The Rithmatist

about.”
    “Well, I mean, I’ve read the book,” Joel said. Or, at least, as much of it as I could make out. “So, I already know a lot. No harm in telling me more, right?”
    She eyed him. “And if I answer your questions, will you tell me about the things you and Fitch talked about with that police officer?”
    That brought Joel up short. “Um … well,” he said. “I gave my word not to, Melody.”
    “Well, I promised I wouldn’t talk about the chamber of inception with non-Rithmatists.”
    Dusts, Joel thought in annoyance.
    Melody sighed. “We’re not going to argue again, are we?”
    “I don’t know,” Joel said. “I don’t really want to.”
    “Me neither. I have far too little energy for it at this present moment. That comes from eating this slop the Italians call food. Looks far too much like worms. Anyway, what are you up to after dinner?”
    “After dinner?” Joel asked. “I … well, I was probably just going to read some more, see if I can figure out this book.”
    “You study too much,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
    “My professors would generally disagree with you.”
    “Well, that’s because they’re wrong and I’m right. No more reading for you. Let’s go get some ice cream.”
    “I don’t know if the kitchen has any,” Joel said. “It’s hard to get in the summers, and—”
    “Not from the kitchen, stupid,” Melody said, rolling her eyes. “From the parlor out on Knight Street.”
    “Oh. I’ve … never been there.”
    “What! That’s a tragedy. ”
    “Melody, everything is a tragedy to you.”
    “Not having ice cream,” she proclaimed, “is the culmination of all disasters! That’s it. No more discussion. We’re going. Follow.”
    With that, she swept out of the dining hall. Joel slurped up a last bite of spaghetti, then followed in a rush.



CHAPTER

    “So, what’s it about Rithmatists that makes you so keen on being one?” Melody asked in the waning summer light. Old Barkley—the groundskeeper—passed them on the path, moving between campus lanterns, twisting the gears to make them begin spinning and giving out light. Melody and Joel would have to be back from this outing soon to obey Harding’s curfew, but they had time for a quick trip.
    Joel walked beside Melody, his hands in his trouser pockets, as they strolled toward the campus exit. “I don’t know,” he said. “Why wouldn’t someone want to be a Rithmatist?”
    “Well, I know a lot of people think they want to be one,” Melody said. “They see the notoriety, the special treatment. Others like the power, I think. That’s not you, Joel. You don’t want notoriety—you’re always hiding about, quiet and such. You seem to like to be alone.”
    “I guess. Maybe I just want the power. You’ve seen how I can get when I’m competing with someone.”
    “No,” she said. “When you explain the lines and defenses, you get excited—but you don’t talk Rithmatics as a way to get what you want or make others obey you. A lot of people talk about those kinds of things. Even some of the others in my class.”
    They approached the gates to the school grounds. A couple of police officers stood watching, but they didn’t try to bar the exit. Beside the men were buckets. Acid, for fighting off chalklings. It wasn’t strong enough to hurt people, at least not much, but it would destroy chalklings in the blink of an eye. Harding wasn’t taking any chances.
    One of the guards nodded to Joel and Melody. “You two take care,” he said. “Be careful. Be back in an hour.”
    Joel nodded. “You sure this is a good idea?” he asked Melody.
    She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Nobody has disappeared from ice cream parlors, Joel.”
    “No,” he said, “but Lilly Whiting disappeared on her way home from a party.”
    “How do you know that?” Melody said, looking at him suspiciously.
    He glanced away.
    “Oh, right,” she said. “Secret conferences.”
    He didn’t respond, and—fortunately for him—she didn’t press the point.
    The street looked busy, and the kidnapper had always attacked when students were alone, so Joel probably didn’t have to worry. Still, he found himself watching their surroundings carefully. Armedius was a gated park of manicured grass and stately buildings to their right. To their left was the street, and the occasional horse-drawn carriage clopped along.
    Those were growing less and less common as people replaced their horses with springwork beasts of