Spice & Wolf I Read Online Free PDF
Author: Hasekura Isuna
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.
Lawrence readied himself to catch the prevarication he was sure would come, but come it didn’t.
When he looked at her, she wore an expression completely different from what he had seen so far; she looked angry and near tears as she stared into the corner of the wagon bed.
“Er … what’s wrong?” Lawrence had to ask.
“The village’s abundant harvests will continue without me,” she spat, her voice surprisingly irate.
“Is that so?” asked Lawrence, overwhelmed by the piercing anger that emanated from Holo.
Holo nodded, squaring her shoulders. She gripped the furs tightly, her hands white from the effort.
“Long did I stay in that village; as many years as I have hairs on my tail. Eventually I wished to leave, but for the sake of the village’s wheat I stayed.
Long ago, you see, I made a promise with a youth of the village, that I would ensure the village’s harvest. And so I kept my promise.”
Perhaps because she couldn’t stomach it, she did not so much as look at Lawrence as she spoke.
Earlier her wit and words had been quick and easy; now she stumbled uncertainly.
“I...I am the wolf that lives in the wheat. My knowledge of wheat, of things that grow in the ground, is second to none. That is why I made the village’s fields so magnificent, as I promised. But to do that, occasionally the harvest must be poor. Forcing the land to produce requires compensation. But whenever the harvest was poor, the villagers attributed it to my caprices, and it has only gotten worse in recent years. I have been wanting to leave. I can stand it no longer. I long ago fulfilled my promise.”
Lawrence understood Holo’s anger. Some years ago, Pasloe had come under the care of Count Ehrendott, and since then new farming techniques had been imported from the south, increasing yield.
Holo thus felt that her presence was no longer necessary. Indeed, the rumor was proliferating that not even the god of the Church existed. It was not impossible that a countryside hamlet’s harvest god had gotten wrapped up in such talk.
“The village’s good harvests will continue. There will be a poor yield every few years, but that will be their own doing. And they’ll overcome it on their own. The land doesn’t need me, and the people certainly don’t need me either.”
Getting her words out all in one breath, Holo sighed deeply and fell over on the pile of furs yet again. She curled up, pulling the furs around her and burying her face in them.
He could not see her face to make certain, but it seemed not impossible that she was crying. Lawrence scratched his head, unsure of what to say.
He looked helplessly at her slender shoulders and wolf ears.
Perhaps this was how a real god acted: now full of bluster and bravado, now wielding a sharp wit, now showing a childish temper.
Lawrence was at a loss at how to treat the girl now. Nevertheless, he couldn’t very well remain silent, so he took a new approach.
“In any case, setting aside the question of whether or not that’s all true…
“You think me a liar?” snapped Holo at his preamble. He faltered, but Holo seemed to realize that she herself was being too emotional. She stopped, abashed, and muttered a quick “Sorry,” before burying her head in the furs again.
“I understand your resentment. But where do you plan to go, having left the village?”
She did not answer immediately, but Lawrence saw her ears prick at his question, so he waited patiently. She had just delivered a significant confession, and Lawrence expected that she
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.
Lawrence readied himself to catch the prevarication he was sure would come, but come it didn’t.
When he looked at her, she wore an expression completely different from what he had seen so far; she looked angry and near tears as she stared into the corner of the wagon bed.
“Er … what’s wrong?” Lawrence had to ask.
“The village’s abundant harvests will continue without me,” she spat, her voice surprisingly irate.
“Is that so?” asked Lawrence, overwhelmed by the piercing anger that emanated from Holo.
Holo nodded, squaring her shoulders. She gripped the furs tightly, her hands white from the effort.
“Long did I stay in that village; as many years as I have hairs on my tail. Eventually I wished to leave, but for the sake of the village’s wheat I stayed.
Long ago, you see, I made a promise with a youth of the village, that I would ensure the village’s harvest. And so I kept my promise.”
Perhaps because she couldn’t stomach it, she did not so much as look at Lawrence as she spoke.
Earlier her wit and words had been quick and easy; now she stumbled uncertainly.
“I...I am the wolf that lives in the wheat. My knowledge of wheat, of things that grow in the ground, is second to none. That is why I made the village’s fields so magnificent, as I promised. But to do that, occasionally the harvest must be poor. Forcing the land to produce requires compensation. But whenever the harvest was poor, the villagers attributed it to my caprices, and it has only gotten worse in recent years. I have been wanting to leave. I can stand it no longer. I long ago fulfilled my promise.”
Lawrence understood Holo’s anger. Some years ago, Pasloe had come under the care of Count Ehrendott, and since then new farming techniques had been imported from the south, increasing yield.
Holo thus felt that her presence was no longer necessary. Indeed, the rumor was proliferating that not even the god of the Church existed. It was not impossible that a countryside hamlet’s harvest god had gotten wrapped up in such talk.
“The village’s good harvests will continue. There will be a poor yield every few years, but that will be their own doing. And they’ll overcome it on their own. The land doesn’t need me, and the people certainly don’t need me either.”
Getting her words out all in one breath, Holo sighed deeply and fell over on the pile of furs yet again. She curled up, pulling the furs around her and burying her face in them.
He could not see her face to make certain, but it seemed not impossible that she was crying. Lawrence scratched his head, unsure of what to say.
He looked helplessly at her slender shoulders and wolf ears.
Perhaps this was how a real god acted: now full of bluster and bravado, now wielding a sharp wit, now showing a childish temper.
Lawrence was at a loss at how to treat the girl now. Nevertheless, he couldn’t very well remain silent, so he took a new approach.
“In any case, setting aside the question of whether or not that’s all true…
“You think me a liar?” snapped Holo at his preamble. He faltered, but Holo seemed to realize that she herself was being too emotional. She stopped, abashed, and muttered a quick “Sorry,” before burying her head in the furs again.
“I understand your resentment. But where do you plan to go, having left the village?”
She did not answer immediately, but Lawrence saw her ears prick at his question, so he waited patiently. She had just delivered a significant confession, and Lawrence expected that she