The Hammer Unfalls

4.61 Actions Speak Louder

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Master Willow stood and walked to the fireplace. He poked at the logs, sending sparks up the chimney. When he turned back to face Glim, he had what could only be described as sympathy in his eyes. It startled Glim to see such an unguarded expression on his tutor's face.

“We have some unpleasant work ahead. Some emotions sound the same, but are radically different from each other beneath the surface. For example, envy and jealousy are not the same things at all. Do you know the difference?”

Glim thought it over. “No, Master Willow.”

“When you see other children receiving affection from their mothers, does it ever bother you?”

“Sometimes.” Glim thought about Gyda’s mother cutting his hair, and Gyda putting the beet wax on his lips.

“That’s envy. You are seeing something you don’t have, and desire to have. Now what if your father canceled a lesson with you to train another boy? That would be jealousy. A desire to protect a relationship you already have from someone else who might take it away.”

Conversations like these usually bored Glim. But something had changed since the last time he’d sat here listening to one of Master Willow’s lectures: Glim had sworn to learn everything he could. So he kept himself focused on the lesson. “Why is the difference important?”

“Because emotions come from different places, and rally us to different actions. Envy encourages you to seek a resource you don’t have. Jealousy motivates you to guard what you do have. The difference is significant.” Master Willow peered at him intently. “Just as significant as the difference between shame and guilt.”

Glim shivered under his Master’s intense gaze. He knew that look. Something unpleasant loomed behind it.

Past Glim would have crumpled under that gaze. Or thought about how to get away from whatever unpleasantness came next. But Ryn had opened his eyes. This had turned from a lesson into something else. Something that served Master Willow’s agenda instead of Glim’s.

Glim didn’t know what sort of trap had been set for him, but he had a fighting chance to defend himself, at least. You’re as easy to read as a children’s picture scroll, Ryn had once told him.

Glim steadied himself. Think! Think, you clod. What else had Ryn told him? That seeking the approval of others was his weakness. And Glim had learned Master Willow’s weakness long ago. Pride. He’d need to use that somehow.

And just like that, Glim’s preparation time boiled away like water droplets on a hot skillet as his tutor spoke again.

“Tell me, Glim: who here blames you for Ryn’s death?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You told me you felt ashamed. Of what? Before whom?”

Glim bristled. “A guard is supposed to protect people!”

“You weren’t a guard then. But say you were. You think the other guards blame you?”

“Not exactly—”

“—not at all. There’s not a single guard here who would expect a sixteen-year-old to single-handedly fend off a pack of whatever creatures you faced. We all saw the claw Garrick pulled from your hair. When the guards speak of your actions, it is with pride. Reverence, even.”

“I was trained to fight.” He said it like an excuse.

“By your father, yes. So you are ashamed when you face him? Like he expected better of you?”

Glim stood up. “I don’t know! Why are you asking me this?”

“I see we’re finally getting somewhere. Sit down, boy. This is the work we’re here to do.”

Glim took a deep breath then sat back down. Master Willow walked over, his robes billowing.

“Your father thanks the Trine you survived. I’m not sure he thinks he could have fought them off himself. So he certainly is not shaming you.”

“Then who is?” Glim shouted.

“No one. That’s the point. Shame is when others you depend on for survival show you you’ve crossed a line you shouldn’t have. No one has done that. You’re feeling something much harder to tolerate: guilt.”

“Why is that harder to tolerate?”

“Because it comes from within yourself. You are the only one in Wohn-Grab blaming you for her death. Your guilt will not be satisfied until you let yourself free of it. Are you ready to do that?”

Glim glared at his tutor sullenly.

“I thought not. And how could you unless you know where the guilt is coming from? So we have the unpleasant task of figuring out why you blame yourself for some woman getting mauled by a creature somewhere on a mountainside. We’ll stay here as long as it takes to get to the answer. So do us both a favor and answer honestly, because I’d like to have this settled by suppertime.”

So, that’s it. His tutor was fishing for information. Of course. The man had been far too supportive thus far. How had Glim missed it? His jaw tightened. Time for some misdirection. Glim tried on some righteous indignation.

“I’m sorry Ryn’s death inconveniences you, Master.”

“See? There the emotion chain goes. You’re angry again and we haven’t even scratched the surface of the guilt. Stay on task, boy. What did you do that got Ryn killed?”

“What?’

“You’re feeling guilt. What did you do? Did you take a wrong turn and lead her into danger?”

“No! No. We were checking the tanks.”

“Did you push her down the stairs on accident?”

“No!”

“I can guess all day long,” Master Willow said, narrowing his eyes. “Perhaps you can take a turn.”

Glim’s head throbbed. Memories rushed back. He remembered the crushing cold as Ryn opened the door. The sweet taste of bananas. The strange echoes from the walls, which he thought was the wind laughing.

“I…” Glim wrung his hands together.

“Yes?” Master Willow leaned forward expectantly.

“I heard the laughter. But I thought it was something else. An echo. So I didn’t warn Ryn in time.”

“Warn her of what? Laughter? Is that something dangerous we should guard against?”

“If I’d said something earlier, she might still be alive!”

“That might be true. It might not be. There’s no way to know. And it does not explain your guilt. You blame yourself for Ryn’s death. Why?”

“Because I wasn’t strong enough to save her!”

“That also might be true. So? Lots of people aren’t strong enough to save other people. Why are you different?”

“Because I was trained to handle such things, and I failed.” Tears sprang to his eyes.

His tutor leaned ever further towards Glim, until his face was close enough for Glim to see each twitch of impatience in his neatly groomed eyebrows. “We’ve already been down this path.” His voice took a higher pitch and a mocking tone. “If only I’d been faster. If only I’d known how to kill.” Master Willow shook his head. “This is a sideshow! It’s not about failing to draw a sword in time.”

His master stood and paced the room. “Why do you blame yourself, Glim? Think back further. What did you do?”

For starters, he’d decided to run away, which somehow goaded Ryn into protecting him. Why, he had no idea. But he didn’t want Master Willow’s help figuring it out. Ryn had died to preserve Glim’s gift. Glim would have to bear that for the rest of his life. Even though he’d had no utter idea about any of it. If only she’d just— but that line of thinking would give him away. He didn’t have the luxury of deconstructing it now.

“I didn’t do anything! The hyaenas were just there.”

“Forget the hyaenas. That’s the end of the chain. What’s the weak link?”

At last, Glim saw a way out of this trap. He saw an answer that would play right into his tutor’s pride.

“I am!”

“Why do you say that?’

“Because I—” Glim took a shuddering breath. “I didn’t pay enough attention in my lessons! If I had listened to you more, I would have been better prepared.”

Master Willow leaned back in surprise. His lips moved, as if he were pondering various words to reply with, and discarding them all. At last he found some. “As flattered as I am to hear that, I don’t agree. You’re further along than one might expect. Even with your obstinate attitude.”

Master Willow studied Glim’s face for more information. But Glim focused on the half-truth: that he hadn’t taken the lesson’s seriously. And he could honestly say his next words.

“I just want to get it right, Master Willow! I want to learn all I can from you. So that something like this never happens again.”

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The moment Glim left the tower, he ran for the lower chambers to his new space. Stunned, he stared unseeing at the banks of dials and sat on the floor. He put his head between his hands and let the tears come. Wracking sobs crashed through him and Glim’s face became slick with tears and snot.

“I’m sorry, Ryn,” he moaned, over and over, like a mantra.

Eventually the tears dried up. Glim lay curled on the floor, aching inside, and finally did the work Master Willow had taught him to do.

“I feel guilty because I—” he sobbed again, breathing hard to quell the rising tears “—I forced Ryn to protect me,” Glim said to the walls. “My guilt is motivating me to learn how to not be an ignorant clod in the future.”

Glim chastised himself to dig deeper.

“My guilt is motivating me to take ownership of my own training.”

He heard Ryn’s voice in his mind. And how will you do that?

“By doing, Miss Daryna,” he said aloud.

Only actions would honor her memory.