Spice & Wolf III (3 page)

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.

“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 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 merchants 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 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, Holo’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 merchant’s face brightened instantly. “What a wonderful coincidence! I, too, am a member of the Rowen Guild.”

“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. Holo’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.

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 God’s 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.

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 merchant’s 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.