He wasn’t certain what else to say. No wonder she was so touchy. They walked in silence for a time, and Joel noticed for the first time that a smaller number of those they passed didn’t seem so respectful of Melody as the others. These glared at Melody from beneath worker’s hats and muttered to their companions. Joel hadn’t realized that the complaints about Rithmatists extended beyond the jealousy of the students on campus.
Eventually, they passed the downtown cathedral. The imposing structure had broad metal gates set with clockwork gears twisting and counting off the infinite nature of time. Springwork statues and gargoyles stood on the peaked walls and roof, occasionally turning their heads or shaking wings.
Joel paused to look up at the cathedral framed by the dusk sky.
“You never did answer my question,” Melody said. “About why you want to be a Rithmatist so badly.”
“Maybe it’s just because I feel like I missed my chance.”
“You had the same chance as anyone else,” Melody said. “You were incepted.”
“Yeah,” Joel said. “But in December instead of July.”
“What?” Melody asked as Joel turned away and started walking again. She rushed up in front of him, then turned to face him, walking backward. “Inception happens in July.”
“Unless you miss it,” Joel said.
“Why in the world would you miss your inception?”
“There were … complications.”
“But by December, all the year’s Rithmatists would already have been chosen.”
“Yeah,” Joel said. “I know.”
Melody fell into step beside him, looking thoughtful. “What was it like? Your inception, I mean.”
“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about these things.”
“No. I’m not supposed to talk about them.”
“There’s not much to tell,” Joel said. “My mother and I went to the cathedral on a Saturday. Father Stewart sprinkled me with water, marked my head with some oil, and left me to pray in front of the altar for about fifteen minutes. After that, we went home.”
“You didn’t go into the chamber of inception?”
“Father Stewart said it wasn’t necessary.”
She frowned, but let the matter drop. They soon approached the small commercial district that thrived outside of Armedius. Awnings hung from the fronts of brick buildings, and wooden signs swung slightly in the wind.
“Wish I would have worn my sweater today,” Melody noted, shivering. “It can get cold here, even in summer.”
“Cold?” Joel asked. “Oh, right. You’re from Floridia, aren’t you?”
“It’s so cold up here in the north.”
Joel smiled. “New Britannia isn’t cold. Maineford—that’s cold.”
“It’s all cold,” she said. “I’ve come to the conclusion that you northerners have never experienced what it is to be really warm, so you accept a lesser substitute out of ignorance.”
“Aren’t you the one who suggested ice cream?” Joel asked, amused.
“It won’t be cold in the parlor,” she said. “Or … well, maybe it will. But everyone knows that ice cream is worth the trouble of being cold. Like all things virtuous, you have to suffer to gain the reward.”
“Ice cream as a metaphor for religious virtue?” Joel said. “Nice.”
She grinned as they strolled along the brick-cobbled sidewalk. Light from whirring lanterns played off her deep red hair and dimpled cheeks.
Yeah, Joel thought, when she’s not acting crazy—or yelling at me—she really is quite pretty.
“There!” Melody said, pointing to a shop. She dashed across the street; Joel followed more carefully, staying out of the way of vehicles. The parlor was, apparently, a popular one. He’d never been here before—he didn’t go to the commercial district much. What would he buy? The academy provided for his family.
Joel recognized some of the students inside from Armedius. Richardson Matthews was outside, and gave Joel a little wave—the tall student was a year ahead of Joel, and had always been nice to him. He eyed Melody, then winked at Joel.
Well, Joel thought. If there weren’t rumors about Melody and me before, there will be now. He wasn’t certain what he thought of that.
He walked toward Richardson, intending to chat with him. Melody went to read the ice cream flavors.
Then Joel saw the prices hanging beside the list of flavors. That stopped him flat.
He cursed himself for a fool. He should have realized, should have stopped to think. He rarely left campus, and he almost never spent money on anything.
“Melody,” he said, grabbing her arm before she could enter. “I … can’t afford this.”
“What?” she asked.
Joel pointed at the prices hanging on the window outside. “Nine cents for a scoop? That’s ridiculous!”
“Well, it is June,” she said. “Still, it’s not that bad. I doubt you’ll be able