Spice & Wolf III (21 page)

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 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.

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 hope’s 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.

Chapter 4

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 witch’s 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.

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?
Holo'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.

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, Holo’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.

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, Holo’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 In 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 pyrite meant there was no need to push any deals through by force; the profit would naturally come.