Spice & Wolf I by Hasekura Isuna Page B

pelts? He had never heard of such a thing in all his dealings.
    Neither had the buyer, surely, but he had no choice but to placate his vendors. He slowly brought the fur up to his nose and sniffed.
    At first, his face showed a mixture of confusion and surprise. He sniffed again, and only the surprise remained.
    “Oh? Smell something, do you?” Holo said.
    “Ah, er, yes. It smells like fruit, I’d say.”
    Lawrence looked at the fur in surprise. Fruit?
    “Fruit indeed. Just as fur is scarce this year because of the harvest, so did the forest overflow with fruit. This marten was scampering about in that same forest until just a few days ago, and it ate so much of that plentiful fruit that the scent suffused its body.”
    The buyer sniffed the fur again. He nodded, as if to say “true enough.”
    “The truth is that while the fur’s luster might be better or worse, it generally changes little. Does the problem not come, then, when the fur is made into clothing, when it is actually used? Good fur is durable; bad fur soon wears thin.”
    “True, as you say,” said the buyer.
    Lawrence was astonished. How much did this wolf know?
    “As you can tell, this particular fur has the sweet scent of a marten that has eaten very well indeed. It took two strong men to pull the hide clear of the body, it was so tough.”
    The buyer tugged on the fur experimentally.
    He couldn’t pull too hard on goods he hadn’t yet purchased, though—something Holo knew full well.
    She was a perfect merchant.
    “The fur is as strong as the beast itself was, and will keep the wearer as warm as a spring day, shedding rain from dawn ’til dusk. And don’t forget the scent! Imagine coming across a perfumed piece of clothing like this among coats made from nose-wrinkling marten fur. Why, ’twould sell so dear your eyes would pop out.”
    The buyer was indeed imagining the scenario, gazing off into the distance. When Lawrence thought about it, he could see that the goods would sell high—or perhaps, he could smell as much.
    “So, what do you think would be a fair price, then?”
    The buyer snapped out of his reverie and straightened himself, then played with some figures on his abacus. The beads flew back and forth with a pleasant tak-tak-tak sound, finally displaying a figure.
    “What say you to two hundred trenni ?”
    Lawrence’s breath caught in his throat. One hundred forty pieces was already a respectably high price. Two hundred was unimaginable.
    “Mmm,” Holo murmured to herself. He wanted to beg her to stop—this was going too far, but she was implacable.
    “How about three pieces for each fur—two hundred ten in total?”
    “Er, well...”
    “Master,” she said to Lawrence. “Perhaps we should try elsewhere—”
    “Uh, no! Two hundred ten pieces, then!” said the buyer.
    Hearing this, Holo nodded, satisfied, and turned to her “master.” “You heard the man, master.”
    She was definitely teasing him.
     
    The tavern called Yorend was on a slightly removed alleyway, but it looked well-kept enough. Local craftsmen appeared to make up the bulk of its clientele.
    Lawrence found himself suddenly tired when they arrived at the Yorend tavern.
    Holo, on the other hand, was quite energetic, probably because she’d managed to outwit two merchants at once. The hour was yet early, so the tavern was mostly empty, and their wine was out very quickly—Holo drained hers in one huge draught, while Lawrence was content to nurse his.
    “Ah, wine!” said Holo, belching a fine belch. She lifted her wood cup and ordered another round, which the tavern girl acknowledged with a smile.
    “What troubles you? Aren’t you going to drink?” said Holo, munching away on some fried beans.
    She didn’t seem to be particularly dizzy with success, though, so Lawrence decided to broach the subject directly.
    “Have you ever worked as a merchant?”
    Holo, still munching the snack and holding her refilled glass, smiled ruefully. “Oh, I’m