Spice & Wolf II (6 page)

The master could only nod his head at her casual imperiousness.

“Make it quick now,” said Holo, partially in jest, but hearing these words from the girl who adroitly saw through his doctored scales, the master turned around and scampered from the room like a pig smacked on the rear.

One couldn’t help but feel the master was overdoing it a bit, but if his fraud was made public, he would be ruined. To that extent, a little bowing and scraping was a small price to pay.

Lawrence would have taken a huge hit to his own assets if the trick hadn’t been noticed.

“Hee-hee. Poor little man,” said Holo with a delighted chuckle that made her seem even nastier.

“You’ve certainly a keen eye, as usual. I didn’t notice a thing.”

“I’m beautiful and my tail fur is sleek, but my eyes and ears are also keen. I noticed the moment we entered the room. I suppose he would’ve been sly enough to fool the likes of you, though,” said Holo, sighing and waving her hand dismissively.

Lawrence would have been happier if she’d said something sooner, but the reality was he had not noticed the fraud, and the fact that Holo did had turned a great loss into a great gain.

It wouldn’t kill him to be polite.

“I’ve nothing to say for myself,” Lawrence admitted. Holo’s eyes twinkled at his unexpected meekness.

“Oh ho! I see you’ve matured a bit.”

Lawrence—indeed having nothing to say for himself—could only smile, chagrined.

There is something known as “spring fever.”

It is most common during the winter in places far from rivers or seas. The streams freeze, and people survive on salted meat and stale bread day in and day out. It’s not that no vegetables can survive the frost, but rather that such produce is better sold than eaten. Eating the produce does nothing for the chill, but with the money gained from its sale, firewood can be bought and furnaces stoked.

Rating naught but meat and drinking nothing but wine takes its toll, and by spring, many have broken out in rashes.

This is spring fever, and it is proof of neglect for one’s health.

Naturally it is well-known that resisting the temptation of meat and the comfort of wine will spare one this fate. Eat vegetables and meat only in moderation—such will the Church’s sermon be every Sunday.

Thus come spring, the sufferers of spring fever will often find themselves being terribly scolded by the priest. Gluttony is, after all, one of the seven deadly sins—whether or not the glutton knows it.

Lawrence heaved a long-suffering sigh at Holo’s overindulgence.

She burped. “Whew...that was tasty.” She was in high spirits after washing down the fine mutton with some fine wine.

Not only was it all free of charge, but after eating and drinking her fill, she could curl up in the wagon bed for a nap.

Even the most extravagant merchant will, as a matter of course, think ahead and limit his excesses, but not Holo.

Tapping her feet in delight, she had eaten and drunk with glee and only stopped to take a break.

Lawrence reckoned that if it had been their travel provisions, she would’ve eaten three weeks’ worth—and she drank so much wine he began to wonder where it was going.

If she had turned around and sold the food she extorted from the Latparron master, she would have put a big dent in her own debt to Lawrence.

This was yet another reason Lawrence was stunned.

“Now, then, I daresay I’ll take a nap,” said Holo.

Lawrence didn’t even bother to look at the source of this exemplar of depravity.

In addition to squeezing some fine wine and mutton from the Latparron Company master, Lawrence had obtained a large load of arms at a very reasonable price. He and his companion left the town of Poroson without so much as waiting for the noontime bells. Little time had passed since then, and the sun was just now overhead.

With the clear skies and warm sunshine, it was perfect weather for a midday drink, followed by a nap.

Owing to the load, the wagon bed was in a state of disarray, but with wine enough in her, Holo probably wouldn’t mind.

The trade road that they took to Ruvinheigen was full of steep inclines and sudden turns just outside of Poroson but smoothed out and gave a grand view as it slowly descended.

The road meandered on.

It was well traveled, which made for a firmly packed surface with holes being quickly filled.

Even though her “bed” was packed full of sword hilts, Holo was easily able to nap on top of them and pass the afternoon away since the road was so smooth.

Then there was Lawrence, who had drunk no wine and spent the day looking at a horse’s backside, reins in hand. His jealousy made it easy for him not to look at Holo.

“Mm, I ought to tend to my tail,” said Holo—her tail the only thing she was diligent about. She pulled it out of her robes without a hint of concern.

Not that any was warranted; the expansive view meant there was no danger of being surprised by an approaching traveler.

Holo began to comb her tail, occasionally picking a flea out or pausing to lick the fur clean.

The care she took with her tail was visible in her silent, single-minded attention to the job.

She worked from the very base of the tail, which was covered in dark brown fur, finally reaching its fluffy white tip, and then suddenly looked up. “Oh, that’s right.”

“...What?”

“When we get to the next town, I want oil.”

“...Oil?”

“Mm. I’ve heard it would be good to use on my tail.”

Lawrence turned away from Holo wordlessly.

“So will you buy some for me?” asked Holo with a charming smile, her head tilted.

Even a poor man would be hard-pressed to resist that smile, but Lawrence only glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

Figures larger than her smile danced before his eyes—specifically, the debt she owed him.

“The clothes you’re wearing now, plus the extras, the comb, the travel fee, the wine and food—have you added them all up? There’s the head tax when we enter a town, as well. Surely you’re not telling me you can’t do sums,” said Lawrence, mimicking Holo’s tone, but Holo still smiled.

“I can surely do sums, but I’m still better at subtraction,” she proclaimed, then laughed at some private amusement.

Lawrence knew she was hiding some kind of comeback, but her manner was strange. Perhaps she was still drunk.

He glanced at the wineskins that lay in the wagon bed. They’d taken the Latparron master for five skins of wine, two of which were now empty.

It wasn’t impossible that she was drunk.

“Well, perhaps you should try adding up all you’ve used. If you’re such a wise wolf, you should be able to work out my answer from that.”

“All right, I shall!” said Holo with a smile and a cheerful nod.

Just as Lawrence looked forward again, thinking how nice it would be if she were always so agreeable, Holo continued.

“You will definitely buy me some,” she said.

Lawrence cast his eyes askance to spy her grinning at him. Maybe she really was drunk. It was a very charming smile.

“Just look what happens to the wits of the proud wisewolf when she has too much wine,” muttered Lawrence to himself. Holo’s head flopped from one shoulder to the other.

If she fell drunkenly out of the wagon, she could be injured. Lawrence reached out to steady her slim shoulder, and Holo grabbed his hand with a quickness that was nothing short of wolflike.

Surprised, Lawrence looked into her eyes. She was neither drunk nor laughing.

“After all, it’s thanks to me that your wagon bed was so cheaply filled. You’ll pull in a tidy profit.”

Her charm had vanished.

“O-on what basis—”

“I won’t have you belittle me. Surely you don’t think I missed you strong-arming that master? I’ve a sharp mind, keen eyes, aye; hut don’t forget, my ears are good, too. I couldn’t have missed your negotiations.” Holo grinned unpleasantly, showing her langs. “So you’ll buy some oil for me, yes?”

In fact, Lawrence had taken advantage of the master’s weakness during his negotiations, and it was also true that things had gone just as

Lawrence had hoped.

He cursed himself for being so obviously pleased upon signing the contract. Once it was known that someone was going to make a lot of money, they were obvious targets for sponging and wheedling—it was human nature.

“Uh, er, well, how much do you think you’re in debt to me for?

It’s one hundred forty silver! Have you any idea how much money that is? And now you think I’m going to spend more on you?”

“Oh? What, you want me to pay you back?” Holo looked at Lawrence with an expression of mild surprise, as if to say she could pay him back at any time she chose.

There are none in this world who don’t wish to be paid back money they have lent. Lawrence gritted his teeth and glared at Holo, enunciating his response very carefully. “Of. Course. I. Do.”

If Holo paid back what she owed in a lump sum, he’d be able to fill his wagon bed with more and better goods, which would mean improved profits.

More investment equaled greater return—it was at the very center of a merchant’s world.

Yet Holo’s expression changed completely at Lawrence’s words. She regarded him coldly, as if to say, “Oh, that’s how it is.”

Lawrence faltered at the completely unexpected change.

“So that’s how you’ve been thinking,” said Holo.

“Wh-what do you—”

Lawrence would have finished with mean, but Holo’s rapid-fire response cut him off.

“Well, I suppose if I pay my debts, that makes me a free wolf. I see. I'll just pay you back, then.”

Hearing these words, Lawrence understood what Holo wanted to say.

Some days earlier, during a disturbance in Pazzio, Lawrence had seen Holo’s wolf form and retreated in fear. Deeply hurt, Holo tried to leave Lawrence, but Lawrence stopped her by saying he would follow her all the way to the north country to collect the money she owed him for destroying his clothes.

“Come what may, you’ll pay me back,” he had said. “So leaving me now won’t get you anything.”

Holo stayed with Lawrence based on the reasoning that making him come all the way out to the north country would be a bother, and Lawrence had thought that the business about debt repayment was just a pretense for both of them.

No, he’d believed it.

He believed that even if she were to repay the debt, she would still wish for him to travel with her to the forests of the north country—though her bashfulness would prevent her from admitting it.

And Holo had now turned the tables on him. She used the fact that the debt
was
his own pretense against him.

A single word jumped into his mind.

Unfair
. Holo was truly unfair.

“In that case, I’ll just give your money back and travel by myself north, shall I? I wonder how Paro and Myuri are faring.”