Spice & Wolf III (26 page)

“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...”

Mark paused here, taking another quaff of ale. His knit brow was surely not owing to the ale's 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.

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 ever-composed Lawrence gets like this sometimes, eh?”

Mark’s 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 can’t 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?”

“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.

“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 Lawrence’s 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.”

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 pyrite-speculation 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 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.