much.
However, it would probably have a big impact on morale. Melody traced his line, and hers shot across the floor—conveniently dusting away Joel’s original as it moved. He’d aimed it at a student who hadn’t anchored his circle properly, and wasn’t disappointed. Joel’s Line of Revocation blasted against the unfortunate student’s circle, shaking it free and knocking it a few feet out of alignment.
That counted as a disqualification—the student was, after all, now outside of his circle. A referee approached and sent the boy away.
“One down,” Joel said, and continued to draw.
* * *
The gathered professors and island officials muttered among themselves. Fitch stood directly above Joel and Melody and just watched. Watched the defense repel dozens and dozens of chalklings. Watched it absorb hit after hit but stay strong. Watched Joel’s shots—fired infrequently, yet timed so well—slam against enemy circles.
He watched, and felt his nervousness slowly bleed to pride. Beneath him, two students battled overwhelming odds, and somehow managed to start winning. Circle after circle of Nalizar’s students fell, each breached by a careful shot on Joel’s part.
Melody focused on keeping her chalklings up. Joel would lay down a line, then watch, patient, until there was an opening in the enemy waves. Then he’d get Melody’s attention, and she’d trace his Line of Revocation without even looking up, trusting in his aim and skill.
Usually, a defense with two people inside of it was a bad trade-off—two circles beside one another would be more useful. However, with a non-Rithmatist on the field, it made perfect sense.
“Amazing,” York whispered.
“That’s got to be illegal,” Professor Hatch kept saying. “Inside the same circle?”
Many of the others grew quiet. They didn’t care about legality. No, these—like Fitch—watched and understood. Beneath them were two students who didn’t just duel. They fought. They understood.
“It’s beautiful,” Nalizar whispered, surprising Fitch. He would have expected the younger professor to be angry. “I will have to watch those two very carefully. They are amazing.”
Fitch looked back down, surprised by just how excited he was. By surviving inside Team Nalizar’s ring, Joel and Melody had destroyed the enemy strategy. Nalizar’s students had to fight on two fronts. They slowly destroyed the students on the outside of their ring, but by the time they did, Joel and Melody had taken out half of their numbers.
It became six on two. Even that should have been impossible odds.
It wasn’t.
* * *
Joel heard the bell ring before he understood what it meant. He just kept drawing, working on some outer circles to add a secondary bastion of defense, since their main circles had nearly been breached a dozen times.
“Uh, Joel?” Melody said.
“Yeah?”
“Look up.”
Joel stopped, then raised his head. The entire black playing field was empty, the last student in red trailing away toward the doors. The girl walked over broken circles and unfinished lines, moving between the Lines of Forbiddance, scuffing circles with her passing.
Joel blinked. “What happened?”
“We won, idiot,” Melody said. “Uh … did you expect that?”
Joel shook his head.
“Hum,” Melody replied. “Well then, guess it’s time for some drama!” She leapt to her feet and let out a squeal of delight, jumping up and down, screaming, “Yes, yes, yes!”
Joel smiled. He looked up, and though the ceiling was tinted, he thought he could see Nalizar’s red coat where the man stood, eyes focused on Joel.
I’m watching you, the professor’s stance seemed to say.
It was then that the stunned audience erupted into motion and noise, some cheering, others rushing down onto the field.
And I’m watching you back, Nalizar, Joel thought, still looking up. I’ve stopped you twice now. I’ll do it again.
As many times as I have to.
TO BE CONTINUED
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book has been a long time in the making.
I first started writing it in the spring of 2007, half a year before I was asked to complete the Wheel of Time. My epic fantasy project at the time, titled The Liar of Partinel, just wasn’t working for me. It had too many problems, and rather than continue to try to force it, I found my way into a fun, alternate-world “gearpunk” novel that I titled Scribbler. It was one of those projects I’m prone to do when I’m supposed to be doing something else—an unexpected book that makes my agent shake his head in bemusement.
The book turned out really well, but like most of my off-the-cuff stories, it had some major flaws that I needed to fix in revision. Unfortunately, with the Wheel of Time on my plate, I couldn’t afford the time