She hesitated. “No,” she finally admitted. “I just … well, I lost control of it, all right? I made it to distract some of the officers.”
Joel frowned. She’s lying, he thought, noticing how she looked down when she spoke. As he’d noted earlier, she was genuine, and her lie was easy to see.
She’s strangely good with chalklings, he thought. She wouldn’t have lost control of that one. But … did that mean that she did expect it to report to her on what it found? Chalklings couldn’t talk. They were like springwork creatures—they didn’t think beyond what they were told to do.
Yet that unicorn chalkling had fled directly back to Melody.
“Chalklings do act very strangely sometimes, Inspector,” Fitch said.
“Believe me,” Harding said, “I’m aware of this. I heard that excuse from Rithmatists every week on the battlefield. I’m amazed you people can ever make them do anything, considering how often they simply go off in the wrong direction for no reason.”
Melody smiled wanly.
“You, young lady, are still suspicious,” Harding said, pointing.
“Inspector,” Fitch said. “Really. We now know from the drawing above that the Scribbler is a man, or at least a woman dressed very convincingly as one. I doubt Melody could have managed that, and I’m certain there are those who can vouch for her location last night.”
Melody nodded eagerly. “I have two roommates in my dormitory room.”
“Beyond that, Inspector,” Fitch said, raising a finger, “the description we discovered in Charles’s room indicated that the kidnapper’s Rithmatic lines act very oddly. I have seen Miss Muns’s lines, and they are quite normal. To be honest, they’re often rather poorly drawn.”
“Fine,” Harding said. “You may go, Miss Muns. But I will be keeping an eye on you.”
She sighed in relief.
“Excellent,” Fitch said, standing from his chair. “I have more sketches to complete. Joel, would you walk Melody to the station? And, uh, make certain she doesn’t get into any more trouble along the way?”
“Sure,” Joel said.
Harding went back to his work, though he did assign two officers to go with Joel and Melody, making certain she left the building. She went sullenly, Joel trailing along behind, and she gave the officers a world-class scowl once they reached the door.
The police remained inside; Joel strolled along the lawn outside with Melody.
“That,” she declared, “was decidedly less than enjoyable.”
“What did you expect,” Joel asked, “spying on a crime scene?”
“They let you in.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She looked up at the sky, then shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just … well, it’s frustrating. It seems like every time I want to be involved in something, I’m told that’s the one thing I can’t do.”
“I know how you feel.”
“Anyway,” Melody said, “thanks for vouching for me. I think you kept that vulture from ripping me apart.”
He shrugged.
“No, really,” she said. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
“I’m … not sure if I want to know what that will entail.”
“Oh, you’ll enjoy it,” she said, perking up. “I’ve got an idea already.”
“Which is?”
“You have to wait!” she said. “No spoiling surprises.”
“Great.” A surprise from Melody. That would be wonderful. They neared the station, but didn’t enter, instead sticking to the comfortable shade of the trees as they waited for Fitch. Melody tried to get Joel to talk some more, but he found himself giving uninvolved answers.
He kept thinking of that hurried picture with the frightened words beneath it. Charles Calloway had known he was going to die, yet he’d left notes on as much as he could figure out. It was noble—probably more noble than anything Joel had ever done in his life.
Someone needs to stop this, he thought, leaning back against a tree trunk. Something needs to be done. It wasn’t just the students, not just Armedius, who were in danger. Ordinary people had been killed. And if what Fitch and Harding said was true, these kidnappings were threatening the stability of the United Isles themselves.
It comes back to those strange chalk drawings, Joel thought. That looping pattern. If only I could remember where I saw it before!
He shook his head and glanced at Melody. She was sitting on a patch of grass a short distance away. “How did you do it?” he asked. “With that chalkling, I mean.”
“I just lost control of it.”
He gave her a flat stare.
“What?” she said.
“You’re obviously lying, Melody.”
She groaned, flopping back on the grass, staring up at the trees. He figured she was