CH 1-5

Lawrence and Holo were six days out of Ruvinheigen. With each

passing day, the cold grew more severe, and the sky remained

frustratingly cloudy, so that even at the height of noonday, the

meager wind was enough to bring a chill.

Once they drew alongside the river, the cold from the mist

combined with the frigid air to make it that much more bitter.

Even the river water looked icy. It was hazy, as though the

cloudy sky itself had melted into the flow.

However Lawrence and Holo may have been bundled up in

secondhand winter-weather clothing they had bought in Ruvinheigen,

cold was still cold.

Nevertheless, the frosty edge was dulled when Lawrence

reflected with a mixture of chagrin and nostalgia on the times

when, as a young merchant, he had to forego cold-weather gear in

favor of cargo.

Evidently, seven years of experience would whip even a rank

amateur like him into some kind of shape.

Besides the warm clothing, there was something else that mitigated

the cold this year.

Lawrence had now entered the winter of his seventh year as a

merchant since becoming independent at age eighteen, and he

looked sideways at the person sitting next to him in the drivers

seat.

Typically, he'd sat in that seat alone.

Even on those rare occasions when he did happen to be traveling

with another, he would not sit in the drivers seat with

Lawrence — and they certainly wouldn't have shared the same

tarp over their knees for warmth.

"Is aught the matter?" asked his companion, her slightly archaic

speech evident as ever.

She was a lovely girl who appeared to be in her teens, with a

stunning fall of chestnut hair that would have been the envy of

any noblewoman.

But what Lawrence envied was neither her flowing locks nor

the expensive robe wrapped about her body.

No, what he envied was the thickly furred tail that lay across her

lap as she carefully groomed it.

It was the same chestnut brown as her hair, save for its snowwhite

tip, and the tail was every inch as warm as it appeared to be.

Were it made into a stole it would be every nobleman's wife's

object of desire, but unfortunately, it was not for sale.

"Will you hurry your grooming and put your tail under the tarp

again?"

Sitting there wrapped in a robe, neatly combing her tail fur,

Holo looked for all the world like a nun doing some kind of

handicraft.

She shot Lawrence an unpleasant glance with her red-tinged

brown eyes before her lips parted, showing a flash of white fangs.

"My tail is not your personal muffler."

The tail in question flicked slightly.

That same tail, which a passing traveler or merchant would

surely mistake for a simple fur of some kind, was indeed attached

to its original owner, who so fastidiously groomed it. And she

didn't just have a tail; underneath her hood was also a pair of

pointed wolf ears.

Naturally, these ears and tail indicated that she was no mere

human.

Though there were people who, possessed by fairies or demons,

had this or that inhuman feature when they were born, this girl

was not such a person.

Her true form was that of a colossal wolf who dwelled within

wheat; she was Holo, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu. An adherent of the

common Church faith would fear such an entity as a pagan god,

but Lawrence was past such fear.

He was much more likely to reappropriate the tail Holo was so

proud of as a lap warmer.

"It's such fine fur, though; putting it under the tarp keeps my

legs as warm as a mountain of pelts would."

Just as Lawrence hoped, Holo sniffed proudly and tucked her

tail back underneath the tarp across their legs.

"Anyway, will we make the town soon? We will arrive before the

day is out, no?"

"Just a bit farther along this river," said Lawrence.

"And then, finally, a hot meal. I've had my fill of cold gruel. I

can't stand another bite!"

Lawrence could brag of more experience eating bad cooking

than Holo could, but he was in complete agreement with

her.

Eating well was one of the few pleasures of travel, but even that

pleasure disappeared with the arrival of winter.

In the freezing cold, the only choices were crusty rye bread or

porridge made from the same, with tasteless jerky or those few

vegetables that could be stored for long periods of time — garlic

and onions.

With her keen sense of smell, Holo couldn't eat the aforementioned

garlic or onions, and though she hated the bitter taste of

rye bread, she managed to choke it down with water.

For Holo the glutton, this was not far from torture.

"Well, the town we're bound for is in the middle of a huge fair,

so you can look forward to all kinds of food."

"Oh ho. But will your coin purse handle such extravagance?"

A week earlier in the city of Ruvinheigen, Lawrence's greed led

him to fall into a desperate trading company's trap, and he had

been on the verge of accepting complete ruin.

However, after a series of twists, he avoided that but still had

not turned a profit, and indeed had come away with some loss.

As for the armor that was the cause of it all, he had wound up

unloading it in Ruvinheigen for rock-bottom prices rather than

transporting the heavy goods farther north, where prices were

likely to be even worse.

'Despite Hole's frequent requests to buy her this or that bauble,

her last remark showed some consideration for Lawrence's rather

dire straits.

She was frequently abrasive and high-handed, but her heart

was fundamentally a good one.

"Don't worry, your food bill's within the budget."

Holo still seemed to be worried about something. "Mm..."

"Besides, I wound up not being able to get you those honeyed

peach preserves I promised you. Just think of it as payment for that."

"Tis true... and yet..."

"What?"

"I'm half-worried about your balance but half-worried about

myself. If I eat too extravagantly, we'll have to stay in that much

poorer lodgings."

Lawrence smiled in understanding. "Well, I was planning on

staying in a decent inn. Surely you're not going to tell me it must

have separate bedrooms with a fireplace in each?"

"I would not go so far as that, but it wont do to have you use my

appetite as an excuse."

"An excuse for what?"

Lawrence looked ahead to correct the horse's path, at which

point Holo leaned over and whispered in his ear, "For only renting

a single bed, saying you lack the coin to do more. Sometimes

I prefer to sleep alone."

Lawrence yanked on the reins, and the horse neighed its

uncertainty.

Having become quite used to this sort of teasing from Holo, he

was quick to recover.

He forced calm to his face and gave her a cold look. "I'm not

sure someone who snores so readily should be talking."

Perhaps taken aback by the rapidity of Lawrences recovery,

Holo drew away from him, twisting her lip unpleasantly.

Lawrence pressed the attack, so as not to let this rare opportunity

for victory escape.

"Besides, you're hardly my type."

Holo's keen ears could easily tell truth from lies.

What Lawrence had just said was—just barely—not a lie.

Holo's face froze, perhaps from surprise at the truth of Lawrence's

words.

"Surely you know I'm telling the truth," said Lawrence, closing

in on the final blow.

Holo stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment, her mouth

opening and closing wordlessly. Eventually she realized that her

response itself was letting Lawrence get the better of her.

Her ears drooped underneath her hood, and she looked down,

dejected.

It was Lawrence's first victory in quite some time.

Nonetheless, it was not a true victory.

While it was not precisely a lie to say that Holo wasn't Lawrence's

type, neither was it precisely the truth.

All he needed to do was tell her as much, and his revenge for all

the times he had suffered as her plaything would be complete.

He reflected on how fond he was of Hole's laughing face or how

innocent she looked as she slept.

And, indeed, her dejected mien was quite dear to him, as well.

Or, put another way—

"So you like to see me this way, do you?"

Lawrence met Hole's upturned gaze and was unable to stop

himself from blushing.

"Such foolishness. The more idiot the male, the weaker a girl he

fancies, never realizing his head is the weakest part of all," mocked

Holo, flashing her white fangs as she turned the tables on Lawrence.

"If I'm to be the helpless princess, you'll need to play the intrepid

knight. And yet what are you, really?"

She pointed her finger at him and pressed him for an answer.

Countless scenes flashed through Lawrence's mind — scenes

that served as a painful reminder that he was no chosen knight,

but an ordinary traveling merchant.

Holo gave a short sigh, evidently satisfied by his reaction, but

then she put her index finger to her chin as something seemed to

occur to her.

"Though come to that, I suppose you are a knight of sorts. Hm."

Lawrence sifted through his memories but could not think of

any time when he had been particularly gallant.

"What, have you forgotten? Did you not stand between me and

my attackers? 'Twas in the tunnels beneath Pazzio, during that

silver coin nonsense."

"... Oh, that."

Lawrence remembered the incident but still didn't feel particularly

knightly. He had been shaking so badly he could barely

stand, his clothes in tatters.

"It's not physical strength that makes a knight. 'Twas the first

time I've been protected by anyone."

Holo smiled sheepishly and drew near to Lawrence. The rapidity

of her mood swings was always alarming — fast enough to

make a merchant, even one used to the vicissitudes of profit and

loss, run away screaming.

Lawrence, however, had nowhere to run.

"And you'll look after me henceforth, yes?" The "wolf" smiled a

soft, innocent smile that was distinctly kittenish. No hardworking

merchant, used to years of toil and travel, had any right to see

such a smile.

But the smile was fake. Holo was still angry at Lawrence's claim

that she was not his type — extremely angry, in all likelihood.

Lawrence was well aware of this.

"... Sorry."

Like magic, Hole's smile became genuine when she heard that

word. She sat up and giggled indulgently. "That's what I like about

you."

In their back-and-forth teasing, Holo and Lawrence were like

two frolicking pups.

In the end, they were very comfortable with each other.

"Anyhow, I suppose I don't mind a single bed, but I'll take twice

as much dinner to compensate."

"I know, I know," answered Lawrence, wiping the unpleasant

sweat from his brow—it wasn't even cold.

Holo raised her voice in a laugh once more. "So, what's tasty in

this part of the world?"

"The local specialty, you mean? Well, I don't know if it counts as

a specialty, really, but..."

"Fish, is it not?"

Lawrence was about to say just that, so Holo's quick answer surprised

him.

"Indeed, it is. Yes, west of here there's a lake. Dishes made with

fish taken from that lake are what passes for the local specialty.

But how did you know?"

Holo could generally discern peoples motives, but Lawrence

didn't think she could simply read his mind like that.

"Oh, I've just been catching the scent on the wind," she said,

pointing to the opposite shore of the river along which they traveled.

"That caravan, it's carrying fish."

Lawrence looked and noticed for the first time a caravan of

wagons that was so far away it was all he could manage to count

them — he certainly couldn't tell what they carried. The caravan

would probably meet up with Lawrence and Holo eventually,

based on the direction and speed with which the horses were

pulling the wagons.

"Though I can't fathom what a fish dish would be. Would it be

anything like the eel we had in Ruvinheigen?"

"That was just fried in oil. There are more involved

dishes — steamed with meat or vegetables or cooked with spices.

Also, this town's got another specialty."

"Oh ho!" Holo's eyes glinted, and beneath the tarp, her tail

wagged to and fro in anticipation.

"You can look forward to it once we get there."

Holo puffed her cheeks out a bit in frustration at Lawrence's

teasing, but she was far from angry.

"What say you to buying some fish from yonder caravan if they

prove to be of good quality?" she asked.

"I don't have an eye for fish. I took a loss on dealing fish once,

so I try to avoid them."

"But you've my eyes and nose now."

10

"Can you sniff out the quality offish?"

"I've half a mind to sniff out your quality!" said Holo with a

mischievous smile. Lawrence had to surrender.

"Mercy, please! I suppose if they have anything worth buying,

we can pick some up and have it prepared for us in town. It's a

better deal that way, too."

"Quite! You may rely on me."

Though it wasn't exactly clear where Holo and Lawrence would

meet up with the caravan that ostensibly carried fish, the distance

between the two was steadily closing. Lawrence guided the horse

down the road.

And yet — thought Lawrence to himself, looking first to the

caravan, then aside at his traveling companion.

If her eyes and nose were good enough to tell the quality of a

fish, perhaps she really could take the measure of a person the

same way.

Lawrence laughed the notion off, but it still nagged at him.

He casually brought his right shoulder up to his nose and took

a whiff. Despite living on the road, he didn't think he smelled too

bad — and Holo herself had but a single change of clothes.

He was mulling this excuse over when he felt a gaze upon him.

"Goodness. You really are so charming, I've no idea what to do

with myself," said Holo, exasperated.

Lawrence had no response.

The river flowed so slowly that at a glance, it seemed not to be

moving at all. Soon, people who had stopped to let their horses

drink or shift their loads came into view. There was also a rare

traveling sword sharpener — a sword stuck in the ground served

in place of a sign. The sword sharpener yawned, chin in hands,

leaning on his large whetstone.

There was also a raft moored at a pier, where a knight stood

11

with his horse, arguing with the boatman. The knight was only

lightly equipped, so he was probably a messenger from this or

that fort. Most likely, the boatman did not want to embark on

a trip without more passengers, which was the source of the

argument.

Lawrence himself had been angry at boatmen unwilling to set

out when he was in a hurry, so the scene brought a pained smile

to his face.

As the land shifted from endless wild plains to cultivated farmland,

peasants doing their work popped up more and more

frequently.

No matter how many times he saw it, a change of scenery that

came along with human activity always made Lawrence happy.

It was about then that that Holo and Lawrence finally met up

with the caravan.

There were three wagons in all, each drawn by a pair of horses.

The wagons lacked drivers' seats, and one well-dressed man sat in

the bed of the last cart while a hired laborer guided each cart as

he walked.

Lawrence was impressed by the extravagance of using two

horses per wagon, but as they got closer to the caravan, he realized

it was not just for show.

Piled on the wagon beds were barrels and crates big enough to

hold a person. Some had been filled with water — apparently for

the captured fish to swim in.

Unsalted fish of any kind was a luxury. Live fish was all the

more so.

Although the transport of live fish was rare in and of itself, there

was something else about the caravan that surprised Lawrence

even more.

The person who evidently transported these three large wagons

of fresh fish was a merchant even younger than Lawrence.

12

"Fish, you say?" said the young man in the last cart, responding

to Lawrence's question. He wore the traditional oiled leather coat

of a fishmonger.

"Yes, I was wondering if you might sell me a few," said Lawrence,

who had traded places with Holo.

The young merchant's reply was quick. "I'm terribly sorry, all of

our fish have been spoken for already."

It was an unexpected answer; the young man seemed to realize

the surprise he had caused in Lawrence, and he pulled back his

hood to show his face properly.

The young man's face was as boyish as his youthful voice.

Though he could not strictly be called a "boy," he was certainly

not yet twenty. Fishmongers were a generally rough and manly

lot, but this young man was unusually slender. His wavy blond

hair only added to his aura of refinement.

Even if the man was as young as he looked, the fact that he

transported three wagonloads of fresh fish meant he was not a

merchant to be underestimated.

"You'll pardon me for asking, but are you a traveling merchant?"

asked the lad.

Lawrence couldn't tell whether the young man's smile was genuine

or mercantile, but in any case, the only reasonable response

was to smile back. "Yes, I've just come from Ruvinheigen."

"I see. Well, there's a lake about a half day's journey up the road

we've just come down. I'm sure you can deal with the fishermen

there. They're bringing in excellent carp of late."

"Ah, no, I'm not buying for business. I was merely hoping you

could sell me a few fish for dinner. That is all."

The young merchant's smile quickly disappeared in favor of

surprise — this was probably the first time he had heard such a

request.

A merchant hauling salted fish over long distances would be

13

quite used to selling a little on the road, but such a practice was

quite out of the ordinary when transporting fresh fish from a

nearby lake.

The young merchant's expression of surprise soon shifted to

one of careful consideration.

Having met with an unexpected situation, he was probably trying

to decide whether there was a new business to be had here.

"You're quite serious about your trade," said Lawrence.

"Oh —," said the lad, returning to himself and obviously flustered.

"My apologies! Er, incidentally, if you're looking for fish for

dinner, you must be stopping in Kumersun, yes?"

"Indeed. For the winter market and also to take in the festival."

Kumersun was the name of the city they were bound for, just in

time for the town's great market, which was held twice a year in

the summer and the winter.

There was also a festival that coincided with the winter market.

Lawrence didn't know the specifics, but he had heard it was a

pagan celebration that would make any devout follower of the

Church faint dead away.

Six days' travel north from Ruvinheigen, a city which even now

functioned as a resupply depot for Church-funded incursions

against pagans, relations between Church followers and pagans

were not as simple as they were in the south.

The nation that controlled the vast lands north of Ruvinheigen

was known as Ploania, and there were many pagans among the

royalty and nobility there. It was only natural that there would be

cities where the Church and pagans coexisted.

Kumersun belonging as it did to the nobility of Ploania, distanced

itself from troublesome religious issues. It was a large town

devoted to economic prosperity, and the Church was forbidden

from proselytizing there. Inquiring as to whether the town's

festival was of the Church faith or the pagan one was likewise

14

prohibited — the explanation being that it was simply a tradition

of the town.

Given that such festivals were a rarity and that pagans could

safely attend them, people would pack themselves into the town

every year to attend the event, which was known as the Laddora

festival.

Based on what Lawrence had heard, he planned to arrive a

bit early in order to beat the crowds, but it seemed he'd been

naive.

"Might I ask if you've already arranged for accommodations?"

asked the young merchant with worry on his face.

"The festival is the day after tomorrow. Surely the inns aren't all

occupied already."

. "I assure you, they are."

Holo shifted restlessly next to Lawrence, no doubt worried

about where they would stay.

Whatever her abilities in wolf form, Hole's human form was

just as susceptible to cold as a true human. She wanted to get out

of the cold weather just as much as Lawrence did.

Lawrence had an idea.

"Ah, but the trade guilds will have made arrangements to put

their members up for the great market, so I'll inquire with them,"

he said.

Contacting the trade guild would mean enduring endless questioning

about Holo, so Lawrence would have preferred to avoid

asking any favors from them, but it didn't seem like that would be

possible.

"Oh, you are associated with a trade guild — might I ask which

guild?" inquired the merchant.

"The Rowen Trade Guild out of Kumersun."

The young merchants face brightened instantly. "What a wonderful

coincidence! I, too, am a member of the Rowen Guild."

15

"Ah, surely God has ordained this... Ah, I suppose such talk is

taboo here."

"Ha-ha, do not worry. I, too, am a Church follower from the

south."

The young merchant smiled, then gave a small, polite cough.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Fermi Amati, a fish dealer

out of Kumersun. I go by Amati in business."

"I'm Kraft Lawrence, a traveling merchant — likewise, I go by

Lawrence."

They each sat on their respective wagons, but were nonetheless

close enough to shake hands.

Lawrence would now have to introduce Holo.

"This is Holo, my traveling companion. Circumstances have led

to her accompanying me, though she is not my wife," said Lawrence

with a smile. Holo inclined her head in Amati's direction,

looking at him with a small smile.

Holo was quite something when she deigned to be polite.

A flustered Amati reintroduced himself, his cheeks flushed. "Is

Miss Holo...a nun?"

"She is a nun on a pilgrimage or something like it, yes."

It wasn't only men whose hearts were stirred into piety; women

also regularly went on pilgrimage.

Such women generally introduced themselves as nuns, rather

than giving their true identity as townswomen on pilgrimage,

since this tended to avoid various troubles.

However, as entering Kumersun dressed in clothes that were

instantly recognizable as Church garb presented problems, the

custom was to attach three feathers somewhere on the clothing.

Hole's cloak indeed had three magnificent, brown chicken feathers

pinned to it.

Despite his youth, Amati understood all of this instantly, hailing

from the south as he did.

16

He did not inquire further, reasoning that the young woman

probably had a good reason to be traveling with a merchant in

such a fashion.

"In any case, the troubles we encounter on our journeys are

naught but tests from the heavens. I say this because while I may

be able to arrange for a single room, two rooms may unfortunately

be difficult," said Amati.

Lawrence seemed taken aback at Amati's statement. Amati

smiled and continued, "Surely it is by Gods grace that we are of

the same trade guild. If I inquire at an inn I've sold fish to, I'm

sure I can arrange for a single room. Trying to arrange for a room

through the guild will surely lead to all sorts of troublesome questions

about your female companion from the old-timers."

"You're quite right, but I don't think we can impose upon you so."

"I'm a businessman, so naturally this is a business proposal. I

hope that you will enjoy lots of delicious fish while staying at

the inn."

Despite his youth, this Amati with his three wagonloads of fresh

fish was clearly a man to be reckoned with.

This was the very image of a shrewd operator.

"You're quite a trader. We'll be happy to take you up on your

offer," said Lawrence, half-jealous and half-grateful.

"Understood. Please leave the arrangements to me."

Amati smiled, and for just a moment, his gaze flicked away

from Lawrence.

Lawrence pretended not to notice, but Amati had clearly looked

at Holo.

It was possible he had been generous not only out of a shrewd

business sense, but also from a desire to show his best side to Holo.

For a moment, Lawrence indulged himself in a sense of superiority,

as he was the one traveling with Holo, but such silly thoughts

would surely bring her ridicule upon him.

17

He banished the notion from his mind and gave his attention to

the task of improving his relationship with the successful young

fish merchant before him.

It was only as the sun began to set that they arrived, finally, in

Kumersun.

The dinner table was arranged around a bowl of soup made with

slices of carp and root vegetables, around which were situated a

variety of shellfish dishes.

Amati the fish merchants presence surely influenced the cuisine,

which was quite different from the meat-based meals of the

south. It was the steamed snails that stood out the most.

Sea snails were thought to aid longevity, whereas freshwater

snails brought only stomach cramps, so they were avoided in the

south, where only bivalve shellfish were eaten. The Church even

forbade eating snails, claiming that evil spirits inhabited them.

However, that was more practical advice than it was the teachings

of God as laid out in scripture. Lawrence himself had long

ago become lost, and having arrived at a river, he resorted to eating

snails. The memory of the excruciating stomach pain they

caused him had made him avoid eating them ever since.

Fortunately the meals were not served in individual portions,

and Holo seemed to enjoy the snails greatly.

Lawrence left all the food he couldn't stomach to Holo.

"Hmm. So this is what shellfish tastes like, eh?" said Holo,

impressed, as she ate snail after snail, pried free from their shells

with a knife Lawrence lent her. For Lawrence's part, he was digging

into a salt-broiled river barracuda.

"Don't eat too much, or you'll get a stomachache."

"Mm?"

"Evil spirits live in those river snails. Eat them carelessly, and

you'll regret it."

19

Holo took a quick look at the snail she had just extracted from

its shell, then cocked her head, and popped it into her mouth.

"Just who do you think I am? It's not just the quality of wheat I

can judge."

"Didn't you say something about eating spicy peppers and

regretting it?"

Holo seemed to take offense at the reminder.

"Even I can't determine taste purely from appearance. They

were bright red, I'll have you know—like a perfectly ripened

fruit," said Holo as she extracted yet another snail. Occasionally

she would pause to put her cup to her lips and take a drink, closing

her eyes as she did so.

Since the region fell outside the Church's baleful eye, distilled

liquor — which the Church felt was dangerous — was freely sold

and drunk here.

Holo's cup was filled with a nearly transparent liquor known as

burnwine.

"Shall I order you something sweeter?"

Holo shook her head wordlessly, but with her eyes so tightly

shut, Lawrence was sure that if he peeked under her robe, he

would find her tail fluffed out like a bottlebrush.

At length, she drained the cup, and exhaling deeply, she wiped

the corners of her eyes with her sleeve.

Given what she drank (which was also known as "soul-shaking

liquor"), it was good that Holo was no longer dressed as a nun.

With her head covered by a triangular kerchief, she looked every

inch a normal town lass.

Holo had changed clothes before dinner and come to give her

regards to Amati once again. Amati's face was so pathetic from

Holo's charms that not only Lawrence, but also the innkeeper had

been unable to avoid laughing.

20

As if to add to her burden of sins even more, Holo greeted

Amati with even more grace and charm than she normally used.

However, if Amati was to see Hole's ravenous eating and drinking,

no doubt he would quickly awaken from his dreams.

Holo sniffed. "'Tis a nostalgic flavor," she said, her eyes a bit

teary, either from the liquor or the memories of her homeland.

It was true that the farther north one went, the more common

such soul-shaking liquor.

"I can hardly tell any flavor at all when the liquor's been so distilled,"

said Lawrence.

Perhaps tired of snails, Holo reached for the baked and boiled

fish, answering happily as she did so.

"One forgets the sight of something after only ten years, but the

taste and the scents linger in the mind for many tens of years longer.

This liquor brings back many memories. It's not unlike the

liquor of Yoitsu, you know."

"Strong drink is common in the north. Is this all you ever

drunk?" Lawrence looked from the contents of the cup to Hole's

face.

"Sweeter liquor hardly suits a wisewolf of such noble stature,"

she answered proudly, a bit of fish clinging to the corner of her

mouth.

Of course, based on her appearance, it was sweet milk and

honey that would best suit Holo, but Lawrence chuckled and

agreed with her.

Surely the taste of the liquor had brought back memories of her

homeland.

Holo's happy smile could not be explained away simply by the

fact of their first delicious meal in some time.

Hers was the delight of a girl who had received an unexpected

gift — the first concrete evidence that they were drawing near to

Yoitsu and her home.

21

Yet Lawrence found himself looking away.

It wasn't that he was afraid of his gaze being noticed and of

receiving the teasing that would surely follow.

The fact was that he heard Yoitsu had long since been razed to

the ground; Lawrence had concealed this from Holo since the

beginning of their partnership. Keeping this secret turned Holo's

happy smile into a blinding sun too painful to look at.

He couldn't bring himself to destroy the pleasant evening

meal.

To avoid Holo noticing his turmoil, Lawrence forcibly turned

his thoughts to other things. He smiled at Holo, who reached for

the carp stew.

"I see you've taken to the stew?"

"Mm. Who would have guessed that carp, boiled, would be so

tasty? Another bowl, please."

The large bowl holding the carp stew was outside Holo's reach,

so Lawrence retrieved it for her, but each time he did so, more

onions appeared on his wooden plate. It seemed that even boiled,

Holo couldn't stand onions.

"Where'd you manage to eat carp? There aren't many places that

serve it."

"Hm? I got it from the river. They're sluggish creatures, easy to

snare."

Lawrence understood — she'd gone fishing in her wolf form.

"I've never had raw carp. Is it good?" he asked.

"The scales get stuck twixt my teeth, and there are too many

bones. I'd seen fish swallow the smaller ones whole and so imagined

them to be delicious, but in the end, they did not suit me."

Lawrence imagined Holo's huge form as she wolfed down a

large carp headfirst.

Carp were renowned for their long life and were both revered

22

as holy and reviled as tools of the devil by the Church. For that

reason, the eating of carp was confined to the north.

To be fair, it seemed mildly ridiculous to hold the carp, with its

moderate longevity, in such esteem when there were wolves like

Holo wandering about.

"Human cooking is indeed good, but it's not just that — the fish

was chosen very well. That Amati lad has quite an eye."

"For his age, yes. And that was quite a load he was moving."

"And on the other hand, there's you. What was it you're hauling,

again?" Holo's eyes were suddenly cold.

"Hm? Nails. Like this table... Oh, I guess it doesn't use them."

"I know what nails are. I'm saying you should've gone for something

a bit more impressive. Or are you still reeling from your

failure in Ruvinheigen?"

Lawrence felt rather aggrieved by this, but it was the truth, and

so he could say nothing.

He had become overenthusiastic and bought armor on margin

that amounted to roughly twice his personal net worth, and as a

result, he had faced bankruptcy and lifelong slavery. In addition,

he had caused Holo significant trouble and humiliation.

Having been humbled, Lawrence chose to buy simple nails on

his way out of Ruvinheigen, to the tune of about four hundred

silver trenni. It was a conservative purchase that left him with

quite a bit of cash on hand.

"It may not be the grandest load, but it should turn a fair

profit. And it's not as though there's nothing attractive in my

wagon."

Holo cocked her head at Lawrence, holding a river barracuda

in her mouth as though she were an alley cat.

Lawrence had come up with a nice bon mot.

He coughed slightly. "I mean, you're riding in it as well, after all."

23

It was a bit affected, but Lawrence flattered himself to think that

it was a charming line nonetheless.

As he smiled, took a drink of his burnwine, and looked to Holo,

he saw that she had stopped moving and seemed quite at a loss.

"... Well, I suppose that's about all you're capable of," she finally

said with a sigh.

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to be a little nicer to me," said

Lawrence.

"Ah, but if you treat a male too well, he'll soon come to expect it

all the time. And then you'll hear naught but the same foolish

words over and over."

"Ugh..." Lawrence couldn't let this slight go unanswered. "Fine,

then. From now on I'll —"

"You dunce," said Holo, cutting him off. "How precious do you

think a male's kindness is?"

". ." Lawrence frowned and escaped into his drink, but Holo

was on the hunt now.

"And all I need do for your kindness is to seem downcast, nay?"

Her innocent face accused him, and Lawrence had no response.

Holo was unfair.

He looked at her, resentful, but she only smiled pleasantly.

Having finished their first proper meal in many days, Holo and

Lawrence returned to their inn, where the streets were quiet.

They had arrived in Kumersun around sunset, but the streets

had been much more congested than Lawrence anticipated.

If they hadn't encountered Amati, they certainly would have

had to prevail upon the trade guild for a room and might even

have wound up staying in a room at the guild house itself.

All around the city, wooden carvings and wheat dolls, whose

inspiration was unclear, lined the streets, with bands and jesters

flooding even the narrowest of alleyways.

24

The great market that took place in the large plaza in the south

end of the city had its hours extended, and it bustled with an

energy that befit the word festival. Even craftsmen who were normally

not allowed to sell their wares here had stalls set up along

the wide street.

Back in the inn, Lawrence opened the window to cool his body,

still flushed from the strong liquor. He could yet see some shopkeepers

tidying up their stalls, illuminated by moonlight.

The room that Amati had arranged for them was in one of the

very finest inns in the town, one that Lawrence would never have

considered staying at himself. The room was on the second floor,

overlooking the wide street that ran from north to south through

the center of the city, not far from the intersection with the street's

east-west counterpart. Just as Holo had hoped, it had two beds.

Of course, Lawrence could not help harboring a suspicion that

the two beds of the room were also due to Amati's insistence.

It mollified Lawrence to think this, but he was still grateful for

Amati's assistance, so he abandoned that train of thought and

looked out onto the street.

Everybody on the wide boulevard seemed to be staggering home.

Lawrence chuckled and looked behind him to see Holo sitting

cross-legged on the bed, pouring herself another cup of wine as if

she hadn't already had enough to drink.

"Don't come crying to me if you're hungover tomorrow. Have

you already forgotten what happened in Pazzio?"

"Mm? Oh, this is fine. Fine liquor never lingers past its welcome.

And who am I to turn down its friendship?"

Now finished pouring, she happily put the cup to her lips, then

ate a bit of dried trout left over from dinner.

Left to her own devices, Holo would most likely eat and drink

herself into a stupor, but Lawrence was still grateful for her pleasant

mood.

25

He had to broach a subject that was far from his favorite.

The reason he had altered his usual yearly route, which included

Kumersun only in the summer months, was because he was heading

for Hole's homeland.

Lawrence was not clear on precisely where Holo's home of

Yoitsu was. Although he had heard of its name, that was in a

story from ancient times, which provided no concrete sense of its

location.

He had avoided pressing her for more information thus far,

because every time the subject came up, she would smile with

nostalgia but soon sink into a depression at the realization of the

distance, both temporal and spatial, that separated her from home.

As sad as it was, that was reason enough for him to hesitate to

bring up Yoitsu.

But if Lawrence were to mention it now that they were closer,

there would be nothing to be sad about, he decided. He sat on the

desk that was placed against one wall and spoke.

"So, before you're three sheets to the wind, there's something I

want to ask you."

Holo's exposed ears immediately pricked up.

Her gaze soon followed. "What might that be?"

Evidently her keen wolf senses had already picked up that Lawrence

was not engaging in idle banter. A thin smile curled her

lips, a sure sign of her good mood.

Lawrence forced the words out of his mouth. "It's about your

home village."

Holo immediately grinned and took another sip.

This was odd; Lawrence had expected her to turn serious at the

mention of Yoitsu.

Just as he concluded that she must already be drunk, Holo swallowed

her wine and spoke.

"So you don't know where it is, eh? I was starting to wonder

26

when you were going to ask." Then looking down as if gazing at

the reflection of her smile in the wine, Holo said, "Do you really

think I go to pieces at every mention of Yoitsu? Do I seem so

weak?"

Lawrence considered mentioning the time she had cried over a

dream of her homeland, but Holo was certainly aware of this. Her

tail wagged happily.

"Not at all," said Lawrence.

"Fool. That was your chance to say 'Aye, you do!'"

Her tail flicked once, as if she had received the answer she actually

wanted.

"Still, you do worry over the strangest things. So you decided to

finally bring this up now, after seeing my mood at supper? Such a

soft touch." She giggled as she drank her wine, then continued, "I

can't say it doesn't make me happy, though its mostly your foolishness

that is so amusing. Did you plan on getting lost in the

northlands before finally asking me?"

Lawrence shrugged. "Will you tell me where Yoitsu is, so I don't

look any more foolish than I have to?"

Holo paused, taking a sip from her cup.

She gave a long sigh.

"I do not exactly remember."

She continued, as if to preempt Lawrence's imminent protest

that she had to have been joking.

"I know the direction, certainly. It is that way."

Lawrence looked in the direction she pointed, which was obviously

north.

"But I do not remember how many mountains to cross, nor

how many rivers, nor how long one most walk across the plains. I

had thought I would remember as we get closer—will that not do?"

"Can't you even give me a hint as to where it might be? The path

is not a straight one, and once we arrive in the north country,

27

maps will be hard to come by. Depending on the location, the

path could be very roundabout. Do you remember the names of

any nearby places, for example?"

Holo pondered this for a moment, a finger pressed to her temple.

"I remember Yoitsu and Nyohhira. And... hmm... What was

it...Pi—"

"Pi?"

"Pire... no, Piro... That's right! Pirohmoten."

Holo seemed quite happy to have recalled the name, but Lawrence

only cocked his head. "I haven't heard of that place. Is there

anything else?"

"Er... there were many towns, but they didn't all have names

the way towns do now. One could just point and say a town was

beyond that mountain, and that was enough. We didn't need

names."

It was true; Lawrence had been surprised by this the first time

he visited the north. He had arrived at a certain town and found

that its name was used only by travelers. Neither its residents nor

the people living nearby knew or cared about the town's name.

There were elderly people who claimed that naming a town

would bring it to the attention of evil spirits.

Undoubtedly what they really meant by "evil spirits" was the

Church.

"Well, we'll start at Nyohhira, then. I know where that is."

"That name brings back such memories. Are the hot springs

still there?"

"I've heard that nobles and bishops secretly visit the town for its

hot springs, despite the fact that it's in pagan lands. According to

rumor, it's even exempt from Church attacks because of those

same hot springs."

"Those springs don't belong to any one group, after all," said

28

Holo before coughing slightly. "If Nyohhira's our goal, then from

Nyohhira it is that way."

Holo pointed southwest — not north to Lawrence's relief.

Any farther north than Nyohhira meant lands where the snow

never melted, even in the summer.

Yet even knowing that Yoitsu was southwest of Nyohhira left

too wide a region.

"How long did it take to get from Nyohhira to Yoitsu?"

"For me, two days. For a human... I do not know."

Lawrence thought back to the time he had ridden on Hole's

back when she was in wolf form, near Ruvinheigen. She would

have no trouble traversing unimproved roads.

That left too much area to search, even starting from Nyohhira.

Searching for a town that itself might only be a tiny village would

be like looking for a needle in a desert. It was precisely because

Lawrence himself was a traveling merchant, who was used to

walking from town to town, that he understood the difficulty

involved.

There was also still the fact that Lawrence had heard Yoitsu had

been destroyed by a great bear spirit.

If that was true, finding the remains of a town that had been

destroyed centuries earlier would be truly impossible.

Lawrence was not a nobleman with the luxury of passing his

days in idleness. He could only stray from his original trade route

for six months at the outside. His mistake in Ruvinheigen had set

him still further back from his goal of opening a shop, and he did

not have anything like a surplus of free time.

He was thinking all this over when something finally occurred

to him.

"Could you not find it yourself from Nyohhira? You know the

general direction, right?"

29

If it was just two days from Nyohhira, then just as Holo said, she

would most likely be able to remember the details as she got closer.

The words had simply fallen from his mouth without any particular

ill intent, but no sooner had Lawrence spoken than he

realized his mistake.

Holo looked at him, stunned.

Surprise also registered on Lawrences face as Holo looked away.

"Y-yes... if I got as far as Nyohhira, I could certainly find my

way to Yoitsu."

Holo forced a smile. Lawrence wondered what was wrong, then

voiced a sudden "Ah —" as the realization dawned.

In the port town of Pazzio, Holo had said that loneliness was a

deathly illness.

Holo feared loneliness above all else. Even if he didn't mean

anything by it, she was likely to take his suggestion hard, and she

had been drinking.

She probably took his suggestion to mean that he had grown

weary of searching for her homeland.

"Hey, now, wait just a minute. Don't take it the wrong way.

There's no reason I couldn't wait in Nyohhira while you searched

for a couple of days."

"Yes. That would be enough. You'll guide me as far as Nyohhira,

won't you? I had hoped to see a few more towns."

The conversation moved so smoothly it was almost a letdown,

and Lawrence had to attribute this to Holo's agile mind.

Despite her apparent agreeability, a disconnect lay beneath it.

Holo had been away from her homeland for centuries. Just as in

the legend Lawrence had heard, she had to have considered the

possibility that Yoitsu no longer existed, and even if it did, the

countless months and years would have wrought great changes.

She must have been filled with uncertainty.

No doubt she was afraid of going to her homeland alone.

30

That uncertainty was disguised by Hole's innocent, happy smile

when she claimed the liquor reminded her of Yoitsu.

A few moments' thought made this clear, and Lawrence regretted

his rash suggestion.

"Listen, I have every intention of helping you as much as I can.

What I said before —"

"Didn't I ask before how precious a male's kindness was? I can't

have you being too kind."

Holo's forced smile mixed with her troubled expression as she

set her cup down on the bed and continued, "I'm in the wrong. I

can't help thinking of things from my own perspective. But you

humans, you become old in what seems like the blink of an eye to

me. I always forget how precious a single year is for someone with

such a brief life span."

The moonlight streamed in through the room's large window,

illuminating Holo. She seemed almost unreal to Lawrence in that

moment; he hesitated to approach her for fear that she would

disappear.

Holo looked up after staring into the contents of her cup, still

with that same troubled smile.

"You really are too softhearted. What am I to do with you when

you look at me so?"

What was the right thing to say? Lawrence could not find the

words he wanted.

A rift had undeniably formed between the two of them.

Yet the words to heal it would not come. A convenient lie would

be useless as Holo would see through it instantly.

Holo's words had made it hard for Lawrence to say anything at

all. He couldn't very well tell her he would see her through to

Yoitsu no matter how many years it took. Merchants were too

practical by far for such grandiosity. The many centuries of Holo's

life were too distant.

31

"I am the one who lost sight of the obvious. I have gotten too

comfortable by your side. I presumed... too much," said Holo

with a self-conscious smile, her ears twitching with her embarrassment.

She spoke like a maiden from somewhere near the bottom

of her heart.

But such honesty did not bring Lawrence any pleasure.

It was as though Holo was saying good-bye.

"Heh, I seem to be a bit drunk. I'd better sleep, or who knows

what I'll wind up saying."

Holo was never reticent at the best of times, but the way she

talked made it seem like she was simply putting on a brave face.

In the end, Lawrence was unable to say anything to her.

All he could do was take note of the fact that she had not yet

simply packed up and left. It seemed simultaneously unthinkable

and entirely likely that she would do such a thing.

Lawrence wanted to scream at himself for being so powerless to

help her.

The night silently deepened.

The cries of drunken revelers could be heard from beyond the

window.

32

HAFTER WO

'

No matter how plagued with worry merchants may be, it is said

that they always manage to sleep well.

So it was that despite Lawrences concern that Holo might

depart on her own during the night, Lawrence slept soundly and

awoke to birdsong coming in through the window.

He didn't do anything so flagrant as jumping frantically out of

bed, but Lawrence did glance at the bed next to his and sighed in

relief when he saw that Holo was still there.

He got out of bed to look outside the window. It was quite cold

within the room, but the early-morning air outside was still

colder; his breath turned smoke white in it.

Yet the cold air was perfectly clear — a morning made of crystal.

There were already people on the street that the inn faced.

Looking down at the town merchants, who rose still earlier than

the notoriously early-rising traveling merchants, Lawrence

arranged the day's plans in his mind, finally saying "all right" to

himself when they were in order.

Though it would not exactly compensate for the previous

nights blunder, Lawrence wanted to be able to fully enjoy the

festival — which started the next day—with Holo, and that meant

concluding his business today.

The first order of business would be selling the merchandise

he'd gotten in Ruvinheigen, he thought to himself as he turned

around to look back at the room.

Still a bit heavyhearted from the previous evening, Lawrence

walked over to his companion, who slumbered away as usual,

intending to wake her—when he stopped and furrowed his brows.

It wasn't unusual for Holo to sleep as late as she pleased, but

something else was amiss.

Her usual guileless snoring was entirely absent.

Lawrence wondered if the silence was what he thought it was,

reaching out to her. She seemed to sense it; the blanket stirred

minutely.

He lifted the covers up gently.

What he saw made him sigh.

Holo's face beneath the covers was more pathetic than any

abandoned kitten.

"Hungover again, eh?"

Her ears twitched slightly; perhaps it hurt too much to move

her head.

He thought about teasing Holo about it but remembered the

previous night and thought better of it. And in any case, she

would be in no mood to listen.

"I'll bring a cup of water and a bucket just in case. You just be

good and rest."

He put extra emphasis on the "be good" part, which her ears

twitched at yet again.

Lawrence didn't think she would behave just because he told

her to, but she was unlikely to go wandering off in her current

state. Given the impossibility of her packing up and striking off

on her own, he let himself relax a bit.

36

He knew Holo was fully capable of faking a hangover, but her

face had been so pale he doubted this one was fake.

Turning the thoughts over in his head, he finished his preparations

for going out without saying another word and then came

back to her bedside — she was evidently incapable of so much as

turning herself over.

"The festival doesn't get going until tomorrow, so you needn't

rush yourself."

Relief showed instantly on Hole's exhausted, alcohol-ravaged

face; Lawrence had to laugh.

It seemed that even suffering a hangover was less important to

Holo than attending the festival.

"Ill be back in the afternoon."

Hole's ears were still; this statement did not interest her.

Lawrence gave a strained smile, at which point the corners of

Hole's mouth curled ever so slowly into a grin.

She seemed to be doing it on purpose.

Lawrence slumped over and drew the covers back over Holo.

She was undoubtedly still grinning away under there.

Still, he was genuinely relieved that she seemed not to hold a

grudge from the previous night.

As he left the room, Lawrence took one more look back at Holo.

Her tail stuck out from underneath the blanket, and it flicked

twice, as if waving good-bye.

Thinking he would buy her something tasty, he closed the door

behind him.

Trying to do business before the ring of the bell that opens a market

is not generally smiled upon in any town — and this is even

truer when one is smack-dab in the middle of the marketplace.

However, depending on the time and circumstances, this rule

can be bent.

37

In Kumersun it was even half-encouraged to mitigate the congestion

that came with the opening of the market during the

festival.

So despite the early hour, with the sun just beginning to rise

above the buildings, the marketplace — which took up half of

Kumersun's southern plaza — was already busy with merchants.

Here and there were stacks of crates and piles of burlap sacks,

and pigs, chickens, and all manner of livestock stood tied up or

caged in the cramped spaces between goods and the stalls. As

Kumersun was the largest exporter of fish in the landlocked

region, it was easy to spot fish swimming in huge barrels of freshwater,

not unlike the ones Amati had been hauling the previous

day.

Just as Holo was unable to hide her excitement when faced with

a line of eateries, Lawrence's pulse could not help but quicken

when he saw the vast array of goods in the marketplace.

How much profit could one make transporting this good to

that town? This other commodity was so plentiful that there must

be a surplus of it in that location — would the price be lower?

Such thoughts chased each other through Lawrence's mind.

When he was just starting out as a merchant, Lawrence had no

sense of what was a favorable price for a good, so he wandered

about aimlessly without knowing what to do — but now he could

discern all kinds of things.

Once a merchant fully grasped this intricate web of commodities,

he became like an alchemist, transmuting lead into gold.

Lawrence felt giddy at the power this notion afforded him until

he remembered his failure in Ruvinheigen, which he chuckled at,

chagrined.

Turning one's eyes to avarice made it all the more easy to stumble,

after all.

He took a breath to calm himself, grasping the reins and head-

38

ing into the center of the marketplace. The stall he finally arrived

at was already well into its business day, like all the others. The

shop's owner was just a year removed from Lawrence and had

also started out as a traveling merchant. The fact that he had

become a proper wheat merchant — complete with stall, which

despite its small size even had a proper roof—was generally

attributed to the mans good fortune. He had even adopted the

squarish facial hair style that was common in the region.

Said wheat merchant — Mark Cole — was momentarily surprised

upon seeing Lawrence, but he immediately composed

himself and raised a hand in greeting, smiling.

The other merchant that Mark dealt with turned to regard Lawrence

as well, nodding in greeting. One never knew when he

might encounter someone who could become a business partner,

so Lawrence flashed his best merchants smile and gestured at

them to by all means please continue their conversation.

"Le, spandi amirto. Vanderji."

"Ha-ha. Pireji. Bao!"

Evidently their exchange was just ending; the man spoke to

Mark in a language Lawrence didn't understand and then took his

leave. Naturally, Lawrence did not forget to give the man another

professional smile as he left.

He committed the man's face to memory in case they were to

meet again in some other town.

These were the tiny interactions that accumulated over time,

eventually turning into profit.

The merchant — who was probably from somewhere in the

northlands — disappeared into the crowds, and Lawrence finally

descended from his wagon.

"I guess I interrupted your business."

"Hardly! He was just talking my ear off about how grateful

he was to the god of Pitra Mountain. You saved me," said Mark,

39

rolling up a sheet of parchment as he sat atop a wooden chest. He

smiled at the tedium of the man's conversation.

Mark, like Lawrence, was a member of the Rowen Trade Guild.

Their acquaintance was the result of showing up every year in the

same marketplace to trade, and the two had known each other

since the very beginning of their respective careers. They could

easily skip the usual formalities.

"If I'd known better, I wouldn't have bothered learning their

language. They're not bad men, but once they figure out you can

understand them, you'll never hear the end of how great their

god is."

"Might be that a local deity's still better than a god who never

leaves the shrine except when they spy a flash of gold, eh?" Lawrence

said.

Mark laughed, tapping his own head with the now rolled-up

parchment. "You're not lying! And they say harvest gods are all

beautiful women."

Hole's face appeared in Lawrence's mind. He nodded and

grinned but of course did not say what sprang to mind: But they

have terrible personalities.

"Anyway, enough of such talk. I'll be scolded by the missus for

sure. Shall we talk of trade? I presume that's why you're here."

Mark's expression shifted from friendly banter to business.

Though there was no need for formalities between the two, their

relationship was a calculated one. Lawrence readied himself for

the exchange and spoke.

"I've brought nails from Ruvinheigen. Thought you might want

to buy them up."

"Nails, eh? I'm a wheat seller. Did you hear somewhere that we

now nail our sacks of wheat closed? I think not."

"Ah, but you'll soon have many customers laying in supplies for

the long winter. You could sell those nails just as you sell the

40

wheat. People need them to brace up their homes against the

snow."

Mark looked skyward for a moment before rolling his gaze back

to Lawrence.

"I suppose that is true... Nails, you say. How many?"

"I've one hundred twenty nails of three pate in length, two hundred

in four pate, and two hundred in five pate, along with a statement

of quality from the Ruvinheigen blacksmiths' guild.".

Mark scratched his cheek with one end of the rolled-up parchment

and sighed. This feigned reluctance was a common merchant

trait.

"I'll take the lot for ten and a half lumione."

"What's the lumione trading at now? Against trenni silver."

"Thirty-four even when yesterdays market closed. So that'd

be... three hundred fifty-seven trenni."

"Too low by far, sir," said Lawrence.

The amount wasn't even as much as Lawrence had spent to buy

the nails. Mark's brow furrowed at Lawrence's quick answer.

"Have you heard about the crash in armor prices?" Mark asked.

"With no military expeditions into the north this year, people are

unloading armor and swords left and right, which means there's a

glut of raw iron. Even nails are cheaper now—even ten lumione

is a generous price."

It was the response he had expected, so Lawrence calmed himself

and replied.

"Aye, but that's in the south. When there's so much iron to be

melted down, the price of fuel will rise enough to make it impractical.

If you can buy enough firewood to melt iron this time of the

year in Ploania, I'd sure like to see it. Anybody that tries it is likely

to have their head split with a kindling ax."

Once winter came to regions with a lot of snow, the supply

of firewood stagnated. The iron forges, with their bottomless

41

appetite for fuel, were abandoned during the winter. If some

blacksmith did decide to forge in the winter, the price of firewood

would immediately skyrocket, and he would soon find himself

showered in the curses of the shivering townspeople. Thus, even

if the raw material for nails was suddenly abundant in the region,

the original price of those nails should hold steady.

Any merchant with a bit of experience would be able to put this

much together.

Unsurprisingly, Mark grinned. "Come now, must you be selling

nails to a poor wheat merchant? If it's grain, then sure, I know

how to buy it cheap, but nails are far from my specialty."

"Sixteen lumione, then."

"Too dear. Thirteen."

"Fifteen."

"Fourteen and two-thirds." Marks medium frame stiffened,

leaving him loglike.

Lawrence could tell he would get no further in his negotiations.

Pushing it would only damage the business relationship. Lawrence

nodded and extended his right hand. "It's done, then."

"Well met, guild brother!" said Mark with a smile, shaking

Lawrence's hand.

The price was undoubtedly quite a compromise on Mark's end,

as well.

As a wheat merchant, Mark was not, strictly speaking, even

allowed to buy or sell nails. Which merchant could sell what good

was decided by the respective guilds, so to stock a new item, a

merchant had to either obtain the permission of the other merchants

already selling that item or cut them in on the profits.

At a glance, this rule would seem to obstruct free trade, but if it

was absent, giant companies with huge amounts of capital would

soon swallow the entire marketplace. The rule was designed to

prevent that from happening.

42

"Would you prefer to settle up in coin or credit?" asked Mark.

"Credit, if you please."

"Thank goodness. There are so many cash deals this time of

year it's hard to keep up."

While traders had no trouble keeping track of their deals in

their ledger books, plenty of people bringing goods into the villages

and towns would want coin and only coin.

But currency shortages were serious problems in any town.

Even if a merchant had assets to buy a particular good, without

the currency to make the payment, there could be no commerce

at all. And an illiterate farmer wouldn't even blow his nose on a

promissory note.

In the wilderness, it was the knight with his sword who was

strongest, but in the cities, coin equaled power. This was why the

Church had grown so wealthy. Collecting tithes week after week,

it could not help but become powerful.

"So since I'm taking credit, I've got a favor to ask of you," said

Lawrence as Mark approached to unload the sack of nails from

the wagon bed. The wheat merchant's face grew instantly wary.

"It's nothing terribly important. I've got to head north to take

care of something, and I wondered if you'd ask after the conditions

of the roads and passes up that way. Your customer before

me, he was from the north, no?"

Seeing that Lawrence's question had nothing to do with business,

Mark visibly relaxed.

His shift in expression was obviously intentional, Lawrence

noted with chagrin. It was probably Mark's way of getting back at

Lawrence a bit for selling the nails so dear.

"Aye, that's easy enough," said Mark. "Though it would've been

easier for you to come in the summertime as you normally do.

Must be something pretty big to get you heading up north in

midwinter."

43

"Well, you know, this and that. I will say it's nothing to do with

business, though."

"Ha-ha-ha. Even the ever-traveling merchant can't free himself

from life's little obligations, eh? So where are you headed?"

"A place called Yoitsu. Heard of it?"

Mark leaned on the cart as he raised a single eyebrow. "Can't say

I have. But who knows how many little towns and villages I've

never heard of. You want me to find someone who knows it,

then?"

"Well, in any case, we're heading for Nyohhira, so you can ask

about Yoitsu sort of 'by the way'; that'll be fine."

"Right, then. So if you're bound for Nyohhira you'll be crossing

the Dolan Plains."

"You know the way, then? That makes it easier for me."

The wheat merchant nodded and thumped his chest, as if to say

"leave it to me." Mark would surely be able to collect the information

Lawrence needed.

This was exactly why Lawrence had come to Mark in the first

place, but if he had interrupted the wheat merchant during this

most busy of seasons simply to gather information without bringing

some business along as well, it would have weighed on his

conscience — and Mark would've been none too pleased.

That is why he brought the nails to sell. Lawrence was well

aware that Mark knew many of the area blacksmiths. It would be

easy for Mark to sell off the nails to any of them for a tidy profit.

Mark would even be able to ask for a portion of the payment for

those nails in cash. As a wheat merchant — for whom the last

chance to save up money was rapidly approaching — the chance

to get a bit of hard coin into his hands would probably make him

happier than any meager profit.

And as Lawrence had expected, Mark readily agreed. That took

care of the need to gather information on the upcoming travel.

44

"Oh, yes. There was another thing I wanted to ask you about.

Don't worry, this will be quick," said Lawrence.

"Do I look that stingy?"

Lawrence met Mark's chagrined smile. "Does this town have

any chroniclers?"

"Chroniclers... ? Oh, you mean the people who write those

endless diaries of town events?"

Chroniclers were paid a retainer by nobles or Church officials

and kept histories of a given area or town.

Lawrence couldn't help but laugh at hearing Mark dismiss their

work as "endless diaries."

It wasn't entirely accurate, but nor was it far from the truth,

which made it all the funnier.

"I don't think they'd like you putting it that way, but yes," Lawrence

said.

"Bah, it just bothers me that all they need do to earn coin is sit

in a chair all day and write."

"That's a little hard to take from someone who got so lucky in a

deal he was able to open a shop in a town."

The story of Mark's good fortune was a famous one.

Lawrence laughed again, this time at Mark's momentarily

stunned expression.

"So, are there any chroniclers or nay?"

"Ah... yes, I think there are. But I wouldn't get mixed up with

them were I you," said Mark, taking hold of the bag of nails in

Lawrence's wagon. "Rumor has it one was accused of heresy by a

monastery somewhere and had to flee. The town's filled with people

like that who had to run."

The townspeople of Kumersun were less concerned with the

animosity between pagans and the Church than they were with

economic prosperity, so the town had naturally become a refuge

for a variety of naturalists, philosophers, and other such heretics.

45

"I just have some things I want to ask after," said Lawrence.

"Chroniclers collect local legends and such, yes? I've an interest in

such matters."

"Now, why would you care about that? Do you need conversation

starters for when you travel north?"

"Something like that. I know it's sudden, but do you think you

might introduce me to one?"

Mark turned his head slightly and called out toward his stand,

with the bag of nails still in one hand.

A boy emerged from behind a mountain of wheat sacks.

Evidently Mark had reached a point where he could have an

apprentice.

"I do know one. Better if it's someone from Rowen, right?" said

Mark, handing bag after bag of nails to his young apprentice.

Seeing this, Lawrence was filled with a renewed sense of urgency

to get to Yoitsu and return to his normal business routine as

quickly as he could.

Yet it would be trouble if Holo discerned that fact — and for his

part, it was not as though Lawrence wished to be rid of her.

He found it impossible to reconcile his two feelings on the issue.

If he lived as long as Holo did, taking a year or two off from

business would hardly be an issue.

But Lawrence's life was too short for that.

"What's the matter?"

"Hm? Oh... nothing. Yes, if there's a chronicler in the trade

guild, that would be convenient. Can I ask you to introduce me?"

"I can certainly do that much, yes. I'll even do it for free."

Lawrence couldn't help but smile at the effort Mark put into

saying "free."

"Is sooner better?" asked Mark.

"If possible, yes."

"I'll send the boy out, then. There's a fearless old peddler named

46

Gi Bates there, and if I'm remembering right, he's close with a

pagan hermit who's done chronicle work. Old Batos takes the

week before and after the festival off, so if you go by the guild

house around midday, you should find him drinking the day

away."

Even within a single guild, such as Rowen Trade Guild, traveling

merchants like Lawrence might not know many others within

it — like Amati whose business was unrelated to Lawrence's own.

Lawrence repeated Gi Batos's name to himself, carving it into

his memory.

"Understood. I'm in your debt."

"Ha-ha. If that's all it takes to be in my debt, I'd hate to think

what comes next. Enough of that talk—you'll be in town until

the festival ends, yes? Stop by for a drink, won't you?"

"I suppose I should let you brag of your success at least once. I'll

be by."

Mark raised his voice in a laugh and then sighed as he handed

the last bag of nails to his apprentice. "Even a town merchant

endures endless troubles and worries, though. Sometimes I wish

I could go back to traveling."

Lawrence could only smile in vague agreement as he was still

toiling day in and day out to achieve what Mark already had.

Mark seemed to realize this. "Uh, forget I said that," he said, smiling

apologetically.

"All we can do is keep our noses to the grindstone. It's the same

for all merchants."

"True enough. Good fortune to the both of us, then!"

Lawrence shook hands with Mark, and after seeing another

customer come to call on the wheat merchant, he put the stall

behind him.

He slowly maneuvered his wagon into the crowd and then

looked back at Mark's stand.

47

There stood Mark, who seemed to have forgotten about Lawrence

entirely and was now embroiled in negotiations with his

next customer. Lawrence was frankly envious.

But even Mark the successful town merchant said he sometimes

wished to return to traveling.

Lawrence remembered a story. Long ago, there was a king

who planned to alleviate the poverty in his own kingdom by

invading the prosperous nation next to his own, but a court poet

had said this: "One always sees the wretched parts of one's own

land and the best parts of one's neighbor s."

Lawrence thought on the story.

He had been focusing on the troubles involved in finding Holo's

homeland or the setbacks he'd suffered in Ruvinheigen, but the

fact was he had been able to travel with a companion of rare quality.

If Lawrence had never encountered Holo, he would have continued

along his usual trade route, enduring the endless loneliness

that came with it.

It had once been so bad that he started to seriously fantasize

about what it would be like if his horse became human. As he

pondered this, Lawrence realized that one of his dreams had

already come true.

There was a good chance that eventually he would be traveling

alone again, and when that time came, Lawrence knew he would

look back on this time with Holo with no shortage of fondness.

Lawrence gripped the reins once again.

Once he finished making the rounds through the trade guilds

and merchant firms, he would make sure to buy a truly delicious

lunch for Holo.

Kumersun lacked a church, so it was a bell tower atop the highest

roof of the tallest noble house in town that grandly rang the noontime

bell each day. The bell, of course, was decorated with carv-

48

ings of the finest sort, and the roof, visible throughout the entire

town, was maintained by the finest artisans that could be had.

It was said that the roof— constructed solely because of the

vanity of the nobility it housed — had cost fully three hundred

lumione, but the people of the town bore the nobles no ill will,

reasoning that it was doing such things that made one nobility.

Perhaps the reason most wealthy merchants, who hoarded their

money in great vaults, were so richly resented was because they

lacked that playful sense of extravagance. Even the most famously

violent of knights would be beloved if he spent freely enough.

Lawrence thought on this as he opened the door to his

room — and was struck face on by the sharp tang of liquor.

"So it smelled this bad, did it..."

Lawrence suddenly regretted not rinsing his mouth before venturing

out, but the greater part of the smell was surely the fault of

the wolf that even now slept before him.

Holo showed no signs of stirring even when Lawrence entered

the room, but her artless snoring suggested that she had mostly

recovered from her hangover.

The stink of liquor was too much for Lawrence, so he opened

the window before approaching the bed. The water glass next to it

was empty as was — fortunately—the bucket. Her face, sticking

out of the bedclothes, looked haler than it had before. Lawrence

had bought real wheat bread, which he rarely indulged in, instead

of honeyed crackers; this had been the right choice, he felt.

He was quite sure that the first words out of Hole's mouth upon

awaking would be "I'm hungry."

Lawrence held the bag of bread up to Hole's nose, which

twitched slightly. Unlike the tough, bitter oat and rye bread they

often wound up eating, the scent of the soft, tender wheat bread

was wholly enticing.

Hole's sniffing at the bag was enough to make Lawrence doubt

49

whether she was actually asleep. At length, she made a small, artless

mmph sound and then buried her face within the covers.

Lawrence looked down at the foot of the bed, where he saw

Hole's tail sticking out of the covers, trembling slightly.

She seemed to be in mid yawn there beneath the bedclothes.

Lawrence waited a spell, and sure enough, Holo's bleary-eyed

face eventually emerged from underneath the covers.

"Mmph... Something smells amazing..."

"Feeling better?"

Holo rubbed her eyes, yawned again, and spoke as if to herself.

"I'm hungry."

Despite his best efforts not to, Lawrence burst out laughing.

Not seeming particularly interested, Holo slowly hauled herself

up and yawned a third time. She then sniffed the air and turned

her gluttonous gaze to the bag Lawrence held.

"I figured you'd say that. I splurged and got some wheat bread."

As soon as Lawrence handed over the bag, the proud wisewolf

became like a cat presented with a treat.

"Will you not eat some?"

Holo sat there on the bed, clutching the bag and devouring the

pure white bread, looking anything but willing to share.

Even as she posed the question to him, her mien was now closer to

that of a hunting dog who had no intention of letting its prey escape.

It was probably at the limits of Holo's generosity to even venture

to ask him before she finished the entire bag.

"No, I'm fine. I had a taste earlier."

Normally she would have regarded him with some suspicion,

but Holo — true to her ability to see right through a lie — seemed

to accept this as the truth. Visibly relieved, she returned to her

assault on the bread.

"Careful, you'll choke."

50

Lawrence remembered when shortly after he and Holo first

met, she nearly choked on some potatoes at the small church they

had passed the night in. She shot him a glare, which he chuckled

at. He pulled a chair out from the desk and sat.

Upon the desk were several wax-sealed envelopes. After making

the rounds among the various trading firms, Lawrence had

received several letters addressed to him.

Despite their itinerant lifestyle, traveling merchants had many

opportunities to send and receive letters as their seasonal stops

were very predictable.

Some offered to buy a certain good at a high price if they happened

to be passing through a given town that was selling it; others

told of a good's price in their towns and asked how it was

doing elsewhere — the correspondence was diverse.

Yet it was strange, Lawrence felt. He generally came through

Kumersun in the summertime, so it was out of the ordinary for

letters to be reaching him here now on the very threshold of winter.

In the worst case, the letters would have wound up languishing

in the files of the trading companies for more than half a year.

If the letters had not found Lawrence in Kumersun within two

weeks, they were to be sent south. It went without saying that

such arrangements cost a pretty penny.

It was clear that the letters were urgent.

The senders were all town merchants situated in northern

Ploania.

Lawrence carefully removed the wax seals with a knife when he

sensed Holo peering intently at him.

"They're letters."

"Mm," came Hole's short reply as she sat herself on the desk,

bread in hand.

Lawrence didn't mind if she saw the envelope's contents, so after

breaking the seal, he took the letter out right there on the spot.

52

"Dear Mr. Lawrence..."

The fact that the letter did not begin with "In the name of our

Lord" was very much in keeping with a northerner's style.

Lawrence skimmed the pleasantries and moved his gaze down

the page.

Following the messy, hurriedly composed handwriting, he

quickly discerned the letter's import.

It was indeed critical information for a merchant to have.

He read the second letter, confirming that its contents were the

same as the first, and then sighed, smiling slightly.

"What do they say?" Holo asked.

"Care to take a guess?"

Perhaps irritated at having her question answered with another

question, Holo frowned and rolled her eyes. "They hardly seem

like love letters."

Even a love of a hundred years would find its ardor cooled by

such messy handwriting, Lawrence thought.

He handed the letters to Holo and grinned. "You always get

important information after you most need it."

"Hmph."

"These letters were sent out of sincere concern, so I owe them

some gratitude at least. What think you?"

Holo licked her fingers, either out of contentment or because

she had simply eaten all there was to eat, and looked at the letters

she held in the other hand.

She then shoved them back at Lawrence, a sour expression on

her face.

"I cannot read."

"Oh...you can't?"

Lawrence took the letters, and Holo narrowed her eyes at him.

"If you're feigning ignorance, I must say you're getting better at it."

"No, no, sorry. I really had no idea."

53

Holo regarded him for a moment as if to ascertain the truth of

his words, and then she turned away with a sigh.

"First of all," she said, "there are too many letters to remember

and too many baffling combinations. You might say all one needs

to do is write as one would speak, but that is clearly a lie."

It seemed Holo had once tried to learn to read.

"You mean the consonant notation and such?"

"I've no idea what you call them, but the rules are too complex

by far. If there's one way in which you humans exceed us wolves,

it is your mastery of those inexplicable symbols."

Lawrence very nearly asked if other wolves were similarly

unable to write, but he swallowed the question at the last second,

merely nodding his agreement.

"Though it's not as if it's a simple matter for us to memorize

them, either," he said. "I had no easy time of it, and every time I

made a mistake, my teacher would strike me on the head for it. I

thought I'd have a permanent lump."

Holo regarded him dubiously. If she thought he was merely

humoring her, she would undoubtedly become angry.

"Surely you can tell I'm not lying," said Lawrence.

Holo finally turned her doubtful gaze away. "So what is it that's

written there?"

"Ah, it says that the northern campaigns have been canceled, so

be careful of buying up armor," Lawrence said, tossing the letters

aside. He grinned ruefully at Hole's blank look.

"So if you had but received that letter sooner, you wouldn't have

gotten in trouble?"

"Indeed. Such is hindsight. But the fact that these two merchants

would spend coin to deliver this message to me is worth

knowing. I can trust these two."

"Mm. And yet the difference between reading and not reading

the letters was the difference between heaven and hell."

54

"It's no joke. You've the right of it, no question. A single letter

can determine your fate. A merchant without information might

as well be heading out onto a battlefield with a blindfold."

"I don't know about your eyes, but you surely cover your shame

often enough."

Lawrence was about to put the letters back into the envelopes

when he heard this and froze, muttering an oath.

"Hmph. Even teasing you does not dispel my drowsiness." Holo

yawned and hopped off the desk, walking over to the bed. Lawrence

watched her bitterly. She turned to him.

"Oh, yes—we can go to the festival now, yes?" she asked as she

picked up the robe that had been discarded on the bed, her eyes twinkling

so brightly they were nearly audible. Seeing her thus, Lawrence

wanted to take her out, but he had other business to attend to first.

"Sorry, not ye —"

Lawrence was cut off midsentence. Holo clutched her robe

tightly, seemingly on the verge of tears.

"Even if you're joking, please — stop that, I beg you," he said.

"Ah-hah, so you are weak against this sort of thing. I'll remember

that," said Holo, abandoning the act. Lawrence found he had

nothing to refute her with.

Having had yet another weakness exposed, he turned back to

the desk, defeated.

"Mm. But — can I not go into the town myself?"

"You'll go whether or not I give you permission."

"Hm, I suppose that's true..."

Lawrence returned the letters to their envelopes and turned to

Holo once again; she held onto her robe, looking awkward.

At first he sighed inwardly—was she really playing this game

again so soon? — but then he realized that without any money,

she would be able to do little else than stare at the stalls, which to

Holo was akin to a living death.

55

In other words, she needed marching money, but she couldn't

bring herself to ask for it.

"I don't have any small change right now, so... don't spend it all

in once place."

He stood and produced a silver irehd from the coin purse at his

waist, then walked over to Holo, and handed it to her.

The coin bore the image of the seventh ruler of Kumersun.

"It's not as valuable as a trenni piece, so you shouldn't get the

evil eye if you try to buy some bread with it. They'll make change

without a fuss."

"Mm...," replied Holo indistinctly even as she took the coin.

Lawrence instantly wondered if what she wanted was more money.

But if he betrayed this suspicion, she would really have him

cornered.

Lawrence forced himself to maintain a neutral expression.

"What's wrong?"

"Hm?0h..."

One had to be careful when she was being so meek.

Lawrence's head shifted into negotiation mode.

"I was... I was just thinking that it would be a bit of a waste to

go alone," Holo said.

And just like that, his mind spun fruitlessly.

"What business have you remaining? If you'll take me along, I'll

return the silver piece," she said.

"Oh, uh, I was — I was just meeting with someone."

"Well, I'm going to wander about anyway. If you don't want me

near, I'll keep my distance. Take me along, won't you?"

She wasn't being especially fawning or wheedling — she simply

wanted to come along, it seemed.

If she'd cocked her head and said something like "Oh, do please

take me with you!" he would have suspected her of putting on

an act.

56

But her request was entirely normal.

If it really was an act, Lawrence felt like he wouldn't mind falling

for it.

And in case it wasn't an act, Holo would surely be hurt by his

suspicion.

"I'm really sorry — can you let me go alone today? I've got to

meet with someone, and then I expect we'll be going elsewhere,

so I can be introduced to someone else. If you came along, you'd

have to wait outside nearly the whole time."

"Mm..."

"I should be able to finish up all my business today, and then

starting tomorrow, we can take our time and enjoy the festival. So

can you manage on your own for one more day?"

He talked with the same tone he would use on a girl of ten, but

Holo — standing there beside the bed —looked roughly that

vulnerable.

Lawrence understood how she felt.

It was precisely because he was not overfond of going to the

winter festival alone that he came to Kumersun only in the summer.

Once the crowds became so thick that one could not help

bumping into people, the loneliness became that much keener.

Going to a party at one of the trading firms and then returning

alone to a lonely inn was similarly desolate.

Lawrence dearly wanted to bring Holo along with him, but this

particular errand made that impossible.

He was going to be introduced to Gi Batos, thus making contact

with the town chronicler that Batos evidently knew. One of the

head masters of a trading firm Lawrence had visited also knew of

the chronicler. Lawrence had taken the opportunity to find out

more while he picked up his letters. As he suspected, the chronicler

collected not only information on Ploania, but also wrote

down pagan tales from farther north.

57

If the tales of Yoitsu were to come up, it could go badly if Holo

was there to hear them. Since Lawrence knew one such tale—

wherein Yoitsu had-been destroyed by a bear spirit — he had trouble

imagining that he would hear that Yoitsu was now prospering.

Hiding the fact forever would be difficult, but Lawrence thought

he should at least try to reveal the truth to her at a suitable time.

It was a delicate issue.

A moment of silence passed between him and Holo.

"Mm. Well, I do not wish to get in your way. I can't have you slapping

my hand away again," she said, seeming even sadder—which

was probably an act.

Nonetheless, the fact that Lawrence had slapped Holo back in

Ruvinheigen still gnawed at him. The clever wisewolf in front of

him knew this and was taking a bit of revenge for his refusal to

give in to her request.

"I'll buy you a souvenir. Just abide one more day."

"So I'm to be bought off again, am I?" she said accusingly, but

her swishing tail showed her anticipation.

"Shall I sweet-talk you instead?"

"Hmph. Your words are far from sweet; they're practically inedible.

I shall pass."

It was a nasty thing to say, but Holo was smiling; her mood

seemed to have improved. Lawrence waved a meek hand to indicate

his defeat.

"I suppose I shall just wander about on my own."

"I'm sorry," said Lawrence, whereupon Holo spoke again as if

she just remembered something.

"Oh, that's right. If when you return there are two people in the

room, would you mind staying out for a while?"

For a moment, Lawrence did not understand what she was getting

at, but he finally realized she was suggesting she might pick

up a man while she was out.

58

Given her particular charms, Lawrence thought it could certainly

happen.

But Lawrence had no idea what sort of expression he should

assume in response to the statement.

Should he be angry? Should he laugh? By the time he concluded

that ignoring her was the best course, Holo grinned at him with

genuine delight.

"Seeing your adorable face will be quite enough to tide me over

for the day," she said.

Lawrence found he could only sigh at her teasing.

Holo could be an infuriating wolf.

"I'd rather be in your arms than not, still," she said airily. "Do

not worry."

Lawrence had no words.

She could be an incredibly infuriating wolf.

Lawrence opened the door to the trading company. It was afternoon,

and the company indeed much more crowded than it had

been earlier.

The building was filled with both town merchants based in

Kumersun and traveling traders who operated in the area. The

company was open but doing no real business since nearly everyone

was there to enjoy the festival; the room overflowed with

drinking and merriment.

Batos — the man acting as the intermediary between Lawrence

and the chronicler — was evidently not as much of a drunkard as

Mark has insinuated and had been out of the building on business

when Lawrence came in the morning.

Lawrence asked after him with the chief of the trading company;

Batos had still not returned, it seemed. Since he was meeting

someone, Lawrence could not very well drink, and he mused

on how to pass the time.

59

There were several other merchants in similar circumstances,

but they had been seduced by the festive atmosphere and were

absorbed in a card game, so Lawrence couldn't very well try to

engage them in conversation.

There was nothing for it but to strike up some idle chatter with

the trading house chief, who drank but likewise could not let

himself get drunk. During their conversation, the doors opened

and a single figure entered the trading house.

Lawrence and the chief were situated directly across from the

entrance, so Lawrence could immediately see who came into the

building. It was Amati, looking more like the young son of a

nobleman than any merchant.

"Mr. Lawrence," said Amati after briefly greeting the men drinking

by the door.

"Good afternoon. And thank you for your assistance with the

inn."

"Not at all. I should be thanking you for ordering so much fish

for dinner."

"My finicky companion praised it to the heavens. Said that you

had an excellent eye for fish."

Lawrence felt this was a more effective compliment than saying

he himself had enjoyed the food. He was correct.

Amati s face lit up like an excited boy's.

"Ha-ha, I'm delighted to hear it! If she has any other requests,

I'll be buying some truly excellent fish tomorrow."

"She seemed to have a special love for the carp."

"I see... very well, then. I'll go find more that she'll enjoy."

Lawrence chuckled internally; at no point had Amati asked

what he thought of the fish, but Amati no doubt had not even

noticed this.

"Oh, incidentally, Mr. Lawrence — have you any plans at the

moment?"

60

"I am killing time before I meet with Mr. Batos."

"I see..."

"Why do you ask?"

Amati's expression clouded over as he fumbled for words, but

he resolutely overcame this in a manner befitting a merchant used

to battling the fish markets day in and day out. "Er, yes, actually I

was thinking perhaps I could show you and your companion

around the town. Our meeting on the road was the will of God,

surely, and I don't doubt I could learn much from talking with a

traveling merchant such as yourself."

Amati sounded quite modest, but Lawrence knew that the boy

had his sights set on Holo. If Amati had a tail, Lawrence was sure

that it would be swishing back and forth excitedly.

Lawrence had an idea.

"I surely appreciate the invitation, and my companion Holo has

been wanting to get a look at the town, but I don't think..."

Amati's expression changed. "If it's all right with you, I would

be happy to show just Miss Holo around! In truth, I've finished

my work for the day and am quite free."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly..."

Lawrence wasn't sure whether or not his feigned surprise was

convincing, but Amati did not seem able to read Lawrence's

expressions quite that well.

Amati, after all, was thinking only of Holo.

"Not at all. If left to my own devices, I fear I'll simply drink all

my profits away. To be blunt, this works out nicely for me. I would

be happy to escort her."

"I see. Well, she is not so well behaved as to stay in the inn simply

because I told her to — she may not be there at all."

"Ha-ha! As it happens, I need to go by the inn and discuss a

purchase with them, so I'll inquire after her while I am there, and

if she is there, I'll invite her out."

61

"I'm so sorry to impose," said Lawrence.

"No, not at all. Please allow me to show you around town as

well next time!"

Amati's skill with pleasantries marked him as a merchant

through and through.

He must have been five or six years younger than Lawrence, but

despite his callow appearance, he was no doubt a canny trader.

Though Amati's attention had been quite diverted by Holo, he

remained thoroughly poised.

Lawrence was just musing on how he would have to be careful

not to let his guard down around the boy when the trading company's

door opened once again.

Amati looked toward the door at the same time as Lawrence.

"Looks like I had good timing," said Amati, and Lawrence soon

understood why.

As the saying goes, his party had arrived.

"Well then, Mr. Lawrence — I'll take my leave."

"Ah, yes. Thank you, again."

Whether he had no further business in the trading house or his

head was so full of visions of Holo that he forgot why he'd come,

Amati left the building.

Though Lawrence left her with some silver, he thought Holo

was still probably lounging about in bed at the inn.

Given Amati's state, he'd be a perfect mark for Holo, who would

have no trouble getting him to buy her whatever she wanted.

For a moment, Lawrence almost felt sorry for the poor boy, but

he knew Amati would be all too happy to undo the strings on his

coin purse for Holo.

Nothing would make Lawrence happier than Holos mood

being lifted on someone else's coin.

If only he could be so clever when dealing directly with Holo,

he thought.

62

She did not just pull his leg — she swept it clean out from

under him.

As Lawrence wondered if Holo's wit exceeded his own by as

much as her age did, the man who entered the trading house just

as Amati left scanned the room and then began to walk toward

Lawrence.

Mark's apprentice had apparently run about the town to inform

Batos of Lawrences request, which was undoubtedly why Batos

now approached him.

Lawrence greeted the man with a glance, flashing his merchant's

smile.

"Kraft Lawrence, I presume? I am Gi Batos."

The hand that Batos extended in greeting was hard and rough,

like a veteran soldier's.

Listening to Mark tell it, Batos was the sort of man who preferred

drinking his profits away to actually making any, but upon meeting

the man in person, Lawrence got precisely the opposite

feeling.

As he walked down the street, Batos had a stocky stability about

him that brought to mind a stout coffin, and his face had a tough,

leathery quality (from years of exposure to wind and sand) out of

which grew a spiky beard that was almost sea urchin-like. When

Lawrence shook Batos's right hand in greeting, it felt nothing

like the hand of an easygoing merchant who passed the days carrying

nothing heavier than his cart horses reins; it was rough and

strong enough, telling that this was a man who did heavy lifting

year-round.

Yet despite Batos's appearance, he was neither stubborn nor illmannered;

the words he spoke had a priestly serenity to them.

"I daresay merchants who travel across many provinces, like

yourself, Mr. Lawrence, are more numerous these days. Traveling

63

to and fro between the same places, selling the same things as I

do, gets quite boring."

"Ah, but the town peddlers and craftsmen would surely be

angry if they heard you say so."

"Ha-ha-ha! Right you are. There are plenty of men who've spent

fifty years selling naught but leather rope. No doubt I'd get an earful

if I claimed to be tired of it," Batos said with a laugh.

He told of how he was a trader of precious metals from the

mines of Hyoram and that he'd spent nigh thirty years going back

and forth between those rugged mountains and the town of

Kumersun.

Any man who could carry those heavy loads through the mountains

of Hyoram — where the wind was strong and the trees were

few—was a man to be reckoned with.

"Still, I must say you're a curious fellow, Mr. Lawrence."

"Oh?"

"I refer to your search for a chronicler to learn the ancient

tales of the northlands. Or has it something to do with a business

prospect?"

"Oh no, nothing like that. It's just something of a whim, I

suppose."

"Ha-ha-ha! You've got good taste for one so young. I've only

recently become interested in the old tales. Originally I intended

to make a business of it, but I'm afraid they've quite become my

master rather than the other way around!"

Lawrence couldn't quite imagine what Batos meant by making

a business of the old tales, but the man's talk was intriguing, so he

kept his mouth shut and listened.

"It came to me after so many years of going back and forth

between the same places. The world I knew was very small, you

see. But even there, people had been coming and going for hundreds

of years, and I knew nothing about those times at all."

64

Lawrence had an inkling of what Batos meant.

The more he traveled around, the more the world seemed to

spread out before him infinitely.

If that was the breadth of the world, in a sense, then what Batos

felt was the world's depth.

"I'm old, you see, and I've not the vigor to go journeying afar.

Neither can I travel back in time. So even if it's only by stories, I

came to want to visit the places I've never been able to see in person

and to travel back to those ages that God in his capriciousness

has prevented me from experiencing. When I was a young man

with nothing on my mind but profit, such things would never

have occurred to me, but now I often wonder if I'd had the chance

to consider them, my life would have turned out quite differently.

So I must admit I'm a bit envious of you, Mr. Lawrence. Hah, I

must sound quite ancient." Batos laughed at his own folly, but his

words left a deep impression on Lawrence.

It was true that the old tales and legends allowed one to know

of things that were impossible to experience directly.

He felt a new weight behind the words Holo had said to him not

so very many days after they had first met.

"The worlds we live in, you and I, are very different."

For the greater part of the time Holo had lived, the people from

her own era had been long since dead, the era itself lost to time.

And Holo was not human, but wolf.

Thinking on it, Lawrence saw that Hole's very existence began

to seem special in more ways than one.

What had she seen and heard? Where had she traveled?

He began to want to ask her about her travels — perhaps when

he returned to the inn.

"But when the Church looks at the old tales and legends, all

they see are superstitions and pagan stories. Where the Church's

eye falls, tales become hard to collect. Hyoram is a mountainous

65

region and had many fascinating stories, but the Church was

there, too. Kumersun is quite nice in that regard."

Ploania was a country where both pagans and the Church

existed side by side, but it was precisely because of that coexistence

that the Church was much stricter in those towns and

regions where it held power.

Pagan towns that resisted Church control had to be constantly

prepared for battle. Kumersun was unique in Ploania for its

peaceful avoidance of those problems.

Even in Kumersun, it was not the case that there was a complete

lack of conflict.

Lawrence and Batos headed to the north district of Kumersun

in order to meet with the chronicler.

The town had been built with expansion in mind, so the city

walls were constructed of wood that could be easily disassembled

and the streets and buildings were spacious.

Yet even within this town, there existed a high stone wall.

The wall encircled the district housing those who had fled to

Ploania because of Church persecution.

The very fact that the district was walled off with stone proved

that the people of the town considered the presence of the persecuted

a burden. While they were not considered criminals in

Kumersun, in Ruvinheigen — for example — they would have

been beheaded as a matter of course.

Upon reflection, Lawrence changed his mind.

The wall did not exist simply to isolate these people; it was

probably necessary for their protection.

"Is that... sulfur?" Lawrence asked.

"Aha, so you've handled medicinal stones as well, have you?"

Hyoram boasted a variety of very productive mines, and while

Batos may have been used to the distinctive odors of the region,

Lawrence couldn't help but make a face.

66

The smell reached his nose as soon as they passed through the

door in the stone wall, and he immediately knew what sort of

people lived here.

The Church's greatest enemy—alchemists.

"No, I've knowledge of it is all."

"Knowledge is a merchant's greatest weapon. You're good at

your job."

"... It's kind of you to say so."

The area within the walls was several steps lower than the outside

ground.

The spaces between the buildings in the district were narrow,

and although they called to mind alleys Lawrence had seen in

other towns, there were some strange differences.

For one, many of the alleys they walked in were scattered with

bird feathers.

"One can't always smell the poison wind. People keep small

birds — and if the bird suddenly dies, they know to be careful."

Lawrence knew of the practice as it was used in mines, but having

come to a place where it was actually employed sent a shiver

up his spine.

The phrase poison wind was certainly descriptive, but for Lawrence's

part, he felt the Church's phrase — the hand of death — to

be more apt. Apparently it came from the fact that no sooner did

one notice a strangely cold wind than one was paralyzed, unable

to move.

Lawrence wondered if the cats that he saw here and there as

they walked down the street were kept for the same purpose as

the birds or if they instead gathered to prey on those birds.

In either case, it was eerie.

"Mr. Batos —"

It had been some time since Lawrence had found walking in

silence to be so difficult.

67

The street was dim and strange, the silence punctuated by the

meowing of cats and the flutter of birds; mysterious metallic

sounds rang out occasionally, and the smell of sulfur was constant.

Lawrence couldn't help raising his voice.

"How many alchemists are in this district, would you say?"

"Hmm... counting apprentices perhaps twenty, give or take.

But in any case, accidents are common, so it is hard to know for

sure."

In other words, there were a lot of fatalities.

Regretting having asked the question, Lawrence shifted to more

mercantile concerns.

"Do you find that trading with alchemists makes good business?

I would think it would bring significant danger."

"Mm...," said Batos slowly, stepping around a barrel that had

held some green substance that Lawrence didn't want to look at

too long. "There's a lot of profit to be had in trading with alchemists

that have nobility backing them up. They buy a lot of iron,

lead, quicksilver, and tin — to say nothing of copper, silver, and

gold."

They were all quite normal commodities; Lawrence was

surprised.

He had been expecting something much weirder — five-legged

frogs, perhaps.

"Ha-ha-ha, are you surprised? Even here in the north, there are

people who think alchemists are basically sorcerers. In truth,

they're not so very different from metalsmiths. They heat metals

or melt them down with acids. Of course..."

They turned right at a narrow intersection.

"... In reality, there are some who research sorcery." Batos looked

behind them and then twisted his lip in a feral grin.

Lawrence faltered and stopped walking for a moment, at which

Batos immediately smiled, apologetic.

68

"But I've only heard rumors of them, and I don't believe any of

the alchemists in this district have met any such people. And incidentally,

everyone living in this area is basically a good person."

This was the first time Lawrence had heard alchemists — who

practiced their arts without any fear of God — described as "good

people."

Whenever the subject came up, alchemists were spoken of in

fearful, incurious tones, as though they had committed some

unspeakable corruption.

"They're my bread and butter, after all, so I can't very well accuse

them of being bad people now, can I?"

A slightly relieved Lawrence smiled at Batoss very merchantlike

statement.

Shortly thereafter, Batos stopped before the door of one of the

buildings.

The street received no sunlight and was riddled with holes and

dark puddles of water.

The stone wall facing the alley had a wooden window that was

cracked open, and the entire two-story building seemed to lean to

one side.

It could have been a building from any slum in the world, but

there was one important difference.

The area was completely silent; no peals of childish laughter

sounded.

"Come now, you needn't be so nervous. They really are fine

people here."

No matter how many times Batos tried to reassure him, Lawrence

could only give an uncertain smile in return.

It was impossible for him not to be nervous — this was, after

all, a place where people lived who had been branded criminals

of the most serious sort by an authority that brooked no

opposition.

69

"Excuse us — is anybody home?" Batos called out casually,

knocking upon the door without any such fear.

The ancient door seemed like it had gone years without being

opened.

Lawrence could hear a cat's quiet meow from somewhere.

A monk accused of heresy, chased out of a monastery — what

kind of person would that be?

A shriveled old frog of a man appeared briefly in Lawrences

mind, clad in a tattered robe.

This was no world for a traveling merchant.

The door slowly opened.

"Well, if it isn't Mr. Batos!"

The moment was so anticlimactic that Lawrence very nearly

collapsed.

"It's been a while. You seem well!"

"I could say the same of you! Spending all your time in the

mountains of Hyoram. God must favor you indeed."

It was a tall, blue-eyed woman who had opened the thin wooden

door. She seemed a few years older than Lawrence, but the fashionable

robe draped comfortably around her body gave her a

nonetheless fascinating aura.

Her speech was lively and pleasant — she was indisputably

beautiful.

But in that instant, Lawrence thought of that which all alchemists

sought — the power of immortality.

Witch.

The word appeared in his mind just as the woman looked

at him.

"You're quite a handsome man, but you think me a witch — I

can see it in your eyes."

The woman had seen right through him; Batos spoke quickly to

smooth things over.

70

"In that case, perhaps that's how I should introduce you?"

"Don't be absurd — this place is already quite tedious enough.

And in any case, is any witch as pretty as I am?"

"I hear many women are exposed as witches because of their

beauty."

"You never change, Mr. Batos. No doubt you've hideaways all

over Hyoram."

Lawrence had no idea what was going on, so he abandoned his

attempts to grasp the situation and concentrated instead on calming

himself.

He took one and a half deep breaths.

Then he straightened himself and became Lawrence the traveling

merchant.

"So, m'dear. It's not me that has business with you today, but

Lawrence here."

Batos seemed to have noticed Lawrence regain his composure;

at his well-timed statement, Lawrence took a step forward, put on

his best merchant's smile, and greeted the woman.

"Please excuse my rudeness. I am Kraft Lawrence, a traveling

merchant. I've come to call upon one Dian Rubens. Might he be

in the house?"

Lawrence rarely spoke so formally.

The woman stood with her hand on the door, silent for a

moment, before smiling, amused. "What, did Batos not tell you?"

"Oh —" Batos lightly smacked his head with his hand as if to

punish his own carelessness, and then he looked to Lawrence

apologetically. "Mr. Lawrence, this is Miss Dian Rubens."

"Dian Rubens at your service. It's quite a masculine name, is it

not? Please call me Diana," said the woman, her manner suddenly

very elegant as she smiled. It was enough to make Lawrence feel

that she must have been attached to a very well-to-do monastery

indeed.

71

"Well, enough of that. Please, come in. I don't bite," said Diana

with a mischievous smile as she gestured into the house.

The inside of Dianas home was not so very different from the

outside — it called to mind the captains quarters in a battered

vessel that had been through a bad storm.

Wooden chests reinforced with iron bands were everywhere,

piled in every corner of the room, their drawers left sloppily open,

and there were sturdy, expensive-looking chairs mostly buried

under clothes or books.

Also within the room were countless quill pens, as if some great

bird had done its grooming in the room.

The only places in the room that seemed even marginally free

from the chaos were the bookshelves and the large desk where

Diana plied her trade.

"So, what might your business be?" asked Diana, pulling a chair

out from under her desk, on which by some miracle of planning

sunlight fell. She neither put hot water on nor gestured for her

guests to sit down.

Tea or not just as Lawrence was wondering if she wouldn't do

something about a place to sit, Batos took the liberty of removing

items from one of the chairs turned into storage and gestured for

Lawrence to sit.

Even the most arrogant nobleman would invite his guests

to sit.

Lawrence felt no special malice behind Diana's eccentricity; it

seemed part of her strange charm.

"First, I should apologize for my sudden intrusion," Lawrence

said.

Diana smiled and nodded at the standard pleasantry.

Lawrence cleared his throat and continued, "Actually, Miss

Rubens, I was —"

72

"Diana, please," she corrected him immediately, her expression

serious.

Lawrence concealed his perturbation. "Excuse me," he said, and

Diana's face resumed its soft smile.

"Yes, as I was saying, I have heard that you are quite knowledgeable

about the old tales of the northlands. I was hoping you would

share some of that knowledge with me."

"The north?"

"Yes."

Dianas countenance became thoughtful, and she looked at

Batos. "And here I thought he'd want to talk business."

"You jest. Had he spoken of business you'd have had him out on

his ear."

Diana laughed at Batos's words, but Lawrence got the sense that

it was probably true.

"But you don't even know if I know the tale you seek."

"That might mean the tale I heard was made up from whole

cloth," said Lawrence.

"Well then, it appears you will have to tell me this tale, and I

shall do the listening."

Lawrence had to look away from Diana's kind smile as he

cleared his throat again.

He was grateful Holo was not there.

"In that case, the story I wish to hear of concerns a village called

Yoitsu."

"Ah, the one said to have been destroyed by the Moon-Hunting

Bear."

Diana seemed to have immediately opened the drawers of her

memory.

Given how quickly the subject of the town's destruction had

come up, Lawrence again felt that leaving Holo behind was the

right choice. It looked as though Yoitsu really had been destroyed.

73

His head hurt when he thought of how he would have to break

this news to Holo.

As Lawrence thought this over, Diana stood slowly and

approached the room's strangely well-ordered bookshelves, taking

down a single volume from a neat row of large tomes.

"I seem to recall... Ah, here it is. The Moon-Hunting Bear, also

known as Irawa Weir Muheddhunde, and Yoitsu, the village it

destroyed. There are many stories of this bear. All quite old,

though," said Diana smoothly as she scanned the pages. She had a

callus on her index finger from writing, and it was swollen, making

it seem quite possible that she had written all of these books.

How many pagan tales and superstitions were contained in

those pages?

Something suddenly occurred to Lawrence. Batos had said he

was thinking of making a business out of the old tales — no doubt

he meant selling Diana's books to the Church.

With the stories in the books, the Church leaders would be able

to instantly ascertain which heretical beliefs had penetrated which

lands; they would do nearly anything for such information.

"It's not the bear I'm interested in, but the town."

"The town?"

"Yes. I've occasion to be searching it out. Is there anything in

your tales that might reveal its location?"

Anyone would have been puzzled by Lawrence's question,

which had nothing to do with the source for a commodity but

rather the setting for an old legend.

Diana made an expression of surprise and then set the book on

the table and began to think.

"Location, eh? Location, indeed..."

"Have you any ideas?" Lawrence asked again, at which Diana

put one hand to her head as though suffering a headache and

gestured for Lawrence to wait with the other.

74

As long as she was silent, it was easy to imagine this striking

woman as the head of some solemn convent, but seeing her like

this revealed an amusingly comical side to her personality.

Diana's eyes were screwed shut as she groaned with the effort of

searching her memory, but then she suddenly looked up, happy

as a maiden who had just succeeded in threading a needle.

"I have it! At the headwaters of the Roam River, which flows

north of Ploania, there's a story like this in a town called Lenos,"

she said, suddenly and surprisingly as affable as she had been

when speaking to Batos.

She seemed to forget herself when talking about old tales.

Diana cleared her throat, closed her eyes, and began to recite

from an ancient legend.

"Long ago, a lone wolf called Holoh appeared in the village. Its

great height was such that one had to look up to keep it in view.

The villagers were certain that it was the punishment from the

gods, but Holoh told of her journey from the deep forests of the

east, explaining that she was bound for the southlands. She loved

wine, and at times would take the form of a maiden and dance

with the village girls. Her form was both fetching and youthful,

though she kept her wolf tail. After frolicking with them for

a time, she blessed their harvest and continued south. Since that

time, bountiful harvests have continued, and we of the village

remember her as Holoh of the Wheat Tail."

Lawrence was doubly surprised — both at Diana's smooth recitation

and at the mention of Holo's name.

The name's pronunciation was slightly different, but it was

unmistakably a story about Holo. Her blessing of the village's harvest

supported that as did her maiden's form and retaining her

lupine tail.

Yet this surprise paled in comparison to the content of Diana's

tale.

75

The town of Lenos still existed at the headwaters of the Roam

River. Using that as a reference point and knowing that there was

a forest to the east Lawrence could draw a line southwest from

Nyohhira and east from Lenos, which would put Yoitsu right at

the intersection.

"Was that any use?"

"Yes, as it limits the area to the forest east of Lenos. It's a great

help!"

"I'm so glad."

"I'll surely repay you as soon —"

Lawrence was cut off by a gesture from Diana. "As you can see,

even if the Church pursues me for it, I love the old pagan

tales — the ones that haven't been twisted out for consideration of

Church beliefs. As you are indeed a traveling merchant, Mr. Lawrence,

surely you have even one story you could share with me. If

you'll do that, I'll require no further payment."

Those who composed histories for the Church did so to preserve

the Church's authority. Historians retained by the nobility

composed works praising their employers — this was simply the

way of the world.

The Church's tale of Saint Ruvinheigen, namesake of the great

Church city bearing the same name, was quite different from

Holo's story of the man. The tale was deliberately rewritten to

protect and extend Church authority.

Diana loved the old tales enough that she was willing to live in

the slums of Kumersun, a town devoted to religious and economic

freedom.

Lawrence wondered what terrible knowledge she must possess

to have been chased from her cloister on charges of heresy, but

now he saw that she simply loved the old tales enough to die for

them.

"Understood," he said and began to tell his tale.

76

It was the tale of a place known for its bountiful wheat

harvests.

And the tale of the wolf that ruled over them.

Eventually, once they had all gotten into some wine, they wound

up talking of old tales and legends from all sorts of lands.

The sun was low in the sky when Lawrence finally remembered

himself, and politely refusing Diana's invitation to stay, he left the

house with Batos.

As he and Batos walked along the narrow street, neither could

help laughing as they talked of the many stories they had shared.

It had been some time since Lawrence had enjoyed the tales of

dragons and golden cities — he was well past the age when such

stories were taken with anything but a large grain of salt.

Even after Lawrence had begun his merchant apprenticeship,

he still longed to take up sword and shield and battle his way

across the lands as a valiant knight-errant. As he traveled with his

master across the countryside, the tales of fire-breathing dragons,

birds so large their wings blotted out the sky, and sorcerers powerful

enough to move mountains at will still set his heart secretly

racing.

Of course, eventually he had dismissed such tales as pure fantasy.

It was meeting Holo that allowed Lawrence to enjoy them

again.

Many of those old tales and legends were not fantasy at all, and

even a humble traveling merchant might have adventures as great

as any knight-errant.

That realization alone was enough to cause a warmth he had

not felt in many years to spread throughout his heart.

In the midst of his giddiness, however, he remembered the

events that happened during the attempt at smuggling gold into

Ruvinheigen. He smiled at his folly.

77

He hadn't seen its form, but there was no doubt that a wolf not

unlike Holo in those eerie woods near Ruvinheigen were the

source of so much rumor. Lawrence, though, had been no strapping

protagonist of a thrilling adventure. He was merely a helpless

minor character caught up in the tale.

A merchants life suited him much better, he felt.

Lawrence mused on this as they came to the broad street that

led back to the inn. He took his leave from Batos there.

When Lawrence thanked Batos for acting as a go-between,

Batoss reply was quick. "People tend to gossip if I go to Dianas

place alone, so you were a fine excuse."

The lot back at the trading company were very fond of such talk.

"Ask me along anytime," Batos said. It was no mere pleasantry.

He seemed to genuinely mean it. Lawrence, too, had enjoyed

himself, so he nodded in the affirmative.

The sun was beginning to sink below the rooftops on the broad

avenue, which was crowded with craftsmen returning home from

a long day, traders winding up their negotiations, and farmers on

their way home, having sold the produce and livestock they

brought from their villages.

Lawrence headed south down the street into the central part of

the town, where drunkards and children were added to the mix of

the crowd.

Normally the number of town girls in the street tended to drop

after sunset, but today they were plentiful, adding to the atmosphere

of anticipation for the next day's festival. Here and there,

circles of people gathered around fortune-tellers and the like, who

did their business brazenly amid the crowds.

Lawrence cut his way through the throng and passed right by

the inn along the street, heading straight for the market in the

center of Kumersun.

Thanks to Diana, he had a general grasp of Yoitsu's location,

78

and thus would not be heading for Nyohhira, but rather the town

of Lenos.

Lenos was closer, and the road leading to it was better maintained.

He also expected that once he was in Lenos he would be

able to get more detailed information about the legends of Holo.

Thus it was that Lawrence found himself visiting Mark again.

As Mark was gathering travel information for him, he needed to

know about this change in destination.

"Hey there, lover boy."

As Lawrence approached Mark's shop, he saw Mark with a bottle

of wine in one hand, looking merry indeed; the young apprentice

he'd sent out to contact Batos earlier was now red faced and

prone in the back of the shop.

It was Mark's wife, Adele, that attended to the closing of the

shop, covering the piles of goods with a canopy against the evening

dew.

As soon as she noticed Lawrence, Adele gave a slight nod and

pointed to her husband with a chagrined smile.

"What's wrong?" said Mark. "Bah — here, have a drink."

"So about that information I asked you about this morning...

Whoa, that's too much."

Mark didn't seem to hear Lawrence's protest at all as he poured

wine from a ceramic wine bottle into a wooden cup.

His expression suggested that he would have nothing to say

until Lawrence picked up the cup, which was now nearly overflowing

with wine.

"Fine, fine." Exasperated, Lawrence took the cup and put it to

his lips; it was good wine. He suddenly wanted some jerky to go

with it.

"So, what was that? Have you changed your travel plans?"

"Indeed. There's a town, Lenos, at the headwaters of the Roam

River. That's where I'm going."

79

"Well, that's quite a change indeed. And here I'd already collected

quite a bit about the way to Nyohhira." If he had not been

able to think clearly despite the wine, Mark would never have

been a merchant.

"Apologies. Circumstances have changed a bit."

"Oh hoj" said Mark with a smile as he gulped down wine as if it

were water. He then regarded Lawrence with a look of amusement.

"So it's true that things have gone bad with that companion

of yours?"

There was a pause.

"What did you say?" Lawrence finally asked.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha. Word's gotten around, lover boy. Everyone

knows you're holed up in a nice inn with a gorgeous nun. You've

surely got no fear of God."

Kumersun was a large enough town, but it wasn't so large as

Ruvinheigen — word spread quickly from one merchant to

another until nearly all of them would have heard the news. The

bonds between traders here were strong. If someone had seen

Holo with Lawrence, word would get around.

If Mark knew about Holo, then everyone at the trading company

would also know. He was glad he hadn't returned with

Batos.

What he did not understand was why Mark said things had

gone sour between Lawrence and Holo.

"We don't have the sort of relationship that makes for a good

story over wine, but I don't see why you'd say things have gone

bad with her."

"Heh-heh. The lover boy knows how to play dumb, that's for

sure. But I can see the worry on your face."

"Well, there's no mistaking that she's a beauty. If things were to

go poorly with us, it would be a shame."

Lawrence was surprised at his own ability to stay cool during

80

the exchange — no doubt it came about because he was used to

constant teasing from Holo.

Although truth be told, he felt he would have preferred for his

business acumen to have gotten sharper rather than his patience.

Mark burped. "Why, just a moment ago, I heard that your companion

was seen in the company of a young lad from our trade

guild. Evidently they were getting on quite well."

"Ah, you mean Mr. Amati." Lawrence didn't feel comfortable

calling the boy simply "Amati," and yet "Mr." suddenly seemed

unnecessarily subservient as well.

"Oh, so you've given up already, then."

"You seem to be sadly mistaken. I simply had business today

and was unable to accompany her, and Mr. Amati found himself

with free time and wished to show us around town. These two

events happened to coincide; that is all."

"Hmm..."

"You don't believe me?"

Lawrence had fully expected Mark to appear disappointed, so

he found himself confused at Mark's look of genuine concern.

"I used to be a traveling merchant like you, so I'll give you some

advice. Amati is more formidable than he seems."

"... What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, if you're careless, he'll snatch that pretty little

companion of yours right out from under you. Men his age will

do anything to gain the object of their obsession. And do you

know how much fish Amati moves? It's a lot. And what's more, he

was born in a pretty nice region of the south, but once he figured

out that as the youngest child he'd never be allowed to make anything

of himself, he ran away from home and came here to open

his business. That was just three years ago. Quite a story, eh?"

It was hard to imagine the slight Amati doing all that, but Lawrence

had seen for himself the boy's three cartloads of fresh fish.

81

What's more, Amati had been able to easily arrange a room at

an inn facing a main avenue — albeit one to which he sold his fish.

During a time when the town was overflowing with travelers

coming and going, this was no mean feat.

A seed of fear began to take root in Lawrences heart, but at the

same time, he could not believe that Holo would transfer her

affections so easily.

"No need to worry. My companion is not so fickle."

"Ha-ha-ha. You've a lot of faith. If I heard my Adele was out

with Amati, I'd give up right on the spot."

"What's this of me and Amati?" said Adele, a truly frightful

smile on her face. She had been behind Mark for some time as she

cleaned up the shop in place of her husband.

Adele and Mark had fallen in love four years earlier when, as a

traveling merchant, Mark had visited Kumersun. Their love story

was quite famous in the town, and it was enough to make even a

third-rate minstrel throw up his hands in disgust. She now possessed

all the dignity of a wheat merchant's wife.

When Lawrence first met her, Adele had been quite frail, but

now she was even more robust than her husband.

Two years previous she'd given birth to their first child — perhaps

it was the strength of motherhood that she now had.

"Uh, what I was saying was that if I ever saw you out with Amati,

why, you're so dear to me that the flames of my jealousy would

burn my very flesh!"

"Burn away, dear. I'll just light a fire with the cinders you leave

behind to make some tasty bread for Mr. Amati."

Adele was so caustic that all Mark could do in response was

take another drink.

Perhaps women everywhere really are stronger.

"So then, Mr. Lawrence," said Adele. "Drinking in the company

of this sot must make the wine taste poorly. We'll be closing up

82

shop here, so why don't you come by the house and help yourself

to some dinner? The baby may be a bit noisy, though."

Lawrence couldn't even begin to imagine how much mischief

Mark's child would be capable of.

He was not especially good with children, but that wasn't why

he declined the offer.

"I've still more business to attend to, unfortunately."

It was a lie, of course, but Adele nodded her regret without any

trace of suspicion.

Mark, on the other hand, smiled as though having seen right

through Lawrence. "Oh, indeed, you've unfinished business

aplenty. And good luck to you."

Yes, Mark had seen the truth of it. Lawrence managed a weak

smile.

"Ah, yes, so I'll keep your new destination in mind. I'll be keeping

the shop open all during the festival, so I should be able to ask

all about the route to Lenos."

"I appreciate it."

Lawrence finished off his remaining wine, thanked the couple

again, and took his leave.

He noticed himself walking more quickly through the lively,

bustling night and laughed at his own folly.

He'd actually claimed to have unfinished business — ridiculous!

But articulating the real reason made Lawrence hate himself, so

admitting it to anyone else was out of the question.

Amati and Holo walking happily together — the image flashed

briefly through his mind.

Despite his frustration, he noticed himself quickening his step

more and more.

The boisterous clamor outside grew louder as the evening deepened.

Lawrence was well into working out his upcoming travel

83

plans with ink and pen borrowed from the inn when Holo finally

returned.

Lawrence had hurried back to the inn only to find that Holo

was still out, and although he'd had to swallow his disappointment,

the time did give him a chance to calm himself, for which

he was grateful.

Amati had taken his leave from her in front of the inn, Holo

said, so she had come up to the room alone. Judging from the fox

kit-skin muffler around her neck, Amati had been taken for quite

a ride. There was no doubt in Lawrences mind that she'd gotten

him to buy her more than that.

His relief and happiness at seeing Hole's safe return was nothing

compared to the headache that came with trying to figure out

what would be an appropriate way to thank Amati.

"Ugh... it's too tight. Come... help me with this, won't you?"

However much she had eaten and drunk, Holo seemed incapable

of taking off her own clothes.

Lawrence sighed and got out of his chair, walked over beside

the bed, and undid the sash Holo struggled so valiantly against.

He also removed the robe that was cinched up against her skirts.

"If you're going to lie down, take off your muffler and shawl.

They'll wrinkle otherwise." Holo grunted vaguely in reply.

Lawrence managed to stop her from falling over onto the bed

right then and there, and he helped her take off the muffler and

rabbit skin shawl, as well as the triangular kerchief that she wore

on her head.

Holo nodded off as she let Lawrence have his way with her

clothing. She had probably parted ways with Amati in front of the

inn because she was unable to keep herself together any longer.

Once Lawrence managed to get her out of the muffler, shawl,

and kerchief, she immediately flopped down onto the bed.

Though he couldn't help smiling when he looked at the carefree

84

wolf, Lawrence sighed when he glanced at the fox kit-skin muffler.

He couldn't imagine buying such an item for resale, let alone

as a gift.

"Hey, you — what else did you get him to buy you, eh?"

If Amati had gone this far, it seemed likely he'd bought her

something still more costly.

Holo didn't even have the energy to lift her legs onto the bed,

and her strange position remained unchanged as she took the

long, slow breaths of the deeply asleep. The ears she was so proud

of gave nary a twitch at Lawrence's question.

Realizing there was nothing else to do, Lawrence lifted her legs

up onto the bed, and even then she did not so much as open her

eyes.

He wondered if this utter defenselessness was due to trust or

simply disdain.

He mulled it over for a while, but ultimately decided that such

thoughts would only lead to disappointment, so he banished

them from his head. Putting the muffler and shawl on the desk,

he began to fold up her robe.

As soon as he did so, something fell out of the robe and hit the

floor with a dunk.

He picked the object up; it was a beautiful metallic cube.

"Iron...? No."

It had sharp, carefully filed edges and a surface that was beautifully

smooth even in the dim moonlight. Even if it were just

metalwork, the cube would have been a valuable piece, but there

was no telling how angry Holo would be if he woke her up just to

ask about it.

He set the cube on the desk, deciding to ask about it the next day.

He put the robe over the back of the chair and folded the

kerchief; then he rolled up the sash after smoothing out its

wrinkles.

85

For a moment, he wondered why he was attending to these

menial tasks — he was no manservant, after all — but one look at

the sleeping Holo, snoring away artlessly on the bed there, was

enough to dispel his indignation.

She had made no move to do it herself, so Lawrence walked

over to the bed and drew the covers over her, chuckling.

He then returned to his desk and his travel plans.

If his circumstances didn't allow him to stay in the north while

he searched for Yoitsu, he would simply have to change his business

plan to accommodate some travel in the north. Whether or

not he would actually follow those changes, there was no harm in

making the plan.

Also, it had been some time since he'd really sat down with pen

and paper and listed the towns, trade routes, commodities, and

profit margins that made up the life of a traveling merchant.

He was filled with nostalgia when he remembered the times he

had once burned the midnight oil to make such plans.

There was one large difference between then and now, though.

Were the plans being made for his own sake — or for someone

else's?

Lawrence worked, pen in hand, listening to Holo's quiet snores,

until the tallow candle burned itself out.

"Food, drink, the scarf, and this die."

"Anything else?"

"That was all. Well, that and enough sweet talk to fill a lifetime,"

said Holo lightly, chewing on the comb she used to groom her

tail. Lawrence regarded her wearily.

He'd been relieved when she woke up without a hangover and

had immediately interrogated her about the events of the previous

night. Looking at the gifts she had received in the light of

morning, Lawrence could tell they were of considerable value.

86

"So you ate and drank the night away, but then there's this muffler.

I can't believe you'd go and accept such a thing..."

"It's fine fur, is it not? Though nothing compared with my tail."

"Did you make him buy this thing?"

"You think me so shameless? Why, he practically pressed it

upon me. Rather fashionable of him, though, giving a muffler as

a gift."

Lawrence looked at the fox skin piece, then at Holo. She continued,

sounding pleased, "He's quite mad about me, you know."

"I'm sorry, did I ask for a joke? You can't just call it over and

done when you receive a gift this valuable. Here I just thought to

let someone else show you a good time, but now look at the debt

I carry!"

Holo giggled. "So that was your plan all along, was it? I thought

as much."

"I'm taking the consideration for this scarf out of your funds for

the festival, just so you know."

Holo glared at him but turned away, doubly annoyed upon seeing

that Lawrence glared right back at her.

"I trust you didn't show him your ears and tail at least?"

"You needn't worry. I am not quite that foolish."

Based on her state the previous night, Lawrence had not thought

to worry about such a possibility, but now he wasn't so sure.

"I suppose you were asked what sort of relationship you have

with me."

"What I would like to know is precisely why you're asking."

"If our stories do not match, people will begin to suspect things."

"Mm. Right you are. Yes, I was quite thoroughly questioned. I

am a traveling nun and you saved me from being sold off by evil

men is what I told him."

Aside from the part about Holo being a nun, that was more or

less consistent with the truth.

87

"But once you saved me, I fell deeply into your debt, and as I

cannot hope to repay it, I am gradually working it off by praying

for your safety as we travel. Oh, alas and alack, woe is me! My

voice was desperately sad as I told the tale. What do you think,

eh? It has the ring of truth!"

Although it irked Lawrence that he seemed to be the villain of

the story, it did seem convincing.

"As soon as I told the tale, he bought me the muffler," said the

fake traveling nun with a frankly devilish smile.

"I suppose that will do. But what of this die? What made him

buy you something like this?"

Lawrence had been unable to discern the color of the thing in

the dim moonlight, but he could now tell that the cube of metal,

so perfect it seemed the work of a master smith, had a distinctly

yellow tint, like unpolished gold.

Lawrence had seen this kind of goldlike mineral before.

It was not the work of any human but entirely natural.

"Oh, that? The fortune-teller was using it. They say it's a die that

can divine the future. It has a lovely shape, has it not? I can scarcely

fathom how it was made. There's no doubt it'll sell for some fine

coin."

"You fool. Do you actually think you can sell this?" said Lawrence,

using the same tone she often rebuked him with. Hole's

ears pricked up at the sudden harshness.

"This is no die. This is a mineral called pyrite. And no man

made it."

His information was obviously unexpected. Holo regarded him

dubiously, but Lawrence ignored this, plucking the yellowish

crystalline cube off the desk and tossing it at Holo.

"I suppose the wisewolf that guarantees the harvest would know

little of rocks. That die-shaped stone was mined just as you

see it."

Holo smiled uncertainly, clearly disbelieving him, as she toyed

with the pyrite.

"You should be able to tell that I'm not lying."

Holo murmured quietly and held the pyrite up between her

fingers.

"It's not good for much, but it's often sold as a souvenir. And

since it looks like gold, sometimes it's used by swindlers. Was anybody

else buying it?"

"Oh, indeed. Many. The fortune-teller had great skill, enough to

impress even me. He claimed that with dice like his, anyone could

read the fates, so all that were gathered wanted the pyrite dice he

was selling. He made up all manner of reasons why they were

desirable."

"You mean the dice?"

"Indeed. Even the ones less perfect in shape than this he claimed

would ward away sickness or evil."

Lawrence felt a certain professional respect for anyone who

could invent such a lucrative business. Festivals and fairs often

sparked strange fads.

The charged atmosphere made for great business, but pyrite —

that was quite an angle, indeed.

"Amati bid down the price on that die, too."

This genuinely surprised Lawrence. "He bid it down?"

"The crowd had gotten quite enthusiastic. I'd not seen that sort

of competition before — it was something to see, indeed. I expect

I could sell the die quite dear now."

Lawrence thought of Batos, who traveled the Hyoram regions.

Did Batos know of this? If he had pyrite on hand or connections

to gain it, there might be excellent business to be had here.

Lawrence had gotten that far in his train of thought when there

was a knock at the door.

"Hm?" For a moment, he considered the possibility that Amati

89

had spotted Hole's ears and tail, but then he decided that the perceptive

Holo would have noticed if that were the case.

He looked from the door to Holo and saw that she drew the

bedclothes up over herself. Evidently the visitor at the door was

not of the dangerous sort they had encountered in Pazzio.

Lawrence walked over to the door and opened it.

On the other side was Mark's young apprentice.

"I apologize for calling so early in the morning. I have a message

from my master."

It was hardly "early in the morning," and Lawrence couldn't

imagine what was so pressing that it would inspire Mark to send

his apprentice on an errand just when the market would be

opening.

He wondered if Mark had perhaps fallen gravely ill, but

no — were that the case, the boy would not claim to have a message

from his master.

Holo shifted underneath the blankets, popping her head out.

The boy noticed and glanced her way. Seeing a girl on a bed

covered from the neck down in blankets was evidently more than

he had bargained for. He turned away, red faced.

"So what was the message?"

"Oh, er, yes. He said you needed to know right away, so I ran

over immediately. Actually—"

The shocking news had Lawrence running through the streets

of Kumersun a moment later.

90

HAPTER 11 pHREE

The town of Kumersun rose early.

Lawrence crossed the broad north-south avenue and headed

west toward the trading company. Here and there on the way, he

spotted many people erecting what looked like signposts.

Lawrence glanced at them as he ran with Mark's apprentice. They

seemed to indeed be signposts of some kind, but he could not tell

what was written on them. It was a script he had never seen before,

and the signs were decorated with flowers, turnips, or bundles of hay.

Undoubtedly they were used in the Laddora festival, which

began today, but Lawrence had no time to investigate.

The boy was fleet of foot and showed no signs of tiring, perhaps

from being worked so hard day in and day out by Mark. Lawrence

had a fair amount of confidence in his own stamina but was hardpressed

to keep up. It was just as he was running short of breath

that they arrived at the trading company.

The normally forbidding, tightly closed doors of the company

were thrown open. A handful of merchants stood at the entrance,

wine cups already in hand despite the early hour.

Their attention had been directed into the building, but upon

noticing Lawrence's arrival, they beckoned him in with gusto.

"Hey! It's the man himself! Haschmidt the Knight has arrived!"

Hearing the name Haschmidt, Lawrence now knew for a certainty

that Mark's apprentice had been neither jesting nor lying.

There was a romantic tale from the country of Eleas, a passionate

nation of seas and vineyards.

The protagonist was Hendt La Haschmidt, a knight of the royal

court.

However, Lawrence was far from happy to be called a knight.

Haschmidt the Knight fought bravely for Ilesa, the princess he

loved. He challenged Prince Philip the Third to a duel for the right

to her hand and died a tragic death.

Lawrence ascended the stone steps, pushing through the jeering

merchants into the trading company.

Their gazes pierced him, spearlike, as though he was a criminal

about to be crucified.

There at the back of the room, at the counter behind which sat

the master of the firm, was his Prince Philip the Third.

"I say again!" cried a reedy, boyish voice that echoed through

the lobby.

It was Amati — not wearing the standard oiled-leather coat of

the fishmonger, but rather an aristocratic formal robe. He looked

every inch the young son of a nobleman.

He leveled his gaze directly at Lawrence as the entire assemblage

of merchants held their breath.

Right then and there, Amati held up a dagger and a sheet of

parchment and made his declaration.

"I will pay the debt that now weighs upon the slender shoulders of

this traveling nun — and when this goddess of loveliness does regain

her freedom, I swear by Saint Lambardos, who watches over this

Rowen Trade Guild, that Holo the nun will have my undying love!"

A commotion arose in the hall, laughter mixing with cries of

admiration to create a strangely feverish atmosphere.

94

Amati ignored the noise. He lowered his hands and spun the

dagger around, gripping it by the blade and holding the hilt out to

Lawrence.

"Miss Holo has told me of her misfortune and ill treatment. I

thus propose to use my fortune and position as a free man

to regain for her the feathers of freedom, and furthermore to

wed her."

Lawrence instantly recalled Mark's words the previous day.

Men his age will do anything to gain the object of their obsession.

He regarded the hilt thrust at him with a bitter gaze and then

looked at the parchment.

Amati was just far enough away that Lawrence could not make

the writing out, but it surely reiterated what the boy had just said

in more concrete terms. The red seal at the bottom left of the sheet

was probably not wax, but blood.

In regions without a public witness, or when one needed a

contract with far more weight than a public witness could provide,

there was contract law. The party who put their blood seal

upon the contract would give the knife they used to the opposite

party and swear an oath in God's name.

If the first party failed to fulfill the contract, they would be

bound to kill the opposing party with that knife or else turn it to

their own throat.

As soon as Lawrence took the knife offered to him by Amati,

the contract would be sealed.

Lawrence did not move. He'd had not the slightest inkling that

Amati's infatuation would come to this.

"Mr. Lawrence." The words were as piercing as Amati's gaze.

Neither flimsy excuses nor disregard would sway the boy, Lawrence

guessed.

Desperate to buy himself some time, he said, "It is true that

Holo is indebted to me and that she prays for me as we travel to

95

repay that debt, but she will not necessarily abandon our journeying

once that debt is lifted."

"True. But I am confident she will for my sake."

A murmur ran through the crowd, which was impressed at

Amati's audacity.

He didn't seem drunk, but he was the very image of Philip the

Third.

"Also, while she may not be perfectly devout, Holo is a nun,

which makes marriage —"

"If you are worried that I do not fully understand the situation,

then your concern, sir, is misplaced. I am aware that Holo is unattached

to any convent."

Lawrence snapped his mouth shut to avoid the expletive that

came to mind.

There were two types of so-called traveling nuns. The first type

were women in a church-sanctioned mendicant order that nonetheless

lacked a fixed base of operations. The second type were

totally self-styled, unattached to any Church organization.

Such self-proclaimed itinerant nuns made up the greater part of

the group, and they referred to themselves as such simply for the

convenience it afforded them while traveling. Since they were not

officially attached to any Church organization, they were not disallowed

from marriage the way true nuns are.

Amati knew Holo was a self-styled nun, so it was too late to

arrange any sort of pretense with a convent now.

Amati continued speaking, his voice smooth and confident. "It

is in truth not my desire to propose a contract to you thus, Mr.

Lawrence. No doubt everyone here thinks me like Philip the Third

from the tale of Haschmidt the Knight. However, according to

Kumersun law, when a woman is indebted, her creditor is considered

to be her guardian. Of course —"

Amati paused, clearing his throat, then continued, "If you will

96

unconditionally assent to my proposal of marriage, there is no

need for this contract."

This sort of rare competition over a woman made for the best

drinking stories.

The assembled merchants spoke in low tones as they watched

the developing drama.

Most experienced merchants would not take Lawrence and Hole's

relationship at face value. It would have been the height of naivete to

think that an indebted nun was really paying off her obligation

by praying for her creditor as they traveled. It was much more

likely that she didn't want to be sold off by whoever held her debt or

that she was traveling with him simply because she wanted to.

Amati certainly realized this and undoubtedly thought it was

the former.

Freeing the poor, beautiful maiden from the bonds of debt was

a moral imperative that justified this ridiculous display of gallantry,

Amati must have felt.

And even if he didn't think this, Lawrence still came away looking

like the villain.

"Mr. Lawrence, will you accept this contract dagger?"

The merchants looked on, grinning silently.

The traveling merchant was about to lose his fetching companion

to the young fishmonger out of sheer inattentiveness.

It made for rare entertainment — and there was no acceptable

way for Lawrence to escape.

His only option was to best Amati by being the nobler man.

In any case, he didn't believe that if Hole's debt were paid she

would stop traveling with him just because Amati told her to.

"I am not so careless to agree to a contract I have not read,"

Lawrence said.

Amati nodded, withdrawing the knife and extending the contract

to Lawrence.

97

Lawrence walked toward Amati, watched by everyone in the

room, and took the parchment, scanning its contents quickly.

As he expected, what was written there was a more tortuously

worded version of the declaration Amati had just made.

What Lawrence was most interested in was the amount that

Amati proposed to pay.

What had Holo claimed her debt to be?

For Amati to be so brimming with confidence, it had to be a

relatively small amount.

Finally, he found the amount in one of the lines of the

contract.

For a moment, he doubted his eyes.

One thousand pieces of trenni silver.

Relief washed over him, bodily.

"I assume this contract is to your satisfaction?"

Lawrence checked again, making sure there were no obvious

traps hidden in the contracts language. He also looked for any

points he might turn to his own advantage.

But the contract language was stiff enough to leave no such

room to trip up the first party.

Lawrence had no choice but to return Amati's contract.

"Understood," he said, handing the contract back to the boy

and looking him in the eye.

Lawrence reached out to grasp the knife, and the contract was

sealed.

Every merchant in the hall — and more importantly, the patron

saint of the trade guild, Saint Lambardos — was witness to the

dagger contract.

The merchants raised their voices in a cry, clinking their cups

together, bringing an end to the entertainment.

Amid the din, the two men looked at each other and left the

contract parchment and dagger with the firm's master.

98

"The terms of the contract extend until the end of the

festival — sundown tomorrow, in other words. Will that do?"

Lawrence nodded. "Bring the thousand trenni in cash. I will not

accept a partial payment or anything less than that."

Even if Amati was the sort of merchant that routinely hauled

three wagonloads of fresh fish, there was no way he would be able

to simply produce one thousand trenni. If he were that successful,

Lawrence would know about it.

Of course, if it was stock whose worth amounted to a thousand

trenni, that could easily be produced.

To put it in the ugliest manner possible, this agreement

amounted to Amati buying Holo for a thousand pieces of silver.

Assuming Amati had no intention of trying to resell her somewhere

else, it was as though a thousand pieces of silver were simply

moving from Amati's pocket to Lawrences.

If that was the case, Amati would surely have problems paying

for his next day's stock of fish. Even if by some wild chance Holo

did accept his proposal of marriage, what awaited them was a difficult

future. The minstrels might claim that coin could not buy

love, but the opposite was also true.

"In that case, Mr. Lawrence, we'll meet again here tomorrow."

His face still betraying his heightened emotion, Amati strode

out of the guild hall. No one said a word to him, and soon all eyes

were on Lawrence.

If he did not say something here, all would think him a mere

rube taken for a ride by the cleverer Amati.

Lawrence straightened his collar. "I don't expect my companion

will follow him simply because her debt has been lifted."

A grand huzzah arose from the gathered merchants, immediately

followed by cries of "Double for Lawrence, four times for

Amati — who's betting?"

It was a salt merchant of Lawrence's acquaintance who offered

99

his services as a bookmaker — he caught Lawrence's eye and

grinned.

The fact that the odds for Lawrence were lower meant that the

merchants in this hall thought Amati's chances of winning were

worse. The sense of relief he'd felt at seeing the sum of one thousand

trenni in the contract was not wild-eyed optimism. Common

sense dictated that Amati had overextended himself.

The bets rolled in, the majority of them on Lawrence. The more

money that was placed on his odds for victory, the more his confidence

grew.

Though his blood had run cold momentarily when Amati had

made his proposal of marriage, the odds of it happening in reality

were low.

Not only were the numbers against Amati — Lawrence took

solace in knowing there was another barrier he would have to

surmount.

Amati could never marry Holo unless she gave her assent.

On this point, Lawrence had absolute confidence.

There was no way Amati could know that Holo was traveling

with Lawrence to the northlands.

He had told Holo already that knowledge was a merchant's best

friend and that an ignorant trader was like a soldier walking

blindfolded onto a battlefield.

Amati's situation was a perfect example. Even if he did manage

to run all over town and scrape together a thousand trenni, in all

likelihood Holo would remain with Lawrence as they traveled

north.

He mulled the subject over as he apologized to the master for the

unavoidable commotion and then put the guild hall behind him.

It seemed prudent to leave before the merchants finished placing

their bets and the attention returned to him. He did not want

to be the appetizer for their drinking.

100

Once Lawrence made his way through the considerable crowd

and out of the hall, he recognized a familiar face.

It was Batos, who had introduced him to Diana the chronicler.

"It seems you've gotten wrapped up in quite a to-do."

Lawrence grinned, embarrassed, at which Batos smiled sympathetically.

Batos then continued ominously, "However, I think the young

Mr. Amati has hit on a way to raise the capital."

Lawrence's smile disappeared at Batos's unexpected statement.

"Surely not."

"I can't say it's the most admirable method, of course."

He couldn't be doing anything like Lawrence did in Ruvinheigen.

Kumersun lacked the steep import tariffs of Ruvinheigen, and

with no tariffs, there was no point in smuggling.

"It won't be long before the news is all over town, so I can't say

too much. If I show too much support for you, it wouldn't be fair

to poor Amati — after all, he screwed up his courage and made that

impressive declaration. But I wanted to give you some warning."

"Why?"

Batos grinned boyishly. "Whatever the circumstances, it is a

good thing to have a traveling companion. It's hard to watch one

be taken from a fellow wandering merchant."

Lawrence felt the sincerity in the man's smile.

"You might do well to return to your inn and formulate a counterplan."

Lawrence bowed to Batos as though Batos was a business partner

who had just agreed to very favorable terms on a very large

deal, and then he hurried back to the inn.

Amati had found a way to secure the funds.

Lawrence had miscalculated, but there were still things between

him and Holo that Batos knew nothing about.

101

He turned the situation over in his mind as he walked down the

broad avenue, whose traffic was limited owing to the festival.

He was confident that there was no way Holo would be swayed

by Amati.

When Lawrence had returned to the inn and explained the situation

to Holo, her reaction was unexpectedly vague.

She had been surprised enough upon hearing the message that

Mark's apprentice delivered, but now she seemed to find the

grooming of her tail to be the weightier matter. She sat crosslegged,

her tail curling around her lap as she tended to it.

"So did you accept this contract?"

"I did."

"Mm..." she said vaguely, looking back down at her tail. Holo

was unimpressed; Lawrence felt sorry for Amati.

He looked out the wooden window, telling himself there was

nothing to be worried about, when Holo spoke abruptly.

"Listen, you."

"What?"

"What will you do if the boy actually gives you the money?"

He knew if he answered by saying "What do you mean, what

will I do?" she would be unamused.

When she asked him questions like this, Holo wanted to know

the first thing that came to his mind.

Lawrence pretended to think about it for a moment and then

purposely gave a less-than-ideal answer. "After I'd calculated the

amount you've used, I'd give it to you."

Hole's ears moved up slowly and she narrowed her eyes. "Do

not test me."

"It's a bit unfair that I'm the only one who's tested, eh?"

"Hmph." Holo sniffed, unamused, then looked back down at

the tail she tended to.

102

Lawrence had purposefully avoided saying the first thing that

came to mind.

He wanted to test whether she had noticed that fact.

"If Amati should fulfill his part of the contract, I will certainly

fulfill mine," he said.

"Oh ho." Holo didn't look up, but Lawrence could tell she wasn't

really looking at her tail, either.

"Of course, you've been free all along. You may act as you wish."

"Brimming with confidence, aren't you?" Holo straightened her

legs and dangled them off the edge of the bed.

It looked as if she was getting ready to spring upon him like she

so often did, and Lawrence flinched but regained his composure

and answered.

"Its not confidence. I merely trust you."

That was one way to put it.

There were any number of ways to indicate the same idea, but

this one seemed the most gallant.

Holo was speechless for a moment, but her quick wits divined

this soon enough.

She smiled and then stood up suddenly.

"In truth, you're much more charming when you're nervous."

"Even I can tell how much I've matured."

"So it's more adult to simply pretend composure?"

"Isn't it?"

"Having room to boast because you've seen a gamble that's to

your advantage just means you're a bit clever. It does not an adult

make."

Hearing the sage words of the centuries-old wisewolf, Lawrence

made a suspicious expression, as though he were the subject of a

shady sales pitch.

"For example, when Amati proposed the contract to you, would

it not have been more admirable to refuse it?"

103

Far from it, Lawrence was about to say, but Holo cut him off.

"But you looked around and judged whether or not you would be

embarrassed."

"Uh-"

"Consider if our positions had been reversed. For example,

thus-"

Holo cleared her throat, put her right hand to her breast, and

began to recite:

"I cannot consider entering into such a contract. I wish to stay

always with Lawrence. It may be a bond of debt that binds us, but

it is still a bond. No matter how many different threads may

entwine us, I cannot bear to cut even a one. Even if it shames me,

I cannot accept your contract — or some such statement. What

do you think?"

It was like a scene from a stage play.

Hole's expression had been absolutely serious, and her words

echoed in Lawrence's heart.

"If someone said something like that about me, I would be

beside myself with joy, I daresay," said Holo.

That was undoubtedly a joke, but she had a point.

Lawrence was not willing to simply admit her correctness —

doing so was tantamount to admitting he was a coward who

had only accepted the contract in order to avoid embarrassment.

And in any case, being so frank and open in front of so

many people was all well and good, but it would have had

consequences.

"Well, that might have been the manly thing to do, but whether

or not it's the adult thing to do is another issue."

Holo folded her arms, looking aside and nodding minutely.

"True. It might be both the action of a good male and a reckless,

youthful thing to do. One might be happy to hear it, but it is still

rather rich."

104

"You see?"

"Mm. Now that I think on it, the actions that make a good male

and those that make a good adult may be mutually exclusive. A

good male is like a child. A good adult has a measure of cowardice."

It was easy to imagine a stalwart knight drawing his sword in

anger at Holo's light dismissal of the male sex.

Lawrence naturally felt obligated to strike back. "Well then,

how would Holo the Wisewolf, who is both a good woman and a

good adult, respond to such a proposal?"

Holo's smile remained.

Her arms still folded, she replied, "Why, I would smile and

accept it, of course."

Her light, effortless smile as she so easily claimed to agree to the

contract made Lawrence realize just how profound her confidence

and ease was.

He would have had no such ideas.

It truly was Holo the Wisewolf that stood before him.

"Of course, upon accepting the contract, I would return to the

inn and, saying nothing, draw near to you like so—," she continued,

unfolding her arms and walking toward Lawrence, backing

him up against the windowsill. She reached out to him. "Then I

would look down..." Her ears and tail drooped, her shoulders

slumped, and she looked positively miserable. If this was a trap, it

would be impossible to see through.

Holo's snicker that came soon after was genuinely frightening.

"Still," she said lightly, "you're a good enough merchant. You

entered the contract because you think you can win. No doubt

you'll do some under-the-table deals just to make sure."

Holo looked back up, her tail and ears flicking playfully. She

spun around and arrived smoothly at Lawrence's side.

He soon understood what she was getting at.

"'Take me to the festival,' is it?"

105

"Surely a fine merchant like yourself isn't shy of bribery to fulfill

a contract, right?"

Lawrences contract with Amati did not directly involve Holo,

but the true issue was whether or not Amati's marriage proposal

would succeed. To put it bluntly, one thousand pieces of silver

might or might not find their way into Lawrence's pocket depending

entirely on Holo's mood.

For his part, Lawrence could hardly afford not to bribe Holo, on

whose judgment this all depended.

"Well, I've got to go gather information on Amati either way. I

may as well bring you along."

"What you mean is you'll take me to the festival and gather

information on the way."

"Fine, fine," Lawrence replied, sighing as Holo jabbed him in

the ribs.

The first thing that needed to be investigated was Amati's assets.

Batos had said the boy was going to use some not altogether

admirable methods to get the cash, which Lawrence guessed was

probably true. He couldn't imagine that Amati could produce a

thousand trenni out of nowhere.

But it would be trouble if Amati actually pulled it off, so Lawrence

headed to Mark's stall to ask his cooperation.

As Mark kept his stall open for the duration of the fair, he had

missed the commotion at the guild hall and so readily agreed to

help. With rumors spreading like wildfire but so few merchants

having actually seen Holo's face, Lawrences bringing her along to

the stall was quite effective.

If it meant Mark would get to see the developments from a

front-row seat, Lawrence thought it was a small price to pay for

whatever favors were required.

106

"And anyway, it won't be me that's running about the town,"

Mark added.

Lawrence felt bad for Mark's young apprentice, but his was

a path every merchant had to travel — it was a complicated

emotion.

"Still, is it all right to be running around with the beautiful

maiden of the hour?"

"She wants to see the Laddora festival. And besides, if I locked

her up in the inn, it really would look like I was keeping her bound

by debt."

"So Sir Lawrence says, but what is the truth of it?" Mark asked

Holo, smiling. Holo was dressed in her usual town-girl clothes

with the fox skin muffler Amati had given her wrapped around

her neck. She seemed to understand what Mark was getting at.

"The truth is just that. I am bound by heavy chains of debt.

Through them I can see no tomorrow, and from them I cannot

escape. If you were to free me from them, I would happily coat

myself in wheat flour working for you."

Mark's face immediately split as he erupted with raucous laughter.

"Bwa-ha-ha! Oh, that poor Amati lad. Lawrence is the one

bound by you, aye!"

Lawrence looked away, not deigning to respond. He could see

clearly enough that going up against both Mark and Holo would

lead only to frustration.

Perhaps as a reward for his daily good conduct, Lawrence's savior

appeared. Mark's apprentice arrived, pushing his way through

the crowds.

"I've checked it out," he said to Mark.

"Oh? Well done. What do you have?"

The apprentice greeted Lawrence and Holo as he delivered his

report to Mark.

107

. •

There was no question that what he wanted was not a reward

from Lawrence or Mark, but a smile from Holo.

Understanding this, she graced him with her loveliest, most

demure smile. Holo's undeniable mischief caused the poor boy to

turn red all the way to his ears.

"So what have you learned?" Mark grinned at his apprentice,

who flailed for a moment before answering. Knowing Mark, Lawrence

was sure the poor lad had been teased for some time.

"Ah, yes. Er, according to the taxation records, he was taxed on

two hundred irehd''

"Two hundred irehd, eh? So that'd make it... what, about eight

hundred trenni that Amati has on hand that the city council is

aware of."

With a few exceptions, every merchant with a certain amount

of assets was subject to taxation. The amount was recorded in the

tax ledger, and anyone with a reason to do so could examine the

records. Mark had gone through his acquaintances to take a look

at Amati's tax records.

But there was no guarantee that a merchant would report his

assets to the city council accurately, so it was better to assume he

had some amount hidden away. In any case, as a merchant, most

of his worth would exist in credit with other sources.

But Amati wouldn't be able to easily produce a thousand silver

pieces to buy Holo.

Which meant that if he truly planned to fulfill the contract, he

would have to resort to either borrowing, gambling, or some

other method of realizing short-term gains.

"Where's the town gambling hall?"

"Hey, just because we keep the Church in check doesn't mean

it's a free-for-all. It's pretty much limited to cards, dice games, and

rabbit chasing. There's also an upper limit on how much you can

bet. He's not going to raise the money gambling."

109

Given the precision and detail with which he had answered the

short question, it seemed Mark, too, was trying to work out how

Amati could possibly raise the funds.

After all, Amati was essentially proposing to spend a thousand

silver pieces on something he would never be able to resell, so any

merchant would be curious as to the source of such wealth.

Lawrence was deep in thought, trying to decide what to investigate

next, when Mark suddenly spoke.

"Oh, that's right. Apparently there's another bet on — about

what's going to happen after the contract."

"After the contract?"

"Yes, if Amati wins the contract, who will be the victor after

that."

Mark grinned provocatively; Lawrence turned away, his face

betraying his irritation.

Holo had evidently taken an interest in the grain and flour laid

up in Mark's shop, and she wandered about, listening to the

apprentice's grand explanations.

She seemed to hear Mark and Lawrence and looked their way.

"But you've got the advantage as far as the odds go."

"Maybe I should demand the bookmaker give me a cut."

"Ha-ha-ha. So what are you actually going to do?"

Mark was obviously trying to get some information that would

allow him to make some money on the wager, but he also seemed

genuinely curious.

Lawrence only shrugged, not giving a proper answer to the

question, but then Holo (who had evidently approached the two

at some point during their conversation) spoke.

"Even if a question has a proper answer, sometimes one cannot

simply give it away. For example, the mixing of your flour there."

"Erk—" Flustered, Mark shot his apprentice a sharp look, but

the boy merely shook his head, as if to say, "I didn't tell her any-

110

thing!" The mixing of the flour surely referred to its purity. Mixing

in cheaper grades of flour with wheat flour to increase its

volume was a standard merchant trick.

Even a merchant that dealt with flour day in and day out would

probably have a hard time noticing small fluctuations in purity,

but for Holo, whose very spirit resided within the wheat, it was

simplicity itself.

She continued, "You want to ask what I'll do if he truly pays my

debt, do you not?"

She gave the unfriendly smile that was her specialty.

Mark now shook his head frantically, much like his apprentice,

as they looked to Lawrence with beseeching eyes.

"At this point, all we can do is observe our opponent's actions,"

said Lawrence.

"How treacherous."

Hole's sharp appraisal pierced Lawrences heart.

"I'd be happier if you called it a hidden contest. He'll certainly

have someone watching our moves as well, you know," Lawrence

said.

Mark recovered his composure enough to differ. "I wonder

about that. Amati ran away from home and came alone all the

way to this town, achieving all his success independently. And

there's his youth to consider. He's very self-confident. Not only

does he not give much thought to the connections between merchants,

he would probably consider tricks like that beneath him.

He trusts only in his eye for good fish and his ability to sell them.

That and the protection of the gods."

Amati sounded more like a knight than a merchant to Lawrence,

who found himself envying the boy's ability to achieve such

success on his own.

"That'd explain why he'd fall so hard for a charming girl who'd

just arrived in town," Mark continued. "The townswomen are

111

even more closely connected than the merchants. They seem to

care only about reputation and are always watching each other. If

one starts to stick out a little more, the others beat her down. I'm

sure he finds it distasteful. Of course, not all women are like that,

as I found out when I married my Adele."

As a traveling merchant, Lawrence well understood Mark's

explanation. The town could certainly look that way from the

outside.

Lawrence glanced sideways at Holo. He felt that yes, if he was in

similar circumstances and saw a girl like Holo, he might well fall

for her instantly — all the more so if he thought she was just an

ordinary girl.

"Amati may well be as you say, but I will not hesitate to use any

connection I need to. Treachery may be forbidden when knights

duel, but there's no crying in a contest of merchants."

"I surely agree," said Mark. He looked at Holo.

Lawrence likewise looked at her again. Holo put her hands to

her cheeks in a gesture of embarrassment, as though she had been

waiting for the moment, and spoke.

"I wish just once someone would attack me from the front"

No doubt Mark was finally realizing, Lawrence mused, that

there was no winning against Holo.

In the end, Lawrence decided to use Mark's connections to get

more information on Amati. He made sure to mention to Mark the

peddler Batos's hint regarding Amati's potential reserves of capital.

Lawrence trusted Holo, but there was no telling what she would

do if he rested on his laurels in this contest. And there was always

the possibility of being able to make some money in Amati's wake.

Holo and Lawrence couldn't very well hang around Mark's shop

all day long, so after Lawrence asked Mark to help him with information,

they put the stall behind them.

112

The town was becoming livelier and livelier, and the crowds

did not diminish at all as they passed from the market to the plaza.

Midday approached, and people lined up in front of every stall

alongside the road. Holo was not shy about lining up herself,

clutching the money she'd relieved Lawrence of.

Lawrence watched her from afar, thinking it was just about time

for the midday bell to ring, when he heard a low, lazy tone sound.

"A horn?"

The horns sound made him think of shepherds, and for a

moment, he remembered Norah and the danger they had faced

together in Ruvinheigen. If the keen-eyed Holo saw through him,

though, it would be trouble.

Lawrence chased the thought from his mind and tried to see

where the sound came from just as Holo returned, bearing the

fried bread she'd managed to successfully buy.

"Did I not just hear a shepherd's horn?" she asked.

"You did. I wasn't sure, but if you call it a shepherds horn, then

it must be so."

"It fairly overflows with the scent of food here. I cannot tell if

there are sheep or not."

"There would be sheep aplenty in the marketplace, but there's

no need to blow a horn in town."

"And no comely shepherdesses."

Lawrence had been expecting the jab, so he was relatively

unaffected.

"Hmph," said Holo. "When you fail to react, it does rather feel

like I am trying to win your affection."

"I'm just terribly delighted. Scarify so."

Holo happily bit into her bread with an audible crunch. Lawrence

chuckled and looked out over the plaza again, realizing that

the crowd seemed to be flowing in a particular direction. People

113

were heading for the center of the city. Perhaps the horn had been

the signal for the opening of the festival.

"Sounds like the festival has begun. Shall we go see?"

'"Twould be boring to do naught but eat."

Lawrences smile was a bit forced as he started walking; Holo

took his hand and followed.

They moved with the crowds, bearing north along the marketplace's

edge, until eventually they began to hear cheers amid the

sounds of drum and horn.

All manner of people were gathering — town girls dressed

much like Holo, apprentice craftsmen (their faces black with soot

after having snuck away from their work), itinerant priests

with the customary three feathers pinned to their robes, and

even lightly armored men who might have been knights or

mercenaries.

The noise seemed to come from the intersection of the two

main streets that quartered the town, but the crowds made it

impossible to see. Holo craned her neck to try and catch a glimpse

ahead, but even Lawrence couldn't see past the crowds, and he

was much taller than Holo.

Lawrence remembered something, and taking Hole's hand, he

ducked into an alleyway.

Once they were a few steps into the alley, things were much quieter,

unlike the clamorous street. Here and there were beggars

clothed in rags, dozing away as though to proclaim their disinterest

in the festival, along with craftsmen who busily prepared the wares

they would sell in their stalls, their workshops open to the alley.

Holo soon seemed to understand where they were heading and

silently followed.

If the festival was being held in the main streets, they would be

able to see the sights perfectly well from their room at the inn.

Holo and Lawrence walked easily down the uncrowded back

114

alleys, entering the inn from its rear door and climbing to the

second floor.

It seemed that someone else had the same idea and was making

a business out of it. As they arrived on the second floor, they

noticed several of the doors along the hallway leading to their

room had been left open and a bored-looking merchant sat on a

chair in front of them, idly playing with a coin.

"We'll have to be thankful to Amati on this count anyway."

Upon entering their room and opening the window, they immediately

had front-row seats.

To see everything that was happening at the large intersection,

Holo and Lawrence had but to lean a bit out the window, and

even without leaning, they had a perfectly acceptable view.

The musicians playing pipes and drums in the intersection

were clad head to toe in ominous black robes that obscured even

their sex.

Behind the group in black walked another strangely dressed

troupe.

Some of the costumes consisted of sewn-together pieces of

clothing large enough to cover any number of people. Such a costume

had several people hidden underneath it and was topped

with a mask where the head would be. Other performers wore

robes that concealed what must have been one person riding on

another's shoulders, their head popping out of the top of the garment.

Some carried great swords made from thin pieces of wood;

others had bows taller than they were. They brandished the weapons

wildly to great cries from the crowd.

But just as Lawrence thought that was all there would be, there

was a noticeably louder shout from the crowd, and a new set of

instruments could be heard.

Holo gave a small cry of surprise, and Lawrence leaned his head

out the window so as not to block her view.

115

The inn sat at the southeast corner of the intersection, and it

seemed another group in strange costumes was emerging from

the east.

Leading the group were people clad in black, but behind them

followed another group whose dress was wholly different from

those who currently occupied the intersection.

Some people had paint-blackened faces and wore cow horns

upon their heads; others carried bird wings on their backs. Many

were covered in animal skins of some sort, and it seemed likely

that if Holo was to walk among them with her ears and tail

exposed, no one would bat an eye. After that column passed, there

arose a riotous cry and with it appeared a giant straw figure far

bigger than a human. It was vaguely lupine in shape, four legged,

and larger even than Holos wolf form. The figure was supported

on a wooden rack, which was carried by ten men or so.

Lawrence was about to say something about it to Holo, but he

abandoned the notion when he saw the intense focus with which

she watched the festival.

Animal costume after animal costume appeared in the

intersection-cum-stage as the column continued along.

The black-painted marchers at the head of the procession now

pointed at the signposts that had been erected here and there in

the intersection, milling about as they did so.

Seeing this, Lawrence guessed that this was no mere costume

parade. He thought there was some kind of tale being told —

unfortunately, he was not sure. He was just thinking he would ask

Mark about this later when he saw another procession arrive from

the north.

These were normal folk, though some were dressed in tatters,

some in noble robes, and some as knights and soldiers. The single

commonality was the spoon that each one of them carried. Lawrence

wondered why spoons, of all things, when the three groups

116

collided in the intersection and began crying out in a language he

had never heard. A slight ripple of nervousness ran through the

assembled spectators as they watched the exchange; Lawrence,

too, felt some trepidation.

Just as he was wondering what would happen next, the blackclad

group all pointed in the same direction as one.

It was southwest that they pointed, and everyone's gaze soon

turned that way.

Carts loaded with large barrels had evidently been prepared

beforehand. Their stewards laughed loudly (if somewhat forcedly)

and pushed the carts into the intersection.

The black-clad people began to play the instruments they held,

the people in costumes began to sing, and the barrel carriers

opened the barrels and began to sprinkle their liquid contents

about.

As if that were some kind of signal, the onlookers now flooded

into the intersection and began to dance.

The ring of dancers expanded rapidly. Many of the strangely

dressed revelers had jumped out of the intersection and danced

along the sides of the streets.

The merriment spread, and in no time at all, the entire boulevard

was a huge ballroom. In the middle of the intersection, the

participants of the original procession linked arms and began to

dance in a circle. The festival was well and truly under way now;

the singing and dancing would continue into the night.

It seemed that the opening of this festival — this revel—was

complete.

Holo pulled her body — which heretofore had leaned well out

of the window—back into the room.

"I'm going to go dance," she said, though it was not clear if she

spoke to Lawrence or not.

Lawrence could count the number of times he'd danced like this

117

on one hand. He tended to avoid festivals such as this one, and

dancing alone was always a depressing affair.

Thus he hesitated for a moment, but he soon changed his mind

after seeing Holo's outstretched hand.

Everyone would be drunk anyway—no one would notice if his

dancing was a little clumsy.

And Hole's outstretched hand was worth ten thousand gold

pieces.

"All right," said Lawrence, taking Holo's hand and preparing

himself.

Holo laughed at his overserious resolve. "Just mind you don't

tread on my feet," she said with a smile.

"... I will do my best."

The two exited the inn and plunged into the reveling crowds.

How many years had it been since he'd celebrated so much?

Lawrence had danced, drunk, and laughed so much he could

not help but wonder.

This was also certainly the first time he had basked thus in the

post-revel afterglow.

Normally, once the fun had passed, it was followed by a rush of

terrible loneliness.

But as he helped Holo, unsteady on her feet from a surfeit of

merriment and wine, up the inn stairs, the heat of the moment

faded to a pleasant warmth. As long as Holo was with him, he felt,

the celebration would continue.

The inn room's window had been left open, and the sounds of

the continuing festival filtered though it. The night was young,

and the merchants and craftsmen who had to work through the

day were only now beginning to join in the festivities.

The festival seemed to have entered a new phase. As they

118

returned to the inn, Lawrence had looked back at the intersection

to see it filled with people busily coming and going.

If Holo had had any strength remaining, she surely would have

wanted to see. Unfortunately, she was exhausted.

After putting her to bed and setting her things in order (continuing

his manservant duties from the previous day), Lawrence

sighed.

It was not, however, an unhappy sigh. It came out as he looked

at Holo's flushed cheeks as she lay sideways and innocent on

the bed.

He felt a bit bad for Amati. He was no longer even remotely

worried about having to fulfill the contract.

Far from it — in fact, he'd forgotten about it entirely until they

had returned to the inn.

Once they came back, the innkeeper told Lawrence there was a

message for him. It was from Mark; the message was "I've found

how Amati plans to make the money—come to the shop as soon

as you can."

The first thought that crossed Lawrences mind was I'll go tomorrow.

Normally such procrastination would never have occurred

to him, and when he thought on it, it illustrated just how low of a

priority it was for him.

What concerned him more than Mark's message was the letter

that had come with it. It was sealed with a wax stamp and had

"Diana" written in a lovely hand on the envelope. The letter had

apparently been delivered by a stout man with a coffin-like build,

which had to be Batos.

Lawrence had asked the chronicler to please let him know if she

should happen to recall anything more about Yoitsu, which is

what he expected the letter to be about. He considered opening it

right then and there, but he decided that once he sat down and

119

opened the envelope, he would be even less inclined to go visit

Mark, so he decided against it.

Lawrence slipped the envelope back into his coat, and closing

the window against the clamor still wafting in from the street, he

headed out.

Just as he was about to open the door, he felt a gaze on his back,

and looking behind him, he saw Holo forcing her sleep-heavy

eyes open to look at him.

"I'm just going out for a bit."

"... Quite, and with a letter from a female tucked near your

breast?" Her irritation did not seem to come from her struggle to

stay awake.

"Aye, and she's a beauty, I might add. Does it bother you?"

"...Fool."

"She's a chronicler. Do you know what that is? She's the one telling

me about Yoitsu. She's quite knowledgeable about the tales

from the northlands. I haven't read the letter yet, but just talking

to her yesterday gained us some excellent information. I even

heard a story about you."

Holo rubbed her eyes like a cat washing its face, and then she

sat up. "... A story? About me?"

"A town called Lenos has a story of you. Holoh of the Wheat

Tail. That's you, is it not?"

"... I've no idea. But what do you mean by 'excellent information'?"

With her homeland as the subject of conversation, Holo

was now fully awake.

"Part of the tale included the direction from which you arrived

in the town."

"I-in..." Holo's eyes widened and she froze, emotion writ large

on her face. "In truth?"

"I've no reason to lie, do I? Evidently you arrived in Lenos from

120

the forest east of it, so the mountains southwest of Nyohhira and

east of Lenos are where we'll find Yoitsu."

Hole's hands gripped the bedclothes tightly, and she looked

down upon hearing the unexpected news. Her wolf ears trembled

as though each hair were overflowing with joy.

Hers was the relief of a girl who'd long ago lost her way but had

finally found a familiar path.

Slowly and carefully she took a deep breath, which she then

exhaled forcefully.

It was only her wisewolf s pride that kept her from bursting into

tears right there on the spot.

"I'm surprised you didn't cry."

"... Fool." Her sneer proved how close to tears she had actually

come.

"Knowing only that it was to the southwest of Nyohhira would

have made the search difficult, but now it will be much narrower.

I haven't opened the letter yet, but I'm sure it has additional information.

It should be much easier to find our destination now."

Holo nodded and looked aside; then still holding the bedclothes,

she looked back to Lawrence searchingly.

Her red-tinged amber eyes sparkled with a mixture of anticipation

and doubt.

The white tip of her tail flicked to and fro uncertainly, and she

looked so much the frail maiden that Lawrence couldn't help but

smile weakly.

If he'd failed to understand what she was saying with that gaze, he

would have no cause for complaint when she ripped his throat out.

Lawrence cleared his throat. "I daresay we'll be able to find it

within a half year."

He could tell that the blood was once again flowing through her

stone-still form.

121

"Mm!" said Holo happily with a nod.

"So the sender of this note is like a dove bearing good news. Go

reflect on your misguided assumptions."

Holo's lips twisted in displeasure, but Lawrence could not fail to

notice that it was an affectation.

"In any case, I'm now off to see Mark."

"With a letter tinged with a females scent tucked near your

breast?"

Lawrence couldn't help but laugh at Holo repeating her pointed

question.

No doubt she wanted him to leave the letter.

She could not come right out and say as much, though, because

it was too embarrassing to admit she was so nervous that she

wanted him to leave a letter she could not even read.

Amused at the normally opaque Holo's transparent state of

mind, Lawrence handed her the letter.

"You said the sender was a beauty?"

"Oh, indeed, and fairly wrapped in adulthood."

Holo raised a single eyebrow. She took the letter and then

looked back to Lawrence, her eyes narrowed. "You're becoming a

bit too adult and cunning." She grinned, revealing her fangs.

"Also, apparently Amati's found a way to raise the thousand silver

pieces he needs. I'm off to ask about that."

"Oh, aye? Well, do try to come up with some way to prevent me

being purchased away, hmm?"

Given their exchange thus far, Lawrence did not take Hole's

words too seriously.

"If you want to read the letter, feel free to open it. If you can

read, that is."

Holo sniffed and flopped over on the bed, letter in hand, her tail

waving as if to say, "Well, run along now." She was like a dog carrying

a bone back to its den.

122

He wouldn't dare to say as much, though, so he smiled wordlessly

and, opening the door, left the room.

Just before he closed the door behind him, Lawrence looked

back at Holo one last time, whose tail waved as though she had

expected him to take one last look.

He chuckled and closed the door slowly so as not to make a

sound.

"I must say, for someone asking a favor, you don't seem too

worried."

"Apologies."

Lawrence had debated going straight to Mark's home but

decided the man was probably still at his marketplace stall, which

turned out to be correct.

Among the stands scattered here and there in the marketplace,

people toasted each other's health in the moonlight, and even

many of the guards responsible for watching over their masters'

goods had succumbed to their desires and were drinking.

"Though I suppose I've time to spare aplenty during the festival,"

Mark admitted.

"Oh?"

"Oh, indeed. No one wants to lug heavy goods about while they

take in the sights, do they? Especially something as bulky as

wheat, which I sell before the festival begins and buy once it ends.

Of course, the night festival is a different matter, though."

The night festival was held after the two-day festival finished,

and it amounted to a great feast, Lawrence had heard. It was not

as though he didn't understand the desire to use the festival as an

excuse to drink and revel.

"And anyway, I've already turned a bit of a profit thanks to your

information, so I suppose I'll let you off the hook this time."

Mark's smiling face was every inch the pleased merchant.

123

Evidently he'd taken advantage of whatever it was Amati was

up to.

"So you're on board, eh? What's his trick?"

"You're going to like this. I don't mean the trick is just clever — I

mean it's like picking up gold off the street."

"I'm all ears," said Lawrence, sitting down in a conveniently

close split-log chair.

Mark grinned at what this implied. "I hear tell the knight

Haschmidt is quite a dancer. If he keeps making merry like this, he

may have to take the thousand silver and lose the lovely maid."

"You're certainly welcome to bet your whole fortune on

Amati — it makes not a whit of difference to me."

Mark blocked Lawrences attack not with his shield, but his

sword. "That Philip the Third has been saying some interesting

things about you."

"Oh?"

"That you keep the poor girl in debt simply so you can take her

wherever you please, that you treat her cruelly and feed her nothing

but cold porridge — and so on."

Mark was obviously amused, as though it were a grand joke, but

Lawrence could only listen and smile uncomfortably.

Amati was obviously spreading rumors about Lawrence as a

way to justify his own actions. Lawrence's cheek twitched, more

from the annoyance of this mosquito buzzing around his face

than from the damage done to his reputation.

A traveling merchant was no sword-wielding mercenary—he

couldn't simply foist debt off on any girl he wished, forcing her

to travel with him. Even if a note of debt was written in a city

where the merchant had some pull, it would be meaningless as

soon as they were on the road.

Likewise, anyone used to long journeys would know there was

124

nothing surprising about the meager food one ate during travel.

Any merchant who'd tried to maximize profit knew that there

were times one went without food.

So Amati's slander of Lawrence would not be taken seriously.

That was not the problem. What irked Lawrence was that Amati

spread the notion that he and Lawrence were in the same ring,

fighting over a woman.

Even if that didn't have a direct effect on Lawrence's business, it

was hardly something to be happy about in regards to his standing

as an independent trader.

Mark surely knew how irritating this would be, which explained

his self-satisfied smirk. Lawrence sighed and waved his hand as if

to end the discussion. "Anyway, what's this talk of profit?"

"Ah, yes. Once I'd heard that old Batos had figured it out, I put

the pieces together."

So it was something to do with Batos's business.

"Precious gems, then?"

"Close, but no. You can hardly call it 'precious.'"

The commodities that ore merchants bought and sold as they

traveled through mining country ran through his mind. Suddenly,

Lawrence had it.

The mineral he'd talked about with Holo that looked like

gold —

"Pyrite?"

"Oh, so you've already heard?"

Apparently that was the answer.

"No, I'd just thought it might make a good business myself.

Because of the fortune-teller, right?"

"That's what they say. Though that fortune-teller's already left

town."

"I see."

125

A sudden cheer grabbed Lawrences attention; he looked to see

a group of men in traveling clothes joyfully greeting some town

merchants, embracing one another heartily at their evidently

happy reunion.

"Yeah, the public story is that his fortune-telling was too good,

so he was attracting the eye of a Church inquisitor, but that sounds

pretty suspicious."

"Why suspicious?"

Mark took a sip of wine and removed a small burlap sack from

the shelf behind him.

"First of all, if an inquisitor had actually come to town, it would

be huge news. Secondly, there's just a little too much pyrite in

circulation right now. My guess is he bought up somewhere else

and left as soon as he'd sold all his stock. Also..."

Mark dumped the contents of the bag out onto the table. Some

of the pyrite pieces had that beautiful die shape; others were as

misshapen as flattened bread.

"I think he was trying to exaggerate the rarity of pyrite. How

much do you think this is worth right now?"

In his hand, Mark held a die-shaped piece, which was generally

considered the most precious form of pyrite. Standard market

value was perhaps ten irehd, or one-quarter of a trenni piece.

But Holo had said the pyrite piece Amati gave her had been

bought at an auction, so Lawrence made a bolder guess.

"One hundred irehd"

"Try two hundred seventy."

"Im— "

—possible, he was about to say, but he swallowed the word,

cursing himself for not buying up stock immediately after Holo

told him of the pyrite.

"To men like us, that'd be a ridiculous price even for a precious

126

gem. But when the market opens tomorrow, it's going to rise even

higher. Right now every woman in town is scheming to buy.

Fortune-telling and secret beauty potions will always be in

demand."

"But still — two hundred seventy? For this7."

"It doesn't even have to be die shaped. Other shapes have risen

in value, too, thanks to the idea that each one serves a different

purpose. The women come to the market and sweet-talk their fatwalleted

merchant and farmer husbands into buying them the

stuff. And if you want to talk about miracles, they're even starting

to compete among each other, these women, to see who's been

given the most pyrite. It's gotten to where the price rises with

every word of flattery a woman speaks."

Lawrence had bought wine and trinkets for town girls before;

this was difficult for him to hear.

But that difficulty paled in comparison to his regret at having

let this opportunity get away.

"It's not a question of what percentage of profit can be made on

an investment now. It's a question of how many times, how many

tens of times you'll multiply your money. Your Philip the Third

has his eye on your princess, and he's making tremendous amounts

of money to get her."

If Amati had come up with this plan as soon as he'd bought

Holo her piece of pyrite, he might very well have made a fair

amount of money already. It was entirely possible he would have

the thousand pieces of silver on the morrow.

"I've just barely gotten my foot in the door, and I've already

made three hundred irehd. That's how much the price is going up.

It's not an opportunity to let go."

"Who else knows?"

"Apparently, it was spreading around the market this morning.

127

I was actually late to the game. Incidentally, the line in front of the

ore merchant's stall was going mad just about the time you were

dancing with your princess."

Despite being long-since sober, Lawrences face was redder than

the still-drinking Mark's.

It was not because Mark teased him about Holo, but rather

because just when even the dullest of traders would have known

to get in on the action, Lawrence had been right next to the marketplace,

dancing the night away.

No amount of red-faced frustration could adequately express

his feelings.

He was a failure as a merchant.

For the first time since the Ruvinheigen debacle, he wanted to

hold his head in his hands and cry.

"If Amati were doing something complicated, there would

probably be something we could do to block him. As it is, I don't

think we can. I'm sorry, friend, but you're a fish in a barrel here."

Mark was trying to say, AH you can do is wait to be cooked, but

that wasn't what depressed Lawrence. He was simply upset with

himself for putting fun with Holo before business.

"Ah, I should mention that the news has already spread through

the market, so the number of merchants looking to buy up pyrite

to sell has driven the price even higher. What I'm saying is that

the wind is just now picking up. If you don't hoist your sail, you'll

regret it for the rest of your life."

"True enough. I'll not sit by and watch those ships sail away."

"That's the spirit! And hey, if worst comes to worst, you'll need

money to buy a new princess, eh?"

Lawrence smiled wryly at Mark. It would be a good opportunity

to make up for his losses in Ruvinheigen at least.

"In that case, I'll just use some of my credit with you from those

nails to take that pyrite off your hands," said Lawrence.

128

Mark immediately scowled as if he suddenly regretted mentioning

anything.

Lawrence paid Mark thirty trenni for four pieces of pyrite and

then made his way back to the inn through the crowds that sang

and danced by the light of the bonfires.

The festival seemed to have entered its second stage, and he

heard the sound of drums powerfully beaten.

The crowds were dense enough that it was difficult to see, but in

contrast to the festivities of the day, the revelry seemed to have

become wilder. Straw puppets collided with one another and

sword dancers whirled.

It was a surprising development since people had already been

dancing and drinking all day long.

But if he wanted to view the festival, it would be easy to do so

from the front-row seat that was the inn room.

He hurried through the throng and made for the inn.

Lawrence had some thinking to do.

Amati's chances of actually pulling together a thousand trenni

had increased, but Lawrence still didn't feel perturbed or worried

about losing Holo.

What he worried about was how much he could make with the

pyrite he had on hand and how cheaply he could convince Holo

to sell him the piece she'd gotten from Amati.

Sometimes worthless items turned into gold.

Festivals were special times indeed.

Along the quieter alleys slightly removed from the clamor and

lights of the festival, knights and mercenaries made passes at girls

or draped their arms around the already-convinced.

The girls who leaned so easily into the arms of dark-eyed,

dangerous, bandit-like knights did not seem to be women of

the night, but rather ordinary town girls, who on any other night

129

would only speak to men of more serious disposition and

stature.

The strange aphrodisiac that was the passionate festival atmosphere

clouded their eyes — and so long as it also did things like

drive the price of pyrite upward, Lawrence had no complaints.

As he was mulling this over, Lawrence caught sight of a shop

selling sweet melons to soothe throats burning from too much

wine and bought two for Holo.

There was no telling how angry she might be should he return

empty-handed. The melons were like the eggs of some huge bird;

he smiled, resigned, carrying one under his arm and one in his

hand.

The inns first-floor dining hall was just as lively as the streets,

but Lawrence only glanced at it as he made his way up to the second

story.

Upon reaching the second floor, Lawrence noticed that the

noise from below seemed strangely unreal, as though he were

watching a fire burn from the opposite shore.

The sound of the chatter brought to mind a babbling brook; he

listened to it as he opened the door and entered the room.

For a moment, he wondered why it was so well lit, but then he

saw that the window had been left open.

It had probably been too dark to read the letter otherwise.

Suddenly, Lawrence realized something was wrong with that

notion.

The letter?

He met Holos eyes as she stood before the window with the letter

in her hand.

Those frightened eyes.

No — not frightened.

The eyes of someone who had just come back to their senses

after being utterly stunned.

130

"You..."

... can read? Lawrence was going to ask, but the words stuck in

his throat.

Holo's lips quivered, followed shortly by her shoulders. He saw

her try to gather strength in her numb, slim fingers, but the letter

slipped from them and fluttered to the floor.

Lawrence did not move. He was afraid she would shatter like an

ice sculpture if he moved.

It was the letter from Diana that she'd held.

If reading that letter brought Holo to this state, there were not

many possibilities Lawrence could imagine.

It had to be about Yoitsu.

"Whatever is the matter?" she asked.

Her voice sounded as it always did. Despite being visibly on the

brink of collapse, she managed a thin smile; the contrast was

unreal, dreamlike.

"Is there something s-stuck to my face?" Holo tried maintaining

her smile, but her lips trembled and it was clearly difficult for

her to speak.

Lawrence looked into her eyes, which were unfocused.

"There's nothing on your face. You might be a bit drunk, though."

He couldn't bear standing silently before her like that, so he

tried to choose the least offensive words he could.

What to say next? No, he had to figure out first how much she

knew. Lawrence had gotten that far when Holo spoke again.

"Y-yes, quite. I-I must be drunk. Drunk i-indeed."

Her teeth chattered as she smiled, and she stiffly walked over to

the bed and sat.

Lawrence finally moved away from the door and very slowly, so

as not to cause this frightened bird to fly, made his way to the desk.

He set the two melons down on the desk and casually glanced

down at the letter Holo had dropped.

131

Diana's lovely handwriting was clearly illuminated by the

moonlight.

Regarding the matter we discussed yesterday of the town

of Yoitsu, destroyed long ago...

Lawrences eyes flicked over the words. He couldn't help closing

his eyes.

Holo had claimed to be unable to read — probably she had

planned to surprise or to tease him sometime in the future. No

doubt she was surprised that the chance to do so had come so

quickly, and she had read the letter immediately.

But it had backfired.

The letter had been about her home of Yoitsu — of course, she

would want to read it.

The image of an excited Holo tearing into the envelope suddenly

flickered into Lawrence's mind.

And then she saw the words about Yoitsu's destruction. He

couldn't even imagine how bad the shock must have been.

Holo sat on the bed, staring at the floor.

While Lawrence struggled to think of the right words, she

looked up.

"What — what shall I do?" Her lips curled into a forced smile.

"I've... I've nowhere to return to..."

She neither blinked nor cried, but a steady stream of tears rolled

down her cheeks.

"What shall I do...," she murmured again, like a child who had

broken her favorite toy. Lawrence couldn't bear to see her this way.

Everyone was a child when they remembered their homelands.

Holo was a wisewolf of many centuries' experience; she had

certainly considered the possibility that Yoitsu had been buried

within the flow of time.

132

But just as logic has no hold over a child, it was of no use in the

face of such strong emotions.

"Holo."

Holo flinched momentarily at the sound of her name before

regaining some composure.

"It's just an old story, a legend. There are many legends that are

mistaken."

Lawrence spoke almost admonishingly, in order to give his

words as much weight as he could. As far as possibilities went, the

chances of Yoitsu being intact were very low. The towns that survived

unharmed for hundreds of years were typically large ones;

that everyone knew.

But he could think of nothing else to say.

"Mis... mistaken?"

"That's right. In places where a new king or faction takes over,

they'll spread all kinds of tales like this to stake a claim to the new

territory."

It wasn't a lie. He had heard many such examples of this.

But Holo shook her head suddenly, her tears streaming left and

right across her cheeks.

The stillness in her eyes was the calm before the storm.

"No, if that were true, why—why would you hide it from me?"

"I was looking for the right time to speak. It's a delicate issue.

So-"

"Heh," Holo laughed, though it sounded like a cough.

It was as though a demon had possessed her somehow.

"I-It must have been terribly amusing, seeing me be so carefree."

Lawrences mind went instantly blank. He could never feel anything

of the sort. Anger surged up within him, seizing his throat,

but he restrained it somehow.

He realized Holo just wanted to hurt something, anything.

"Holo, please, calm down."

133

"I'm qu-quite calm. Am I not the very picture of lucidity? You

must have known about Yoitsu all along."

Lawrence was speechless; she had discerned the truth.

He realized that his ultimate mistake lay in hiding it from her.

"You did, did you not? Did you not? You knew as soon as you

met me. That explains so much."

Hole's expression was now that of a cornered wolf.

"Hah. Y-you like sad, weak little lambs. So how was I, as I talked

of returning to the homeland you knew was destroyed? Was I

foolish enough? Charming enough? Was I sad and lovely enough?

So much so that you'd forgive my selfishness and take pity on me?"

Lawrence tried to speak, but Holo continued.

"And then you told me to go back to Nyohhira alone because

you'd grown tired of me, no?"

Her smile was a despairing one. Even Holo herself should know

that what she said was a deliberate, malicious distortion.

He knew that if he was to lose his temper and strike her, she

would only wag her tail happily.

"Is that really what you think?"

Lawrence's words struck her; she stared through him with blazing

red eyes. "Yes, it is!"

Holo stood up, her fists trembling and white.

Her sharp teeth clattered, and her tail puffed out like a bottlebrush.

Lawrence still did not flinch. He knew that Hole's rage came

from a place of deep sadness.

"Yes, I do think that! You are human! The only animal that

raises other animals! It must have been so amusing for you as I

foolishly took the bait that was Yoitsu and —"

"Holo."

Holo had been gesticulating wildly; Lawrence quickly drew

close to her and grabbed her arms with all his might.

134

She was as angry and frightened as a trapped stray dog, and she

could put up no more resistance than that of the young girl she

appeared to be.

With Lawrence holding on to her arms, the difference in their

strength was clear.

"I-I'm all alone. Wh-what shall I-I do? No one awaits my return.

There is no one for me. I'm... I'm alone..."

"You have me, don't you?" he said, completely serious.

They were not words that could be said lightly.

But Holo merely scoffed and shot back, "What are you to me?

Nay—what am I to you?"

Lawrence had no quick reply. He had to think.

It was a moment later that he realized he should have answered

quickly, even if it had to be a lie.

"No! I do not want to be alone anymore! I can't!" shouted Holo,

then froze. "Come now... Would... would you lie with me?"

Lawrence was just about to loosen his grip on her arms.

But then he noticed that her smile was empty. She was mocking

her own unhinged state.

"I am all alone, I am. But with a child, that would make two.

Look, I have taken human form. It is not impossible that with

you, I could... Come, please..."

"Don't talk. I'm begging you."

Lawrence understood the overflowing emotions that boiled up

within her, which could only come out as sharp, poisonous words.

He understood too well.

But he could not manage the trick of tying those emotions up

and setting them aside to cool.

Telling her not to speak was all he could do.

Holo's smile strengthened, and a new wave of tears poured from

her eyes.

"Heh. Aha... ha-ha-ha-ha. 'Tis true. You're too softhearted. I

135

can expect nothing like that from you. But I care not. I've remembered,

you see. There's... Yes, there's someone who loves me."

She couldn't overcome Lawrence's grip with force, so in order to

take advantage of any gap that might appear, Holo relaxed her

fists and let the tension drain from her body. Lawrence let go of

her wrists, and words now came from her like so many sickly

butterflies.

"That is why such talk did not cause you worry, is it not? That if

you could receive a thousand silver coins for me, it would not be

so regrettable to let me go?"

Lawrence knew that anything he said would be meaningless, so

he only listened silently.

The silence continued, as if Holo had burned up the last of her

fuel.

At length, just when Lawrence reached out to her again, Holo

spoke weakly.

"... I am sorry," she said.

Lawrence felt he could hear the slam that came with those

words as Holo closed the door to her heart.

He froze. It was all he could do to back away.

Holo sat down again, staring at the floor, unmoving.

Lawrence retreated, but he found himself unable to stand still,

so he picked up the letter from Diana that Holo had dropped,

reading it as if to escape.

In it, Diana said that there was a monk who lived in a town on

the way to Lenos, specializing in the legends of the northlands,

and that Lawrence would do well to visit him. On the back of the

letter was written the name of the monk.

Lawrence closed his eyes, anguished.

If only he had looked at the letter first. If only.

He was filled with a sudden urge to tear it into pieces, but he

knew such an outburst was pointless.

136

The letter was still an important clue to finding Yoitsu.

It felt like one of the few thin threads still connecting Holo to

him; he folded the letter and slipped it beneath his coat.

He looked back at Holo, who still stared at the floor.

In his mind, he heard again the word she had spoken —

"sorry" — when he reached out to her.

All he could do now was silently leave the room.

He took one step back. Two steps.

A loud cheer came through the window. Lawrence took this

opportunity and left the room.

For just an instant, he thought that Holo had lifted her face to

look at him, but he knew it was just hopes illusion.

He reached behind himself to close the door, averting his eyes

as if to make it clear he wished to see nothing.

But that would not undo all of this.

He would have to do something.

He would have to do something — but what and how?

Lawrence left the inn.

The streets were again overflowing with strangers.

137

HAPTER JTTOUR

' ,

Lawrence headed out into the town only to find there was no

place for him there.

The festival that had started when the sun set was the precise

opposite of its daytime counterpart, and it lacked the latter s sense

of fun entirely.

Every straw or wooden puppet was now armed with a weapon,

to say nothing of every costumed reveler. The larger puppets that

had no weapons were themselves used as weapons as the fighting

spread.

The straw puppets collided amid angry cries, the crowds yelling

each time debris went flying. Around them instruments blared

their raucous tunes so as not to be drowned out by the clamor of

fighting. The black-robed figures sang an ominous war hymn.

Lawrence avoided the crowds and headed north. The awful din

churned over and over in his head unbearably.

No matter how long he walked down the long avenue, the festival

noise seemed endless. It ate into his nerves like some witchs

spell, causing his exchange with Holo to echo through his mind.

He could see her before him. He wanted to cry out at his own

worthlessness but managed to restrain himself.

If he had enough energy to scream, Lawrence reasoned, he

should put that toward improving the situation.

Yet evaluating the situation rationally, he could find no such

possibilities.

Given the state Holo was in, Lawrence saw it was entirely possible

that she would accept Amati's proposal.

Amati was probably the first merchant to have taken advantage

of the pyrite boom, so it was best to assume that he had already

made a fair amount of money.

In the worst case, Amati might not even have to wait until sunset

to bring the money and declare the contract fulfilled.

Lawrence knew he was not just being pessimistic.

« n

The anxiety seized his gut, and a whimper escaped his lips.

He looked up into the dark sky and covered his eyes.

If he couldn't stop Amati's profit machine, he could at least go

back to the inn and try to make up with Holo.

But Lawrence could see plain as day that reconciling with Holo

would be even more difficult than stopping Amati.

What am I to you? Hole's question had thrown him into

contemplation.

Even now, having had a bit of time to consider the question, he

could not answer it.

He wanted her to keep traveling with him — that much he

knew—and he couldn't bear even thinking about her going to be

Amati's bride.

Yet after ruminating on the memory of the scene, his face only

contorted at the terrible acidity of it.

He knew that Holo was precious to him, but precious in what

way? If asked, it was not something he could articulate clearly.

His jaw was clenched, and Lawrence rubbed his face to try and

relax it.

142

How could this have happened?

The fun they'd had at the festival now seemed like a fleeting

dream. Even an omniscient god could never have anticipated that

in a few short hours, things would turn out this way.

Ahead of him, Lawrence saw a procession of sword dancers

moving down the street. The savage, sinister atmosphere was

completely changed from the daytime revels. It echoed the shift in

Lawrence's relationship with Holo, and he quickened his step,

averting his eyes.

He regretted leaving the letter on the desk. It felt to him like

none of this would have happened if he had only taken it with

him. If he had only found the right time to talk to her, surely the

clever Holo would not have become distraught.

Beyond that, Hole's words had laid bare his own selfishness and

lack of resolve. He couldn't imagine being able to speak to her

properly now.

Eventually Lawrence realized he'd made it all the way to Kumersun's

lonely northern district without having come up with any

good ideas.

He'd been walking slowly, and it had taken some time, but he

hadn't even noticed.

Despite the sense that the town was crowded everywhere one

might go, here in the northern section there were few pedestrians.

The festivities did not extend this far.

There in the silence, he was finally able to calm down and take

some deep breaths.

He turned on his heel and began to walk back, rethinking the

situation.

First —

Sincerity alone would not be enough to convince Holo to hear

him out. He didn't even have enough confidence to look her in

the eye anyway.

143

So setting aside whether or not he would be able to salvage his

relationship with her, he could at least avoid giving her a good

reason to leave him and be with Amati.

As long as Amati was unable to raise a thousand silver pieces,

Hole's debt to Lawrence would still stand. There was no telling if

that would be enough to get her to stay with him, but he could at

least try to make that assertion.

So the problem lay in preventing Amati from fulfilling the

contract.

It was due to the strange mood of the festival that the price of

pyrite had risen so high, and to hear Mark tell it, the price was

going to rise still higher. Lawrence did not know how much pyrite

Amati had on hand or how much profit he had turned. Since the

pyrite was selling for many times — even many tens of times — its

cost price, depending on how much money Amati had been able

to invest, he might already have raised the thousand silver.

However, there was a factor that worked in Lawrence's

favor — pyrite did tend to exist in large quantities.

Even if it could be sold for ten times the purchase price, one

had to have the pyrite in quantity before making truly large

amounts of money.

Of course, Amati wasn't necessarily relying solely on pyrite to

raise the money, but the thought that he might have trouble

obtaining sufficient quantity to do so was some consolation to

Lawrence.

Lawrence had to prevent Amati from making this kind of deal.

More accurately, he had to force him to take a loss, because if

Amati was pressed and didn't care about the future of his business,

he might liquidate all of his assets just to raise the money.

But if Lawrence found it difficult to stop him from turning a

huge profit, forcing him to suffer a loss was nearly impossible.

A frontal assault was out of the question. The rising demand for

144

pyrite meant there was no need to push any deals through by

force; the profit would naturally come.

If there was no urgency, there was no way to swindle.

So what to do... ?

He turned the problem over and over in his mind, always running

into the same walls. Eventually without thinking, Lawrence

said, "Say, Ho —"

He managed not to say "lo," but a passing craftsman did look at

him strangely.

Again, he realized how largely Hole's small figure and invincible

smile loomed in his mind.

It seemed impossible that he'd gotten along on his own for so

long before her.

Holo would certainly be able to come up with some good ideas

or at least set him on the right path.

Somewhere along the line, Lawrence realized, he'd become

quite dependent on her.

What am I to you?

He simply could not answer the question with any kind of

confidence.

"If I were Holo, what would I do?"

Lawrence didn't imagine that he could imitate the endlessly

mysterious Hole's thought process perfectly.

But he was a merchant.

When a merchant came upon a new idea, it was his job to make

that idea his own and get ahead of his competitors.

Holo always considered every facet of a situation.

Given the situation before him, Lawrence knew she would look

at the whole problem from every possible angle.

It seemed easy but wasn't. Sometimes the most brilliant idea

would seem obvious in retrospect.

146

Amati was making a profit on the rising demand for pyrite.

Lawrence needed to make him suffer a loss.

What was the simplest, most obvious way for that to happen?

Lawrence mused.

Unconstrained by the bonds of common sense, he thought.

One answer occurred to him.

"The demand for pyrite needs to fall."

Lawrence said it out loud, then laughed foolishly.

So this is what happened when he tried to imitate Holo?

If the value of pyrite was to drop, that truly would be cause for

celebration.

But demand was climbing and showed no signs of stopping.

The price was already past increases of tenfold, twentyfold. It

would climb and then —

"...And then?"

Lawrence stopped dead in his tracks as the realization hit him.

"Ten times? Twenty times? And then what... thirty? And after

that?"

He felt as if he could see Holo snickering at him.

The price would not rise forever. The craze would end as it

always did.

Lawrence almost felt like he might sob again. He clamped his

hand over his mouth to stifle it.

There were two questions he had to answer:

The first was when the crash would come, and the second was

would it be possible to make Amati fall with it?

Lawrence started walking again, his hand still over his mouth.

Even if the price of pyrite were to crash, would Amati really be

pulled down with it? Lawrence doubted it. It would be underestimating

the boy to assume so.

So the problem would be contriving to make that situation

147

happen. If he could articulate the problem concretely, Lawrence

didn't think his mind was so very far behind Holo's.

The ideal situation appeared in his mind, settling heavy and cold

into his stomach. He'd experienced this sensation before. It wasn't

logic, but the intuition that an important contest was upon him.

He took a deep breath and thought about a critical point: When

would the crash occur?

It was obvious that the price could not continue to rise forever,

but when would it crash — and more to the point, would it crash

sometime before the end of the next day, when the contract

between Lawrence and Amati was up?

Even a fortune-teller would find it impossible to predict such a

thing, as would anyone short of the gods themselves.

Lawrence pictured in his mind the farmers in a wheat-producing

region, using their own ingenuity to carry out the harvests that

had once been the sole purview of the gods.

Rather than waiting terrified for the gods to make the price

drop, why not become those gods?

A moment after the outrageous arrogance of the idea occurred

to him, a great cry arose, and he turned to look.

Lawrence realized that he'd walked all the way back into town

and arrived again at the center of the great intersection.

The straw puppets still collided with one another amid angry

shouts, each collision bringing a shower of twigs and cries. It was

like an actual war.

Lawrence set aside his scheming for a moment to appreciate the

intensity of the scene, and he saw something that immediately

brought him back to his senses.

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Amati.

Amati was right there.

At first he thought it was some cruel joke of the gods, but

148

then he wondered — even this coincidence might be somehow

significant.

Lawrence stood in the heart of Kumersun at the intersection of

the main streets running north to south and east to west.

Amati's back was toward the inn where Holo presumably still was.

Amati stopped and slowly looked behind him.

For a moment, Lawrence was afraid that Amati saw him, but

no, Amati didn't notice him at all.

Lawrence followed the boy's gaze.

Its direction was obvious.

But what was there? Lawrence had to know.

And there, at a window on the second floor of the inn, facing the

broad avenue, fox skin muffler wrapped about her neck, was Holo.

A terrible anxiety roiled in Lawrence's stomach that was bitter

with anger and a kind of impatience.

Holo nuzzled the muffler and then nodded.

Lawrence saw Amati put his hand over his chest in response, as

though swearing an oath before God.

Whether Holo had invited him in or Amati had forced his way

in, Lawrence did not know.

However, based on what he was seeing, Lawrence thought there

was little reason to be optimistic.

Amati turned his back on the inn and walked away. He leaned

forward and seemed hurried, as though he was escaping, which

only exacerbated Lawrences suspicions.

In a moment, Amati had disappeared into the crowd, and Lawrence

looked back to the inn window.

He held his breath.

Holo was clearly looking directly at him.

If Lawrence was able to spot Amati in the crowd, there was

no reason the sharp-eyed Holo would have difficulty spotting

Lawrence.

149

Although Holo did not look away immediately, neither did she

smile. She simply looked at him steadily.

They stayed that way for some time. Lawrence was about to

finally exhale when Holo suddenly withdrew from the windowsill.

If she had closed the window, he might have stayed frozen there.

But she didn't. The window was left open.

It seemed to exert a pull on him, drawing him toward the inn.

Lawrence was of course not so naive as to think that Holo and

Amati had simply spoken through the window.

Holo was no simple town girl, and Amati's feelings for her were

far from coolheaded. There was no reason to think that they

hadn't had a conversation in the room.

Holo had looked quietly unflustered and unconcerned, probably

because she hadn't been seen doing anything she would need

to be concerned about.

Which meant she was provoking him.

Lawrence thought back to the conversation they had once had

in Ruvinheigen. He believed that if he spoke to her honestly, she

would understand.

He steeled himself and then headed for the inn.

Immediately upon entering the inn, Lawrence was greeted by a

lively feast.

The tables were piled with all manner of food, and the guests

were drinking, talking, and even singing.

It occurred to Lawrence that he and Holo should have been at

one of those tables enjoying themselves, and despite his merchant's

aversion to regret, he felt a pang nonetheless.

But there was still a chance. If Holo had wanted to utterly reject

him, she would've closed the window.

Lawrence held onto that tenuous idea, which gave him confi-

150

dence, and ascended the stairs next to the counter, leading to the

second floor.

Immediately, someone called out to him.

"Mr. Lawrence —"

Not particularly serene to begin with, Lawrence started and

turned around; the innkeeper was also surprised, blinking as he

looked at Lawrence while leaning over the counter.

"... I'm sorry, is there something... ?"

"Ah, yes, I was told to give you a letter."

The mention of a letter sent a surge of uneasiness through Lawrences

chest. He stifled it with a cough.

Descending the stairs, he walked over to the counter and took

the proffered letter.

"Who is this from?"

"Your companion left it just a moment ago."

Impressively, Lawrence managed to hide his surprise.

It went without saying that the innkeeper had knowledge of all

the comings and goings of his inn's residents.

Lawrence had left the inn, and Holo had remained. While Lawrence

was out, Amati paid Holo a visit, and Holo now chose to

communicate with Lawrence not directly but via letter.

No innkeeper could observe these events and not suppose

something was afoot.

Yet the innkeeper betrayed no such suspicions as he looked at

Lawrence.

Connections between merchants in a town like this ran deeply.

If Lawrence was to behave in an unseemly fashion here, the

rumors would be all over town almost instantly.

"Might I borrow a light?" Lawrence said with careful control.

The innkeeper nodded and brought out a silver candlestick from

the back.

151

The bright candle was not tallow, and Lawrence felt that his

inner turmoil might be laid bare underneath its strong light.

In his mind, he smiled derisively at himself for entertaining

such thoughts, and then he cut open the envelope with the dagger

at his waist.

The innkeeper moved away, as if realizing it would be rude of

him to read the contents of the letter, but Lawrence could tell the

man still glanced at him from time to time.

He coughed lightly and removed the letter from its envelope.

One sheet was parchment; the other was normal paper.

His heart pounded. Hesitating here meant that he did not completely

trust Holo.

It was well within the realm of possibility that within the letter,

Holo would attempt reconciliation.

He opened the letter — which was folded in half— slowly, and a

bit of sand fell from the surface of the paper.

It had probably been used in order to persuade the ink to dry

more quickly, which meant the letter had only just been written.

Would it be a letter that repaired their relationship or destroyed it?

The words on the paper leapt out at Lawrence's eyes.

Cash on hand, two hundred silver pieces. Pyrite on hand,

three hundred silver pieces' worth. Salable assets —

He looked up, taken aback at the list of assets that began without

so much as a preamble.

Cash? Pyrite?

He had expected a letter that would echo in his mind with her

voice, but what he held here was a sheet of paper with a list of

figures and nothing more.

Lawrence looked back to the paper and, gritting his teeth, continued

reading.

152

... on hand, three hundred silver pieces' worth. Salable

assets roughly two hundred silver pieces worth.

This was obviously a list of Amati's assets.

Lawrence felt his shoulders slacken, as if they were stale bread

loaves sprinkled with water.

Holo had allowed Amati into the room so she could get this

information from him.

She had to have done so for Lawrence.

It was her roundabout way of reconciling.

Lawrence smiled widely. He didn't even bother trying to hide it.

At the end of the note was written "These contents transcribed

by another."

There were many people who could read but not write. Holo

had gotten this information, slipped from the room under the

pretense of visiting the restroom perhaps, and gotten a merchant

or someone to write out the list for her. Lawrence remembered

Amati's handwriting from the contract. This was not his writing.

Lawrence carefully folded up the note, which was now suddenly

beyond value to him, and tucked it near his breast, and then he

pulled the parchment free.

Perhaps she'd used her wiles to fool Amati into signing some

sort of ridiculous contract.

Lawrence flashed to the memory of Amatis self-satisfied face

after his meeting with Holo.

Holo still wants to travel with me, Lawrence thought to himself.

Flooded with a sense of incredible relief, he unfolded the parchment

without hesitation.

In the name of God...

It was unmistakably Amati's bold, gallant handwriting.

153

Lawrence quashed the rush of emotion that came and kept

reading.

He read the first line, the second line, the third line —

And then —

By these terms shall the two be bound in marriage.

•

As he got to the end of the document, it felt like the world was

spinning around him.

"...Wha...?"

He heard himself murmur in a voice that sounded very faraway

indeed.

He closed his eyes, but the contents of the parchment, the words

that he'd just read, remained there in his vision.

It was a marriage certificate.

There on the parchment, sworn in the name of God, were written

the names of a young fishmonger named Fermi Amati and

Holo.

The line for the signature of Holo's guardian was blank.

But once it had been signed and sealed by her guardian and

delivered to a church, Amati and Holo would be husband and wife.

Hole's name had been written in an uncertain hand.

Hers were the letters of someone who could read but who could

only write by imitation.

An image flashed through Lawrence's mind — Holo watching

Amati write the contract and then clumsily signing her own name.

Lawrence pulled the first sheet of paper out of his breast

pocket — that desperately valuable paper — and reread it.

It had to be a list"of Amatis property. The amounts were entirely

plausible.

She must have composed the list not to help Lawrence, but

rather to show him just how dire the situation was.

154

Why would she do that? It was silly even to ask.

Taken along with the marriage certificate, Lawrence thought

the answer was obvious.

Amati was on the verge of fulfilling his contract with Lawrence,

whom Holo was planning to leave.

Their meeting, Hole's and Lawrence's, had been pure chance.

Despite Amati being young, rash, and honest to a fault, Holo

had perhaps found the overachieving, self-important boy to be a

more suitable partner.

There was no reason not to think so.

Even if Lawrence was to dash up the stairs and beg her not to

marry, clutching the marriage certificate in his hand, Holo would

simply turn him out. She excelled at that.

He had no choice but to steel himself.

Holo had revealed Amati's assets to Lawrence; she had to be

telling him that if he could successfully defeat the young fishmonger,

she would hear him out. On the other hand, if Lawrence

failed — that would be the end of it.

There was a way to defeat Amati. There was hope.

Lawrence quickly put the note and contract away, and then he

turned to the innkeeper.

"Fetch me all the coin I've left with you, if you please."

Traveling with Holo was worth all the gold he'd ever have.

Lawrence knew it was possible to legally bankrupt Amati.

The problem lay in getting Amati to accept a deal that held such

a possibility.

Lawrence suspected Amati was unfamiliar with the sort of deal

he would propose. This wasn't because he looked down on the

boy; it was simply because Amati's business did not involve transactions

like the one that Lawrence had in mind.

Nobody wants to get involved in deals they don't fully understand,

after all.

155

Lawrence had the additional disadvantage of being Amati's

enemy.

Given all that, he expected the odds of Amati accepting his deal

at one in nine on the outside. Lawrence didn't care if he had to

provoke the boy—he had to get Amati to take the bait.

Unfortunately, no matter how normal the deal appeared on the

surface, Amati was bound to notice how antagonistic it really was.

The provocation Lawrence considered was thus entirely

justified.

This was not business because Lawrence had no intention of

turning a profit.

Any time a merchant's thoughts strayed from gains and losses,

losses were inevitable. But Lawrence had long since abandoned

his merchants common sense.

He asked the innkeeper which taverns Amati frequented and

began searching them one by one. Despite the festivities that continued

in the streets, he found Amati quietly drinking alone.

The boy appeared fatigued; perhaps it was the aftermath from

the tension of negotiating his hoped-for marriage with Holo, or

perhaps he had not yet raised the thousand silver pieces.

In any case, Amati's emotional state was completely irrelevant.

Lawrence knew he couldn't always count on completely favorable

negotiation conditions. When it came to that, a merchant

had only his own abilities to fall back on.

If he waited until tomorrow, the negotiations could become

even more difficult.

The deal he was going to propose to Amati could not wait.

He took a deep breath and moved into Amati's field of vision

before the latter noticed him.

"Ah-"

"Good evening."

156

Amati was apparently not so naive as to betray his irritation at

Lawrences arrival.

He was surprised enough to be speechless for a moment, but

the young fishmonger soon recovered his professional demeanor.

"No need for suspicion. I'm here for business." Lawrence surprised

himself by managing an easy smile.

"If you're here on business, it's all the more reason not to let

down my guard," said Amati, unamused.

"Ha-ha, fair enough. Can you spare a moment?"

Amati nodded, and Lawrence sat down at the table with him.

"Wine," Lawrence simply said to the annoyed-looking tavern

keeper.

Lawrence reminded himself not to underestimate the slender,

effeminate boy who sat across the table from him. Amati had left

his home and and was on his way to success with his fish-selling

business.

At the same time, he could not let Amati keep his own guard up.

Lawrence cleared his throat casually, glancing around before

speaking. "This is a nice, quiet place."

"You can't drink peacefully at most taverns. This place is special."

Lawrence wondered if Amati was implying that his peace had

been disturbed by a certain unpleasant character, that is, himself,

but decided that was overthinking.

He was of one mind with Amati in that he wanted to finish the

conversation as quickly as possible.

"So I know you must be surprised to see me but no more

surprised than I was earlier today, so I think I can beg your

indulgence."

Lawrence didn't know what Amati had said to get Holo to sign

the contract. No matter how clever and impulsive she was, he

could not imagine what would make her actually sign.

157

Which meant that Amati had somehow persuaded her, and she

had agreed.

However, Lawrence knew he had no right to blame her.

The one who had let Amati into the room was Holo, but the one

who had caused the situation in the first place was Lawrence.

He did not know then what Holo had heard from Amati. Amati

opened his mouth to explain just that presumably, but Lawrence

raised his hand and cut the boy off.

"No, that is not the matter I am here to discuss. It does however

inform my decision to come and talk business with you certainly,

but that is all. Holo is entirely free to act as she will."

Amati looked at Lawrence angrily for a moment and then

nodded.

He was clearly still suspicious of Lawrence, but for his part,

Lawrence would expend no more effort to allay those suspicions.

After all, what he was going to say next would only heighten

them.

"However, given the reason for my proposing this deal to you, I

can't very well call it normal."

"Just what is it you're scheming?" Amati asked.

Unfazed, Lawrence continued, "I'll get right to the point, then.

It is my wish to sell you pyrite."

Amati's blue eyes seemed to look through Lawrence into some

far-off place for a moment. "What?"

"I wish to sell you pyrite. By current market value, it is roughly

five hundred silver pieces' worth."

Amati, mouth half-open and eyes unfocused, regained his composure.

He laughed and then sighed. "Surely you jest."

"I am quite serious."

Amati's smile disappeared, his keen eyes now almost angry.

"You must be aware that I have done quite well reselling pyrite.

What are you playing at, trying to sell it then to me? The more I

158

have, the more money I can make. I cannot believe you would

help me in this. Unless" — Amati paused, his gaze now definitely

angry—"it's true that as long as you collect the debt, you care not

what becomes of Miss Holo."

"Far from it. Holo is very important to me."

"In that case, why—"

"Of course, I do not mean to simply sell it to you outright."

Amati might have been the better man when it came to the frenetic

business of auctions, but when negotiating one-on-one,

Lawrence had confidence in his own abilities.

Keeping his tone even, he continued on with his proposal.

"I wish to sell it to you on margin."

"On... margin?" Amati repeated the unfamiliar phrase.

"Quite."

"And what does that —"

"It means I will sell you five hundred trenni of pyrite tomorrow

evening at its current market value."

Holo sometimes bragged of being able to hear the sound

of someone frowning in consternation — Lawrence now felt

he heard that very sound, so complete was Amati's look of noncomprehension.

"In that case, simply come to me tomorrow evening —"

"No, I'd like to receive the payment now."

Amati's dubious expression grew still more dubious.

Unless he was as good at acting as Holo, Amati obviously knew

nothing of margin selling.

A merchant that lacked knowledge might as well be entering a

battlefield while blindfolded.

Lawrence pulled his bowstring tight, preparing to fire his arrow.

"In other words, I'll accept five hundred silver pieces from you

now, and tomorrow I'll give you five hundred silver pieces' worth

of pyrite at today's market value."

159

Amati thought hard. On the surface, it was not a difficult

arrangement to understand.

After a time, he seemed to work out the implications.

"So what this means is that come tomorrow evening, even if the

market value of pyrite has risen, 111 still receive what I would have

gotten at today's price."

"Correct. For example, if I sold you a single piece of pyrite

worth twelve hundred irehd on margin tonight, even if tomorrow's

price is two thousand irehd, I still have to give you the

pyrite."

"... Contrariwise, if the value has dropped to two hundred irehd

by tomorrow, I still receive only the one piece, despite having paid

twelve hundred the night before."

"Also correct."

The boy was clever.

However, Lawrence still worried whether Amati would understand

the true meaning of margin transactions.

In a sense, they were no different from when a merchant sold a

commodity on the spot.

If the price of a good was to rise after it had been sold, a merchant

would regret not waiting to sell it. Likewise, if it fell, he

would be relieved at having gotten a better deal.

But the time interval between the cash transaction and the

commodity transaction was an important one.

Lawrence wanted Amati to understand this.

If Amati failed to see the significance of it, he would in all likelihood

turn down the proposal.

Amati spoke.

"How is this different from an ordinary transaction?"

He did not understand.

Lawrence stifled the urge to click his tongue in irritation and

prepared to deliver a lecture on margin purchasing.

160

Just then, Amati cut him off before he could begin.

"No, wait. It is different." Amati smiled in understanding, his

boyish face now every inch a merchant's, calculating gain and

loss. "You, Mr. Lawrence, are trying to salvage some profit despite

having arrived late to the game. Am I right?"

It seemed a lecture would be unnecessary.

A merchant would not propose a meaningless deal. It only

appeared meaningless when viewed in ignorance.

Amati continued, "If buying on margin allows you to gain a

commodity without having the cash on hand, then selling on

margin allows you to gain cash without having the commodity on

hand. Buying on margin yields profit when the good rises in price,

but selling on margin allows you to profit when the goods market

value drops."

When selling on margin, one did not even need to have the

goods on hand until they were due to be delivered, since the deal

was made by promising to deliver goods at a later point in time.

"This is quite a business, indeed. It seems my focus on fish has

left me ignorant of much of the world. You chose me for this deal

because... No, it goes without saying. If I buy five hundred silver

pieces' worth of pyrite from you, I stand to gain if the market

value of pyrite rises, but if it falls, my losses increase. When you

profit — that is when I lose."

Amati thrust out his chest, his face fairly brimming with

confidence.

Lawrence was acutely aware of his own even expression.

His hand trembled upon the bowstring.

Amati continued, "So in other words, this is —"

Lawrence cut him off and let fly the arrow.

"Mr. Amati, I am challenging you to a battle."

The fishmonger's lips curled into a smile.

It was every bit a merchants smile.

161

"Surely this cannot be called a 'battle.' A battle presupposes that

both sides are equal, and this is not equal at all. I'm sure that

you're not suggesting that this transaction would be meaningful

only between you and me?"

"By which you mean... ?"

"Surely you don't plan to conduct the deal without a certificate,

and I assume this certificate could be sold to someone else, correct?"

Outside of remote areas, it was quite common for debt obligations

to be bought and sold.

Certificates for margin selling were no exception.

"I would hardly expect you to accept my proposal otherwise,"

replied Lawrence. "It would be far too much risk; you would never

accept it."

"Quite so. Even supposing the value of pyrite drops by tomorrow

evening as you're predicting it will, as long as it reaches the

value I need sometime during the day, I'll want to sell the certificate.

If I weren't allowed to do that, I doubt I would accept the

deal. But if I keep that ability, the deal remains unfair."

Lawrence listened silently as Amati continued.

"It's unfair to you, Mr. Lawrence, since all I need is a slight

increase in the price of pyrite to reach my goal. And yet I cannot

accept a deal that leans in your favor."

So either way, Amati was unwilling.

But no merchant worth his salt would give up after a single

refusal.

Lawrence calmed himself and replied.

"That may be true if you look at this transaction by itself, but if

you'll look at the bigger picture, you'll see this amount of unfairness

is actually quite fair."

"... By which you mean... ?"

"By which I mean it is quite possible that Holo will simply tear

up that marriage certificate. I assume you have a copy as well?"

162

Amati paled.

"Even if you pay me the thousand silver to lift Hole's debt,

there's no way for you to avoid the risk of her simply shaking her

head no. Compared to that risk, the marginal unfairness I face is

nothing."

"Hah. Don't you think that worry is unfounded? I understand

you had quite a row with her," Amati shot back with a snort and a

chuckle.

Lawrence felt his body grow hot as though he was empaled

from behind on a red-hot iron bar, but he summoned every ounce

of his merchant's self-control and revealed nothing. "In our travels

together, Holo has cried in my arms three times."

It was now Amati whose face betrayed his emotion.

He'd had a smirk, but his face now froze, and he took a long,

slow breath.

"She was quite charming all three times, Holo was," continued

Lawrence. "So it's a shame she's usually so stubborn. She often

says and does things that are contrary to her true feelings. In other

words —"

Amati cut Lawrence off forcefully, like a knight challenged to a

duel. "I accept! I accept your proposal, Mr. Lawrence."

"Are you quite sure?"

"I say again: I accept. I was... if you'll pardon me, I was worried

that it would be too cruel to take absolutely everything from you,

Mr. Lawrence. But if this is the way you want it, I accept. I will

take from you your fortune and everything you have!"

Amati's face was red with anger.

Lawrence had to smile.

As he extended his right hand to Amati, his was the smile of the

hunter that reaches into a trap to retrieve his prey. "So you'll

accept these terms?"

"I shall!"

163

The two hands that then clasped tightly together each planned

to take everything from the other.

"In that case, let us sign the contract and be done with it."

Lawrence remained coolheaded and came to a conclusion.

The two of them, Lawrence and Amati, were on equal footing

when it came to the deal at this time. Amati might even be shouldering

a slightly greater risk.

But it was far from clear whether Amati realized this. No, it was

precisely because he had not realized it that he was willing to

agree.

But even if he were to realize now, it would be too late.

They borrowed pen and paper from the tavern keeper and

signed the contract on the spot.

Amati couldn't produce five hundred pieces of silver right there,

so Lawrence let him substitute his three horses for the remaining

two hundred. The coin would be handed over in the morning at

the toll of the market bell. The horses would follow in the evening.

If Holo was to be believed, Amati had two hundred silver coins,

pyrite worth three hundred pieces of silver, and another two hundred

pieces of silver of salable assets.

Evidently, though, he had a hundred more silver pieces than

that, and the two hundred silver pieces of salable assets were

clearly the three horses.

All this meant that Amati had the equivalent of eight hundred

silver pieces' worth of pyrite. If the value of pyrite was to rise by

even 25 percent, he'd have more than the thousand silver he

needed. If Amati had more assets than what Holo reported, the

price wouldn't even need to go up that much.

"We'll settle this tomorrow evening, then," said Amati, visibly

excited as the final seal was stamped on the paper. Lawrence nodded

calmly.

All he'd had to do was mention Holo crying in his arms.

164

Merchants truly were useless once matters strayed from business.

"I'll take my leave, then. Enjoy your wine," said Lawrence once

the contract was signed and complete.

The arrow was well and truly buried in Amati's chest. Amati

himself must have felt it, but there was something Lawrence had

failed to mention.

The arrow had been tipped with a slow-acting poison known

only to those familiar with margin selling.

The merchant's hunt lay between truth and deception.

There was no obligation to tell the whole truth.

Merchants were all of them treacherous.

As soon as he completed the margin-selling contract with Amati,

Lawrence headed straight to the marketplace.

Though business hours were long since over, the marketplace

was as lively as it had been during the day. The merchants drank

wine and made merry by the light of the moon, and the festivities

soon spread to include the night watchmen.

So it was that Mark was still at his stall and not at home as he

might have been at such a late hour.

That he was drinking alone, with only the noise of the festivities

to accompany the wine, proved he had once been a traveling merchant

himself.

"What's this? Does the princess not require an escort?" were the

first words from Mark's mouth.

Lawrence shrugged, smiling unhappily.

Mark laughed. "Well, no matter — have a drink," he said, pouring

ale from an earthen bottle into an empty cup.

"I'm not disturbing you?"

"You will be if you stay sober!"

Lawrence sat in the sawed-log chair and set down the sack containing

the gold and silver coins. He put the proffered ale to his

165

lips. Its foamy fragrance filled his head as the bitter stuff washed

down his throat.

The hops had been good in this batch.

Lawrence supposed it was unsurprising that a wheat merchant

would know good ale.

"It's fine ale."

"It's been a good harvest this year for all wheat. When there's a

bad harvest, the barley that normally goes to ale is put toward

bread instead. I'll have to thank the god of the harvest."

"Hah, quite so," said Lawrence, setting the ale cup down on the

tabletop. "Listen, this may not be the best discussion to match

good ale, but..."

Mark gulped and burped. "Is there profit in it?"

"That's hard to say. There might be gain in it, though that's not

my aim."

Mark popped a piece of salted fish into his mouth, speaking as

he crunched away on it. "You're too honest, friend. You should've

said there's money in it. I'd have gladly helped you."

"I'll pay you for your trouble, and there may yet be profit in it."

"Do tell."

Lawrence wiped a bit of ale foam from the corner of his mouth.

"After the festival ends is when the wheat buying begins in earnest,

yes?"

"Oh, aye."

"I'd like you to spread a rumor for me."

Mark's expression turned shrewd, as though he was appraising

wheat. "I won't do anything risky."

"It might be risky for you to spread it, but your apprentice can

do so with no trouble at all."

It was a trifling rumor.

But rumors can wield a terrible power.

There was a tale of a kingdom long ago that met its destruction

166

because of a simple rumor that the king was ill, which was started

by a young town boy. The rumor eventually circulated beyond the

kingdoms borders, leading to the dissolution of alliances and

finally invasion.

. It turns out that people do not have that much to talk about in

their daily lives.

It seemed that their ears existed only to pick up on small rumors,

so they could then shout them to the world.

Mark gestured with his chin, as if to say, "Go on."

"At my signal, I want someone to begin saying that it seems

about time for the price of wheat to rise."

Mark froze, his eyes staring through Lawrence and off into the

distance. He was considering the implications of what Lawrence

had said.

"You're trying to lower the price of that mineral."

"Exactly so."

Lawrence imagined that most of the people who were trying

their hand at the pyrite business had come to town to sell something,

and they would be buying something before they left.

And as they left, the product they would buy the most of was

undoubtedly wheat.

If people heard that wheat was going to rise in price, they would

surely sell off their pyrite in order to buy whatever it was they had

originally come to town to buy.

And as a result, demand for pyrite would fall off.

As the price fell with less demand, it would reach a certain point

and then plunge uncontrollably downward.

The wheat merchant drank deeply from his ale cup before

speaking. "I wouldn't have figured you to come up with such a

simpleminded idea."

"What if I told you that I was planning to sell off a considerable

amount of pyrite at the same time?"

167

Mark blinked, and after a moment of thought, he asked, "How

much?"

"One thousand trenni worth."

"Wha—! One thousand? Are you insane? Do you have any idea

how much you might lose in the process?"

Mark scowled and scratched his beard, muttering as he looked

about. Judging by his reaction, he had no idea what Lawrence was

thinking.

"So long as I've five hundred silver pieces' worth of pyrite when

this is all over, it matters nothing to me whether the price rises or

falls."

It was Amati who had greater risk in the deal Lawrence had

brought to him.

And this was the reason.

"Damn. Selling on margin, are you?"

Obviously no one complained when a commodity they had on

hand went up in price, but there weren't many situations where

someone didn't mind if their goods dropped in value.

If the goods sold on margin depreciated, all one had to do was

repurchase the product at the new lower price to ensure a profit.

If the product rose in value, as long as it were paired up with a

conventional transaction, Lawrence could create a situation where

he would come out the same whether or not the price rose or fell.

His most decisive advantage was that the price of pyrite would

definitely fall once it was sold in large quantities, but Amati absolutely

needed the price to rise in order to turn a profit.

Lawrences plan was, in essence, to use the five hundred silver

pieces he'd received from Amati plus his own assets to buy up as

much pyrite as possible; then he would sell it off all at once in

order to drive the price sharply down.

It was only possible to do this upon abandoning any notion of

profit.

168

Mark, once a traveling merchant himself, soon worked all this

out — including who the victim was.

"I must say I feel bad for that poor, ignorant fishmonger."

Lawrence shrugged in reply.

Although the plan looked flawless, there was a reason why Lawrence

was not completely comfortable with it.

There was no such thing as a perfect plan.

"You'd think he would understand how dangerous it is to take

part in a deal he's not used to," said Mark.

"No — he knows the risks, and he accepted. I explained that

much."

Mark gave a throaty chuckle and polished off his beer. "So, was

that all you needed?"

"No, there's one more thing."

"I'm all ears."

"I want you to help me buy up pyrite."

Mark stared blankly at Lawrence. "You didn't secure a source

before making the margin contract?"

"There wasn't time. Will you help me?"

This was the flaw in his plan.

No matter how ideal the plan, without all the components in

place it would come to nothing.

And what Lawrence needed to do was far from easy.

He could wait until dawn to purchase pyrite in the marketplace

like any other merchant. But if he bought several hundred trenni

worth of pyrite all at once, a sudden spike in price was inevitable.

He had to work behind the scenes and buy up pyrite in such a

way that his purchasing would not disturb the market value.

To do this, the best way would be to make many small purchases

via various town merchants.

"Payments will be in cash. I'll'even pay over market value. If the

quantity is enough, I can even pay in lumione"

169

If trenni silver was a sword, then lumione gold was a phalanx of

spears. When buying high-value commodities, a more powerful

weapon did not exist.

Lawrence had coin but lacked connections, and outside of

Mark, he had no one he could turn to for aid.

If Mark refused, Lawrence would have no choice but to gather

pyrite on his own.

He couldn't even consider how difficult it would be to buy up

the mineral in an aboveboard fashion in this town, where he only

did business a few days of the year.

Mark was unmoving, staring off in some unclear direction.

"I'll make it worth your trouble," Lawrence added. It was clear

he was offering more than a simple service fee.

Mark glanced over upon hearing those words.

He was, after all, a merchant. He wouldn't work for free.

Mark's answer was short. "I can't."

"I see, so... Wait, what?"

"I can't," he said again, looking Lawrence in the eye.

"Wha-"

"I cannot help you with this," he said flatly.

Lawrence leaned forward. "I'll pay you a consideration and not

a paltry service fee, either. You've nothing to lose. It's a good trade,

is it not?"

"I've nothing to lose?" He frowned, his square-cut beard making

his face look even stonier.

"But you don't, do you? I'm asking you to help me find and purchase

pyrite, not shoulder a risky investment. What have you to

lose?"

"Lawrence." The sound of his name cut Lawrence off.

Yet Lawrence did not understand what Mark was thinking. It

made no sense for a merchant to refuse a deal that promised a

sizable reward with no risk.

170

Why then the refusal?

He wondered if Mark was trying to take advantage of him, and

something like anger roiled in his gut.

Mark continued, "You'd be able to pay me, say, ten lumione at

the outside, am I right?"

"Well, given that you're simply making some purchases for me,

that's more than generous, I should think. It is not as though I'm

asking you to cross a mountain range alone and bring back an

entire caravan's worth of ore."

"But you are asking me to go about the marketplace and buy up

pyrite, are you not? It amounts to the same thing."

"How is that—?" Lawrence stood suddenly, knocking back the

log chair with a clatter. He was a moment from bodily grabbing

the wheat merchant when he regained his composure.

Mark was unmoved.

His even, businesslike expression did not change.

"Er—I mean, how is that the same thing? I'm hardly asking you to

run around all night or to traverse some treacherous mountain pass.

I'm simply asking you to help me buy pyrite with your connections."

"It's the same thing, Lawrence," said Mark almost patiently.

"You're a traveling merchant who crosses the plains; I do battle in

the marketplace. The dangers you see, they're the dangers of the

traveling merchant."

"So..." Lawrence swallowed his protest. Mark's face was also

strained, as if he'd swallowed something bitter.

Mark continued, "To a town merchant, leaping at every chance

to make a quick profit is no virtue. It's making a steady living

through an honest, reliable business that makes my reputation,

not making big profits on fleeting side jobs. I may be the owner of

this stall, but its reputation is not just mine. It extends to my wife,

my relatives, and anyone connected with it. If it's making a bit of

coin on the side, that's surely not a bad thing..."

171

Mark paused here, taking another quaff of ale. His knit brow

was surely not owing to the ales bitter taste. "... But helping you

find and buy five hundred trenni of pyrite is quite another matter.

How do you think the townspeople would view me and mine?

Would they not think of me as a villain, who cares nothing for his

real business and has eyes only on easy riches? Can you pay me

enough to take that risk? I was once a traveling merchant myself,

and I'd venture to say the trifling sums a traveling merchant handles

cannot compare to the amounts town merchants deal with."

Lawrence could say nothing.

Mark made his final statement. "This shop may seem small, but

the value of its name is surprisingly high. If the name were to be

tarnished, ten or twenty gold pieces would be far from enough to

cover it."

It was a compelling statement.

Lawrence had nothing to say in return and stared at the table.

"That's how it is."

Mark was neither taking advantage of Lawrence nor mocking

him.

It was simply the truth.

Lawrence saw that though both he and Mark were merchants,

they lived in different worlds.

"I am sorry," said Mark.

Lawrence still had no good reply.

It was hardly worth counting the number of allies that remained

to him.

"N-no, I should apologize for asking the impossible."

Lawrence tried to think of who else he might turn to; only Batos

came to mind.

Since Mark would not help him, Batos was the only option.

But Lawrence remembered that when Batos tipped him off about

Amati's plan, he'd said the boy's plan was not exactly praiseworthy.

172

Batos hauled ore through dangerous mountain passes — he

would no doubt consider the quick buying and selling of pyrite to

be rather odious.

He doubted that Batos would help him, but Lawrence had no

choice but to put aside his misgivings and ask nonetheless.

Lawrence steeled himself and looked up.

It was just then that Mark spoke again. "So even the evercomposed

Lawrence gets like this sometimes, eh?"

Marks face was neither upset nor amused; he simply seemed

surprised.

"Ah, apologies," Mark continued. "Don't be angry. It just seems

unusual," he said, hurriedly explaining. Lawrence was also surprised

at his own behavior and far from angry.

"I cant say I'm surprised with your companion being who she

is and all. But you needn't go to all this effort to stop Amati, do

you? Surely she won't leave you so easily. I thought as much the

first time I saw her at your side. Have more confidence, man!"

Mark finally smiled, but Lawrence was expressionless as he

replied, "She gave me a signed marriage certificate. The other

party is Amati naturally."

Mark's eyes widened, and he realized that he'd said the wrong

thing. He scratched his beard awkwardly.

Lawrence saw this and slackened his shoulders. "If nothing had

happened, sure, I'd have more confidence. But something did

happen."

"So it happened after you came by here? We never know what

lies even a step ahead in life, do we? But you still have hope, so

you're still running — I see."

Lawrence nodded, and Mark stuck out his lower lip and sighed.

"Still," said Mark, "I knew she was a person to be reckoned with,

but I can't believe she'd be so bold... Anyway, do you have any

other leads?"

173

"I expect I'll go talk to Mr. Batos next."

"Batos, eh? Ah, so you're going to have him talk to the woman

for you," murmured Mark.

"... The woman?" asked Lawrence in reply.

"Huh? Oh, so you're not going to have him talk to her for you?

The chronicler, I mean. You met her, right?"

"If you mean Miss Diana, I've met her, but I don't see what she

has to do with this."

"So long as you're not worried about the consequences, you

might try dealing with her."

"Look, what are you talking about?" asked Lawrence.

Mark looked over his shoulder conspiratorially, then lowering

his voice, he spoke. "She practically coordinates the northern

regions. Especially the alchemists — you might as well call her

their storefront. It's because of her that the alchemists that have

managed to escape persecution gather here, from our perspective.

Of course, only the local nobility and elders of the town

council know the details. Oh, and —"

Mark took a sip of ale and continued, "Everybody knows that

the alchemists have pyrite, but nobody wants to make waves, so

they don't do business with alchemists. In old Batos's case, he deals

mostly with the alchemists and rarely with anybody else. No — it's

more accurate to say he can't deal with anyone else because

he deals with alchemists. So if you can risk the trouble it might

bring, getting Batos to talk to the woman for you is an option."

It wasn't clear to Lawrence whether this sudden revelation was

the truth, but Mark had nothing to gain from lying.

"Depending on the circumstances, it might be worth trying.

The flames are getting quite close, after all, are they not?"

It was pathetic, but Lawrence had to admit that with Mark's

refusal to help, the situation was quite desperate.

174

"I'm actually quite pleased that you'd turn to me for help, but

this is all I can do for you," said Mark.

"No, I appreciate it. I nearly overlooked a huge opportunity."

Even Lawrence felt that Mark's reason for refusing him was

completely justified.

Mark was a town merchant, and Lawrence was a traveling merchant.

The abilities and limitations of each were naturally very

different.

"I know I refused you... but I'll be praying for your success

nonetheless."

Now it was Lawrences turn to smile. "You've taught me something

valuable. That alone was worth my time," he said with complete

sincerity. In the future, when he dealt with town merchants,

Lawrence would have today's experience to draw upon. It was

indeed something valuable.

Whether or not it was in response to Lawrence's words, Mark

stroked his beard noisily.

He frowned and looked off to the side as he spoke. "I may not

be able to help you directly, but I might be able to whisper the

condition of someone's wallet in your ear."

Lawrence was visibly surprised, at which Mark closed his eyes.

"Come by the shop later. I can at least tell you who to buy from."

"... Thank you, truly," said Lawrence with complete honesty.

Mark shook his head as if at a loss, sighing. "When you make

that face, I guess I see why that girl would be so bold."

"... What do you mean?"

"Ah, nothing. Just that merchants should stick to business."

Lawrence wanted the laughing Mark to explain himself, but he

was already focusing on Batos and Diana.

"Good luck to you," said Mark.

"Thanks."

175

Lawrence's chest was still tight with anxiety, and if he was to go

negotiate, the sooner he did so the better.

He thanked Mark again and put Mark's stall behind him.

It was often said that the traveling merchant has no friends. As

he walked the streets, Lawrence decided this was not true.

Lawrence first headed directly to the trade guild.

He had two goals: first, to discover whether Batos had a stock of

pyrite on hand or any connections to buy some, and second, to

have Batos take him to Diana.

He remembered Batos's dismissal of Amati's plan to raise

money—not entirely praiseworthy, Batos had said.

The man hauled ore and precious stones from the mines

over dangerous mountain paths. He might well find this pyritespeculation

business downright shameful.

Even though he knew he might be asking the impossible, Lawrence

still had to go.

He made his way through the back alleys to the guild house,

turning a blind eye to the festival, which was even at this late hour

continuing with an atmosphere that was near riotous.

He finally arrived at his destination — a street lined with trade

companies. Each company had lit lanterns, and there were circles

of people dancing about here and there. Now and then, Lawrence

caught sight of employees continuing the festivities by holding

clumsy mock sword battles.

Pushing his way through the congested street, Lawrence

approached the Rowen Trade Guild building. He silently slipped

through the open doors and passed the guild members that were

drinking and carrying on there.

The delineation between those who wanted to quietly drink

inside and those who wished to join in the clamor outside seemed

quite clear. Beneath the glow of the distinctive-smelling fish oil

176

lamps, the guild hall was filled with quiet conversation and pleasant

laughter.

A few seemed to notice Lawrence's arrival and looked at him

curiously, but the greater part were wholly concerned with enjoying

themselves.

Lawrence spied the man he was looking for among those gathered

and walked straight toward him.

The man sat at a table with several other older merchants.

Beneath the dim lamplight, he looked somehow hermitlike.

It was Gi Batos.

"I apologize for interrupting in the middle of your celebration,"

said Lawrence quietly. The older merchants with their decades of

experience immediately understood that he was here for business.

They sipped their wine wordlessly, glancing at Batos.

Batos smiled briefly. "Ho there, Mr. Lawrence. What can I do

for you?"

"I'm sorry this is so sudden, but I need to speak with you."

"Business, is it?"

After a short hesitation, Lawrence nodded.

"We'll talk over there. We can't let these old codgers steal all our

profit, after all."

The other merchants at the table laughed, raising their cups as

if to say, "We'll keep on without you."

Lawrence gave a quick bow and then followed Batos, who was

heading farther into the guild house.

Standing in sharp contrast to the lively lobby, the halls of the

guild house were like back alleys; the lamplight soon failed to

reach them, and the clamor from those gathered faded like a fire

burning on a river's distant shore.

Batos then stopped and turned. "So what is it you want to speak

about?"

There was no point in beating around the bush. Lawrence spoke

177

simply and to the point. "I'm trying to lay in pyrite. I'm looking

for someone with a stockpile, and I thought you might have some

idea of where to start."

"Pyrite?"

"Yes."

Batos's eyes were a dark blue that bordered on black. They

looked gray in the faint yellow light of the lamp.

Those eyes looked evenly at Lawrence.

"Have you any leads?" Lawrence asked again.

Batos sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Mr. Lawrence, you —"

"Yes?"

"Do you remember what I said when I told you about what the

young Amati was planning?"

Lawrence nodded immediately. Of course, he remembered.

"Not only that, I remember that Miss Diana hates business

discussions."

Batos took his hand from his eyes and then stopped, his gaze

now for the first time what one would expect from a merchant.

It was the look of a man whose life was devoted to the safe

transport of goods through incredible hardship, unconcerned

about how much profit would be made.

Those eyes seemed somehow wolflike.

"So you're eyeing the alchemists' stock, are you?"

"That will make this conversation easy—yes. However, I've

heard that without Miss Diana's permission, no business can be

had. That is why I've come to you."

Lawrence suddenly remembered when he was just starting out

as a merchant — with no connections, he would visit without

notice and say whatever it took to increase his business.

Batos's eyes widened slightly in surprise before he forced them

back to their usual expression. "Is pyrite so lucrative that knowing

all this, you still wish to deal with them?"

178

"No, that is not it."

"Then... you want to know your fortune or ward away illness

as pyrite is rumored to do?" Batos smiled indulgently, as

though he were playing with a grandchild. It was his way of poking

fun.

Lawrence was neither angry nor impatient.

If it was for his own gain, a merchant could stare at a swinging

scale all night, if that's what it took. "I am acting in my own interest.

That I will not deny."

Batos stared wide-eyed, unmoving.

If he was turned away here, his best chance of finding a stockpile

of pyrite would be gone.

Lawrence did not have the luxury of allowing that to happen.

"But I'm not after it because I'm trying to gain from the pyrite

bubble. My aim is more... more basic."

Batos did not interrupt him, and Lawrence took this as his cue

to continue.

"Mr. Batos, you're a traveling merchant, so surely you've had

times when the goods you're hauling fall into a crevasse."

Still silence.

"When our wagon sinks in a mire, we weigh the difficulty of saving

it against abandoning it to the mud. The value of the goods, the

gain, the amount of cash on hand, the cost of getting assistance —

the danger of being attacked by brigands even — we weigh it all

and decide to abandon the cargo or not to."

Batos spoke slowly. "And you've found yourself thus, have you?"

"I have."

Batos's keen eyes seemed as though they could see to the end of

a dark road.

He'd traveled the same road for a lifetime and came to Diana to

hear tales of the roads he hadn't taken.

Those eyes would surely see through any lie.

179

But Lawrence did not waver.

For he was telling no lies.

"I am determined not to abandon my load. So long as I can get

it back on my cart, I am willing to risk a bit of trouble."

Batos had to realize what the "cargo" was and why Lawrence

was so desperate.

But the old merchant just closed his eyes, saying nothing.

Was there something more to say? Lawrence wondered. Should

he push further?

The laughter that echoed from the lobby sounded derisive and

mocking.

Precious time was slipping away.

Lawrence readied himself to speak.

And at the last possible moment, he stopped himself.

He remembered his master telling him that waiting was the

most powerful weapon when asking another's favor.

"That's what I wanted to see," said Batos at that moment with a

little smile. "It's a good merchant that can wait, even if time is

short, when that's the only option left to him."

Lawrence realized he had been tested; cold sweat ran down his

back, making him shiver.

"Of course, I was even pushier back in the old days."

"Er..."

"Ah, yes. I've no supply of pyrite, sad to say. But surely the alchemists

do."

"So, then —"

Batos nodded slightly. "All you need say is 'I've come to buy a

box of white feathers.' That should get you in the door. The rest is

up to you. You'll have to be quite clever with dear Diana. I doubt

anyone has gone to buy pyrite there yet."

"Thank you very much. By way of thanks —"

180

"As long as you'll tell me a good tale, I'll call it even. What do

you think? Do I sound as dignified as Diana?"

Batos grinned childishly; Lawrence couldn't help but laugh.

Batos continued, "You never know when she's sleeping, Diana,

so you should be able to go over there right now. And if you're

going, you should go soon. Time is money and all." He pointed to

the back of the trade guild. "If you take the back way, you can

leave without answering any questions."

Lawrence thanked Batos and headed down the hall. He looked

back to see the old merchant still smiling.

There with his back to the lamplight from the lobby, Batos

looked a bit like his old master, Lawrence thought.

Leaving the guild house and heading north, Lawrence soon ran

right into the stone wall.

He hadn't been lucky enough to arrive at the entrance, so he ran

along the wall for a while until he found it, levering the rickety

door open and slipping inside.

There were, of course, no lights, but as Lawrence ran, his eyes

adjusted to the gloom, and as a traveling merchant who camped

on the road quite a bit, he was used to a bit of darkness.

However, the slivers of light that sliced out from between the

cracks in the district's wooden doors, the meowing of cats in the

distance, and the sudden occasional beating of birds' wings were

all much more unsettling than they had been during the day.

Without the keen sense of direction common among traveling

merchants, Lawrence might have become lost and wound up

sprinting away in fear.

When he finally found Diana's house, his relief was genuine.

It was like he'd arrived at a friendly woodcutters cabin after a

long walk through an ominous forest.

181

But on the other side of the door, which Lawrence stood in

front of, there was perhaps not a friend who'd welcome him with

open arms.

Even though he'd gotten the password from Batos, when Lawrence

thought back on his exchange with Diana, he felt she truly

did hate business.

He wondered if he would really be able to buy any pyrite.

The uncertainty grew in his chest, but he took a deep breath

and pushed it back down.

He had to obtain the mineral.

"Excuse me, is anyone home?" Lawrence asked hesitantly,

knocking lightly on the door.

The silence of someone home but asleep is subtly different from

the silence of no one being present.

When it is the former, it was somehow hard to raise one's

voice.

There was no reaction from behind the door.

A bit of light shone through the cracks, though, so even if Diana

might have been asleep, she seemed to be there.

The town leveled harsh punishments at those who left their

lamps burning as they slept, but it was hard to imagine the evening

patrols venturing into this district.

Just as Lawrence was about to knock on the door again, he

heard someone move behind it.

"Who is it?" The voice sounded sleepy, weary.

"I apologize for disturbing you at this late hour. I am Lawrence;

I visited you yesterday with Mr. Batos."

A short pause followed, after which he heard the rustling of

fabric. Next, the door slowly opened.

Light poured out of the house, along with the air from within

the room.

Diana's eyes were annoyed and sleepy.

182

She wore the same style of robe she'd had on when he visited

her before. Being a former nun, she probably wore that style yearround,

morning and night, making it impossible for Lawrence to

tell from her dress whether he'd woken her.

In any case, it was extremely rude to visit a woman living alone

in the middle of the night; Lawrence knew this but spoke without

hesitation.

"I know it's very rude, but I had to come." He continued, "I wish

to buy a box of white feathers."

Diana's eyes narrowed for a moment upon hearing the password

that Batos had told Lawrence. She moved aside and wordlessly

gestured for him to come inside.

The inside of her house — which was free from the stench of

sulfur — seemed to be even more cluttered than it had been the

previous day.

Even the room's sole trace of organization — the bookshelves —

were a mess, with most of the books now off the shelves, left open

with their pages staring up at the ceiling.

And there were even more white quill pens scattered about than

before.

"My goodness, so many guests all on the same day. The festival

really does bring people out," said Diana, mostly to herself. She

sat — and as before, she did not offer Lawrence a chair.

Lawrence was about to sit anyway in one of the chairs not piled

high with things, but then he realized something.

So many guests.

So people had come before Lawrence.

"I expect it was Mr. Batos that told you to ask for a box of white

feathers?"

Lawrence was still worried about who had come calling here,

but he shook his head to clear it. "Ah, yes. I'm sorry to say I forced

the issue and made him tell me how to meet with you..."

183

"Goodness, really? I have a hard time imagining anyone forcing

Batos to do anything," said Diana with an amused smile.

Lawrence had nothing to say to that.

Her personality was different, but something about Diana

reminded Lawrence distinctly of Holo.

"So what business is it that's so pressing you managed to convince

that stubborn old coot?"

There were any number of people who would desire the skills

and products alchemists possessed for a variety of reasons.

Diana was a dam that held those desires in check.

Lawrence did not know why, but Diana — sitting in her chair

and looking evenly at him — seemed somehow like a great bird,

guarding her eggs with iron wings.

"I need to purchase pyrite," said Lawrence, despite being halfoverwhelmed

by Diana's mien.

Diana put one white hand to her cheek. "I hear the price has

gotten quite high."

"That snot—"

"Of course, dear Mr. Batos would never have helped you over

something as simple as mere profit. So there must be some other

reason, no?"

He felt like Diana was always one step ahead of him. She was

quicker than Lawrence and seemed fully willing to demonstrate

that.

Mustn't get angry, Lawrence told himself. He was being

tested.

He nodded. "It's not business. I need pyrite for a battle."

Diana's eyes narrowed as she smiled. "A battle with whom?"

«Tj_> » Its...

He hesitated to mention Amati's name. It wasn't because he

thought it would be inappropriate.

184

It was because he wondered whether Amati was his true opponent

in this battle.

He shook his head. "No, it's —" Lawrence looked back to Diana.

"It's against my cargo."

"Cargo?"

"A traveling merchants enemy is always his cargo. Estimating its

value, planning for its transport, deciding upon its destination. If

he errs in even one of these, he will lose. At this very moment, I am

trying to recover a piece that has fallen from my wagon. Having

reevaluated the value, the transport, and the destination, I have

realized that this is a piece of cargo I cannot afford to lose."

Diana's bangs fluttered in what seemed like the breeze — but no,

it was her own breath as she exhaled.

She smiled softly and retrieved a quill pen that was at her feet.

" 'Buying a box of white feathers' is nothing more than a glorified

password. All it means is that I don't mind so long as I'm able to

have a bit of fun. Does a bird not drop feathers when it beats its

wings excitedly? Those people that I give my password to help me

choose my visitors carefully, so all I need to do is glance at them to

tell. I don't mind a bit as far as pyrite goes. Buy it up as you please."

Lawrence jumped to his feet. "Thank—"

"However," said Diana, cutting him off. Lawrence suddenly had

a very bad feeling.

Several visitors in a single day. A chair with nothing piled

on it.

It can't be — the black words floated up in Lawrence's mind.

Diana's face was now apologetic. "Someone has already come to

buy."

It was just as he'd feared.

He immediately asked the questions any merchant would ask.

"How much did they buy? What did it sell at?"

185

"Do calm yourself. The customer in question bought on credit

and did not leave with the pyrite. You could say they simply made

an order. For my part, I wouldn't mind letting you have the material

instead. Let us try to negotiate with the first party, shall we?

As for the amount, I seem to recall it being sixteen thousand irehd

worth at current market value."

That was four hundred trenni. If he could acquire that much, it

would be a giant boon to his plans. "I understand. Might you tell

me who the buyer was... ?"

If Diana were to say it was Amati, Lawrences hopes would be

obliterated.

But she only shook her head slightly. "I will handle the negotiation.

For safety's sake, we do not allow others to know the identity

of those who have dealt with us alchemists."

"B-but—"

"You have an objection?" She smiled coldly.

Lawrence was the one asking the favor; he could only remain

silent.

"You've said this is a battle, so I presume the circumstances are

not ordinary. I will help all I can and let you know the results as

soon as possible. Where will I be able to find you tomorrow?"

"Ah, er... the marketplace in front of the stone seller's booth. I'll

be there the entire time the market is open. Otherwise, if you

contact Mark the wheat seller, his stand is..."

"I know the place. I'll send a messenger as soon as I'm able."

"Thank you." Lawrence couldn't think of anything else to say.

Yet the fact was that depending on the results of Diana's negotiation,

it was still possible that he would be unable to buy any

pyrite. The consequences would be near fatal.

There was only so much he could say.

"I won't hesitate to pay a considerable sum. I can't pay double

186

market value or anything like that, but please inform them I will

be quite generous."

Diana smiled and nodded, standing up from her chair.

Lawrence realized it was time for him to take his leave. The fact

that he hadn't been turned away after showing up uninvited at

this ridiculous hour was enough of a miracle already.

"I do apologize for calling so suddenly at this hour."

"Not at all. Night and day are meaningless to me."

Somehow he knew she wasn't joking, and yet he laughed anyway.

"And so long as you've brought interesting stories, you could

stay all night and I wouldn't mind a bit."

Her words could have been interpreted as seduction, but Lawrence

knew she was just being sincere.

Unfortunately, he'd already told her the one interesting story he

knew.

In its place, a question appeared unbidden in his mind.

"Is something wrong?" asked Diana.

Lawrence was stopped in his tracks by the thought that

struck him.

Flustered, he claimed it was nothing before heading for the door.

The question was preposterous. He couldn't possibly ask it.

"Being so mysterious when you leave a woman's home —

honestly, you'll be lucky if the gods don't punish you," said Diana

girlishly. Her playful smile made him think that she really would

answer whatever question he cared to ask.

And she was probably the only one who could.

He turned to speak even as he reached for the door.

"I... have a question."

"Ask whatever you like," she said without hesitating.

Lawrence cleared his throat. "Are there any stories of gods...

and humans, that is... falling in love, becoming a pair?"

187

He knew he wouldn't be able to answer if Diana asked why he

wanted to know this.

Yet despite the risks, Lawrence had to ask.

Holo had wept, saying if she had a child, she would no longer be

alone.

If this was at all possible, he wanted to tell her and perhaps give

her some small hope.

Diana was stunned for a moment by this question, but she soon

regained her composure and answered in a slow and measured

voice.

"There are many."

"Really?" said Lawrence in spite of himself.

"Yes, for example — ah, but I'm sorry. You were in a hurry."

"Ah, er, yes. But perhaps later... if you wouldn't mind, I would

very much like to hear the details."

"Certainly."

Fortunately, she did not ask his reasons for wanting to know.

Lawrence thanked her profusely and made ready to leave

Diana's house.

Just as he was closing the door, he thought he heard her say

something very softly: "Good luck to you."

When he turned to ask, the door was already closed.

Did she know of the battle between him and Aniati?

Something was strange about the conversation, but Lawrence

had no time to dwell on it.

Next, he needed to return to Mark's stall and then search out

others who might possess pyrite in quantity.

He was short on time — and as if that wasn't bad enough, he

had essentially no pyrite on hand.

Were this to continue, it would be no contest at all. His only

recourse would be to pray for divine intervention.

Even if it meant leaning on his friend, Lawrence had to get

188

Mark to give him some names, and even if he had to pay more

than it was worth, he had to get pyrite.

Lawrence wondered to himself if his frantic nocturnal dealings

would bring him any closer to Holo, and his only answer was

uncertainty.

When he arrived back at Mark's stall, Lawrence found Mark sitting

at the same table, still drinking ale, though now his apprentice

was beside him, devouring a piece of bread.

Just as Lawrence thought it an odd time for the boy to be taking

dinner, Mark noticed his presence.

"Any luck?" he asked.

"Just what you see," said Lawrence, waving his hands lightly as

he looked Mark in the eye. "I spoke with Diana, but someone's

beaten me to it. No telling how this'll turn out."

"Someone got there first?"

"I've no choice but to place my hopes in what you told me."

Given Diana's willingness to cooperate, Lawrence guessed the

odds were maybe 70-30 of that working out.

But he expected that acting like there was no hope would make

Mark a bit more sympathetic.

In his previous exchange with Mark, Lawrence had learned that

his request for aid was an unreasonable one from the perspective

of a town merchant.

Which left an appeal to emotion as the only other option.

However, Mark's reply was slow in coming.

"Ah... yes, about that."

Lawrence listened to the noncommittal statement as the blood

drained from his face.

Mark thwacked his apprentice on the head, gesturing with his

chin. "So? Let's hear the results."

The boy gulped down a bite of bread and quickly stood up out

189

of the log chair. "If we pay in trenni silver, then... three hundred

seventy pieces' worth of py—"

"Don't just say it in front of everyone!" Mark looked around hastily

as he clamped a thick hand over the boy's mouth. If the conversation

were overheard, it would be trouble. "So that's how it is."

Lawrence was confused.

Paying in trenni silver? Three hundred seventy pieces' worth?

"Ha-ha, I can't help but enjoy it when you make that face. See,

after you left, I thought it over."

Mark took his hand from the boy's mouth and reached for his

ale cup, his tone amused.

"I refused your request because I have a reputation to uphold.

Any other town merchant would do the same. But even I have bought

some you-know-what to make some money on the side — and

many others have done likewise. The reason I can only buy a limited

amount is that I have very little cash on hand. By all rights,

the price of wheat should be dropping since the people laying in

goods for their return trips haven't been buying wheat. And yet

the people who've come to sell wheat are selling it right off— which

is where all my cash has gone. So..."

Mark gulped down some ale, belching comfortably before

continuing.

"So what of the people who do have cash? I can't believe they'd

be able to resist. They've probably been buying up you-knowwhat

in large quantities behind the scenes. And here's where you

need some backstory. You see, these merchants aren't lone wolves

like you. Each one has their business, their position, their reputation.

And they've bought this stuff, but the price has risen so high

that it's getting hard to sell. All they need do is sell a little bit to

bring in a surprising profit, but this makes some of them even

more nervous. So what happens next? I'm sure a clever fellow like

you can figure it out."

191

Lawrence nodded his head after a moment.

Mark must have had his apprentice running all over town,

spreading a rumor — a rumor that had to go something like this:

There's a mad traveling merchant in town who wants to buy pyrite

with cash. Why not take the chance to unload some of that pyrite

that's not selling?

It would be a perfect opportunity for those merchants.

And to be sure, there was no question that Mark had signed a

contract promising him a service fee for brokering the hidden

transaction.

It was brilliant — conducting a pyrite deal under the pretense of

doing someone a favor.

But to have been able to pull together 370 trenni worth — there

was clearly pressure to sell in the marketplace.

"So that's how it is. If you're on board, I'll send the boy out

immediately."

There was no reason to refuse.

Lawrence undid the tie of the burlap sack he had on his back.

But then he stopped. "Still —"

Mark regarded him dubiously.

Lawrence returned to himself and quickly retrieved a bag of

silver coins from the sack and placed it on the table. "Sorry," he

muttered.

Mark seemed momentarily at a loss for Lawrences strange

behavior. "This is when you thank me, right?"

"Ah, er, yes, sor... no, I mean —" Lawrence suddenly felt like he

was speaking to Holo. "I mean, thanks."

"Bwa-ha-ha-ha! If I'd known you were such an amusing guy, I'd

have... Actually, I suppose not."

Mark took the bag of silver from Lawrence and quickly looked

at it; then he undid the string and handed the bag to his appren-

192

tice, who quickly emptied its contents and began counting the

silver pieces.

"You've changed," said Mark.

"...Is that so?"

"Quite. You used to be not an excellent merchant, but a merchant

wholly from head to toe. That's all there was of you. You

never even truly thought of me as a friend, did you?"

Mark had the right of it. Lawrence had no response.

The wheat seller just smiled, though. "But what of now? Am I

merely a convenient merchant to do a deal with?"

Lawrence was momentarily stunned. He couldn't possibly nod

at this statement.

Feeling as though he were trapped in the center of some strange

illusion, he shook his head no.

"That's why I could never content myself with the life of a traveling

merchant. But there's something even more interesting."

Was this because Mark had been drinking? Or was there some

other reason?

Mark continued, sounding truly amused. His face was chestnut

round now despite the square cut of his beard.

"Let me ask you one thing. If it were me whose separation you

were faced with, would you be running around town as frantically

as you are now?"

The boy, who lived every day with Mark as his master, looked

up at the two men.

Lawrence found this all very mysterious.

Though he certainly thought of Mark as a friend, he could not

honestly bring himself to nod and say "yes" to that question.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha. Well, I look forward to the future. Still"—he

paused, then continued quietly — "it's for your companion that

you're so desperate."

193

Lawrence felt as though he'd swallowed something hot and felt

it pass down into his stomach.

Mark looked at his apprentice. "This is what a man looks like

when he's obsessed with a woman. But it's the unbending branch

that breaks in a strong wind."

A single year weathered alone was worth less than half a year

with company.

So how much older than Lawrence might Mark be?

"You're no different from me. You've got the traveling merchant's

curse," said Mark.

"C-curse?"

"But it's almost broken, which is what's made you so amusing.

Do you not see? Did you not begin traveling with your current

companion out of nothing more than good fortune?"

Holo had happened to hide herself in his wheat-filled wagon as

Lawrence had passed through the village.

That he'd become close to her was nothing more or less than

good fortune's gift.

"Bwa-ha-ha! I feel like I'm looking at myself when I first met

Adele! You've got the curse, all right."

Lawrence felt like he finally understood.

Though Holo was very important to him, there was a part

of him that always preserved a certain cool distance between

them.

He hadn't realized how blind he'd become to his surroundings

because of Holo.

It was an unbalancing situation.

"The curse... You mean that famous 'traveling merchant s

complaint'?"

Mark guffawed, then smacked his apprentice — who'd stopped

working—upside the head. "The poets will tell you that money

can't buy love, and the priest will tell you that there are things more

194

precious than money. But if that's so, why is it we labor so hard to

earn money, then gain something even more precious?"

Lawrence had thought so little about what exactly Holo was to

him because she was always right there beside him.

If her presence had been something he had gained only after

laboring long and hard, he would not have been so ambivalent.

He'd always believed that anything truly precious required

much effort to gain.

If she was to ask him "What am I to you?" now, Lawrence was

sure he could answer.

"Ah, such a fine tale I've not told in a long time. Combined with

the information on conditions in the north, why, ten lumione

seems a bargain!"

"If you'd made all this up, it'd be extortion," said Lawrence

indignantly. Mark only grinned, which, in turn teased a smile out

of Lawrence.

"I hope all goes well for you."

Lawrence nodded, his mood clear like a cloudless evening sky.

"Though I suppose how it turns out is up to you..."

"Hm?"

"Ah, nothing," said Mark with a shake of his head. He gestured

to the boy, who had finished counting up the silver coins. The

apprentice was a model of competence as he made his preparations

and was ready to depart a moment later.

"Right, off with you, then." Mark sent the apprentice on his way

and then turned back to Lawrence. "So where will you be sleeping

tonight?"

"Haven't decided yet."

"Well, then-"

"Wait, I've decided. May I sleep here?"

Mark gave Lawrence a blank look. "Here?"

"Quite — you've wheat sacks aplenty. Lend me a few of those."

195

"I can certainly lend you some, but come to my house. I won't

even charge you."

"Ah, but this will bring luck." The practice was something many

a traveling merchant believed.

Mark gave up on pressing his invitation further. "I'll see you

here, dawn tomorrow."

Lawrence nodded, and Mark raised his cup.

"A toast then to your dreams."

Lawrence found he had no reason to refuse.

196

HAPTER JTTIVE

Lawrence sneezed grandly.

Of course, it didn't make a difference when he traveled alone,

but lately he'd had a certain cheeky, irritable companion, so Lawrence

always minded himself. Now, though, it seemed he was

slipping—hence the sneeze.

He frantically checked to see if the other occupant of the blanket

was still asleep — only to realize that side was rather cold.

And then he remembered that he was alone, sleeping on the

wheat sacks next to Mark's stall.

He'd tried to prepare himself for it and had after all chosen to

sleep alone, but upon awakening, he still felt a huge sense of loss.

Lawrence was used to someone being beside him when he awoke.

He had become so quickly accustomed to it that only now did

he realize its value.

Lawrence overcame his reluctance to part from his warm blanket

and stood up suddenly.

Frigid air immediately attacked him.

The morning sky was still dim, but already Mark's apprentice

was sweeping the area in front of the stall.

"Oh, good morning, sir."

"Good morning," said Lawrence.

It didn't seem like this was a show put on for the benefit of his

master's acquaintance; undoubtedly it was the boy's habit to wake

this early in order to prepare the stall for opening. He casually

greeted a few other boys that passed by.

He was an admirable apprentice.

More than whatever training Mark had given him, the boy simply

seemed like an excellent individual.

"Ah, that reminds me —"

The boy turned around smartly as soon as Lawrence spoke.

"Did you hear from Mark what's happening today?"

"Er, no... are we not forcing the dastardly villain into a trap?"

asked the apprentice.

The boy lowered his voice and spoke in such an exaggeratedly

serious fashion that Lawrence was stunned for a moment. With a

true merchant's discipline, he managed to keep a straight face and

nodded. "I can't tell you all the details, but that's it, more or less. I

may have to ask a serious favor of you in the process."

The boy held his broom at his side like a sword and gulped.

Seeing the boy made Lawrence sure of one thing.

He might well have been the promising young apprentice of a

wheat seller, but in his heart he still longed for the life of a knight.

After all, one only sees "dastardly villains" in fairy tales.

Lawrence got a ticklish feeling, as though he was looking back

on his younger self.

"What's your name, lad?"

"Ah, er, it's —"

When a merchant asked another person for their name, it was

an acknowledgment of that person's status.

The boy had probably never been asked his name before in his

life.

200

Despite his visible fluster, he really was an admirable lad, Lawrence

felt.

The boy straightened up and answered. "Landt. My name is Eu

Landt."

"Born in the northlands, were you?"

"Yes, from a village frozen in snow and frost."

Lawrence saw that Landt's description was not just an easy way

to convey a sense of his hometown, but a literal description of

how it must have seemed when he looked back on it for the last

time.

That was how things were in the north.

"I see. Well, I'm counting on you today, Landt." Lawrence

extended his right hand, and Landt hurried to wipe his own hand

off on his tunic before shaking Lawrences proffered hand.

The boy's palm was rough and callused, and who knew what

sort of future it might grasp?

Lawrence knew he had to win.

He let the boy's hand go.

"Well then, first let's fill our bellies, eh? Is there anyplace nearby

that's selling food yet?"

"There's a stand that sells dry bread to travelers. Shall I go and

buy some?"

"Indeed," said Lawrence and produced two tarnished irehd

pieces that were so dark they looked almost coppery.

"Er, one piece should be plenty," said Landt.

"The other's an advance on your help today. Of course, I'll pay

you a proper consideration when it's all done."

The boy was stunned.

Smiling, Lawrence added, "If you dawdle, Mark's liable to arrive.

No ddubt he'll claim breakfast is a luxury, don't you think?"

Landt nodded hastily and then dashed off.

Lawrence watched his form recede for a while, and then he

201

turned his gaze to the spaces between the many stalls across the

street.

"Don't you spoil my apprentice now."

"You could've stopped me."

Marks form appeared in the space between crates. His expression

seemed irritable, and he sighed. "It's gotten cold lately. If he

takes ill because I haven't let him eat enough, that's more trouble

for me."

It was clear enough that Mark had a good deal of affection for

Landt.

But having Landt get some breakfast was no simple act of kindness;

it was an important part of Lawrences plan.

Merchants were not saints, after all. Whatever their actions,

they always have ulterior motives.

"Should be good weather today," said Mark. "Good for selling,"

he finished with a nod.

Lawrence took a deep breath.

The bracing morning air felt good.

When he exhaled, all the unnecessary thoughts in his mind

seemed to leave with his breath.

All he had to think about now was making his plan succeed.

Once success was his, he could second-guess and doubt all he

wanted.

"Right then, time to fill my stomach," said Lawrence heartily as

he caught sight of a winded Landt returning.

The atmosphere itself was different.

That was the first thing that struck Lawrence as he arrived at the

marketplace.

What at first look seemed to be as quiet as a glassy lake's surface

was a roiling boil as soon as one touched it.

Ever since sunrise, a single corner of the marketplace was the

202

focus of an unusually dense crowd, and every person's gaze was

turned to a single stall.

It was the sole stone seller in the town of Kumersun, and the

only detail the crowd cared about was a makeshift board with

prices written on it.

On the price board were written descriptions of the weight and

shape of pieces of pyrite, and beside each description line was a

wooden placard with the price and the number of people in line

to buy it.

There was another column on the board that listed sellers, but

it seemed unlikely that there would be a chance for these placards

to stay there for long.

The board made obvious the supply and demand for pyrite, and

the demand was high.

"Looks like the average price is... eight hundred irehd."

That was eighty times the old price.

It could only be described as absurd. Like a runaway horse with

no rider to check it, the price kept rising and rising.

Presented with an opportunity for easy money, human reason

was like reins of mud — completely incapable of stopping this

runaway horse.

Though the market bell would not ring for some time, there

seemed to be a tacit approval for doing early deals. Once Lawrence

reached that stand, he caught sight of merchants approaching

the master occasionally to whisper a few words. Once a

number of deals had been reached, the master would quietly

replace the relevant wooden placards.

The master didn't update the prices and line numbers immediately,

probably to keep others from knowing exactly who had purchased

pyrite and at what price.

But in any case, the number of people waiting to buy kept

rising.

203

Just as Lawrence was estimating the total amount being spent,

a figure appeared at the edge of his vision.

He looked. It was Amati.

Lawrence had seen Amati before Amati had spotted him the

previous night, but the young merchant was sharp-eyed enough

not to let chances for profit escape. His gaze was every bit as keen

as Lawrence's, and he soon caught sight of his rival.

A friendly greeting would hardly have been appropriate.

But since Lawrence had arranged to collect the cash he was

owed upon the sounding of the bell that opened the marketplace,

he could hardly ignore Amati, either.

Just as he considered this, Amati revealed a smile and nodded

slightly.

Lawrence was taken aback for a moment but soon understood

the reason.

Beside Amati was Holo.

For whatever reason, she was not dressed as a town girl, but

instead wore her nun's robes. Three pure white feathers, vivid

enough to be visible at a distance, were affixed to her hood.

She looked steadily at the stone sellers stall, not once meeting

Lawrence's eye.

Heat rose in his belly at Amati's smile.

Holo whispered something in Amati's ear before the the young

merchant made his way through the gathered merchants toward

Lawrence, and Lawrence feigned total serenity, as if the anger he

felt did not exist.

He had confidence that as long as he did not have to fool Holo,

his charade would go unchallenged.

"Good morning, Mr. Lawrence."

"And to you."

It took some effort for Lawrence to maintain his facade in the

face of Amati's pleasant greeting.

204

"Things are going to become quite hectic once the bell rings, so

I thought it would be best to turn this over to you ahead of time,"

said Amati, producing a small bag from near his breast.

In size it was more of a coin purse than anything else. "What's

this?" Lawrence asked, having expected Amati to give him the

agreed-upon silver coins.

The bag was far too small to carry three hundred pieces of silver.

"This is the promised amount," said Amati.

Having no other choice, Lawrence suspiciously accepted the bag.

When he opened the bag's mouth and looked inside, his eyes

widened.

"It might have been a bit presumptuous of me," said Amati, "but

three hundred silver pieces would be quite cumbersome, so I took

the liberty of remitting in gold limar coins."

Though it was hard to imagine how he'd managed to obtain

them, the bag was indeed filled with gold coins.

The gold limar was not as valuable as the lumione, but it was a

widely circulated coin within Ploania, the country in which Kumersun

was situated. It was worth about twenty trenni.

But managing to obtain this amount during a currency shortage

— the service charge must have been incredibly steep.

The only reason to do it was for Amati to prove how much coin

he had on hand — it was a psychological attack.

Amati had Holo in tow, too, probably as another way to divert

Lawrence's attention.

Lawrence had inadvertently widened his eyes in surprise, so

there could be no concealing his perturbation.

"I've used today's exchange rate to prepare the amount. Fourteen

gold limar"

"... Understood. I accept."

"Do you not wish to count the coins?"

Normally saying "There's no need," as Lawrence did, should've

205

shown confidence, but now it just seemed as though he was

merely pretending at strength.

"In that case, I'd like the contract for three hundred silver."

Lawrence only did so after being asked.

Amati was still one step ahead of him.

Once the cash and the partially fulfilled contract had been

exchanged, Amati was even the first to say, "Very well."

As he watched Amati's receding form, one ill realization after

another flashed through Lawrences mind.

When they had signed the contract the previous day, Amati

may have claimed to have insufficient cash as an excuse to provide

the horses in lieu of coin.

Always keeping a certain amount of cash on hand was a trait

shared by all merchants.

What was worse, Amati had surely searched out and bought

pyrite just as Lawrence had.

If Amati had gathered enough, all he would require was a very

small increase in price.

Thinking back on the way Amati had just bowed so gracefully

and turned around after accepting the contract, Lawrence could

not believe that it had been a bluff.

Just how much pyrite had the boy managed to buy?

Lawrence feigned rubbing his nose and instead bit his thumbnail.

His original plan had been to observe carefully and then begin

selling off quantities of pyrite starting at noon to check the rising

price.

Suddenly Lawrence wondered if he should move more quickly.

But Diana's messenger had not arrived yet.

Until he knew whether or not he would be able to obtain the

necessary amounts, Lawrence couldn't act.

He could purchase more pyrite using the gold Amati had paid

206

him but if Dianas negotiations on his behalf succeeded and he

received another four hundred silver pieces' worth, that would

also be a problem.

He'd set aside money to pay Diana with so that was not an issue,

but he would have too much of the mineral.

Of course, he'd been purchasing pyrite in order to be able

to force a drop in its price, and he'd been careful to buy just

enough to be able to control that drop, in order to avoid his own

bankruptcy.

Admittedly, if Lawrence was willing to ruin himself in order to

stop Amati for Hole's sake, she might finally accept his sincerity.

Of course, the story would not end so easily—he still needed to

live on something after that.

The weight of reality bore down on him heavier than the gold

coins in his hand.

The stone shop's price board was updated again.

It seemed someone had just bought a large amount of pyrite;

both the prices and the line numbers jumped dramatically.

How much would Amati's pyrite be worth after this jump?

Lawrence felt unable to simply stand by and do nothing.

But losing his cool could lead to defeat.

He closed his eyes, lowered the hand with the fingernails he'd

been biting from his mouth, and took a deep breath.

Everything he had been thinking was all due to Amati's bluffing.

After all, behind Amati was Holo. If Lawrence could just discern

everyone's ulterior motives, he would be fine.

Just then, the clear tone of a ringing bell swept overhead.

It was the signal for the market to open.

The battle had begun.

The charged atmosphere seemed to induce everyone to stay scrupulously

honest and calm.

207

They had been waiting for some time in front of the stone seller

s stand but only began to move once the bell rang.

An examination of the crown revealed travelers and farmers

furtively selling small quantities of pyrite — but the small-scale

selling only served to further heat the marketplace.

In a situation where none were willing to sell, the only people

with an advantage were those who already had a large stock of

pyrite — it was thanks to the small-scale selling along with new

buyers that kept people excited and close to the stall's front.

Since each person there thought they had a chance to profit,

none left.

Given such an environment, it would take a serious amount of

pyrite in order to force the price down — nothing less would do.

The price board, which occasionally disappeared behind the

heads of the people in the crowd, was a thermometer for the marketplace,

and it was constantly rising.

Dianas messenger still had not arrived.

If her negotiations failed, he would have to take action quickly.

The thoughts pained him as he stared at the price board, and

suddenly Amati appeared in his field of vision in front of the stall.

Panic washed over Lawrence, and he wanted to dash forward,

clutching the bag of what pyrite he had to his breast.

But if that was Amati s plan to shake him up, such a move could

be disastrous. If Lawrence sold off only a middling amount, it

would just increase demand as buyers assumed they would be

able to purchase pyrite so long as they waited long enough, and as

the line grew longer, the price would continue to rise.

Lawrence controlled his urge to sell, praying that this was a ploy

on Amati's part.

Then he realized something.

Holo was gone.

Lawrence glanced around and saw that at some point Holo had

208

moved outside of the strange crowd of people and was looking

at him.

When their eyes met, she narrowed hers in displeasure, then

turned, and began to walk away.

As he saw this, sweat sprung upon Lawrences back.

This had to be a trap that Holo was hinting at.

If she had heard of the circumstances surrounding pyrite from

Amati, it was entirely possible she'd contrived a way to trap Lawrence.

Someone as clever as Holo would surely notice things that

Amati would miss, even if he was the one explaining the situation

to her.

And Holo excelled at discerning what was in peoples hearts.

She was unparalleled at such times.

As soon as he thought of this, Lawrence was assaulted by a

vision of the quagmire that surrounded him.

No matter where he stepped, he would sink into the mud; no

matter whose movements he watched, they would be illusions.

Lawrence suspected darkly that this was all part of Hole's plan.

The terror of having a sly wolf circling him thus sunk into his

body.

Yet Lawrence couldn't abandon hope that Holo was merely

doing this out of some perverse obstinacy.

The poisons of assumption and doubt penetrated his mind.

He stared blankly at the price board, though this was not his

intention. It was simply all he could do at the moment.

The price of pyrite continued to inch upward.

Fortunately, since the price was already so preposterously

inflated, the rate of the increase was quite slow.

Still, if the price continued to increase at this rate, it would certainly

reach by noon the 20 percent needed by Amati.

To Lawrence's knowledge, Amati's current stock of pyrite was

worth eight hundred silver pieces. If the price rose twenty percent,

209

he would need only forty more silver pieces to reach the required

thousand.

And if all he needed was forty coins, Amati would surely be

able to produce them.

He could sell whatever of his fortune he needed to and complete

the contract on the spot. If that happened, the margin sale poison

that Lawrence counted on would undoubtedly have little effect.

Where was Dianas messenger?

Lawrence muttered to himself, a consuming panic sinking into

his gut.

Even if he was to start scrambling to buy pyrite now, how much

would he be able to collect?

It was not like the previous night, where the market had already

closed and no one knew whether the price would rise or fall

next — no, now it was utterly obvious that the price was rising.

Anybody who had pyrite knew it was like free money—nobody

would sell to him under such circumstances.

The realization hit him — his plan could only succeed if he got

the pyrite from Diana, and at this rate, he might wind up taking a

huge blow from Amati because of the margin-selling contract, as

well.

Lawrence rubbed his eye and thought hard. He had planned to

pursue his goal coolly and logically, but he was starting to feel as

though he'd been forced into a complete dead end.

No, he told himself.

He knew what the problem was.

It was not because of the fluctuating price of pyrite.

Behind that was the fact that he now regarded Holo with despair

rather than trust.

She had arrived with Amati at the marketplace — it was possible

that rather than meeting up in the morning, they'd spent the night

together.

210

Holo might have invited Amati back to the inn after Lawrence

had arranged the margin-selling contract with him.

Depending on the circumstances, she might even have shown

him her ears and tail and told him the truth of her existence.

Lawrence wanted to believe such a thing was impossible, but

he remembered that Holo had revealed her true nature to him the

same day they'd met. It was the height of folly to believe that she

had somehow marked him and only him as particularly openminded.

Amati was clearly and madly in love with Holo; no doubt she

could evaluate anyone as quickly as she had Lawrence.

And what if Amati had accepted her?

He remembered the young merchants smile only moments ago.

Holo feared being alone.

And Lawrence was not sure that she wanted to be with him and

only him.

The realization that he should not be thinking this way hit him,

and his legs nearly collapsed under him at the shock of it.

It was out of sheer luck that he didn't fall.

Suddenly a murmur ran through the crowd, bringing Lawrence

back to himself.

He turned to look at the oohs! that arose, only to see that the

price of the most expensive pyrite had jumped significantly.

Someone had put in a large bid.

Its acceptance meant that others would soon follow suit.

It might already be impossible to stop Amati from fulfilling the

contract.

The fact that there was still no word from Diana suggested that

the other party might be being stubborn; if the price of pyrite continued

to rise, that would only make them more reluctant to sell.

It was looking more and more as if Lawrence should abandon

that hope and take action now.

211

The weapons he had on hand were four hundred silver pieces'

worth of pyrite, along with the rumor that Landt had been given

to spread.

It was such a pathetic arsenal that Lawrence wanted to laugh.

He now seriously doubted the idea he'd had such faith in the previous

day, that a mere rumor could do any damage. Only yesterday

it had been his secret weapon, the product of his years of

experience.

It was becoming more and more clear to him just how drunk he

must have been.

He realized he was already trying to think of a contingency plan.

If he did nothing, he would still receive one thousand silver

pieces from Amati, which would leave him a tidy profit even after

subtracting the losses from the margin selling.

Lawrence was disgusted by how much lighter this made him feel.

. . . I f you could receive a thousand silver coins for me, it would

not be so regrettable to let me go — Hole's accusation hit him.

Lawrence remembered the letter from Diana that was tucked

near his breast.

It was the information that would help him find Hole's home of

Yoitsu. Perhaps he no longer had any right to hold this letter.

I'm just a lowly merchant. Lawrence thought to himself as he

looked around for Holo.

The events that happened in the port town of Pazzio and the

Church city of Ruvinheigen had been but a dream.

As soon as the thought struck him, he realized that it seemed to

be exactly so.

Lawrence smiled weakly as he looked into the hotly swirling

crowd, but Holo was nowhere to be found, so he moved elsewhere.

Some time had passed since the opening of the market, but the

day's festival had not yet started, so more and more people seemed

to be making their way in.

212

Holo remained elusive.

Cursing his inability to find her now — now of all times!—he

realized something.

After he'd met her gaze in the crowd, Holo had walked away.

Had she simply left right then and there?

If so, where had she gone? Had she decided his failure was a

foregone conclusion, Lawrence wondered, and returned to the inn?

It would stand to reason.

The idea was so humiliating that Lawrence felt broken just

thinking it — and yet he believed it himself.

He wanted some wine.

Immediately after the thought occurred to him, he uttered a

small, questioning sound. "Huh?"

He'd been scanning a fairly small area, so his eyes were bound

to notice the detail eventually.

Amati had entered his field of vision, which caused Lawrence to

make a noise of confusion and surprise.

Amati's right hand was pressed up against his chest, probably

holding a bag of coin and pyrite.

The problem was not in what he was doing, but rather the

expression of concern on his face and the way that he looked here

and there, searching for something—just like Lawrence.

Lawrence suspected Amati of putting on some kind of act.

But then by some miracle, the crowd between them thinned,

and Amati noticed Lawrence. He was clearly surprised to see his

rival.

And then Lawrence glimpsed a look of relief on Amati's face.

Though the crowd quickly closed in around them and blocked

Lawrences view again, there was no mistaking what he had seen.

A single thought jumped out at Lawrence.

Amati — like him — was looking for Holo. Not only that, Amati

had been relieved to see that Holo wasn't with Lawrence.

213

Lawrence felt a thump, as though someone's shoulder had

bumped into him from behind.

He turned to see one mercantile-looking fellow talking excitedly

with another.

That's odd, he said to himself, whereupon he felt the same thump

reverberate from his back to his chest.

Then he realized.

It was the pounding of his heart.

Amati had been frantically looking for Holo and was obviously

very worried that she would be with Lawrence.

The young merchant did not trust her fully.

Which in turn suggested that there was a reason for his

doubt.

But what was it?

"It couldn't be —," said Lawrence.

If Amati was looking for her, that meant she had not told him

where she was going.

And if that alone was enough to cause Amati stress, it was very

unlikely she had revealed her ears and tail to him.

It was enough to make Lawrence want to abandon the dark,

dismal conclusions he'd come to only a moment ago and turn to

brighter assumptions.

He had no confidence in his ability to tell whether or not this

was wishful thinking, however.

It was vexing enough to make him nauseous.

Suddenly there was another cry from the crowd.

Lawrence looked hastily toward the stone seller's stall and saw

that somewhere along the line, the placard for the highest-value

pyrite had been removed.

Which meant that it had sold at that price.

And that wasn't even the reason for the shouts.

The placards marking the highest values for various types of

214

pyrite had all been taken down, and there was a drop in the number

of plates for buyers in line.

Someone had sold off a considerable amount.

Lawrence fought back the nausea that rose and looked about

frantically, trying to spot Amati.

He was not in front of the stall.

He wasn't even near it.

When Lawrence finally spotted him, Amati was in the crowd.

He was watching the stall with a shocked expression.

So it hadn't been Amati who had made the large sale.

Lawrence felt but a fleeting moment of relief before more placards

for waiting buyers went up, along with a new round of cries

from the crowd.

Nearly everyone here had at least a small amount of pyrite; they

were waiting for just the right moment to buy or sell. The market

was starting to fluctuate, which would become another factor for

them to consider.

Essentially, now was the right time to sell.

Lawrence was on the verge of giving up—but pushing him in the

opposite direction was the thought that he could still accomplish

something with his plan of carefully selling off a large amount.

But he soon thought better of it, like some kind of cowardly hare.

Lawrence had no idea what Holo was thinking or where she

had gone. People's hearts were not so easily understood. To think

otherwise was to invite ruin.

And yet—Lawrence could not help thinking.

Expectation, suspicion, supposition, and reality were four hooks

that tore at Lawrences thoughts.

What would Holo the Wisewolf say at a time like this?

Pathetically, Lawrence couldn't help but wonder.

He felt that he could make a decision based off even her most

casual observation.

215

He trusted her.

Just then —

"Um, excuse me —"

Lawrence felt a tug on his sleeve as the words reached his ears.

He whirled as if struck, expecting to see a certain cheeky girl

behind him.

But it was a boy—Landt, to be precise.

"Um, Mr. Lawrence, may I have a moment?"

Lawrence turned with such speed that Landt was taken aback

for a moment, but the boy's expression made it clear that there

was urgent business.

Anxiety swept over Lawrence as he looked around; then he

knelt down to bring his face closer to the much shorter Landt and

nodded.

"A customer has come to our shop wishing to pay for wheat in

pyrite."

Lawrence understood immediately. Mark was willing to take

the offer and then sell Lawrence that pyrite, assuming Lawrence

could pay cash.

"How much?"

If Mark had sent the boy all the way over here, it had to be a

sizable amount.

Lawrence swallowed and waited for the reply.

"Two hundred fifty silver," said Landt.

Lawrence clenched his teeth to avoid shouting out at the unexpected

development.

The wolf-god of the harvest might have abandoned him, but

the goddess of fortune was still on his side.

Lawrence immediately pushed the small bag he'd gotten from

Amati into Landt's hands. "Go, as fast as you can."

Landt nodded, and then tore off like an envoy carrying a vital

message.

216

Meanwhile, the market continued to fluctuate.

Perhaps indicating that the price had topped out, the number of

buyers on the line placards had changed shockingly fast.

It was clear that the buyers and sellers were beginning to turn

completely against one another.

With the price this high, some would start to sell while those

who needed the price to go still higher would buy.

Occasionally Lawrence would catch sight of Amati at the other

side of the crowd; he had no doubt that Amati was watching him,

as well.

The fact that Amati kept such a close eye on both the stone

seller's stall and Lawrence suggested that he hadn't yet raised the

thousand coins he needed.

No, that's not it—Lawrence corrected himself.

He might already have raised the money but was worried that if

he sold off the pyrite he had on hand, trading might go awry and

cause the price to crash before he could sell his entire stock.

And because Amati was party to Lawrence's margin-selling

contract, a crash in price would hit him with a huge loss.

There was one other important fact, as well.

The five hundred silver pieces' worth of pyrite that Amati held

still only existed in the form of a paper contract.

It could be bought or sold, yes, but the physical pyrite the contract

represented could not be collected until that evening.

The market had started to fluctuate instead of simply rise, and

the possibility of a drop was now much more real. If Amati was to

sell the certificate, what would happen?

Margin transactions involved an interval of time between the

exchange of money and goods.

In an environment where a drop in price was anticipated, a margin

sale certificate—which promised future goods for immediate

cash — was a joker, a worthless card with a grinning witch on it.

217

Once the market value of a product actually dropped, whoever

held this joker would be ruined.

The slow-acting poison of Lawrences margin sale was beginning

to take effect.

Amati was still glancing this way and that, desperate.

He was obviously looking for Holo.

Holo had probably guessed what Lawrence was up to and told

Amati of the trap.

The winds seemed about to change; offense and defense were

reversing themselves.

If Lawrence did not strike, he would be letting a once-in-amillennium

chance go by.

People nearly attacked the stone sellers stall, and the price placards

were swapped out one after another.

Lawrence held tightly to the pyrite in his breast pocket, desperately

hoping Landt would return soon.

It did not take too much time to run to Mark's stall and back.

Just then —

A voice echoed across the crowd. "A purchase is in!"

Someone had been unable to contain their excitement.

In that moment, as if the market were a wave-tossed ship that

had suddenly regained its stability, the mood shifted again.

Someone had purchased a large amount of pyrite. This suggested

that the price would continue to rise.

Buoyed by the expectation, the crowd seemed to settle down.

Landt had yet to return.

The more time passed, the more the market seemed to steady

itself.

But the number of possible buyers was dropping — Lawrence

could take this opportunity to sell off a quantity of pyrite and

sweep away this stability.

218

If he did that, he might be able to clear out the buying line even

if it was just for a brief amount of time.

Doing so at this precise moment would surely have a profound

effect.

Lawrence made his move.

He slipped between the crowds, pulling the bag of pyrite

from his breast pocket as he arrived before the stone sellers

booth.

"I'm here to sell!"

As everybody watched, Lawrence threw the bag of pyrite down

in front of the stone seller.

The stone seller and his apprentices were stunned for a moment,

but they quickly came to their senses and resumed business.

Lawrence had tossed a stone into a quiet lake; now came the

rippling effect.

The measuring was done quickly, whereupon the apprentices

that held line placards took the pyrite pieces off to the various

buyers who had ordered them.

Lawrence immediately received his payment.

Without bothering to count, he grabbed the bag of coins tightly

and looked back out into the crowd.

He caught a glimpse of Amati's stricken face.

Lawrence felt neither vindication nor pity.

His sole concern was his own goal.

He had sold all of the pyrite he had on hand. Any further attacks

would have to wait until he had more.

Where was Landt? Where was Dianas messenger?

If he had the four hundred silver pieces' worth of pyrite he was

expecting from Diana, there was no question he would be able to

turn the marketplace around.

He was at the crossroads of destiny.

219

And then he heard a voice.

"Mr. Lawrence."

It was Landt, his forehead shiny with sweat as he ran up to Lawrence

and offered him another bag.

It was 250 silver pieces' worth of pyrite.

Lawrence was torn between returning immediately to the stone

sellers stall to sell the pyrite he now had on hand or waiting for

Dianas messenger to come so he could be sure.

He cursed himself.

Had he not even now given up on Diana?

The negotiations had dragged on for so long. There was a limit

to how optimistic Lawrence could afford to be.

He had to take his chances.

Lawrence turned and prepared to venture forth again.

There was a loud cheer that froze him in his tracks.

"Ooooh!"

The crowd blocked his view; he couldn't see what was happening.

But the instant the cheer rose, Lawrences intuition almost compelled

him to cry out and run—it told him the worst had happened.

He pushed his way back through the crowd to a place where he

could see the price board.

It was admirable indeed that he didn't fall to his knees on the spot.

The top price on the board had been renewed.

Demand had pushed it back up.

It seemed some of the market buyers had decided that the disturbance

a moment ago was a temporary fluctuation, and they

had put in a wave of purchase orders.

Purchase line placards were put back on the board.

Lawrence suppressed the urge to vomit. The decision of whether

or not to sell the pyrite he had again pressed in on him.

There was still some small chance of success if he took quick

action.

220

No — the wise decision would be to wait for Dianas messenger.

The amount of pyrite he was negotiating for with her was worth

four hundred pieces of silver then — it might well be as high as

five hundred by now.

If Lawrence could add that to what he already had, it would be

enough for another big sell-off.

As Lawrence was placing all his hopes in that small chance, he saw

Amati, now looking much more at ease, walk away from the stall.

The young merchant was planning to sell.

It was unclear whether or not he was going to sell all he had,

though.

Lawrence didn't have to know the boy's plan to realize that he

would only exchange some fraction of his pyrite for coin. Amati

had probably realized the nature of Lawrence's slow-acting poison,

so he would want to unload the certificate first.

Why had Dianas messenger not come? Lawrence wondered if

he had finally been abandoned by the gods.

In his mind, he screamed.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Lawrence?"

In his despair, Lawrence thought he'd heard wrong.

"Mr. Lawrence, I presume?"

A small figure stood beside Lawrence, his face — or possibly her

face as it was impossible to tell the sex of the person — hidden

behind a shroud that covered all but the eyes.

It clearly was not Landt.

Which meant it was the person Lawrence had been waiting for.

"I have a message from Miss Diana."

The messengers pale green eyes had a tranquillity completely

unlike the swirling commotion that surrounded them.

There was a mysterious aura about the messenger; Lawrence

couldn't help but feel this person was truly a messenger from the

gods.

221

And if so — perhaps a miracle was about to happen.

"She wishes to tell you that the negotiations have failed."

A moment passed.

"What?"

"The other party is unwilling to sell. Miss Diana apologizes for

being unable to live up to your expectations," said the messenger

in a clear voice, as if announcing a death.

Was this—was this how it would be, then? Lawrence wondered.

True despair did not come from hopelessness.

No, when his last tiny speck of hope was crushed at the last

moment — that was despair.

Lawrence could not reply.

The messenger seemed to understand this and turned around

silently.

Somehow the messenger's form receding into the crowd became

conflated in Lawrences mind with the memory of Holo, as she'd

walked away from him in the tunnels under Pazzio.

Lawrence felt like an ancient knight in rusted armor as he

looked up at the price board again.

The purchase line had returned to normal, and the price continued

to climb.

One could ride the changes of the market, but only the gods

could control them.

Lawrence remembered the words of a famous merchant.

With just a bit more luck—just a bit more — a merchant can be

a god.

Having exchanged some amount of his pyrite for coin, Amati

strolled away from the stall and returned to the outer ring.

Lawrence expected the young merchant to flash him a cocky,

triumphant grin, but Amati did not so much as glance at

Lawrence.

There must be someone else commanding his attention.

222

Holo had returned to Amati's side.

"Mr. Lawrence...?"

It was Landt that now spoke to Lawrence; Holo was speaking to

Amati and looked nowhere else.

"Oh, er, sorry... You've... you've done a lot of running around

for me. Thanks."

"Oh no, not at all."

"Could you give Mark a message for me? Tell him my plan has

failed," said Lawrence, surprised at how easy it was to say.

Yet despite the "failure," from the standpoint of a merchant it

was a very nice outcome.

Lawrence still had some pyrite on hand. All he needed to do was

buy a bit more to have what he needed to hand over to Amati in

the evening and then subtract the cost of that from the money

he'd made selling the previous lot of pyrite — the amount left over

would probably be positive.

On top of that, he would be receiving one thousand silver coins

from Amati, which could not be called anything less than a huge

windfall.

Such profit would have been enough to make any merchant

happy, but Lawrence felt only a vast emptiness.

Landt was momentarily at a loss as he looked about, but just as

Lawrence was about to hand over his compensation, the boy's

eyes filled with a steely resolve.

"Mr. Lawrence."

Landt's expression was enough to stop Lawrence's hand, which

held a few silver coins.

"Are — are you giving up?"

Lawrence remembered his days as an apprentice — any time he

wanted to make a comment, he had to be ready for a beating.

Landt was likewise prepared to be struck. His left eye twitched

as if he expected a fist to come at him at any moment.

223

"My master always tells me that merchants never give up."

Lawrence pulled his hand away, and Landt's shoulder twitched

in response.

But the boy did not look away.

He was entirely serious.

"My master always says that it's not — it's not those who pray

that the god of wealth watches over. It's the stubborn ones who

never give in that he blesses."

Lawrence did not disagree.

But what he was after was not wealth.

"Mr. Lawrence." Landt's gaze pierced him.

Lawrence glanced over at Holo for a moment before looking

back to Landt.

"I..." began Landt. "I liked H-Holo from the first time I saw her.

But my master told me —," said the faithful apprentice. He wordlessly

completed every task given to him, yet now Landt was every

inch a young boy. "He said that if I said that in front of you, I'd get

a sound beating."

Landt was on the verge of tears as Lawrence raised his hand up

high.

"—!" Landt gasped and flinched.

But with his fist, Lawrence only tapped the boy lightly on his

cheek, smiling. "Yes, I suppose I should give you a beating. A sound

one, too," he said with a chuckle — though he wanted to cry.

Landt seemed roughly ten years younger than Lawrence.

Yet with things the way they were, he felt no different than

the boy.

Damn, he cursed himself.

It seemed that before Holo, any man would turn into a runnynosed

lad.

Lawrence shook his head.

The stubborn ones who never give in, eh?

224

It was a laughable phrase, and he sighed at its seductive charm,

looking up at the sky.

The words of a boy ten years his junior had wiped from his

mind the maelstrom of supposition and doubt.

Landt was right.

He'd gotten this far, and the profit that remained in his

hands was only proof of his true loss — he could lose it without

regret.

There was no reason not to think everything through one last

time before taking action.

Things of value did not always come with hard effort.

Mark had only a short while ago made him realize that.

Lawrence opened the spigot on his considerable memory, pulling

out the materials he needed to construct a new approach.

The pillar of his new plan was something he'd forgotten until

just a moment ago.

"The ones who just can't give up — they're the same ones who

just can't stop themselves from being so optimistic you wouldn't

believe it," said Lawrence.

Landt's happy expression was even more appealing than the

boy's normal, overachieving nature usually tended to be.

There was little doubt that Mark treasured the lad as he would

his own child.

"A merchant makes plans, predicts the outcome, and always

holds the results up to the light of reality. Understand?"

Landt nodded politely at what appeared to be an unconnected

statement.

"If selling one item causes something to change thus, another

item will cause it to change so. Such hypotheses are also important,

you see."

Landt nodded again. Lawrence knelt down so he was close to

the boy's face and spoke.

226

"But if I'm honest, these hypotheses can be anything you might

like them to be. If you make too many, you'll become lost, seeing

danger and risk in every deal you do. To avoid that, you need

some kind of guidepost — something to believe. It's the one thing

every merchant needs."

The young Landt looked something like a real merchant as he

nodded. "I see," he said.

"If you can believe in that guidepost, then no matter how absurd

the idea it leads you to..."

Lawrence looked up, closing his eyes.

"... You can trust it."

Even so, a voice in Lawrences head told him it was impossible.

And yet when he looked at Holo, he was almost convinced.

There was a chance — a small chance — that Hole's choice of

dress said something.

Despite the idea's outlandishness, if he was to put it to the test,

it might well prove to be true.

But this idea required that one condition had to be met.

It was what Lawrence had forgotten earlier — namely, the possibility

that Holo had in fact not abandoned him.

Considering this now was just the kind of thing a stubbornly

optimistic merchant, who never gave up, would do.

At this stage of the game, it seemed far better to think as much

than to continue trying to stop Amati — it was enough to make

Lawrence think he was in some kind of fantastic dream.

He had no idea what Landt had heard from Mark that made the

boy so willing to help him.

In any case, it was clear that Landt told the truth when he said

he liked Holo.

It was impressive that he'd been able to admit that in front of

Lawrence. Were their places reversed, Lawrence was not at all

sure he would have been able to do the same.

227

Before a display of such courage, it was the least Lawrence

could do to live up to this idea of the fearlessly optimistic merchant.

Lawrence patted Landt on the shoulder, took a deep breath, and

spoke. "Once I sell my stones at the stall, start spreading the rumor

I asked you to."

Landt's face lit up. He nodded his head, once again the consummate

apprentice.

"Good lad."

Lawrence was about to turn around, but he stopped short.

Landt's eyes were full of questions, but Lawrence was the one

who asked, "Do you believe in the gods?"

The boy was unsurprisingly dumbstruck.

Lawrence chuckled and repeated himself. "There's a good lad,"

he said before walking away.

He had 250 silver pieces' worth of pyrite on hand. Tallying up

the purchase line markers on the board showed that there was

already four hundred silver pieces' worth of orders waiting — even

if Lawrence sold all the pyrite he had on hand, it would have no

real effect.

But no — it would have an effect. If his new assumption was

correct, it had to. He glanced back at Holo for just a moment; she

was still standing by Amati.

Just one second would be enough — if Holo would just look in

his direction for a moment, that would be enough.

And then —

Lawrence stood in front of the stone seller's stall. The influx of

orders had slowed; the shopkeeper, having finally regained a measure

of calm, looked at Lawrence with a face that said, "Yes?" He

then smiled, an expression that seemed to add, "You're making

out pretty well today."

228

Despite no words being exchanged, Lawrence nodded. He was

about to make a lot more.

He thrust the bag of pyrite he'd received from Landt toward the

stone seller and spoke. "I'm selling."

The shopkeeper received a cut from each transaction, so he

smiled heartily and nodded, but then he looked strangely stunned.

Lawrence closed his eyes and smiled.

He had been right.

"Master, I too shall sell."

The voice actually made Lawrence nostalgic.

With a loud thud, a bag of pyrite at least twice the size of Lawrence's

was slammed down on the counter.

Lawrence glanced sideways, and there was Holo, looking ready

to bite his head off.

"You fool," she said.

Lawrences only response to her accusation was a smile and a

heartfelt "Sorry."

The shopkeeper stood there, amazed for a while, and then he

quickly ordered his apprentices to remove all the purchase line

placards from the price board.

The two bags together came to at least 650 silver pieces' worth

of pyrite.

The amount Holo had was appraised before the day's bump

in price, so it was probably worth even more than that. The mysterious

party that had bought pyrite from Diana was, of course,

Holo.

Put simply, nearly a thousand silver pieces' worth of pyrite had

been sold all at once.

There was no room for demand to push the price up in the face

of that.

Lawrence plucked at one of the white feathers affixed to Holo's

229

robe. "She's quite the grown-up beauty, unlike a certain someone

I could name," he said.

Holo jabbed Lawrences side with her fist.

But then her hand remained there.

That was enough, Lawrence thought.

Though behind them a crazed mob pushed and shoved, Lawrence

would not take his hand from hers.

He did want to show off to Amati, though.

Lawrence smirked at himself for being so childish.

230

EPILOGUE

The price crashed in an instant.

There were a few purchases that came in after all the existing

purchase orders were filled, but the sale of close to one thousand

silver pieces' worth of pyrite tipped the market in favor of selling,

and the price soon dived.

The ones who were least fortunate — who held that old maid

card in the end — were those who'd been waiting just a bit longer

to sell their stock at the highest-possible price.

Even the sharp-eyed merchants who noticed Lawrence and

Holo's actions and sold as quickly as they could had taken losses.

Amati's fate went without saying — he had been unable to sell

off the margin contract.

Just a moment ago, Amati had been witness to Holo dashing

forward with a large bag and had reached out to stop her — and

there he stood in the same pose, frozen in shock.

No doubt Holo's betrayal came as a far worse shock than the

margin certificate he held now turning worthless.

On that point, Lawrence had sympathy for him. Holo clearly

had no intention of ever staying with him and had, in fact, separated

from him in a particularly cruel way.

Evidently Amati had said something to Holo that she simply

could not abide.

Lawrence didn't dare ask Holo what it was for fear of her

response, but he still wanted to know, if only so he wouldn't make

the same mistake himself.

"So, this contract is over, then?" Holo asked, not even bothering

to look up as she groomed her tail. Lawrence had just returned

from finishing the contract with Amati and thanking Mark for his

trouble.

There was still an edge to Holo's voice and not just because the

two had only just finished a battle of wills.

Lawrence, of course, knew the reason.

He set his things down, took a chair, and replied. "It's over, all

right. As cleanly as we could ever hope."

It was not a joke.

He had indeed just finalized the contract with Amati, who

looked like his spirit had left his body.

In the end, Amati hadn't actually lost money. Against the margin

loss he'd taken because of Lawrence, Amati had made a bit

more on intermediary sales of pyrite.

Yet Lawrence understood Amati's despair all too well — up until

not long ago, he too had felt every bit as low.

In the end, Amati had been unable to meet the conditions of

the contract that would've allowed him to propose marriage to

Holo, and as for the margin sale of pyrite, that was completed

when Lawrence handed over the bag, which was by that time

essentially worthless.

He'd been worried about the possibility of Amati losing his

temper, so Lawrence had asked the chief of the guild house to act

as mediator. "This is your punishment for trying to take another

man's woman," the guild master had said to Amati.

234

Whether or not Holo was in fact "Lawrences woman," at least

the proud Amati had learned a lesson.

As Lawrence briefly explained all this, Holo, who was sitting on

the bed, stopped grooming her tail and gave Lawrence an appraising

look.

"Surely you do not think that this is all over and done with."

She seemed to be trying to decide just how harsh his punishment

should be.

Lawrence understood the mistake he had made.

He stood and raised both hands in a gesture of contrition. "I'm

sorry."

Holo was unmoved. "Do you truly know where you went

wrong?"

It was a pathetic way for a grown man to be scolded, but Lawrence

had no choice but to endure it.

"I know."

Hole's wolf ears pricked up.

"At least... I think I know."

Holo exhaled through her nose and folded her arms in expectant

displeasure.

A mere "I'm sorry" was not going to suffice.

Lawrence screwed up his courage and apologized as best he

knew how.

"When I started doing things on my own after the contract with

Amati, I was being utterly self-centered."

Despite the all-consuming panic he'd felt, not only had all his

frantic efforts to stop Amati come to nothing, he had been—just

as he said — completely self-centered.

"The point is... my biggest mistake was not trusting you."

Holo looked away, turning only a single ear toward Lawrence.

"I shall hear you out," she seemed to be saying.

235

Her unpleasant attitude was of course frustrating, but Lawrence

had to admit he didn't have a foot to stand on.

He looked up at the ceiling before he continued.

"The feathers you attached to your hood — those were to let me

know you'd bought pyrite from Diana."

Holo nodded, irritated.

"Yet when Amati sold his pyrite at the stall, trying to bluff me, I

thought it was a trap you'd set for me."

"Wha—," Holo said in a small voice; Lawrence hastily shut his

mouth.

He realized he'd said something he shouldn't have said, but it

was too late. Holo uncrossed her legs and hung one off the edge of

the bed. "What exactly do you mean by that?" she asked.

Hole's chestnut brown eyes shone dully.

"I thought it was a ruse to fool me into acting too soon. When I

saw Amati make his move, I assumed you were completely on his

side — the white feathers were the furthest thing from my mind.

But — the truth was just the opposite... wasn't it?"

It certainly was, Hole's eyes seemed to say.

Of course, now he understood her intention.

"You wanted to tell me that Amati had fully enough pyrite on

hand and that I should move quickly to sell mine off. Right?"

Lawrence had not trusted Holo, but Holo had trusted

Lawrence.

That was the crux of the matter.

Holo had made Amati take an action that Lawrence could make

no sense of, and for his part, Lawrence had decided it was not just

Amati trying to destroy his confidence, but that Holo had also

turned hostile and was trying to force him into a trap.

The only part Lawrence had been correct about was in assuming

that Holo knew what he planned to do.

If Lawrence had but noticed the white feathers and made eye

236

contact with Holo, she would have sold her pyrite with him right

there on the spot.

"Honestly...," muttered Holo.

She gestured with her chin for Lawrence to continue.

"And before that, the fact that you would sign the marriage certificate

with Amati, that was..."

It was humiliating, but he had to keep going.

"... It was to make it easy for me to be angry... Wasn't it?"

Hole's ears twitched, and she took a deep breath.

It seemed likely that she was becoming increasingly angrier as

the memories came back to her.

She must have been waiting for Lawrence to come running up

to the second floor at any moment, marriage certificate in hand.

And yet no matter how long she waited, he had not come — she

might have waited until dawn.

Lawrence counted himself lucky that she hadn't torn his

throat out.

"Didn't I tell you in Ruvinheigen? Don't be clever and subtle all

the time — tell me what you're thinking! If we can just yell at each

other, problems get solved a lot faster."

Holo scratched the base of her ears, as though she could not

possibly become any angrier.

She'd purposely been unperturbed when Lawrence saw Amati

walking out of the inn and even had a marriage certificate ready,

all to make Lawrence angry, all to make it easier for him to speak

his mind.

And Lawrence had thought she was notifying him of her

intentions.

And now that he thought about it, Lawrence realized that the

situation there in the inn had been a perfect one — perfect for

him to pour out his heart and admit to Holo that he did not want

her to accept Amati's proposal.

237

If he'd only said as much — it would've been enough.

"So I was wrong from the start."

Holo drew in her chin and gave Lawrence a look that went past

displeasure right on into resentment.

That was how far wrong he'd gone.

"When... when you lost control because of the business of

Yoitsu... that last apology you gave me, that was —"

... I am sorry, she had said that night, her voice hoarse.

"— That was because you'd come to your senses... wasn't it?"

Holo glared at Lawrence. She glared, and her fangs showed.

After her onslaught of verbal abuse, filled with ill intent and

distortions, Holo had realized how awful she was being.

Yet she had not continued to be stubborn.

She had apologized immediately with all sincerity.

But Lawrence had only made things worse by taking her apology

as the final word that sealed away her heart.

He had been reaching out to her but stopped short.

If he'd managed to say something then, Lawrence thought, he

might have been able to salvage the situation.

Holo must have been stunned.

She had truly apologized for the terrible things she said after

losing her temper, but instead of accepting the apology, Lawrence

had backed out of the room and run.

She was no fool; Holo must have seen that Lawrence misunderstood

her.

Yet having realized this, Holo thought that chasing Lawrence

down just to explain how he was mistaken would have been

ridiculous.

She must have assumed he would realize his mistake much

sooner.

Her eyes were now full of anger at Lawrence's failure to see this.

"You — you fool!" she shouted, standing up from the bed. "They

238

say, 'A fool's errand is worse than sloth,' it is even so! Not only did

you render useless my efforts, but you thought I was your enemy?

And then for some reason, you go and pursue that contract with

the boy! Do you have any notion how difficult that made things

for me? We may have only met recently, you and I, but I'm of the

feeling that we share an uncommon bond! Am I deluding myself?

Or do you really—"

"I wish to continue traveling with you."

There were only a few steps between the desk and the bed.

Human and wolf, merchant and nonmerchant — separated by

only a few steps.

If Lawrence but reached his hand out, it would soon reach her.

"My life has been naught but business from dawn to dusk, and

I plan to keep it that way. Just think of me as a little slow when it

comes to anything besides business."

Holos expression turned sulky.

"And yet — I do wish to travel with you."

"Well... what am I to you?"

It was the question he'd been unable to answer.

Now, however, he was completely certain.

"It cannot be explained in words."

Holo's eyes widened, her ears pricked up, and then —

And then she laughed, so frustrated with Lawrence she was fit

to cry. "What sort of dried-up old line is that?"

"Ah, but I thought dried jerky was your favorite!"

Holo chuckled, her fangs bared, her mouth very near Lawrence's

hand. "I hate it!"

Lawrence felt pain shoot through his palm, but he quietly

accepted it as his punishment.

"Though I do have one question for you," said Lawrence finally.

"Oh?" said Holo. She looked up after biting Lawrences hand

with considerable anger.

239

"How did you know there was pyrite in the alchemists'

quarter — wait, no, Amati probably told you. What I want to know

is, how did you get Diana to sell it to you? I just can't see it."

Holo looked out the window as if to say, "Oh, that?"

Dusk had arrived, and the second evening's festivities were

about to begin.

It seemed that the same giant puppets from the first night were

being used, though they were much the worse for wear. Half of

the large lupine shapes had lost their heads. The participants'

fatigue was obvious, even from a distance, as they tottered along.

Some even fell on their bottoms — and not in jest.

Yet the column marched on, pulled forward by the sounds of

flutes and drums.

Holo looked back to Lawrence; her eyes beckoned him to join

her at the window.

Having no reason to refuse, he did so.

"The boy Amati told me everything he knew, so I was able to

make a fair guess at what you were planning. But your plan was,

well — I should compliment you."

Holo looked out on the festival as she leaned back into Lawrence.

He was unable to see her expression, but having been complimented,

he felt he should accept it as gracefully as he could manage.

"Yes, so — Diana, was it? I went to see her for a different reason

truthfully."

"A different reason?"

"I suppose you could call it a favor. I tracked down the location

from the scent on the letter. The place stank like the worst hot

springs — it was far from enjoyable."

While Lawrence was impressed at Hole's keen sense of smell, he

had to admit the alchemists' quarter must have been quite an

ordeal for her.

Holo sighed softly and continued, not looking at Lawrence. "So

240

I asked her thus. I asked her if she would not invent a story of

Yoitsu still existing and if she would pass it on to you."

Lawrence cocked his head for a moment, confused.

But then he understood.

Had he heard such a tale from Diana, he would surely have

found it easier to speak to Holo again.

With that as a trigger, he would've needed nothing more.

"However," continued Holo, her tone suddenly irritated. "That

girl just had me explain all the circumstances to her only to turn

me down."

"Oh... really?" Lawrence thought back on the words Diana had

spoken to him as he left her house: Good luck to you.

Had it been sarcasm?

"It was your fault that I was refused! Consider that, why don't

you!"

Lawrence was jolted from his reverie by Holo stomping on his

foot — though he did not follow her meaning.

"Honestly... I suffer through the humiliation of explaining

everything and am on the very cusp of success, then you show up

and make that girl come up with her pointless plan."

He was stunned beyond words — Holo had been there when

he'd visited Diana?

"She said it would be good to test your resolve — the gall, acting

as if she knows me!"

Lawrence now understood whence came Diana's Good luck

to you.

But he felt like he was forgetting something important.

"I also heard that foolish question you put to her."

"Ah—!" Lawrence shouted, his voice strangled.

Holo grinned devilishly and turned around to face Lawrence.

"So there are many stories of gods and humans becoming mates,

eh?" Her upward-cast eyes were frightening.

241

She slid her slender arms around Lawrence, like a snake entrapping

its prey.

"If that is how you feel, I would not mind. Though I'd ask..."

The light that fell through the window cast a red glow over

Holo's features.

"... I'd ask you to be gentle with me."

She must really be a demon, Lawrence thought to himself halfseriously

— but she soon dropped her act.

"Mm. I just cannot seem to rouse myself after talking to that

girl," said Holo, looking tired as she gazed out the window, her

arms still around Lawrence.

She seemed to be looking not at the festival, but somewhere far

away.

"Did you notice that she was not human?" Holo finally said.

Lawrence couldn't even manage a "surely not."

"You saw the feathers scattered about her room, yes? Those

were hers."

"...They were?"

Although now that Holo mentioned it, Lawrence recalled that

something about Diana had made him think of a bird.

Holo nodded and continued, "Her true form is a bird, much

larger than you. She fell in love with a traveling monk and spent

many years building a church with him, but eventually he noticed

that no matter how many years passed, the girl never aged — thus

the monk grew suspicious. No doubt you can guess the rest."

Lawrence felt Holo's arms tighten around him.

He thought he now understood the reason why Diana collected

stories and why she protected the alchemists so.

But it would be painful to say it. Surely Holo did not want to

hear it, either.

Lawrence said nothing.

Instead, he simply put his arm around Holo's shoulders.

242

"I wish to return to my homeland. Even... even if it's no longer

there."

"We will."

Outside the window, the giant human and lupine puppets collided,

and a great cheer arose.

But Lawrence realized the display was not reenacting some

battle.

The people controlling these battered puppets were all laughing,

and each onlooker seemed to have a cup of ale in hand.

They were not hitting each other, but putting their arms about

one another's shoulders.

Soon they began to sing and dance, and the giant puppets in the

center of the intersection were set ablaze.

Holo giggled. "Humans are so showy."

"They surely are."

Despite their distance from the intersection, Lawrence could

feel the heat of the flames on his cheeks.

The ring of revelers that surrounded the fire gave a great cheer,

and the bonfire itself seemed intense enough to overpower the

pale moon.

Once again in the town of Kumersun, various gods and humans

from near and far had come together to drink and celebrate after

putting an end to their quarreling.

The conflicts were finally over.

"Shall we go?" asked Holo.

"I suppose we shall?"

But Holo did not immediately move. She looked up at the puzzled

Lawrence. "For my part, I would not mind you being as passionate

as those flames."

The flaming puppets had begun to collapse into a single pile.

Lawrence laughed. "I suppose if I were drunk enough."

Holo laughed, her sharp fangs flashing. Her tail wagged as she

243

I

spoke, delighted. "If you become drunk, who's to watch over me?

Fool!"

Lawrence took the laughing Holo's hand and led her out of the

room.

The Kumersun night had once again been set ablaze with

festivities.

Some time thereafter, it was spoken of in rumors that a true

goddess had walked amid the crowds.

246

IliFTERWORD

It has been a while! I'm Isuna Hasekura, and this is the third volume,

which makes it the third story in the series.

This time I feel like I was able to write without forgetting the

personalities of the characters. Instead of that, I've managed to

forget the deadline for this afterword, and just a moment ago, I

got a phone call from my editor, whose unfriendly smile I felt I

could hear over the phone.

I'm starting to wonder if I'm not just going to be forgotten by

the readers.

Well then, volume 3 means there are three books, of which this

is the third novel. Around this time last year, I'd passed the firstround

selection for the Dengeki Novel Prize and was camped

out next to the phone, waiting for the results of the secondround

selection. Back then, writing even one volume was a major

effort—I'd write, then throw it away, write again, then throw it away

again.

So since the end of last year, I've been writing at a nigh-heroic

pace, and even in that year, I feel like maybe I've grown up just

a bit.

My latest hobby is surfing real estate sites. And not normal

ones. I'm talking about the big time — hundred-million-yen condos

and mansions.

I like the view from high places, so I was thinking I'd like to live

someday in a high-rise condo with a view of the city lights at

night. I've been looking at model homes along those lines, and

they're crazy. Everything's just done up in this unimaginably

overwhelming fashion, and before I knew it, I was sucked in.

The prices had so many zeros I was rubbing my eyes just to

make sure my vision still worked right, and when I saw the mere

two-hundred-yen neighborhood association fee, I was genuinely

relieved. Somehow I felt like I could work hard and keep on living.

When I realized that using the parking lot and wine cellar (it

had a wine cellar, guys!) of one of these mansions would cost

more than the rent of my entire apartment, well, I guess I'm just a

commoner at heart. I hope you'll all bear with me.

And now, my thanks.

To illustrator Jyuu Ayakura-sensei, thank you for making time

in the midst of your busy schedule to draw such wonderful pictures.

They make me want to have my writing be worthy of them

every day.

And to my editor, Koetsu-sama. For your patient grammatical

guidance, I thank you. As basic corrections to my Japanese

become less and less frequent, I will devote myself more thoroughly

to everything that comes after those corrections.

Finally to all of my readers, thank you for taking this book into

your hands.

Let us meet again in the next volume.

Isuna Hasekura

248

Isuna Hasekura

Born December 27, 1982. Winner of the twelfth Dengeki Novel

Prize Silver Medal. Studying physics at college, he's a romantic

who up until recently believed that the sky was blue because it

was reflecting the color of the ocean. He remains opposed to negative

ions and oxygenated water.

Works from Dengeki Bunko:

Spice and Wolf

Spice and Wolf, Volume 2

Spice and Wolf, Volume 3

Illustrator: Jyuu Ayakura

Born 1981. Birthplace: Kyoto. Blood Type: AB. Currently living a

free, spartan life in Tokyo, he has been thus far unsuccessful in

putting his temple-hiking plans into action.

249