Spice & Wolf III (30 page)

He was an admirable apprentice.

More than whatever training Mark had given him, the boy simply seemed like an excellent individual.

“Ah, that reminds me—”

The boy turned around smartly as soon as Lawrence spoke.

“Did you hear from Mark what’s happening today?”

“Er, no...are we not forcing the dastardly villain into a trap?” asked the apprentice.

The boy lowered his voice and spoke in such an exaggeratedly serious fashion that Lawrence was stunned for a moment. With a true merchant’s discipline, he managed to keep a straight face anti nodded. “I can’t tell you all the details, but that’s it, more or less. I may have to ask a serious favor of you in the process.”

The boy held his broom at his side like a sword and gulped.

Seeing the boy made Lawrence sure of one thing.

He might well have been the promising young apprentice of a wheat seller, but in his heart he still longed for the life of a knight.

After all, one only sees “dastardly villains” in fairy tales.

Lawrence got a ticklish feeling, as though he was looking back on his younger self.

“What’s your name, lad?”

“Ah, er, it’s—”

When a merchant asked another person for their name, it was an acknowledgment of that person’s status.

The boy had probably never been asked his name before in his life.

Despite his visible fluster, he really was an admirable lad, Lawrence felt.

The boy straightened up and answered. “Landt. My name is Eu Landt.”

“Born in the northlands, were you?”

“Yes, from a village frozen in snow and frost.”

Lawrence saw that Landt’s description was not just an easy way to convey a sense of his hometown, but a literal description of how it must have seemed when he looked back on it for the last time.

That was how things were in the north.

“I see. Well, I’m counting on you today, Landt.” Lawrence extended his right hand, and Landt hurried to wipe his own hand off on his tunic before shaking Lawrence’s proffered hand.

The boy’s palm was rough and callused, and who knew what sort of future it might grasp?

Lawrence knew he had to win.

He let the boy’s hand go.

“Well then, first let’s fill our bellies, eh? Is there any place nearby that’s selling food yet?”

“There’s a stand that sells dry bread to travelers. Shall I go and buy some?”

“Indeed,” said Lawrence and produced two tarnished
irehd
pieces that were so dark they looked almost coppery.

“Er, one piece should be plenty,” said Landt.

“The other’s an advance on your help today. Of course, I’ll pay you a proper consideration when it’s all done.”

The boy was stunned.

Smiling, Lawrence added, “If you dawdle, Mark’s liable to arrive. No doubt he’ll claim breakfast is a luxury, don’t you think?”

Landt nodded hastily and then dashed off.

Lawrence watched his form recede for a while, and then he turned his gaze to the spaces between the many stalls across the street.

“Don’t you spoil my apprentice now.”

“You could’ve stopped me.”

Mark’s form appeared in the space between crates. His expression seemed irritable, and he sighed. “It’s gotten cold lately. If he takes ill because I haven’t let him eat enough, that’s more trouble for me.”

It was clear enough that Mark had a good deal of affection for Landt.

But having Landt get some breakfast was no simple act of kindness; it was an important part of Lawrence’s plan.

Merchants were not saints, after all. Whatever their actions, they always have ulterior motives.

“Should be good weather today,” said Mark. “Good for selling,” he finished with a nod.

Lawrence took a deep breath.

The bracing morning air felt good.

When he exhaled, all the unnecessary thoughts in his mind seemed to leave with his breath.

All he had to think about now was making his plan succeed.

Once success was his, he could second-guess and doubt all he wanted.

“Right then, time to fill my stomach,” said Lawrence heartily as he caught sight of a winded Landt returning.

The atmosphere itself was different.

That was the first thing that struck Lawrence as he arrived at the marketplace.

What at first look seemed to be as quiet as a glassy lake's surface was a rolling boil as soon as one touched it.

Ever since sunrise, a single corner of the marketplace was the focus of an unusually dense crowd, and every persons gaze was turned to a single stall.

It was the sole stone seller in the town of Kumersun, and the only detail the crowd cared about was a makeshift board with prices written on it.

On the price board were written descriptions of the weight and shape of pieces of pyrite, and beside each description line was a wooden placard with the price and the number of people in line to buy it.

There was another column on the board that listed sellers, but it seemed unlikely that there would be a chance for these placards to stay there for long.

The board made obvious the supply and demand for pyrite, and the demand was high.

“Looks like the average price is...eight hundred
irehd.”

That was eighty times the old price.

It could only be described as absurd. Like a runaway horse with no rider to check it, the price kept rising and rising.

Presented with an opportunity for easy money, human reason was like reins of mud—completely incapable of stopping this runaway horse.

Though the market bell would not ring for some time, there seemed to be a tacit approval for doing early deals. Once Lawrence reached that stand, he caught sight of merchants approaching the master occasionally to whisper a few words. Once a number of deals had been reached, the master would quietly replace the relevant wooden placards.

The master didn’t update the prices and line numbers immediately, probably to keep others from knowing exactly who had purchased pyrite and at what price.

But in any case, the number of people waiting to buy kept rising.

Just as Lawrence was estimating the total amount being spent, a figure appeared at the edge of his vision.

He looked. It was Amati.

Lawrence had seen Amati before Amati had spotted him the previous night, but the young merchant was sharp-eyed enough not to let chances for profit escape. His gaze was every bit as keen as Lawrence’s, and he soon caught sight of his rival.

A friendly greeting would hardly have been appropriate.

But since Lawrence had arranged to collect the cash he was owed upon the sounding of the bell that opened the marketplace, he could hardly ignore Amati, either.

Just as he considered this, Amati revealed a smile and nodded slightly.

Lawrence was taken aback for a moment but soon understood the reason.

Beside Amati was Holo.

For whatever reason, she was not dressed as a town girl, but instead wore her nun’s robes. Three pure white feathers, vivid enough to be visible at a distance, were affixed to her hood.

She looked steadily at the stone seller’s stall, not once meeting Lawrence’s eye.

Heat rose in his belly at Amati’s smile.

Holo whispered something in Amati’s ear before the young merchant made his way through the gathered merchants toward Lawrence, and Lawrence feigned total serenity, as if the anger he felt did not exist.

He had confidence that as long as he did not have to fool Holo, his charade would go unchallenged.

“Good morning, Mr. Lawrence.”

“And to you.”

It took some effort for Lawrence to maintain his facade in the face of Amati’s pleasant greeting.

“Things are going to become quite hectic once the bell rings, so I thought it would be best to turn this over to you ahead of time,” said Amati, producing a small bag from near his breast.

In size it was more of a coin purse than anything else. “What’s this?” Lawrence asked, having expected Amati to give him the agreed-upon silver coins.

The bag was far too small to carry three hundred pieces of silver.

“This is the promised amount,” said Amati.

Having no other choice, Lawrence suspiciously accepted the bag.

When he opened the bag’s mouth and looked inside, his eyes widened.

“It might have been a bit presumptuous of me,” said Amati, “but three hundred silver pieces would be quite cumbersome, so I took the liberty of remitting in gold
li
mar
coins.”

Though it was hard to imagine how he’d managed to obtain them, the bag was indeed filled with gold coins.

The gold
limar
was not as valuable as the
lumione,
but it was a widely circulated coin within Ploania, the country in which Kumersun was situated. It was worth about twenty
trenni.

But managing to obtain this amount during a currency shortage—the service charge must have been incredibly steep.

The only reason to do it was for Amati to prove how much coin he had on hand—it was a psychological attack.

Amati had Holo in tow, too, probably as another way to divert Lawrence’s attention.

Lawrence had inadvertently widened his eyes in surprise, so there could be no concealing his perturbation.

“I’ve used today’s exchange rate to prepare the amount. Fourteen gold
limar
.”

“...Understood. I accept.”

“Do you not wish to count the coins?”

Normally saying “There’s no need,” as Lawrence did, should’ve shown confidence, but now it just seemed as though he was merely pretending at strength.

“In that case, I’d like the contract for three hundred silver.”

Lawrence only did so after being asked.

Amati was still one step ahead of him.

Once the cash and the partially fulfilled contract had been exchanged, Amati was even the first to say, “Very well.”

As he watched Amati’s receding form, one ill realization after another flashed through Lawrence’s mind.

When they had signed the contract the previous day, Amati may have claimed to have insufficient cash as an excuse to provide the horses in lieu of coin.

Always keeping a certain amount of cash on hand was a trait shared by all merchants.

What was worse, Amati had surely searched out and bought pyrite just as Lawrence had.