The Rithmatist

approached.
    “Draw a chalkling on the wall here,” Joel said, pointing. “Have it move through this pattern.”
    “Hum, yes.… Yes, very good idea, lad.” Fitch began to draw.
    “What is the point of this exercise?” Harding asked, standing with hands behind his back.
    “If that pattern is really a Rithmatic sketch,” Joel said, “then the chalkling will have to attack the chalk to get through it. If this pattern doesn’t have any Rithmatic powers, then the chalkling will just be able to walk over it as if it weren’t there.”
    Fitch finished his chalkling. The crab crawled across the wall in front of them, then hesitated beside the looping pattern. The chalkling appeared to consider, then took another step forward.
    And stopped.
    Joel felt a chill. It tried again, but was repelled. Finally, it began to claw at the looping pattern, digging through it quite easily.
    “Well I’ll be…” Fitch said. “It is Rithmatic.”
    “So?” Harding said. “Soldier, I’m at a distinct disadvantage in this area. What’s going on?”
    “There are only four Rithmatic lines,” Fitch said. “So we assume.” He looked thoughtful, as if considering something deep. “Joel, tell me. Do you think this could be a Line of Warding? After all, we didn’t know about ellipses during the early years. Maybe this is just something like that.”
    “But why draw such a small Line of Warding? And on the wall? It doesn’t make sense, Professor. Besides, the chalkling is breaking through far too easily for that to be a Line of Warding. If it is one, it isn’t working very well at all.”
    “Yes…” Fitch said. “I believe you are right.” He reached up, dismissing his chalkling. “Odd indeed.”
    “Didn’t you say there was a second drawing on the wall?” Harding asked the police officer.
    The man nodded, leading Harding and Joel to the other end of the hallway. There was another copy of the same swirling line at this end of the hallway.
    Joel ran his fingers around the perimeter, then frowned.
    “What is it, son?” Harding asked. “You look troubled.”
    “This one has a break in it,” Joel said.
    “It was attacked by a chalkling?”
    “No,” Joel said. “It doesn’t look scraped. It just looks unfinished, like it was drawn too quickly.” Joel looked down the hallway. “You found this drawing at Lilly Whiting’s house. Which wall was it on there?”
    “Does it matter?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe?”
    “It was on the front outside wall of the house,” Harding said. “Toward the street.”
    “And at Herman’s house?”
    “Outside his door,” Harding said, “in the hallway.”
    Joel tapped the wall. “This is the first time that someone other than the Rithmatist has been harmed. The four dead men.”
    Harding nodded. “From the reports, they were probably up playing cards in the servants’ kitchen.”
    “Where’s the kitchen?” Joel asked.
    Harding pointed down the stairs.
    “This side of the hallway,” Joel said. “Near the broken symbol. Maybe there’s a connection.”
    “Maybe,” Harding said, rubbing his chin. “You’ve got a good eye for this sort of thing, son. You ever consider becoming a police officer?”
    “Me?” Joel said.
    Harding nodded.
    “Well … not really.”
    “You should think about it, soldier. We can always use more men with a good eye for detail.”
    An inspector. Joel hadn’t given it any thought. More and more, he wanted to go study Rithmatics, as Fitch had suggested. But this … well, that was another option. He would never be a Rithmatist—he had accepted that years ago—but there were other things he could do. Exciting things.
    “Inspector?” Fitch called. “The Line of Forbiddance is down now. We can go in.”
    Joel glanced at Harding, then together they crossed the hallway and walked into the room.



CHAPTER

    “By the Master,” Fitch breathed, standing just inside the doorway. Beyond was a short hallway that turned right, running a short distance into the room itself.
    The hallway was filled with broken Rithmatic drawings. Circle upon Circle of Warding, dozens of Lines of Forbiddance. Joel looked on, amazed by the sheer amount of chalk on the floor.
    “This looks like a battlefield,” Harding said from the doorway. “I’ve seen it before. Not with chalk, of course—with men.”
    Joel looked at him. “What do you mean?”
    “It’s easy to see,” Harding said, pointing. “The Calloway boy drew an initial circle near the