The Rithmatist

not married. Some of the more traditional professors on campus had found it scandalous when Principal York hired a woman as a clerk. But those sorts of things were happening more and more. Everyone said it was the twentieth century now, and old attitudes would have to change. York had said that if women Rithmatists could fight at Nebrask and the Monarch could use a woman as a speechwriter, he could hire a female clerk.
    “Challenges used to be much more common, back closer to the start of the war in Nebrask,” Exton said, still scribbling at his parchment. “Every upstart professor with a new coat would want to jump right to the top. There were some chaotic times.”
    “Hum…” Florence said. “He’s handsome, you know.”
    “Who?”
    “Professor Nalizar,” she said. “I was there when he approached Principal York about the challenge this morning. Swept right in, said, ‘Principal, I believe it right to inform you that I shall soon achieve tenure at this academy.’”
    Exton snorted. “And what did York have to say?”
    “He wasn’t happy, I’ll say that. Tried to talk Nalizar out of the plan, but he would have none of it.”
    “I can imagine,” Exton said.
    “Aren’t you going to ask me who he intended to challenge?” Florence asked. She noticed Joel at the side of the room and winked at him.
    “I seriously doubt you are going to let me continue my work in peace without hearing about it,” Exton said.
    “Professor Fitch,” she said.
    Exton stopped. Finally, he looked up. “Fitch?”
    She nodded.
    “Good luck, then,” Exton said, chuckling. “Fitch is the best at the academy. He’ll take that upstart to pieces so fast that the chalk dust won’t have time to settle before the duel is over.”
    “No,” Joel said. “Fitch lost.”
    The two fell silent.
    “What?” Florence asked. “How do you know?”
    “I was there,” Joel said, walking up to the counter in front of the clerks. The principal’s office was behind a closed door at the back.
    Exton wagged his quill at Joel. “Young man,” he said, “I expressly remember sending you on an errand to the humanities building.”
    “I ran that errand,” Joel said quickly. “And the others you gave me. Fitch’s classroom was on the way back.”
    “On the way back? It’s on the complete opposite side of campus!”
    “Oh, Exton, hush,” Florence said. “So the boy’s curious about the Rithmatists. The same goes for most of the people on campus.” She smiled at Joel, though half the time he was convinced she took his side just because she knew it annoyed Exton.
    Exton grumbled and turned back to his ledger. “I suppose I can’t fault a person for sneaking into extra classes. Have enough trouble with students trying to skip them. Still, fascination with those blasted Rithmatists … it’s not good for a boy.”
    “Don’t be such a bore,” Florence said. “Joel, you said that Fitch actually lost ?”
    Joel nodded.
    “So … what does that mean?”
    “He will switch places in seniority with Nalizar,” Exton said, “and lose his tenure. He can challenge Nalizar back in one year’s time, and both of them are immune to other challenges until then.”
    “That poor man!” Florence said. “Why, that’s not very fair. I just thought the duel would be for bragging rights.”
    Exton continued his work.
    “Well,” Florence said. “Handsome or not, I’m growing less impressed with Mr. Nalizar. Fitch is such a dear, and he so loves his teaching.”
    “He will survive,” Exton said. “It’s not as if he’s out on his ear. Joel, I assume you dallied there in the classroom long enough to watch the entire duel?”
    Joel shrugged.
    “How was the duel, then?” Exton asked. “Did Fitch acquit himself well?”
    “He was quite good,” Joel said. “His forms were beautiful. He just … well, he seemed out of practice with real dueling.”
    “Such a brutal way to handle things!” Florence said. “Why, they’re academics, not gladiators!”
    Exton paused, then looked directly at Florence, eyeing her over the top rim of his spectacles. “My dear,” he said, “I don’t wonder if there should be quite a few more challenges like this. Perhaps today will remind those stuck-up Rithmatists why they exist. Should Nebrask ever fall…”
    “Oh, don’t tell me ghost stories, Exton,” she said. “Those stories are simply tools for politicians to keep us all worried.”
    “Bah,” Exton said. “Don’t you have any work