Spice & Wolf I (5 page)

“I have suffered many times at the hand of the Church. I’ll not be given over to them. Yet—”

She sighed again, stroking her tail as she continued. “No animal can change its form without a token. Even you humans need makeup before you can change your appearance. Likewise, I require food.”

“What kind of food?”

“Only a bit of wheat.”

That seemed more or less reasonable for a god of the harvest, Lawrence had to admit, but her next statement brought him up short.

“That, or fresh blood.”

“Fresh...blood?”

“Only a bit, though.”

Her casual tone made Lawrence feel that she couldn’t be lying; his breath caught, and he glanced at her mouth. Just a moment ago, he’d seen the fangs behind those lips bite into the meat he’d dropped.

“What, are you afraid?” said Holo at Lawrence’s trepidation as she smiled ruefully. Lawrence would’ve said “Of course not,” but Holo was clearly anticipating his reaction.

But soon the smile disappeared from her face, and she looked away from him. “If you are, then I’m even more disinclined to.”

“Why, then?”

Lawrence asked, putting more strength into his voice, feeling that he was being made sport of.

“Because you will surely quake with fear. All, be they human or animal, look on my form and give way with awe, and treat me as special. I have tired of this treatment.”

“Are you saying I would be afraid of your true form?”

“If you would pretend to be strong, you might first hide your trembling hand!” Holo said, exasperated.

Lawrence looked down at his hands, but by the time he realized his mistake it was too late.

“Heh. You’re an honest sort,” said an amused Holo, but before Lawrence could offer an excuse, her expression darkened again and she continued, quick as an arrow. “However, just because you are honest does not mean I should show you my form. Was what you said before the truth?”

“Before?”

“That if I am truly a wolf, you would not give me over to the Church.”

“Mm...”

Lawrence had heard that there were some demons capable of illusions, so this was not a decision he could make lightly. Holo seemed to anticipate this and spoke again.

“Well, I have a good eye for both men and beasts. You are a man who keeps his word, I can tell.”

Lawrence was still unable to find his tongue at the mischievous Holo’s words. He certainly could go back on his word. He was understanding more and more that she was toying with him, but there was nothing he could do about it.

“I’ll show you a bit, then. A full transformation is difficult. You’ll forgive me if I only do my arm,” said Holo, reaching down into the corner of the wagon bed.

For a moment Lawrence thought that it was some sort of special pose she had to assume, but he soon realized what she was doing. She was picking a grain of wheat from the sheaf in the corner of the wagon.

“What are you doing with that?” asked Lawrence without thinking.

Before he could even finish the question, Holo popped the grain of wheat in her mouth and, closing her eyes, swallowed it like a pill.

The shell of the unhusked kernel was not edible. Lawrence frowned at the thought of the bitter taste in his mouth, but that thought soon vanished at the sight that came next.

“Uh, uughh…” Holo groaned, clutching her left arm and falling onto the pile of furs.

Lawrence was about to say something—this could not be an act—when a strange sound reached his ears.

Sh-sh-sh-sh
. It was like the sound of mice running through the forest. It continued for a few moments, then ended with a muffled thud, like something treading on soft ground.

Lawrence was so surprised he could do nothing.

The next moment, Holo’s formerly slim arm had transformed into the forepaw of some huge beast and was totally unsuited to the rest of her body.

“Mm...whew. It really doesn’t look very good.”

The limb appeared to be so large that she would have trouble supporting it. She rested the giant leg on the pile of furs and shifted herself to accommodate it.

“Well? Do you believe me now?” She looked up at Lawrence.

“Uh… er...” Lawrence was unable to reply, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head as he looked and looked again at the sight before him.

The leg was magnificent and coated in dark brown fur. Given the size of the leg, the full animal would be huge, roughly as big as a horse. The paw ended in huge, scythe-like claws.

And all that grew from the girl’s slender shoulder. It would be strange to think it wasn’t an illusion.

Unable to believe it, Lawrence finally took a skin of water and doused his face with it.

“Aren’t you the doubtful one. If you still think it’s an illusion, go ahead and touch it,” teased Holo, smiling, curling the giant paw in a come-hither motion.

Lawrence found himself irritated, yet still he hesitated. Besides the sheer size of the limb, it also gave off a certain ineffable sense of danger.

It was the leg of a wolf. I’ve dealt with goods called Dragon Legs, Lawrence told himself, irritated at his cowardice. And just before his hand could touch it…

“Oh—” said Holo, seeming to remember something. Lawrence snapped his hand back.

“Wha—! What is it?”

“Mm, oh, nothing. Don’t be so surprised!” said Holo, now sounding annoyed. Adding embarrassment to his fear, Lawrence became angrier and angrier at what he felt was his failure as a man. Getting hold of himself, he reached out once again.

“So, what happened?”

“Mm,” said Holo meekly, looking up at Lawrence. “Be gentle, will you?”

Lawrence couldn’t help stopping his hand short at her suddenly endearing manner.

He looked at her, and she looked back, grinning.

“You’re rather charming, aren’t you?” she said.

Lawrence said nothing as he made sure of what his hand was feeling.

He was irritated at her half-teasing manner, but there was another reason he failed to reply.

It was of course because of what he was touching.

The beast-leg that thrust from Holo’s shoulder had bone as thick and solid as a tree’s limb, wrapped in sinew that would be the envy of any soldier, and covering that, a magnificent coat of brown fur, from the base of the shoulder all the way down to the paw. Each pad of the paw was the size of an uncut loaf of bread. Past the soft pink toes was something denser—the scythes of her claws.

The leg was solid enough, but those claws were anything but illusory. In addition to the not warm, yet not cold sensation peculiar to animal claws, Lawrence felt a thrill at the sensation that these were not something that he should be touching.

He swallowed. “Are you really a god...?” he murmured.

“I’m no god. As you can tell from my forepaw, I am merely bigger than my comrades—bigger and cleverer. I am Holo the Wisewolf!”

The girl who so confidently called herself “wise” looked at Lawrence proudly.

She was every bit a mischievous young girl—but the aura that the beast-limb exuded was not something a mere animal could ever manage.

It had nothing to do with the size of the thing.

“So, what think you?”

Lawrence nodded vaguely at her question. “But...the real Holo should be in Yarei now. The wolf resides in the one who cuts the last wheat stalk, they say…

“Heh-heh-heh. I am Holo the Wisewolf! I know well my own limitations. It is true that I live within the wheat. Without it, I cannot live. And it is also true that during this harvest I was within the last wheat to be harvested, and usually I cannot escape from there. Not while any were watching. However, there is an exception.”

Lawrence listened to her explanation, impressed with her rapid delivery.

“If there is nearby a larger sheaf of wheat than the last one to be harvested, I can move unseen to that wheat. That’s why they say it, you know, the villagers. ‘If you cut too greedily, you won’t catch the harvest god, and it will escape.’”

Lawrence glanced at his wagon bed with a sudden realization.

There was the sheaf of wheat—the wheat he’d received from the mountain village.

“So that is how it was done. I suppose one could call you my savior. If you hadn’t been there, I would never have escaped.”

Although Lawrence could not quite bring himself to believe those words, they were lent persuasion when Holo swallowed a few more wheat grains and returned her arm to normal.

However, Holo had said “savior” with a certain distaste, so Lawrence decided to get even with her.

“Perhaps I should take that wheat back to the village, then. They’ll be in a bad way without their harvest god. I’ve been friends with Yarei and others in Pasloe for a long time. I’d hate to see them suffer.”

He concocted the pretense on the spot, but the more he thought about it, the truer it seemed. If this Holo was the real Holo, then wouldn’t the village begin suffering poor harvests?

After a few moments his ruminations ended.

Holo was looking at him as if stricken.

“You...you’re jesting, surely,” she said.

Her suddenly frail mien rocked the defenseless merchant.

“Hard to say,” Lawrence said vaguely, trying to conceal his internal conflict and buy some time.

Even as his head filled with other concerns, his heart grew only more uneasy.

Lawrence agonized. If Holo was what she claimed to be, the god of the harvest, his best course of action would be to return her to the village. He had long associated with Pasloe. He did not wish them ill.

However, when he looked back at Holo, her earlier bravado was entirely gone—now she looked down, as apprehensive as any princess in an old knight tale.

Lawrence grimaced and put the question to himself: Should I return this girl to the village, even though she clearly does not want to go?

What if she is the real Holo?

He mulled the matter over in a cold sweat, the two questions battling in his mind.

Presently he became aware of someone looking at him. He followed the look to its source and saw Holo gazing at him beseechingly.

“Please, help me...wont you?”

Unable to stand the sight of Holo so meekly bowing her head, Lawrence turned away. All he saw, day in and day out, was the backside of a horse.

The life left him completely unable to resist a girl like Holo looking at him with such a face.

Agonizingly, he came to a decision.

He turned slowly back toward Holo and asked her a single question.

“I must ask you one thing.”

“…all right.”

“If you leave the village, will they still be able to raise wheat?”

He didn’t expect Holo to answer in a way that would weaken her own position, but he was a merchant. He had dealt with any number of dishonest negotiators in his time. He had confidence that if Holo attempted to lie, he would know.