it right to inform you that I shall soon achieve tenure at this academy.’”
Exton snorted. “And what did York have to say?”
“He wasn’t happy, I’ll say that. Tried to talk Nalizar out of the plan, but he would have none of it.”
“I can imagine,” Exton said.
“Aren’t you going to ask me who he intended to challenge?” Florence asked. She noticed Joel at the side of the room and winked at him.
“I seriously doubt you are going to let me continue my work in peace without hearing about it,” Exton said.
“Professor Fitch,” she said.
Exton stopped. Finally, he looked up. “Fitch?”
She nodded.
“Good luck, then,” Exton said, chuckling. “Fitch is the best at the academy. He’ll take that upstart to pieces so fast that the chalk dust won’t have time to settle before the duel is over.”
“No,” Joel said. “Fitch lost.”
The two fell silent.
“What?” Florence asked. “How do you know?”
“I was there,” Joel said, walking up to the counter in front of the clerks. The principal’s office was behind a closed door at the back.
Exton wagged his quill at Joel. “Young man,” he said, “I expressly remember sending you on an errand to the humanities building.”
“I ran that errand,” Joel said quickly. “And the others you gave me. Fitch’s classroom was on the way back.”
“On the way back? It’s on the complete opposite side of campus!”
“Oh, Exton, hush,” Florence said. “So the boy’s curious about the Rithmatists. The same goes for most of the people on campus.” She smiled at Joel, though half the time he was convinced she took his side just because she knew it annoyed Exton.
Exton grumbled and turned back to his ledger. “I suppose I can’t fault a person for sneaking into extra classes. Have enough trouble with students trying to skip them. Still, fascination with those blasted Rithmatists … it’s not good for a boy.”
“Don’t be such a bore,” Florence said. “Joel, you said that Fitch actually lost?”
Joel nodded.
“So … what does that mean?”
“He will switch places in seniority with Nalizar,” Exton said, “and lose his tenure. He can challenge Nalizar back in one year’s time, and both of them are immune to other challenges until then.”
“That poor man!” Florence said. “Why, that’s not very fair. I just thought the duel would be for bragging rights.”
Exton continued his work.
“Well,” Florence said. “Handsome or not, I’m growing less impressed with Mr. Nalizar. Fitch is such a dear, and he so loves his teaching.”
“He will survive,” Exton said. “It’s not as if he’s out on his ear. Joel, I assume you dallied there in the classroom long enough to watch the entire duel?”
Joel shrugged.
“How was the duel, then?” Exton asked. “Did Fitch acquit himself well?”
“He was quite good,” Joel said. “His forms were beautiful. He just … well, he seemed out of practice with real dueling.”
“Such a brutal way to handle things!” Florence said. “Why, they’re academics, not gladiators!”
Exton paused, then looked directly at Florence, eyeing her over the top rim of his spectacles. “My dear,” he said, “I don’t wonder if there should be quite a few more challenges like this. Perhaps today will remind those stuck-up Rithmatists why they exist. Should Nebrask ever fall…”
“Oh, don’t tell me ghost stories, Exton,” she said. “Those stories are simply tools for politicians to keep us all worried.”
“Bah,” Exton said. “Don’t you have any work to be doing?”
“I’m on break, dear,” she said.
“I can’t help but notice that you always take your breaks whenever I have something important to finish.”
“Bad timing on your part, I guess,” she said, reaching to a wooden box on her desk, then getting out the kimchi-and-ham sandwich packed inside.
Joel glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. He had fifteen minutes until his next class—too short a time to send him away on another errand.
“I’m worried about Professor Fitch,” Joel said, still watching the clock, with its intricate gears. A springwork owl sat on the top of the clock, blinking occasionally, then nibbling at its talons as it waited for the hour to chime so that it could hoot.
“Oh, it won’t be so bad,” Exton said. “I suspect that Principal York will only assign him a few students. Fitch is due for some time off. He might enjoy this.”
Enjoy this? Joel thought. The poor man was crushed. “He’s a genius,” Joel said. “Nobody on campus teaches defenses as complex as he does.”
“A true scholar, that one,” Exton said. “Maybe too much of a scholar. Nalizar may be better in the classroom. Some of Fitch’s lectures could be