Spice & Wolf III (27 page)

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 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 I" 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?”

“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.

But Lawrence did not waver.

For he was telling no lies.

“I am determined not to abandon my load. So long as I can gel 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—”

“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 woodcutter’s cabin after a long walk through an ominous forest.

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 then lamps burning as they slept, but it was hard to imagine the eve ning 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.

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 year-round, 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..

“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?”