have given this problem to Professor Nalizar.”
“Professor!” Joel said. “Nalizar might have beaten you in a duel, but he’s not even twenty-five years old. You’ve spent a lifetime studying Rithmatics. You’re a far better scholar than he is.”
“I don’t know…” Fitch said. On the desk, Joel could see several sheets with detailed notes and drawings, all in ink.
“What’s this?” Joel asked, pointing at a sketch. It appeared to be a simplified Matson Defense. Or, rather, what was left of one. The detailed sketch showed numerous chunks missing—as if pieces of the defense been clawed free by chalklings. Even where the lines weren’t breached, they were scored and uneven.
Fitch covered the sheet with his arms. “It’s nothing.”
“Maybe I can help.”
“Lad, you just told me that Professor Nalizar seemed too inexperienced at age twenty-four. You’re sixteen!”
Joel froze. Then he nodded, wincing. “Yes, of course. I’m not even a Rithmatist. I understand.”
“Don’t be like that, lad,” Fitch said. “I don’t mean to disparage you, but … well, Principal York told me to be very quiet about this. We don’t want to create a panic. To be honest, we don’t even know if foul play is involved—perhaps it’s just coincidence, and those two young people both decided to run away.”
“You don’t believe that,” Joel said, reading Professor Fitch’s expression.
“No,” he admitted. “There was blood found at both scenes. Not a lot of it, mind you, but some. No bodies though. The children were hurt, then taken somewhere.”
Joel felt a chill. He knelt down beside the desk. “Look, Professor, the principal gave me to you as a research assistant, right? Wouldn’t that imply that he expected me to be involved in this project? I know how to keep a secret.”
“It’s more than that, lad,” Fitch said. “I don’t want to involve you in anything dangerous.”
“Whatever is going on,” Joel said, “it only seems to target Rithmatists, right? So, maybe that’s why Principal York sent me. I know a lot about Rithmatics, but I can’t make the lines. I should be safe.”
Fitch sat for a moment in thought. Then he moved his arms to show the notes on his desk. “Well, the principal did give you this assignment. And to be honest, it would be nice to have someone I could talk to about it. I’ve looked these sketches over hundreds of times!”
Joel leaned in eagerly, looking over the drawings.
“They were made by police at the scene of Lilly Whiting’s disappearance,” Fitch said. “I can’t help but wonder if the officers who did the sketches might have missed recording something. The intricacies of Rithmatic sketches should not be left to laymen!”
“It’s the remnants of a Matson Defense,” Joel said.
“Yes,” Fitch said. “Lilly and her parents attended a dinner party the evening of the disappearance. She left the party early, sometime around ten. When her parents got home a few hours later, they found the front door broken in and this chalk drawing in the middle of the living room floor. Lilly was nowhere to be found, either at the house or at the academy.”
Joel studied the sketch. “Her lines were attacked by chalklings. Lots of them.”
“Poor child,” Fitch said softly. “They found blood inside the circle. Whoever did this knew the Glyph of Rending. That implies they were at Nebrask.”
“But she could still be alive, right?”
“We can hope.”
“What are you supposed to do?” Joel asked.
“Discover who is doing this,” Fitch said. “Or at least provide the inspector with as much information as I can about the perpetrator.”
“All from one drawing?” Joel asked.
“Well, there are these,” Fitch said, pulling over two more papers. They were sketches, realistically rendered, much like one might see an art student do of a bowl of fruit. The first was what appeared to be a sketch of a wooden floor, the second a section of a brick wall. Both had fragments of lines crossing them.
“What are those lines?” Joel asked.
“I’m not sure. They were drawn with chalk, the first on the entryway right inside the house, the second on the wall outside the house.”
“Those aren’t Rithmatic lines,” Joel said. The first was sharp and jagged, like spiked peaks. The second was a looping line that spun around upon itself, like a child’s swirl. Something about that one seemed oddly familiar to Joel.
“Yes,” Fitch said. “Why would someone draw these lines? Are they to throw us off and confuse us? Or is there more?”
Joel pointed back at the first sketch, the one that was a reproduction of a Matson Defense. “We assume Lilly