Free Spice & Wolf III by Hasekura Isuna

be careful.”
    Lawrence knew of the practice as it was used in mines, but having come to a place where it was actually employed sent a shiver up his spine.
    The phrase poison wind was certainly descriptive, but for Lawrence’s part, he felt the Church’s phrase—the hand of death—to be more apt.
    Apparently it came from the fact that no sooner did One notice a strangely cold wind than one was paralyzed, unable to move.
    Lawrence wondered if the cats that he saw here and there as they walked down the street were kept for the same purpose as the birds or if they instead gathered to prey on those birds.
    In either case, it was eerie.
    “Mr. Batos—”
    It had been some time since Lawrence had found walking in silence to be so difficult.
    The street was dim and strange, the silence punctuated by the meowing of cats and the flutter of birds; mysterious metallic sounds rang out occasionally, and the smell of sulfur was constant. Lawrence couldn’t help raising his voice.
    “How many alchemists are in this district, would you say?”
    “Hmm...counting apprentices perhaps twenty, give or take. But in any case, accidents are common, so it is hard to know for sure.”
    In other words, there were a lot of fatalities.
    Regretting having asked the question, Lawrence shifted to more mercantile concerns.
    “Do you find that trading with alchemists makes good business? I would think it would bring significant danger.”
    “Mm...” said Batos slowly, stepping around a barrel that had held some green substance that Lawrence didn’t want to look at too long. “There’s a lot of profit to be had in trading with alchemists that have nobility backing them up. They buy a lot of iron, lead, quicksilver, and tin—to say nothing of copper, silver, and gold.”
    They were all quite normal commodities; Lawrence was surprised.
    He had been expecting something much weirder—five-legged frogs, perhaps.
    “Ha-ha-ha, are you surprised? Even here in the north, there are people who think alchemists are basically sorcerers. In truth, they’re not so very different from metalsmiths. They heat metals or melt them down with acids. Of course...”
    They turned right at a narrow intersection.
    “...In reality, there are some who research sorcery.” Batos looked behind them and then twisted his lip in a feral grin.
    Lawrence faltered and stopped walking for a moment, at which Batos immediately smiled, apologetic.
    “But I’ve only heard rumors of them, and I don’t believe any of the alchemists in this district have met any such people. And incidentally, everyone living in this area is basically a good person.”
    This was the first time Lawrence had heard alchemists—who practiced their arts without any fear of God—described as “good people.”
    Whenever the subject came up, alchemists were spoken of in fearful, incurious tones, as though they had committed some unspeakable corruption.
    “They’re my bread and butter, after all, so I can’t very well accuse them of being bad people now, can I?”
    A slightly relieved Lawrence smiled at Batos’s very merchantlike statement.
    Shortly thereafter, Batos stopped before the door of one of the buildings.
    The street received no sunlight and was riddled with holes and dark puddles of water.
    The stone wall facing the alley had a wooden window that was cracked open, and the entire two-story building seemed to lean to one side.
    It could have been a building from any slum in the world, but there was one important difference.
    The area was completely silent; no peals of childish laughter sounded.
    “Come now, you needn’t be so nervous. They really are fine people here.”
    No matter how many times Batos tried to reassure him, Lawrence could only give an uncertain smile in return.
    It was impossible for him not to be nervous—this was, after all, a place where people lived who had been branded criminals of the most serious sort by an authority that brooked no opposition.
    “Excuse us—is