really done? I let them each duel me in turn, of course, but they hardly give me a fair contest.”
Fitch paled. “Um, I don’t think—”
“Come now,” Nalizar asked. “Considering the rather unimpressive display you gave last time, I should think you’d be eager for a chance to redeem yourself!”
“Go on, Professor,” Joel whispered. “You can beat him. I’ve seen you draw. You’re way better than he is.”
“No thank you, Professor,” Fitch called, laying a hand on Joel’s shoulder and turning him away. That hand, Joel noticed, was shaking noticeably.
Joel reluctantly allowed Fitch to pull him away. He could hear as Nalizar barked something to his class. It was followed by laughter.
“Why?” Joel asked as they walked. “Why not duel him?”
“It would be meaningless, Joel,” Fitch said. “I couldn’t earn my tenure back for another year. If I fought and lost, I’d be humiliated again. If I won, all I would do is make an ever bigger enemy of Nalizar.”
“He’s a hypocrite,” Joel said. “All that talk about keeping non-Rithmatists out of his classroom, and then he comes out here in the open and displays his students for everyone to see?”
“They will be on display at the Melee as well,” Fitch said. “I suspect Nalizar wishes to acclimatize them to drawing in front of a crowd. But, yes, I see what you mean. Regardless, I will not put myself in a position where I must fight him again. It wouldn’t be gentlemanly in this situation.”
“Nalizar doesn’t deserve to be treated like a gentleman,” Joel snapped. He clenched his fists. If anyone was a bully, it was Nalizar. “You really should have dueled him again. Pride or no pride. You don’t have anything to lose—everyone already assumes that Nalizar is better. However, if you did win, you’d be making a statement.”
Fitch fell silent for a time. “I don’t know, Joel. I’m just … well, I’m just not good at dueling. He defeated me, and deserved to. No. No, I should not like to duel him again, and that is that. We shall have no more of it.”
Joel couldn’t help but notice that the professor was still trembling slightly as they continued on their way.
CHAPTER
There! Joel thought with satisfaction, snapping the book closed. After two weeks, he’d finished all of the census records.
He flipped through the stack of papers. The oldest page listed the graduates eighty years back, and he’d been able to cross off every name on that list. The same for the next seven or eight years. The lists went all the way up to the graduates from one year ago. Only one of those had died—during an accident at Nebrask.
Along with the other reports, Joel had also included a special list of Rithmatists who had vanished, their whereabouts unknown. There weren’t any of those that had happened recently—save for Lilly Whiting—but he figured that Fitch might be interested.
He reached over to twist the key in the lantern beside his library desk, letting the clockwork wind down and the light spin out. He was surprised at the sense of accomplishment he felt.
He tucked the pile of sheets under his arm, grabbed the books he’d been working on, and walked through the library. It was late—he had probably missed dinner. He’d been so close, he hadn’t been able to stop.
The library was a maze of bookshelves, though most of them were only about five feet tall. Other people worked in some of the alcoves, their lamps giving each one a flickering light. The building would close soon, expelling its hermitlike occupants.
Joel passed Ms. Torrent, the librarian, then pushed his way out onto the green. He crossed the grounds in the near darkness, trying to decide if he’d be able to beg some food off the kitchen staff. However, he’d just finished something big—he didn’t want to go eat; he wanted to share it with someone.
It isn’t even ten yet, Joel thought, glancing toward the Rithmatic campus. Professor Fitch will still be up. He’d want to know that Joel was finished, wouldn’t he?
Decision made, Joel took off across the grounds, passing between pockets of light shining from clockwork lanterns, with their spinning gears and shining coils. He passed a familiar figure sitting on the green outside the Rithmatist dormitory.
“Hey, Melody,” he said.
She didn’t look up from her sketch pad as she drew by the light of the lantern.
Joel sighed. Melody, apparently, knew how to hold a grudge. He had apologized for his wisecrack three times, but still she wouldn’t speak to him. Fine,