Spice & Wolf I by Hasekura Isuna

see!”
    “You’re not kidding.”
    The two men laughed, and the worker led Lawrence’s horse inside the unloading area, and after hitching him to a sturdy wooden fence, called out.
    The person that answered was a man who looked more fit to be carrying a quill and ink than hay bales. He seemed to be the buyer.
    “Kraft Lawrence, I presume? We thank you for your patronage.”
    Lawrence was used to being greeted politely, but he was impressed that the man knew his name before Lawrence had given it. He’d last visited the company during a winter three years ago, selling wheat. Perhaps the man that now greeted Lawrence in the entryway still remembered him.
    “I’m told you’ve come to sell furs today.” The buyer skipped over the usual pleasantries about the weather and jumped straight to the heart of the matter. Lawrence coughed slightly and shifted into his trader persona.
    “Indeed I have. These are the very ones, here in the back of the wagon, seventy total.” He hopped down from the wagon and invited the buyer to view the furs. He was followed by Holo, who jumped down from the wagon a moment later.
    “Ho, these are good marten furs indeed. The year has been a good one for crops, so marten fur is scarce.”
    About half the marten fur that reached the marketplace came from farmers who hunted in their free time. When the harvest was plentiful, they were too busy to hunt, and marten fur was scarcer. Lawrence decided to push his position.
    “You only see furs this fine once every several years. They were drenched with rain on the way here, but look—they’ve lost none of their luster.”
    “’Tis a fine luster, to be sure, and with good lie. What of their size?”
    Lawrence pulled a largish pelt from the bed and offered it to the buyer, since it was generally prohibited for people other than the owner of the goods to touch them.
    “Oh, ho. They’re not lacking in size. You said you had seventy?”
    He didn’t ask to see all the pelts; he was not so unrefined. Here was the challenge of trade—there was no buyer that would not want to see each pelt, but likewise was there no seller that would want to show each.
    This was the intersection of vanity, propriety, and desire.
    “Well, then...Sir Lorentz...ah, my apologies, Sir Lawrence, you’ve come to trade with us because you sold wheat here in the past?”
    The same name was pronounced differently in different nations. It was a mistake Lawrence himself made often enough, so he forgave it with a smile and produced a wooden abacus from his pocket, which the man looked at. Different regions and nations had different ways of writing numbers, and because nothing was harder than trying to puzzle through these differences, merchants hardly ever wrote figures down while negotiating. Moving the wooden beads of the abacus would make the numbers completely clear, although one still had to be mindful of exactly what currency was being counted.
    “I can offer...say, one hundred thirty-two silver trenni .” Lawrence pretended to think on the matter for a moment. “You don’t see furs like these often. I brought them to you because I’ve done business with you in the past, but...”
    “We certainly appreciate your business.”
    “For my part I’d like to continue our association.”
    “As would we, I assure you. In light of friendly relations, then, what say you to one hundred forty?”
    It was a somewhat transparent exchange, but within the mutual deception was truth—which made the dealings more interesting.
    One hundred forty trenni was a good price. It wouldn’t be wise to push past that.
    But just when Lawrence was about to say “It’s done, then,” Holo—who’d been silent up until that point—tugged slightly on his sleeve.
    “Excuse me a moment,” said Lawrence to the buyer, then leaned down, putting his ear level with Holo’s hood.
    “I don’t quite know—is that a good price?”
    “Quite good, yes,” said Lawrence simply, smiling to the