The Rithmatist

fingers were dusted red with chalk. “Interruptions are unavoidable. However, I am concerned about the integrity of the Rithmatic campus. It is unseemly to have students who do not belong there loitering about.”
    “And what do you propose be done about it?” Exton said flatly. “Send Rithmatic students on errands? I asked for one, once, but was told their time was ‘too valuable.’”
    “Miss Muns, come in, please,” Nalizar snapped. A girl in a white skirt trailed into the room, curly red hair standing out sharply against her grey sweater. It was Melody, the girl from Joel’s mathematics class.
    “Miss Muns has shown unusual ineptitude for basic Rithmatics,” Nalizar said. “This lack of dedication could present great danger to both her and those who fight beside her. It has been determined that she should undergo some form of punishment, and so she will come to the office each day after her summer elective to run errands for you to the Rithmatic campus.”
    Melody sighed softly.
    “This will be acceptable, I presume?” Nalizar asked.
    Exton hesitated, then nodded.
    Joel, however, felt himself beginning to fume. “You did this because of me.”
    Nalizar finally looked at Joel, then frowned. “And you are…?”
    “This is a lot to go through, just to keep one boy out of your classrooms,” Joel snapped.
    Nalizar looked him up and down, then cocked his head.
    Dusts, Joel thought. He actually doesn’t recognize me. Does he pay so little attention?
    “Arrogant child,” Nalizar said indifferently. “I must take this action to make certain that Rithmatic students are not bothered now or in the future.” He stalked from the room.
    Melody sat down in one of the chairs by the door, opened her notebook, and began to sketch.
    “I can’t believe he did that,” Joel said, sitting back down.
    “I don’t think he cared about you, specifically,” Melody said, still sketching. “He’s very keen on control. This is just another way for him to get it.”
    “He’s a bully,” Joel growled.
    “He thinks like a soldier, I guess,” Melody replied. “And he wants to keep separation between Rithmatists and others. He said that we needed to be careful how we acted around common people. Said that if we didn’t hold ourselves aloof, we’d gain sycophants who would interfere with our work. It—”
    “Melody, dear,” Florence said. “You’re rambling.”
    Melody blinked, looking up. “Oh.”
    “Wait,” Joel said. “Shouldn’t you be going back to class with Nalizar?”
    She grimaced. “No. I … well, he kind of kicked me out.”
    “Kicked you out?” Joel said. “Of class ? What did you do?”
    “My circles weren’t good enough,” she said with a dramatic flip of her fingers. “What is it with circles, anyway? Everyone is so crazy over circles.”
    “The arc of a Line of Warding is vital to the structural integrity of the defensive perimeter,” Joel said. “If your circle has an inconsistent arc, you’ll be beaten the moment a single chalkling gets to your wall. Drawing an even circle is the first and most important Rithmatic skill!”
    “Dusts!” Melody said. “You sound just like a professor. No wonder all the students think you’re so odd!”
    Joel blushed. Even the Rithmatists thought he focused too much on Rithmatics, it appeared.
    The back door of the office opened. “Florence?” the principal asked. “Who’s next?”
    Joel stood up and met the principal’s eyes. The large man frowned, mustache drooping. “Joel?”
    Florence crossed the room and handed him Professor Kim’s note. The principal read it, then groaned—a loud, booming sound that seemed to echo. “Come in, then.”
    Joel rounded the counter. Florence gave him a sympathetic shake of the head as he passed her and entered the principal’s office. The wood trim of the chamber was of fine walnut, the carpet a forest green. Various degrees, accolades, and commendations hung on the walls. Principal York had a towering desk to fit his large frame, and he sat, waving Joel toward the chair in front.
    Joel sat down, feeling dwarfed by the fine desk and its intimidating occupant. He’d only been in this room three other times, at the end of each year when he’d failed a class. Footsteps fell on the carpet behind, and Florence arrived with a file. She handed it to York, then retreated, pulling the door closed. There were no windows in the room, though two lanterns spun quietly on each wall.
    York perused the file,