Bonus Story – A Sign of Summer
On a fiercely hot summer day I had come to Marcel’s workshop. Whenever I’m not out at the forest or the food stalls with Marie and the others, this is where I am.
“Marcel, it’s been way too hot lately.”
“It’s summer. Nothing to be done about that.”
“Don’t say that, think of something!”
“Sluice yourself down with water, why don’t you?”
“It feels great while I’m doing it, but I’m hot again the second I stop.”
On hot summer days I do sluice myself down often, and it feels wonderful, and I’m drenched in sweat again a minute later. Summer here isn’t as hot as a Japanese one, but there’s no air conditioning. Which makes it worse than Japan on balance.
“You can make ice, can’t you? Make ice and cool the air with it.”
“You’re right!”
Of course. I’ve been so careful to hide having every attribute that I use nothing but healing from day to day, and it simply never occurred to me. In this workshop it should be all right!
But only producing ice is dull… That’s it, shaved ice! Could I make shaved ice? Shaving the ice would take… magic iron, I think. Magic iron takes whatever shape you picture, so I ought to be able to make both the blade and the body. Magic in this world is genuinely convenient, since anything you can picture works so long as you have the mana for it. I had better be grateful to this mana of mine that keeps mysteriously increasing. Anyway, let’s try it right now.
“Marcel, could you lend me some magic iron?”
“That’s fine, but what are you doing with it?”
Marcel was watching me the way you watch something you expect to go wrong. You’re certain I’m about to do something outrageous, aren’t you! I don’t do things that outrageous!
“I thought I’d make shaved ice.”
“Shaved… ice?”
“It’s a dessert. You shave ice and eat it.”
“And that tastes good?”
“It does! You pour syrup over it, and—”
And there I stopped. There’s no syrup! What is syrup made of, anyway? Sugar water? Would that alone really make it that good? Something I could use instead… That’s it, wouldn’t jam work? There should still be some of the raspberry jam we made at home.
“Marcel, I think it would be good with jam over it, and I haven’t brought any jam, so I’ll make it next time I come.”
“Is that so? I don’t follow any of it, but whenever suits you.”
“Next time I’ll definitely make you good shaved ice!”
So a few days later I came back to Marcel’s workshop, properly equipped this time. I have jam with me.
“Marcel, today I really will make shaved ice!”
“Aye. I still don’t follow it, but I’ll look forward to it.”
“Yes! So, could you lend me the magic iron?”
“Use this.”
“Thank you!”
I took the magic iron from Marcel and started on the blade for shaving the ice. The blade in a shaved-ice machine sits in a round iron disc with just a little of its edge standing proud of the surface. Then the ice turns on top of the disc, and the shavings come out underneath.
For turning the ice, I could hold it on something like nails set into a disc above it, and turn that with a handle. That part should sort itself out, since magic iron takes any shape I like.
The problem is the blade. If that isn’t right, I suspect it won’t come out as shaved ice at all. I made a round disc of magic iron and set about testing it, pushing the blade out through the surface a little at a time.
If I can manage it, I’d rather have the fluffy kind that was popular in Japan than the old-fashioned sort. I went and ate that with friends exactly once, and it was extremely good.
To get that fluffiness you let the ice melt a little beforehand, I think. And then the blade only stands proud by a hair. Anyway, trial and error, and let’s get on with it!
First I have to build the body of the machine, and I don’t remember the details. Well, it only has to shave ice, so something roughly right should do.
I started with a sort of small round table standing on four legs. Then I carried those four legs on upward, past the tabletop, and stopped them about thirty centimeters above it. Across their tops, centered between the four, I formed a handle. From the middle of that handle I ran a shaft of iron back down toward the table, and stopped it about twenty centimeters down. On the end of the shaft I made a second disc, and set several short nails into its underside. Fix the ice onto those nails, turn the handle, and the ice should turn with it.
That leaves the blade, which goes into the tabletop disc. I cut a long, narrow slot in it running from the center outward, and formed the blade along the slot. Hmm. Is that about right? It’s standing two or three millimeters proud. Let’s try it and see.
Ah, I have to make the ice first. I looked around the workshop for a vessel of a decent size, and found Marcel staring at the shaved-ice machine as though it might go off.
Why that expression?
“Marcel, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing. Only, you said you were making a food called shaved ice, didn’t you?”
“Yes, that’s right…?”
“And that strange object is for making shaved ice?”
“It is. It’s finished, so all that’s left is to make the ice and fine-tune it.”
“That’s it finished?! I can’t begin to guess how the thing is used.”
“It’s quite a simple mechanism. I’ll show you once the ice is made. Only I haven’t got a good vessel for making the ice in…”
I wanted something the right size for the machine I’d built, and while I was looking around the workshop Marcel gave me a look of pure exasperation.
“You can use earth attribute as well, Leon. Make a vessel.”
Ah… Yes. I could. If anything the question is why it didn’t occur to me. It’s because I keep myself from using magic day to day, so it doesn’t come to me when I need it. What a waste, when I can use every attribute! I have to hide it, but where I can use it, I should use it properly.
“You’re quite right. I’ll make a vessel too.”
I said it and built a cylindrical vessel of the right size out of earth-attribute mana. Then I made ice inside it. Yes, perfectly clean ice. Now I wait until it melts a little, then shave it, and it’s done! I may as well get the bowls ready while I wait.
“Marcel. I’m waiting for the ice to start melting a little, and I’d like to get bowls and so on ready in the meantime. May I borrow some?”
“Aye, go on. They’re in the kitchen upstairs. I’ll fetch them.”
“Can I come with you?”
“I don’t mind.”
So Marcel and I went up to the kitchen, and came back to the workshop with two bowls and two spoons. And the ice seemed to be melting nicely.
“The ice looks about right, so let’s try it.”
I took the ice out of the vessel and set it on the cutting disc. Then I pressed the nailed disc down onto the ice from above so the nails bit and held it, and turned the handle. And I didn’t forget to put a bowl underneath to catch the shaved ice.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
That sound is not encouraging. That is absolutely not fluffy. I pulled the bowl out and looked. Very coarse shaved ice indeed. This is not what I’m after! It’s perfectly good in its own way, of course, but I want fluffy.
The blade must be standing out too far. Let’s bring it in a little more…
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
Not the slightest difference! Perhaps it wants to stand out so little you’d wonder whether it could shave anything at all.
After that I went around and around with it, and finally built the shaved-ice machine I wanted! I’m thoroughly worn out… But now I should get good shaved ice out of it! I braced myself, set a new block of ice in place, and turned the handle with a certain amount of tension in me.
Shff. Shff. Shff.
Ohh, that’s perfect! There’s hardly any resistance as it turns, and above all it isn’t crunching. I looked into the bowl, and there it was—proper fluffy shaved ice. I shaved away in a blank sort of trance for a while, and one bowl of shaved ice was done.
“Marcel, it’s finished!”
Marcel had watched with interest at the start, and since nothing worked at all he had gone off to do something else partway through. At my voice he looked over again.
“That’s it finished? It’s certainly very pretty… but you’ve only shaved ice, haven’t you? Is it good?”
“I thought you’d say that, and it tastes wonderful! Pour jam over it and it’s done.”
I poured a generous quantity of raspberry jam over the shaved ice, and it was complete.
“Raspberry jam shaved ice! Try it before it melts!”
“Aye. I’ll have some, then.”
Marcel plainly still doubted it, and he loaded his spoon high and ate it. And then, after one mouthful, he froze without a flicker of reaction. Did he not like it?
“Marcel? Was it bad? Ah! Have you got a headache?!”
Of course. Eat something cold too fast and your head hurts. There’s no reason anybody in this world would know that; they have nothing like a freezer. I should have warned him properly…
“Marcel, I’m sorry… I should have warned you…”
I had gone from cheerful to flattened with nothing in between, and Marcel spoke up in a hurry.
“L-Leon! No! I don’t know where you got that idea, but it was good and I was startled, that’s all. And I’ve never eaten anything this cold, so it surprised me.”
“So your head doesn’t hurt?”
“It does not. Though I’ve no idea how we got onto heads hurting…”
Oh, good. He hasn’t been made ill, at least.
“If you eat something cold all at once, a pain shoots through your head. I hadn’t told you that, so I thought you’d frozen from the pain…”
“That happens, does it. I’ll be careful in the future. It didn’t this time, though. What I meant was that it was good enough to startle me.”
“Really?”
“Aye. There’s nothing special in it, and I can’t work out why it should be so good. A man would want this in summer. And the way it melts away soft in the mouth, you’d not stop at one.”
I’m so glad he thinks so. Summer really is shaved-ice weather! I once tried it in Japan in midwinter, tucked up warm indoors, thinking that sounded good too, and all I confirmed was that shaved ice belongs to summer. In a world like this one with no air conditioning, it must taste better still.
“May I have a mouthful too?”
“Of course you may.”
So I had a mouthful myself. Mmm, that is extremely good! Cold shaved ice on a hot summer day really is the best thing there is! And I’ve reproduced a genuinely fluffy texture. It doesn’t reach what I ate in Japan, but I think I’ve come fairly close. I’m thoroughly satisfied with it.
“I poured raspberry jam over it this time, but you can change the flavor by pouring something else on.”
“So you can. As it happens I’ve honey in the house. Would that suit it?”
“You have honey?! May I try it?!”
“Yes, yes. Go on. That’s quite a pounce.”
“I love sweet things!”
At that, Marcel looked enormously pleased and got straight to his feet.
“I’ll fetch it. Wait there.”
“Thank you!”
So this time I poured the honey Marcel had fetched over a bowl of shaved ice of my own. I’d shaved it industriously while he was away fetching the honey.
Hmm. Honey as it comes is too thick to pour well. It would be better if I could make it more like syrup. Dissolve it in water? Except that would water down the flavor with it.
Come to think of it, in Japan there was honey lemon. Which suggests mixing in lemon juice might do it. No lemon to hand, though… I may as well try it as it is.
So I took a spoonful from where the honey lay thickest and put it in my mouth. Too sweet! It’s good, but this is a great deal too sweet. Which may be exactly why you mix it with lemon.
“It’s good, but it seems to be a bit too sweet for me. Mixing it with lemon or something sour might work.”
“Is that so… Then how about this raspberry jam?”
“You know, that might suit it.”
Raspberry jam has sugar in it and it’s still sweet-sharp, with real tartness, so it might go with honey. I put a reasonable amount of raspberry jam onto the part of the shaved ice where the honey was sitting evenly. And took a mouthful.
Mmm! Delicious!! The sweet-sharpness of the raspberry jam and the sweetness of the honey match perfectly! This combination is exactly right.
“Marcel! Pouring these two on together is wonderful!”
“Is it now? Then I’ll try it myself.”
So Marcel poured the honey on and carried another spoonful of shaved ice to his mouth.
“This is…! Better than the last.”
“Isn’t it!”
After that the two of us savored our shaved ice in silence, and both of us cleared our bowls.
“Haaah. That was very good. And the heat has eased off now that I’m cooler.”
“So it has. This temperature is about right, as it is now.”
“Summer really is shaved-ice weather!”
“It’s a rare luxury, but once a man knows about it he can’t leave it alone.”
“Then let’s do it again sometime!”
“Aye. The magic iron is yours to borrow whenever you like.”
“Thank you!”
After that I spent a while in the workshop, which felt a little cooler now, talking about nothing much with Marcel. The hot summer air and the warm wind were both pleasant now, and I sat there thoroughly content while the time went quietly by.