The Rithmatist

debris, Fitch managed to produce an eraser. Joel used it, but it didn’t work all that well. The lines just smudged on the floor, which hadn’t been designed for chalk drawing.
    Joel felt his face redden as he brushed harder.
    “Perhaps we should have you draw on a board from now on, Joel…” Fitch said, digging out a small chalkboard.
    Joel looked down at the poorly erased chalk drawing in front of him. It seemed like a sharp and distinct reminder of what he was. No matter how hard he tried or studied, he’d never be a Rithmatist, able to make his chalk lines come alive or vanish with a thought.
    “Maybe I should get back to my research,” Joel said, standing.
    “Oh, do a few more with us,” Fitch said, wagging the board as he proffered it. “You’ve worked too hard on those census reports, and it will be good for Miss Muns to have some competition.”
    Joel’s breath caught in his throat. It was the first time that a Rithmatist had actually offered to let Joel participate. He smiled, then reached out to take the board.
    “Excellent!” Fitch said. He seemed to find the prospect of teaching them far more exciting than research.
    Over the next few hours, they went over a dozen more examples of defenses and counters. Fitch drew more complicated circles, challenging Joel and Melody to discuss two or three ways to attack each one. There were no actual duels. Professor Fitch seemed to shy away from such things.
    Instead, he would draw, explain, and coach. They talked about which defenses were best against multiple opponents. They discussed why it was important to think about being surrounded—since on the Nebrask battlefield, a Rithmatist might have to fight in several directions at the same time. They also discussed timing, drawing to their strengths, and some general theory. All of this was interspersed with more drawings.
    Joel threw himself into it with excitement. Though this wasn’t the deep Rithmatic lecture he’d been hoping for, it was actual drawing with actual Rithmatists. It was wonderful.
    And it was far better than looking at census records.
    Eventually, Fitch glanced at the clock. “Well, we should move on for the day.”
    “What?” Melody demanded, looking up from their latest set of drawings. “You can’t! He’s winning!”
    Joel smiled smugly. By his count—and he suspected Melody had kept a similar count in her head—Fitch had approved of Joel’s counter-defenses seven times, while Melody had only done the right defense three times.
    “Winning?” Fitch said. “Why, this isn’t a competition.”
    “Yes, Melody,” Joel said. “It’s not a competition—at least, it’s not a competition when you are involved. None at all.”
    She flinched, looking like she’d been slapped. Joel hesitated, realizing how harsh those words had been.
    Instead of snapping back a retort, Melody grabbed her sketchbook. “I’ll just … keep practicing some more sketches, Professor.”
    “Yes, dear,” Fitch said, shooting a glance at Joel. “That is a good idea. Joel, I need to run some of these books back to the library. Would you help me carry them?”
    Joel shrugged, then picked up the indicated stack of books and followed the professor out into the stairwell. Melody remained behind, sniffling.
    They stepped out of the stairwell onto the campus green, and Joel blinked against the sunlight—it was easy to lose track of the hours in Fitch’s office.
    “You’re quite accomplished at Rithmatic drawings, Joel,” Fitch said. “I honestly don’t know that I’ve ever seen a student as skilled as you. You draw like a man with thirty years of practice.”
    “I usually get the nine-point wrong,” Joel said.
    “Few Rithmatists even come close with nine-point drawings,” Fitch said. “Your ability, particularly as a non-Rithmatist, is nothing short of astounding. You are, however, also an insensitive bully.”
    “A bully!” Joel exclaimed.
    Fitch raised a finger. “The most dangerous kind of man is not the one who spent his youth shoving others around. That kind of man gets lazy, and is often too content with his life to be truly dangerous. The man who spent his youth being shoved around, however … When that man gets a little power and authority, he often uses it to become a tyrant on par with the worst warlords in history. I worry this could become you.”
    Joel looked down. “I wasn’t trying to make her look bad, Professor. I was just trying to draw my best!”
    “There is