Even his master, Remelio, was probably clasping his hands in prayer back in Ruvinheigen.
Spice & Wolf II Page 17
