The Rithmatist (19 page)

Joel smiled back. “All right. Well, maybe
now
we should get to class. Professor Fitch…”

He trailed off, noticing a figure in the distance—a figure in a policeman’s uniform and hat, sitting astride a large horse. Remembering that he’d asked Exton to send for the inspector, Joel waved.

“Joel?” Melody asked.

“Just a moment,” he said. “You can go on ahead. I need to talk to that policeman.”

She turned. “Dusts! Is that an Equilix Stallion?”

As she spoke, Joel noticed that she was right. Harding trotted his mount forward, but that mount was not a horse. It was
shaped
like one, true, but it was made of metal, with glass sides that showed the twisting gears and clicking springs.

“Joel, son,” Harding said as he walked his mount up, its metal hooves leaving deep prints in the soil. “How goes the academic front?”

“It goes well, Inspector,” Joel said.

Joel had seen springwork horses before, of course. They were expensive, but by no means uncommon. An Equilix, however, wasn’t just
any
springwork. Built from the newest of springwork technologies out of Egyptia, they were said to be amazingly intelligent. They had a woman there, a genius scientist, who had figured out new ways of winding springs to pull energy through the harmonic winds.

Joel looked into the machine’s clear glass eyes, and could see the tiny springs and rotors moving inside, miniature arms popping up and down like the keys of a typewriter, driving the functions of its complicated clockwork brain.

“Now, who is this pretty young lady?” Harding asked. His tone was civil, but Joel could sense the hesitation.

Pretty?
She annoyed him so often, he forgot how cute she could be when she smiled. Like she was doing right now. “She’s a student of Professor Fitch’s,” Joel said.

“Miss…?”

“Muns,” she said.

Wait,
Joel thought.
Muns. I’ve heard that name somewhere recently. For someone other than Melody.…

“Miss Muns,” Harding said, tipping his blue helmet. Then he turned to Joel. “Thank you for the tip about the parents, Joel. We need to secure this campus; I’ve ordered that from this point forward, no students are to be allowed out for the evenings or weekends. I’ve asked for reinforcements, making this our base of operations and front line of defense!”

Joel nodded. “I thought it would be a bad idea for the parents to start running off with their children. Anywhere they go, the … person could follow.”

“Agreed,” Harding said.

Melody glanced at Joel, her eyes narrowing.

“By the way, soldier,” Harding said to Joel, “have you seen a blonde woman, five foot seven, hair in a bun, about thirty-five years old, wearing a blue dress? She has sharp features and a narrow face.”

“I saw her,” Joel said. “She’s a parent of one of the Rithmatist students.”

Harding snorted. “Hardly. That’s Elizabeth Warner—reporter.”

“A woman reporter?” Joel asked.

“What’s wrong with that?” Melody said with a huff.

“Nothing,” Joel said quickly. “Just … never heard of it before.”

“Times are changing,” Harding said. “Women Rithmatists fight on the battlefield, and I’ll bet there comes a day when even ordinary women join the ranks of soldiers. Regardless, women or not, press are the
enemy
. If they have their way, this entire island will go into a panic! Where did you see her, son?”

“She was heading toward Professor Fitch’s office.”

“Blast it all,” Harding said, turning his mount. Joel could hear clicks and springworks moving inside. “Watch my retreat!” Harding called.

He took off in a gallop toward the Rithmatic campus.

“And
what
exactly was that all about?” Melody asked.

“Uh … nothing.”

She rolled her eyes with an exaggerated expression. “I’m sure.”

“I can’t tell you,” he said.

“You’re going to relegate me to continued ignorance!”

“Uh, no,” Joel said, shuffling. “Look, I really don’t know anything.”

“Is that a lie?”

Joel hesitated. “Yeah.”

She sniffed in annoyance. “And I thought we were starting to get along so well.” She grabbed her notebook and stalked away. “My life,” she snapped, holding her hand aloft, “is a
tragedy
! Even my friends lie to me!”

Joel sighed. He picked up the book she’d checked out for him, then rushed after her toward Fitch’s office.

CHAPTER

“Well, yes, I did talk to that woman,” Professor Fitch said, looking confused. “She was uncertain about letting her son stay at Armedius. She wanted to know that we were making honest efforts to protect the children.”

“And so you told her,” Inspector Harding said.

“Of course. She was on the edge of tears. Um, my, I can
never
handle women on the edge of hysterics, Inspector. I didn’t say much. Just that we were sure a Rithmatist was behind it, but that we hoped the children might still be alive, and that we were working on some strange chalk drawings left at the crime scenes.”

“Professor,” Harding said, rubbing his forehead, “this is a
terrible
breach of security. If you were a soldier under my command, I’m afraid I’d have to discipline you for this.”

“Oh dear,” Fitch said. “Well, I guess there’s a reason I’m a professor, rather than a soldier.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, trying not to feel
too
smug about the fact that both Harding and Fitch had insisted Melody wait outside, but hadn’t forbidden Joel.

“Unfortunately,” Harding said, pacing up the hallway of Fitch’s office, hands clasped behind his back, “it can’t be helped now. Our fortifications have been breached, and a spy escaped with our battle plan. We must bear it and hope for the best. I strongly suggest, Professor, that you avoid speaking of these matters with
anyone
else.”

“I understand, Inspector,” Fitch said.

“Good,” Harding replied. “Now, I think you should be aware that I’ve asked the knight-senator of New Britannia for permission to set up a perimeter here at Armedius. He’s agreed to grant me a full legion from the Jamestown militia to use in defending this location.”

“You’re going to … occupy the school?” Fitch asked.

“Nothing so drastic, Professor,” Harding said as he paced, spinning on one heel then coming back the other direction. “Rithmatists are one of the Union’s greatest resources; we need to make certain they are protected. I will have men patrolling the grounds. Perhaps we can use sheer intimidation to keep this phantom kidnapper from striking again.

“Principal York has assigned me a room on campus to use as a base of operations. My men will not interfere with the day-to-day workings of the school. However, we want to be seen—and to let the students know that they are being protected. Perhaps this will also be of aid in placating the parents, who seem determined to fracture morale and isolate their children for easy defeat.”

“What’s this?” Fitch asked. “The parents are doing what?”

“Some of the parents of Rithmatist children are pulling their students out of the school,” Harding said. “Young Joel was quick-witted enough to warn me of this. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to secure the grounds quickly enough. A good dozen children—mostly Rithmatists—were pulled out this morning.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Fitch said. “All of the attacks happened
off
campus. Why would they want to take their children away from Armedius?”

“Parents are unpredictable when their children are involved,” Harding said. “I’d much rather fight a squadron of Forgotten than deal with an affluent mother who thinks her son is in danger.”

Fitch glanced at Joel, though Joel wasn’t certain what to make of the look.

“You are now briefed on the situation, men,” Harding said. “I must get back to my rounds, assuming there’s nothing else we need to discuss.”

I should tell them,
Joel thought.
I can’t just sneak about and try to fight Nalizar on my own.

“Actually,” Joel said, “I … um … Well, there’s something I should probably mention.”

They both turned toward him, and suddenly he felt self-conscious. How exactly did one accuse a professor of being a kidnapper?

“It’s probably nothing,” Joel said. “But, well, I saw Professor Nalizar acting suspiciously earlier today. These kidnappings didn’t start happening until he got hired by the principal, you know.”

“Joel!” Professor Fitch said. “I realize that you’re upset with the man for dueling me, but this is uncalled-for!”

“It’s not that, Professor,” Joel said. “It’s just … well…”

“No,” Harding said. “It’s good, Joel. You should mention things like this. However, I don’t think we have anything to worry about from Andrew Nalizar.”

Joel looked over. “You know him?”

“Of course I do,” Harding said. “Nalizar’s a legend back in Nebrask. I know a good two dozen men who owe their lives to him—and I count myself among them.”

“You mean he really
is
a hero, like he keeps telling everyone?”

“Of course he is,” Harding said. “Not a humble one, I’ll admit, but I can forgive something like that if it’s earned. Why, there was a time when the chalklings had penetrated along the river to the eastern front! If they’d passed us by, they could have flanked our force—maybe taken the entire eastern front. From there, it would only be a matter of sailing on fallen logs to invade the nearby islands and wreak havoc.

“Anyway, my squad was in serious trouble. Then Nalizar arrived and built us a fortification all on his own. He stood against hundreds of chalklings. Dusts be cast aside if he didn’t save all of our lives. I could share more than one story like that. I’ve rarely seen a Rithmatist as skilled and level-headed as Andrew Nalizar. It was a shame that…”

He trailed off.

“What?” Joel asked.

“Sorry, son,” Harding said. “I just realized you don’t have clearance for that. Regardless, Nalizar is no threat. In fact, I’m happy he’s here on campus. It feels good to have that man at my back.”

Harding nodded to them—he appeared to almost give them a salute, before halting himself—and made his way out of the room and down the stairs.

“I didn’t expect that,” Joel said. “About Nalizar, I mean.”

“To be honest, Joel,” Fitch said, “neither did I.”

“Nalizar
can’t
be a hero,” Joel said. “He’s a pompous windbag!”

“I will agree with the adjective,” Fitch said, “but the noun … Well, he
did
defeat me quite handily. Regardless, it is unseemly for a student to be referring to a professor of the school in such a manner. You must show respect, Joel.”

A knock came at the door. It flew open a second later, revealing Melody, who had obviously decided not to wait for someone to answer her knock.

“I
assume,
” she said with a huff, “that all the
secret, valuable, interesting
discussion is finished with, and we
ordinary
people can come in now?”

“Melody, dear,” Fitch said. “It’s not that we wanted to exclude you, it’s just—”

She held up a hand. “I assume I’m going to have to do more tracing today?”

“Well, um, yes,” Fitch said. “It’s very good for you to practice that, Melody. You will thank me someday.”

“Right,” she said. She gathered up a sketch pad and a pen, then turned to leave.

“Melody?” Professor Fitch asked. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to sketch out here,” she said, “on the mundane, unimportant doorstep. That way, I won’t be able to interfere with
significant
conversations you two might need to have.”

With that, she pulled the door shut behind her.

Fitch sighed, shaking his head and walking back to his desk. “I’m sure she’ll get over it,” he said, sitting and shuffling through his papers.

“Yeah,” Joel said, still looking after her. Would this make her bitter against him again, after he’d just gotten on her good side? He was having a devil of a time figuring that girl out. “What do you want me to do, Professor?”

“Oh, hum? Ah. Well, I honestly don’t know. I planned for you to be working on those census reports for a few more weeks yet. Hum.” Fitch tapped the table with his index finger. “Why don’t you take the day off? You worked so hard the last few weeks. It will give me an opportunity to sort through what Harding has given me. I’m certain I’ll have something for you to do tomorrow.”