The Hammer Unfalls

4.62 The Wolf and the Hare

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Glim found his usual isolated table at breakfast, preoccupied with what challenges he should set for himself. Master Willow had given him a day off to “process his guilt,” which Glim had already done. Caught up in his thoughts, he forgot to grab a spoon. He set his bowl down and headed back to the serving table.

By the time he returned to his seat, he’d been joined by Piri and Gyda. Glim sighed. Great start to my day off.

“They say you fought off an entire horde of wolf-bears without a scratch.” Pyri looked at him with an awe that seemed mostly faked, but which nevertheless warmed him with a sense of pride. Piri might be an insufferable bitch, but no one could fault her looks. Particularly the ways she accentuated her appeal with rosy blush, expensive scents, and exquisitely tailored tunic. When her eyes lost their mockery, she seemed almost like a different person, who, to Glim’s annoyance, made his pulse quicken. “Is it true?”

Glim stared at Pyri, trying to read her intentions. “Ryn and I were attacked. I did make it out unharmed, yes.”

Pyri widened her eyes in a decent approximation of admiration. “Really? Impressive!”

“Ryn? You mean Miss Daryna?” Gyda asked.

“Was she your girlfriend or something?” Pyri said with a familiar mockery in her voice. “Isn’t she too old for you?”

Aaand, the Pyri he knew had returned. That didn’t last long.

“No, she wasn’t my girlfriend,” Glim said. He looked at Gyda as he said it. Her shoulders relaxed at his words. Her relief relieved Glim. They both looked away from each other.

“They say you split the beasts in half with your mind,” Pyri said. “Is that what happened, freak?”

Glim started to tell her to screw off and find her own table when several other kids rushed over and took seats. People he hadn’t talked to much over the years, but suddenly seemed eager to listen to him. They looked at him with genuine versions of the interest Pyri had just shown. That explained the visit. Pyri knew politics, he’d give her that much.

“No, it’s not like that.”

“What is it like, then?”

Glim looked around at the expectant faces. What could he say?

“Casting ice is hard. It takes a lot of concentration. But when I’m in danger, sometimes it snaps into focus. Sometimes it goes away completely. This time I was able to pull it off.”

“So you didn’t split them in half? Where did the claw come from?”

“I slowed them down with ice and got two of them with my sword. Ryn got one with her staff before she fell. And some of the others, I think. It happened fast.” Glim took a steadying breath. “If she hadn’t been there I’d be dead.”

Pyri started to ask more, but Gyda interrupted her. “That’s enough, Pyri. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

The table settled into idle chatter about chores and gossip, which Glim didn’t have any frame of reference to understand. He just listened, and laughed at the appropriate times, trying to adjust to his sudden popularity.

After breakfast, most of the others trickled out until only Pyri and Gyda remained. As soon as she noticed everyone else had left, Pyri stood. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I’ll just finish up,” Gyda said, remaining in her seat.

Pyri rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself,” she said, and left the dining hall.

Glim and Gyda sat in silence, until it felt even more awkward than he thought possible. Glim spoke up. “Thanks.”

“I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it.”

Glim poked at his bowl for another minute then pushed it aside. “Depends on who I’m talking to.”

Gyda seemed startled for a second and looked at him, then curled her lips into a half-smile. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Glim said. “I don’t have a lesson today. Do you want to walk with me?”

“As long as you are walking in the direction of the market stalls with a bucket of soap and some rags.”

“Ahh, I see,” Glim said. “As a matter of fact that was my exact plan for the day.”

“Lucky me.”

Glim followed Gyda to a part of the town he rarely spent time in. The market stalls took up most a large square with flat stones. Various catapults and giant crossbows on wheels had been pushed to the side long ago to make room for wooden stalls with permanent roofs. Some of the nicer stalls had stone walls and doors. Seeing it empty like this, without the bustle of the crowds, took some of the mystery away.

He watched Gyda as she walked. She no longer wore braids. Her light brown hair tumbled down her back, contained by a blue ribbon that matched the trim of her tunic. Glim hadn’t spent much time meeting her gaze, preferring to stare at the ground, but he knew the blue matched her eyes. When she turned a corner, she looked back and caught him looking.

They stopped at one of the larger stalls, with massive wooden beams at the corners and wooden shelves polished by years of use.

“Here we are.” Gyda reached behind a counter and pulled out two buckets, a handful of rags, and a bar of oilsoap. “Now we just need to fetch some water.”

“No need for that,” Glim said.

Gyda looked at him in confusion. He placed his hands over the buckets and focused. Chips of ice filled the buckets to overflowing. Gyda gasped.

“We need water though, not ice.”

“Of course.”

Glim plunged his hands into the buckets. He sensed the warmth of the morning sun and pulled it through himself. His hands grew hot. He used the cold of the ice to soothe them and drew even more heat from the air. The ice chips became glassy, then melted into water.

Gyda took one of the buckets tentatively, looking into it in awe, and perhaps a bit of fear.

“It’s just water,” Glim said.

“Do you use plying for all of your chores? I bet it really helps.”

The question surprised him. “Er, no, not really.”

“Well, what do you use it for, then?”

Visions of slaughtered hinterjacks and decapitated chickens flashed through his mind. He tried to think of some redeeming use for plying algidon, and couldn’t think of anything. Glim felt his face redden.

Gyda held up her hand. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

They got to work scrubbing the stall with the oilsoap, which Gyda told him helped the wood from drying out in the sun. She talked about the wares they sold, and how intense market days could be. Glim tried to relax and enjoy the moment. But Gyda’s question had rattled him. What did he use plying for?

When they’d finished, Gyda looked at him, obviously wanting to say something. Glim nodded and smiled at her in encouragement.

“I’m sorry if I upset you,” she said.

“No… you didn’t. You gave me something to think about. Something important. I’m glad you did.”

“Are you okay, Glim?”

The way she said his name made his stomach flutter. “Not really, no. But I think I will be.”

They parted ways. Glim walked numbly back towards the tower, where he didn’t need to go. But habit drew him there. Also, curiosity. When Master Willow opened the door, he seemed surprised.

“You don’t have a lesson today.”

“I know. I was hoping to use the library.”

Master Willow immediately grew suspicious. “What for?”

“I want to read up on plying algidon. Study the basics, to get back in the right mindset.”

“I see. Well, I suppose there’s no harm in that. Come with me.”

His tutor led him up the stairs and walked to an aisle Glim had been in once before. Glim scanned the shelves and, just as before, understood very little of what he saw. One title caught his attention: Comprehend Thine Path. Nestled between Essentiæl Mastery and Sigils of Warding.

“Can I take a few?”

“Be careful with them and put them back in the right place.”

Glim grabbed the three books, so that Master Willow would not guess his true intention. Right now, Glim felt he needed to comprehend his path, and hoped the book might offer some insights.

“Put that one back,” Master Willow said, reshelving Sigils of Warding. “If you write a sigil improperly it will wreak all sorts of havoc. Try this instead.” His tutor handed him A Guide to Crystalline Structures.

Glim took the books to a chair beneath the white globe of light suspended from the ceiling. He set the books on a side table and started to thumb through the book he’d been handed. As soon as Master Willow went down the stairs, Glim set it down and started reading Comprehend Thine Path.

He almost set it down as soon as he started. The language confused him, with terms he hardly understood. Not just terms; he didn’t understand the structure, either. The author seemed to have no idea about polarities, crystalline structures, or even as simple a concept as aiming. The author went on and on about “the nature inherent” or “the observable mask o’er the inner infinite.” But Glim powered through until the patterns of archaic speech began to make sense.

When the text clarified in his mind, Glim saw a simple, powerful narrative unfold. Each thing in Æronthrall had its own logic and its own essentiæl energy within a greater whole. Trees stored water, which fell as rain from the sky after sweeping across faraway lands. When they died and fell, the wood of the trees became the soil that grew food. Creatures ate the food, and carried the essentiæ into their burrows, or roamed the land, or flew into the air. The wolf and the hare were two sides of the same page. Heat and cold were not opposites, but variations of one climate.

By the time he set the book aside, Glim’s mind overflowed with a new perspective. He felt doubly shamed by his treatment of the hinterjacks. Glim wasn’t sure what he’d do differently next time; if attacked, as he was by the hyaenas, he’d defend himself. But seeking conflict went against the whole his eyes had been opened to.

Glim decided on the spot: he would not seek revenge on the hyaenas. He had another goal now: to figure out why the internal logic of creatures had become so warped from what the author of Comprehend Thine Path described. It seemed obvious—and disturbing—that the balance of Æronthrall had shifted from its center. Perhaps he could find a way to shift it back.