IV.

Some minutes later they were moving again, with the cart much heavier. His load of furs was practically obscured by a mountain of the red fruit, which Horo could hardly keep her hands off of. She savagely tore into their juicy hides as if they might fly away from her. Their passing attracted no few stares and grins from the locals, which put Lawrence on edge. This was also due to the fact that he was sitting on Horo's tail. He realized very quickly as she began her gorging that she could no longer control its spasms, and so under him it writhed like an eel in a fisher's net. If let it out, he was certain it would be merrily wagging still as they were hauled up to the stake.

"Must you have spent all the money I gave you? You think we'll get lodgings for free, as you do in the woods?"

"And why not enjoy the cart tonight? I can smell that the skies will be clear and pleasant, the sweet smell of the apples will perfume us. And perhaps we could celebrate that as they did in the old days." She leaned in next to his face and licked her lips lasciviously. Before he could turn and answer she pulled away and burst out in a fit of giggling. It seemed he ought to keep watch over her consumption of this serpent's fruit. It wreaked more havoc on her wits than wine or ale.

"Oh, I do miss the old times, you know. They would dance at night, and sing to the full moon, not minding at all to sleep out upon the grass, and among one another in the wheat..." She trailed off into revery.

"Well, I'm sure it must have been wonderful, but here in town we might get our throats cut if we try to sleep in the street. No shortage of killers in the Low Countries these days, better they just take the furs. And the damn fruit."

Lawrence reached into the back of the cart to grab one of the few apples still whole. But just as he had touched one, Horo slapped his hand away and growled as only a wolf could.

"I'll show you a killer if you touch those again!"

"Twas my money that bought them you drunken buffoon." He kept his voice as low as he could, but he had truly had enough of her idiocy. Maybe she really was a demon who had bewitched him after all.

No few troubles later they were at an inn, the price of which was low enough for the many migrant paupers and homeless destitute wretches from the east who found themselves there. The innkeep was fortunately not paying much mind, having doubtless seen all the faces of misery from his position. One apple-crazed wolf disguised as a girl traveling with an exasperated merchant wasn't enough to stir him from torpor. He only looked up once from the shadow of his wide hat. Once in their room, Horo was safely deposited on a bed so Lawrence could unload the necessities. Her mood had transitioned again, and she was no longer snarling at him like a feral cub, but had become a source of entirely new nuisances. Her tail waved at him enthusiastically, not unlike a stalk of ripe wheat in a strong wind. And there certainly was wind nearby, though not of the kind that invigorates one on crisp autumn days.

"So, tell me how the wise old wolf's wisdom led you to eat three dozen apples, and collapse into a malodorous heap on a grimy straw bed?"

"Oh t'was all worthwhile, all costs repaid in full. For while some never have a moment's respite from constant toil, or else never look up from their work in fear of losing a chance at betterment. The wisest always take the time to enjoy a simple pleasure, no matter the time and place."

"It seems more like you just lack discipline."

Lawrence couldn't help but feel a little sorry for her now, unmoving and languid, her speech barely oozing out.

"Feh, how would you know what that word even means."

An hour later they were on the move again, Horo's innards permitting. Eastward along the Meuse they rode into Liège proper, for that was the only city in the land that was truly worth trading in. They would return to Passon before nightfall. The city was an open cauldron of all manner of liveliness, which had only grown with the influx of refugees from Holland and Germany. They slowly progressed through the choked way of the Outre-Meuse to the warehouses nearest the waterfront. All around them the bustle of the city masked a certain palpable anxiety. In days long forgotten, it was said that Charles l'Magne had been born in Liège, a humble enough origin. But in this age, the great realm that he had so gloriously seized in God's name was rapidly disintegrating, with the very same dedications being flung from all sides. The inhabitants could not help but feel a certain oppression in the air around them. Lawrence did not particularly like coming to the city. The Millone company's warehouse was straight ahead of them now. The crowds began to thin, as only the merchants had any reason to go here. But new to this place were great numbers of beggars and homeless who hoped to get some coins from the men who had plenty to spare. Being not among that class, Lawrence sped ahead into a rather modest establishment off to the side of the main alley. Horo had been mostly silent, save for a few bodily emissions. Perhaps out of shame, or just the stupor, Lawrence could not say, but he was thankful for the respite. She seemed to take interest once they reached the merchant's quarter.

"That house is not as big as the ones near it."

"Yes, it belongs to a company based in Antwerp. Their share here is not as great as the local firms, but-"

"But from them you can learn of what goes on far abroad, and perhaps gain an advantage."

"...Yes, that's precisely it." He showed less shock than was typical this time. Truly, he was glad that her razor-sharp mind had been brought to bare once again, in impeccable time for its second test.