The Rithmatist

inception?”
    “Father Stewart said it wasn’t necessary.”
    She frowned, but let the matter drop. They soon approached the small commercial district that thrived outside of Armedius. Awnings hung from the fronts of brick buildings, and wooden signs swung slightly in the wind.
    “Wish I would have worn my sweater today,” Melody noted, shivering. “It can get cold here, even in summer.”
    “Cold?” Joel asked. “Oh, right. You’re from Floridia, aren’t you?”
    “It’s so cold up here in the north.”
    Joel smiled. “New Britannia isn’t cold. Maineford— that’s cold.”
    “It’s all cold,” she said. “I’ve come to the conclusion that you northerners have never experienced what it is to be really warm, so you accept a lesser substitute out of ignorance.”
    “Aren’t you the one who suggested ice cream?” Joel asked, amused.
    “It won’t be cold in the parlor,” she said. “Or … well, maybe it will. But everyone knows that ice cream is worth the trouble of being cold. Like all things virtuous, you have to suffer to gain the reward.”
    “Ice cream as a metaphor for religious virtue?” Joel said. “Nice.”
    She grinned as they strolled along the brick-cobbled sidewalk. Light from whirring lanterns played off her deep red hair and dimpled cheeks.
    Yeah, Joel thought, when she’s not acting crazy—or yelling at me—she really is quite pretty.
    “There!” Melody said, pointing to a shop. She dashed across the street; Joel followed more carefully, staying out of the way of vehicles. The parlor was, apparently, a popular one. He’d never been here before—he didn’t go to the commercial district much. What would he buy? The academy provided for his family.
    Joel recognized some of the students inside from Armedius. Richardson Matthews was outside, and gave Joel a little wave—the tall student was a year ahead of Joel, and had always been nice to him. He eyed Melody, then winked at Joel.
    Well, Joel thought. If there weren’t rumors about Melody and me before, there will be now. He wasn’t certain what he thought of that.
    He walked toward Richardson, intending to chat with him. Melody went to read the ice cream flavors.
    Then Joel saw the prices hanging beside the list of flavors. That stopped him flat.
    He cursed himself for a fool. He should have realized, should have stopped to think. He rarely left campus, and he almost never spent money on anything.
    “Melody,” he said, grabbing her arm before she could enter. “I … can’t afford this.”
    “What?” she asked.
    Joel pointed at the prices hanging on the window outside. “Nine cents for a scoop? That’s ridiculous!”
    “Well, it is June,” she said. “Still, it’s not that bad. I doubt you’ll be able to find a scoop for less than seven cents anywhere on the island, and five is the cheapest I’ve seen in winter.”
    Joel blinked. Were things really that expensive?
    “How much do you have?” she asked.
    Joel reached in his pocket and pulled out a single silver penny. It was as wide as his thumb, and thin, stamped with the seal of New Britannia. His mother made him carry it with him, should he need to pay cab fare or buy a ticket on the springrail.
    “One penny,” Melody said flatly.
    Joel nodded.
    “That’s all the allowance you get a week?”
    “A week?” he asked. “Melody, my mother gave me this for my birthday last year.”
    She stared at it for a moment. “Oh, wow. You really are poor.”
    He flushed, stuffing the penny in his pocket. “You just get what you want. I’ll wait out—”
    “Oh, don’t be silly,” she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the warm parlor room. She stepped into line behind Richardson and a long-lashed girl that Joel didn’t know. “I’ll pay for both of us.”
    “I can’t let a girl pay for me!”
    “Vain masculine pride,” she said, reaching into her pocketbook. She pulled out a shiny gold half-dollar. “Here,” she said, handing it to him. “Now you can pay for us.”
    “That’s ridiculous!” he protested.
    “You’d better order, because it’s our turn.”
    Joel hesitated, glancing at the soda jerker behind the counter. The man raised an eyebrow at him.
    “Uh…” Joel said. “Hi.”
    “Oh, you’re hopeless,” Melody said, elbowing Joel aside. “I’ll take a triple-scoop chocolate sundae with fudge sauce and chocolate sprinkles.” She eyed Joel. “He’ll have vanilla. Two scoops. Cherries. And a cherry soda for each of