Not Even a Crow (2)
“That’s mine! Mom said she’d sew it onto my hat later!”
“Tch.”
“Adults are always coveting kids’ stuff.”
“There’s no age limit on liking pretty things.” Patrick stood his ground. Would’ve made a perfect quill. What a waste.
Judging by Ben’s expression, this one was a bust. Once something had a set purpose, that unnaturally serious little kid wasn’t going to budge no matter how many gifts or compliments came his way.
“Stop eating. It’s rotten.”
Patrick’s demeanor flipped in an instant.
“You can’t give something and then take it back!”
“Here it is, here it is!”
“Ugh—how childish.”
And so the giggling children and the single wizard carried on. Still, lessons had to be taught.
“Right, today we’re learning how the ondol works.”
“Huh? What are we supposed to use that for?”
“Kid, do you learn things just to use them right away? You learn, and then one day you find a use for it.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“Cause and effect are different.”
“······Are they?”
The children had already mastered reading and numbers months ago. Patrick had made up fairy tales from memory to read to them, tried composition and debate, but lately he’d been running classes that were “a bit more practical, with a touch of theory.” In other words, self-directed learning.
— Go gather stones around the house, sorted by type. Then write down their characteristics. Which one’s the hardest, which floats in water, which sinks, that sort of thing.
— Are you all keeping your plant observation journals? What, still no sprouts? Did you water them wrong? Let’s check together why only Tommy’s pot sprouted.
The kids grumbled that he was making them do weird things, but once they started they ran around happily, faces flushed as they argued. This time was no different.
“There’s a principle behind the ondol room?”
“Of course! Look at this blueprint. See the part where the smoke passes underneath?”
“It looks like a mountain path! All winding because the height changes!”
“It’s like a snake!”
“Did they do it on purpose? A straight line would’ve been way simpler!”
“Right. Maybe the carpenters messed up?”
The efficiency of an ondol depended on how long the heat-retaining smoke could be trapped beneath the floor stones. When the fire was lit in the furnace, a steep slope was built first so the smoke could pass but the flames could not. That slope was called the buneomgi. After crossing it, the smoke descended sharply again before rising slowly along a gentle slope. That gentle slope was the gorae. The heat-filled smoke moving slowly along the gorae warmed the floor stones. At the end of the gorae, an gae-jari was needed to trap the heat while letting only the smoke escape up the chimney. It was a deep pit that held the heat below while sending the smoke upward. Finally, a chimney gae-jari was essential to prevent cold air or rainwater from flowing back into the ondol even if it entered the chimney.
Even if I can’t teach them about conduction, radiation, or convection, once they understand the principle someone might use it someday, right? Things like how heat moves through air, or that warm air rises above cold air.
“So what do you all have to do today?”
“······Experience it?”
“Something like that.”
“Ah, I don’t like going in there!”
“Yeah, it’s hot!”
“You just want to take a nap in there, don’t you, Teacher!”
“No, I don’t.”
Patrick puffed out his chest at Ben’s jab.
“I’ve got way too much work to do.”
“You really don’t want to nap in the ondol room?”
“Nope. I have to build a new cabinet today.”
“······.”
“Before that I need to clean my collection.”
“······.”
“And air out the lighthouse. I’m swamped.”
“······Let’s go, guys.”
Ben didn’t even reply. He just gathered his friends and left.
***
Left alone, Patrick wasted no time and got straight to work. He pulled out a device he’d rigged so an iron disc spun like a potter’s wheel. It looked shabby enough to question its craftsmanship, but it was a traditional polishing tool all the same.
“Let’s get started.”
Patrick grinned and lined up several stones he’d picked up from the beach. He looked unusually motivated. When he turned the wheel with his left hand, the connected iron plate began to spin. He lightly pressed a water-dampened stone against the spinning plate, and the rough surface gradually smoothed as dirt and imperfections were shaved away. Working with uncharacteristically careful hands, he polished slowly and steadily. Before long, the patterns on the stone surfaces grew clearer.
The old-fashioned polishing device had come from the village storehouse. The village chief had brought it out after seeing Patrick collect anything that sparkled.
— There used to be an old man who did carving. It’s sort of a keepsake.
— Carving?
— Yes. He didn’t make anything grand, just carved stones into toys for the neighborhood children now and then. It was a hobby, not a trade. Still, if you oil it, it should be good enough to polish your collection, Teacher.
Far in the future, after he was gone, everything in this house might end up in the village storehouse too. Thinking that, Patrick brushed aside the guilt.
“This should do for now······.”
Once the stones had taken shape, Patrick switched to polishing tools made of wool and leather, carefully working each one with painstaking attention.
“Kuh—! They’re getting shinier by the minute.”
The finished stones now displayed beautiful patterns, pretty enough to string into necklaces.
“Let’s see······. The kids are still playing.”
The children were going in and out of the ondol room, shouting “It’s hot!” and “It’s cooler outside!” having a grand time.
Still some time before they come asking me to play······.
After polishing all four stones, Patrick hesitated for a moment before heading inside the house.
“Is this unnecessary?”
Standing in front of the storage cabinet, Patrick pretended to deliberate, but the decision was already made. It was nothing more than a formality.
Crack— He snapped off the weaker part of the red coral with force. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Stones get a shine when you polish them. Who knows? Maybe this will sparkle too if I grind it down.”
He didn’t know for certain. He wasn’t even confident. It was simply that his hands were used to polishing, he had time to spare, and the coral wasn’t expensive anyway—so even if he ruined it, there’d be no real loss.
“I’ll just try a little. Just a bit.”
Expectation lit up Patrick’s face as he picked up the branch of red coral.
***
“You kids head home now.”
“Huh? Suddenly?”
“Your parents will worry.”
“What are you talking about? Everyone in the village knows we’re at Teacher’s house.”
“Just go. Quickly! Come back tomorrow.”
“······?”
Patrick was trying to send the children home while they were still playing.
He’s planning something again.
Yeah. I want to see what it is.
He’ll show us tomorrow. Teacher always gets twitchy around the mouth when he wants to brag about something fun.
Exchanging glances, the children soon called out, “We’ll come tomorrow!” and headed down the hill. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.
“······.”
Patrick stood on the hill, quietly watching the children descend toward the village.
“Huu—”
Patrick was the type to make a fuss over the smallest things, but this time felt different.
“······What do I do with these now······?”
Once the children were out of sight, Patrick pulled several long pieces from his pocket. Coral fragments of a deep, mesmerizing red, radiating a luster more beautiful than any mineral.
“Haa—”
Even someone who knew nothing would instinctively think, That must be valuable! Anyone with eyes could see these weren’t ordinary stones. Patrick was certain no one would mistake them for anything but gems.
He had started polishing the coral without much thought, the same way he polished beach stones, and in an instant the dull, dead fragments had transformed into jewels. For a moment, Patrick was speechless at their brilliant glow.
— As you can see, they’re just fragments. I heard some deep-sea coral sparkles so brightly it’s worth more than most gems, but these aren’t like that, apparently.
— Really? Still, shouldn’t we get them appraised······?
— I already did. The vice-leader of the Oren Merchant Group used to run a jewelry shop. Ah, you probably haven’t met him, Teacher. He doesn’t come all the way out here. Too busy, I suppose.
He remembered the eldest son of Halmae’s awkward expression when he’d said it wasn’t worth any money.
Look at this guy?
Many gems were nothing more than odd-looking rocks before they were cut and polished. The way they reflected light in dazzling colors or showed beautiful transparency only happened after a gem cutter’s hands had worked on them.
“Who would’ve thought coral was the same.”
Even Patrick, who had some interest in the subject, hadn’t known coral worked that way—so how could the islanders have known? Did the victims share some blame? Hardly.
They deliberately deceived simple rural fishermen for nearly ten years. They should pay back twice as much.
***
“Vice-leader! Thank you for making the trip. Heh heh.”
“I didn’t expect the village chief himself to come greet me. A bit of sea breeze now and then isn’t so bad.”
The vice-leader of the Oren Merchant Group had received sudden word that morning.
— The leader was urgently summoned to the lord’s castle.
— The lord’s castle? ······And?
— He was planning to stop by Dunbrook Island and a few others today, so······.
— Don’t tell me you want me to go? ······Tsk! Fine, I’ll get ready. Just wait.
Grumbling that he couldn’t understand why anyone would bother visiting these tiny islands when there was nothing worth eating, the vice-leader had set off reluctantly. But his mood soon changed.
Wait, why not recover the coral while I’m here? Heh heh. Looks like the god of wealth is helping me out. I’ve been worried about all the money I need to spend anyway—this is perfect.
Though the boat ride made him a little seasick, the thought of high-grade coral was enough to settle his stomach without any medicine.