over his lines and get at him. He’d be no better off than the man in the book.
He shook himself free from imaginings of chalklings scrambling up and down his body. He had wanted this. If he was really going to become a scholar of Rithmatics—if that was his goal—he’d have to live with the idea that it could be dangerous, and he would not be able to defend himself.
He put the novel away—it had no illustrations—and moved to the nonfiction section. Here, he grabbed a stack of books that looked familiar and walked to a study desk at the side of the room.
An hour of searching left Joel feeling even more frustrated than when he’d started. He groaned, sitting back, stretching. Perhaps he was just chasing shadows, looking for a connection to his own life so that he could prove useful to Fitch.
It seemed to him that his memory of the pattern was older than this. Familiar, but from a long, long time ago. He had a good memory, particularly when it came to Rithmatics. He gathered his current stack of books and walked back toward the shelves to return them. As he did so, a man in a bright red Rithmatic coat walked into the library.
Professor Nalizar, Joel thought. I sure hope that someday, some upstart young Rithmatist challenges him to a duel and takes away his tenure. He …
The first student hadn’t disappeared until Nalizar arrived at the school. Joel hesitated, considering that fact.
It’s just a coincidence, Joel thought. Don’t jump to conclusions.
And yet … hadn’t Nalizar talked about how dangerous the battlefield in Nebrask was? He thought the students and professors at Armedius were weak. Would he go so far as to do something to make everyone more worried? Something to put them all on edge and make them study and practice more?
But kidnapping? Joel thought. That’s a stretch.
Still, it would be interesting to know what books Nalizar was looking at. Joel caught sight of a swish of red coat entering the Rithmatic wing of the library. He hurried after Nalizar.
As soon as Joel reached the doorway to the Rithmatic wing, a voice called out to him.
“Joel!” said Ms. Torrent, sitting at her desk. “You know you’re not supposed to go in there.”
Joel stopped, cringing. He’d hoped she wouldn’t be paying attention. Librarians seemed to have a sixth sense for noticing when students were doing things they weren’t supposed to.
“I just saw Professor Nalizar,” Joel said. “I wanted to go mention something to him.”
“You can’t enter the Rithmatic section of the library without an escort, Joel,” Torrent said, stamping pages in a book, not looking up at him. “No exceptions.”
He ground his teeth in frustration.
Escort, he thought suddenly. Would Fitch help?
Joel rushed out of the library, but realized that Fitch might still not be dressed or might have returned to bed. By the time Joel got the man back to the library, Nalizar would probably be gone. Beyond that, he suspected that Fitch would disapprove of spying on Nalizar—he might even be afraid to do so.
Joel needed someone who was more willing to take a risk.…
It was still breakfast time, and the dining hall was just a short distance away.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, he thought, but took off at a dash for the dining hall.
* * *
Melody was sitting at her usual place. As always, none of the other Rithmatists had chosen to sit next to her.
“Hey,” Joel said, stepping up to the table and taking one of the empty seats.
Melody looked up from her plate of fruit. “Oh. It’s you.”
“I need your help.”
“To do what?”
“I want you to escort me into the Rithmatic section of the library,” he said quietly, “so I can spy on Professor Nalizar.”
She stabbed a piece of orange. “Well, all right.”
Joel blinked. “That’s it? Why are you agreeing so easily? We could get in trouble, you know.”
She shrugged, dropping her fork back to the plate. “Somehow, I appear to be able to get into trouble just by sitting around. How much worse could this be?”
Joel couldn’t refute that logic. He smiled, standing. She joined him, and they rushed from the room back across the lawn.
“So, is there any particular reason why we’re spying on Nalizar?” she asked. “Other than the fact that he’s cute.”
Joel grimaced. “Cute?”
“In an arrogant, mean sort of way.” She shrugged. “I assume you have a better reason?”
What could he tell her? Harding was worried about security, and … well, Melody didn’t seem the safest person