The Rithmatist

place.” He reached out and touched his chalk against the looping pattern, obviously trying to dismiss it. Nothing.
    “It has no Rithmatic properties,” the professor said. “Otherwise, I’d be able to make it puff away.” He paused, then cocked his head. “I … appear to have made quite a mess on the top of my desk. Hum. I didn’t consider that.”
    “We need to do more tests,” Joel said. “Try different variations.”
    “Yes,” Fitch said. “Perhaps that is what I shall do. You, however, should go home and return to bed. Your mother will be worried!”
    “Mother is working,” Joel said.
    “Well, you are probably tired,” Fitch said.
    “I’m an insomniac.”
    “Then you should go and try to sleep,” Fitch said. “I am not going to have a student in my office until the early hours of the morning. It’s already too late. Be off with you.”
    Joel sighed. “You’ll share anything you discover, right?”
    “Yes, yes,” Fitch said, waving.
    Joel sighed again, louder this time.
    “You’re beginning to sound like Melody,” Fitch said. “Go!”
    Melody? Joel thought, walking away. I am not!
    “And … Joel?” Professor Fitch said.
    “Yes?”
    “Keep to the … well-lit parts of campus on your way to the dormitories, lad. All right?”
    Joel nodded, then shut the door.



CHAPTER

    The next morning, Joel rose early and left for Fitch’s office. As he crossed the dew-wetted green, he heard a clamor coming from the direction of the campus office. He rounded the hill to find a small crowd outside the building.
    A crowd of adults, not students.
    Frowning, Joel walked to the edge of the crowd. Exton stood to the side, wearing a red vest with dark trousers and a matching bowler. The rest of the people were dressed similarly—nice clothing, with bright, single-piece dresses for the women, and vests and trousers for the men. None wore coats in the summer heat, but most wore hats.
    The adults muttered among themselves, a few shaking fists toward Principal York, who stood in the doorway of the office.
    “What’s going on?” Joel whispered to Exton.
    The clerk tapped his cane against the ground. “Parents,” he said. “The bane of every school’s existence.”
    “I assure you that your children are safe at Armedius!” the principal said. “This academy has always been a haven for those chosen to be Rithmatists.”
    “Safe like Lilly and Herman?” one of the parents yelled. Others rumbled in assent.
    “Please!” Principal York said. “We don’t know what is happening yet! Don’t jump to conclusions.”
    “Principal York,” said a woman with a narrow face and a nose pointy enough it could poke out someone’s eye if she turned in haste. “Are you denying that there is some threat to the students here?”
    “I’m not denying that,” York said. “I simply said that they are safe on campus. No student has come to harm while on school grounds. It was only during visits outside the walls that incidents occurred.”
    “I am taking my son away!” one of the men said. “To another island. You can’t stop me.”
    “The ordinary students can leave for the summer,” said another. “Why not ours?”
    “The Rithmatic students need training!” York said. “You know that! If we act rashly now, we could undermine their ability to defend themselves at Nebrask!”
    This quieted them somewhat. However, Joel heard one father muttering to another. “He doesn’t care,” the man said. “York isn’t a Rithmatist—if they die here or die in Nebrask, what is it to him?”
    Joel noticed a few sharply dressed men standing quietly to the side, making no complaints. They wore vests of muted colors and triangular felt hats. He couldn’t make out any signs of emotion on their features.
    York finally managed to break up and dismiss the group of parents. As the people trailed away, the men walked up to Principal York.
    “Who are they?” Joel asked.
    “Private security,” Exton whispered back. “The ones on the left are employed by Didrich Calloway, knight-senator of East Carolina. His son is a Rithmatist here. I don’t know the other ones, but I suspect they’re employed by some very influential people who also have Rithmatist children here at Armedius.”
    The principal looked troubled.
    “He’s going to have to let them go, isn’t he?” Joel asked. “The children of the very important.”
    “Likely,” Exton said. “Principal York has a lot of influence, but if he butts heads