The Rithmatist

CHAPTER




By the end of the week, Joel had discovered something important about himself. Something deep, primal, and completely inarguable.

The Master had not meant for him to be a clerk.

He was tired of dates. He was fed up with ledgers. He was nauseated by notes, cross-references, and little asterisks beside people’s names.

Despite that, he continued to sit on Fitch’s floor, studying page after page. He felt as if his brain had been sucked out, his lips stapled shut, and his fingers given a life of their own. There was something about the rote work that was mesmerizing. He couldn’t stop until he was done.

And he nearly was. After one week of hard work, he was well over halfway through the lists. He had started taking records home with him each day, then worked on them until it grew dark. He’d often spent extra hours after that, when he couldn’t sleep, working by the light of lanterns.

But soon, very soon, he would be done. Assuming I don’t go mad first, Joel thought, noting another death by accident on one of his lists.

A paper rustled on the other side of Fitch’s office. Each day, Fitch gave Melody a different defensive circle to trace. She was getting better, but still had a long way to go.

Each night at dinner, Melody sat apart from the other Rithmatists. She ate in silence while the others chatted. So he wasn’t the only one to find her annoying.

Fitch had spent the last week poking through old, musty Rithmatic texts. Joel had sneaked a look at a couple of them—they were high-level, theoretical volumes that were well beyond Joel’s understanding.

Joel turned his attention back to his work and ticked off another name, then moved on to the next book. It was …

Something bothered him about that last list—another list of graduates from Armedius, organized by year, for checking off those who had died. One of the names he hadn’t checked off caught his attention. Exton L. Pratt. Exton the clerk.

Exton had never given any indication that he was an alumnus. He’d been senior clerk in the office for as long as Joel could remember. He was something of a fixture at Armedius, with his dapper suits and bow ties, sharp clothing ordered out of the Californian Archipelago.

“All right, that’s it!” Melody suddenly declared. “I, Melody Muns, have had enough!”

Joel sighed. Her outbursts were surprisingly regular. It seemed that she could only stand about an hour or so of silence before she simply had to fill it with a dramatic eruption.

“Hum?” Professor Fitch asked, looking up from his book. “What is that?”

“I have had enough,” Melody said, folding her arms. “I don’t think I can trace another line. My fingers won’t do it. They will sooner pull themselves free of my hands!”

Joel rose, stretching.

“I’m just no good at this,” she continued. “How bad does a girl have to be at Rithmatics before everyone will simply give up and let her move on?”

“Far worse than you are, dear,” Fitch said, setting aside his book. “In all my years here, I’ve only seen it happen twice—and only because those students were considered dangerous.”

“I’m dangerous,” Melody said. “You heard what Professor Nalizar said about me.”

“Professor Nalizar is not the expert in everything he claims,” Fitch said. “Perhaps he knows how to duel, but he does not understand students. You, my dear, are far from hopeless. Why, look at how much your tracings have improved in just one week’s time!”

“Yeah,” she said. “Next time you need to impress a group of four-year-olds, you can send for me.”

“You really are getting better,” Joel said. She still wasn’t great, but she’d improved. It seemed that Professor Fitch really did know what he was doing.

“See, dear?” Fitch said, picking up his book again. “You should get back to it.”

“I thought you were supposed to be tutoring me,” she said. “Yet all you do is sit there and read. I think you’re trying to shirk your duties.”

Fitch blinked. “Tracing Rithmatic defenses is a time-tested and traditionally sound method of training a student to focus on basic techniques.”

“Well,” she said, “I’m tired of it. Isn’t there something else I could do?”

“Yes, well, I suppose seven days spent only on tracing could be a little frustrating. Hum. Yes. Maybe we could all use a break. Joel, would you help me move these books here…?”

Joel walked over, helping Fitch move aside several stacks of books and clear away about a six-foot-long space on the ground.

“Now,” Fitch said, settling down on the floor, “there is a lot more to being a successful Rithmatist than lines. The ability to draw is very important—indeed, quite foundational. The ability to think is even more important. The Rithmatist who can think faster than his or her opponent can be just as successful as the one who can draw quickly. After all, drawing quickly does you no good if you draw the wrong lines.”

Melody shrugged. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Excellent,” Fitch said, getting a bit of chalk out of his coat pocket. “Now, do you remember the five defenses I had you work on this week?”

“How could I forget?” she said. “Matson, Osborn, Ballintain, Sumsion, and Eskridge.”

“Each are basic forms,” Fitch said, “each with built-in strengths and weaknesses. With them in hand, we can discuss what Rithmatists often call ‘keening.’”

“Keening?” Joel asked. Then he cursed himself. What if Fitch noticed that he was watching, and decided to order him back to his census records?

Fitch didn’t even look up. “Yes, indeed. Some younger Rithmatists like to call it ‘anticipating,’ but that has always felt mundane to me. Let us imagine a duel between two Rithmatists.”

He began to draw on the floor. Not a wide, full-sized circle, but a smaller instructional one instead. It was only about a handspan wide, drawn with the very tip of Fitch’s chalk so that the lines were rather thin.

“Pretend you are at this duel,” he said. “Now, in any given duel, you have three options on how to start. You can pick your defense based on your own strategy—a powerful defense if you want to push for a longer fight, or a weaker defense if you want to get done quickly and attack aggressively.

“However, you could also wait to draw your defense until you’re certain what your opponent is doing. We call this keening your opponent—you let them take the lead, then gain an advantage by building your defense to counter what they are doing. Let us assume that your opponent is drawing the Matson Defense. What would be your response?”

Fitch filled out the small circle in front of him, drawing smaller circles on the top and bottom bind points, then adding small chalklings at the other bind points. When he finished the first one—a snake—it wiggled to life, then began prowling back and forth in front of the circle. The snake was attached to the front bind point by a small tether around its neck.

“Well?” Fitch asked. “Which of the defenses would be best to use against me?”

“I don’t know,” Melody said.

“Ballintain,” Joel guessed.

“Ah,” Fitch said, “and why is that?”

“Because the Matson commits my opponent to drawing a large number of defensive chalklings. If I can get up a basic defense that is quick to draw, but leaves plenty of space at the top for me to draw Lines of Vigor, I can start shooting before my opponent finishes his defense.”

“Excellent,” Fitch said. “This is, um, unfortunately the strategy that Nalizar used against me. I doubt that he keened me—he started drawing too fast. Undoubtedly a quick defense is often his style, and he likely knew that I favor complex defenses. He could have predicted that his strategy would be a good one.”

Fitch hesitated, laying his chalk against his small circle defense. A few seconds later, it puffed away into dust. Any Rithmatist could dismiss their own lines this way, though one could not dismiss those drawn by someone else. You just had to touch chalk to lines you’d drawn and intentionally will them away.

“But,” Fitch said, “don’t assume that just because you are aggressive, you will beat a good defense. True, a strong defense is generally more viable against multiple opponents—however, a skilled duelist can build their defense even against a determined offense.”

“So,” Melody said, “what you’re saying is it doesn’t matter which defense I use.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all!” Fitch said. “Or, well, I guess I am. It doesn’t matter which defense you use, for strategy is most important. You have to understand the defenses to know what advantages you gain by picking a certain one. You have to understand your opponent’s defense so you can know their weaknesses. Here, what about this?”

He drew an ellipse on the ground, then began to sketch it out with Lines of Forbiddance and a chalkling at the top.

“That’s the Osborn Defense,” Joel said.

“Very good,” Fitch said. “Of course, that shouldn’t be too hard to determine, since there’s only one basic defense based on an ellipse. Now, which defense would be strong against the Osborn?”

Joel thought for a moment. Osborn was an elliptical defense—which meant that the front and back of the defense were much stronger than the front and back of a circle. At the sides, however, it would be weak.

“I’d use another Osborn,” Joel said. “That way, I’d be matched with him in strength, and it would turn into a test of skill.”

“Ah,” Fitch said. “I see. And you, Melody? Would you do the same thing?”

She opened her mouth, probably to say that she didn’t care. Then she hesitated. “No,” she said, cocking her red-curled head. “If I’m watching my opponent to see what they are doing, then I can’t just go with the same defense they do—because I’d have hesitated and let them get ahead! I’d have to play catch-up the entire match.”

“Aha!” Fitch said. “Correct.”

Joel blushed. He’d spoken too quickly.

“So,” Fitch said to Melody, “if you’re not going to use another Osborn, which would you use instead?

“Um … the Sumsion Defense?”

Joel nodded. Sumsion was a quick defense that was open on the sides. It was often used by people who preferred offensive chalklings—which would be the main way to defeat someone with Osborn. You’d send your chalklings to attack the exposed flanks.

Melody gave Joel a triumphant smirk as Fitch used his chalk to erase his drawing.

Oh, that’s it! Joel thought. “Do another, Professor.”

“Hum. Shouldn’t you be working on those ledgers?”

“Just give me one more chance to beat her,” Joel said.

“Very well then. Both of you, get out your chalk.”

Joel hesitated. He didn’t have any chalk on him at the moment. “Can I … borrow a piece?” he whispered sheepishly to Melody.

She rolled her eyes, but handed him one. They both knelt on the ground next to one another. Fitch began drawing. Joel watched, trying to guess which defense he was going to go for. A circle, so it wasn’t Osborn. Fitch then placed a smaller circle at the very top, crossed with Lines of Forbiddance.

Sumsion, Joel thought. It’s the Sumsion Defense again.

Sumsion had a Line of Forbiddance at the front, which—once in place—would block Fitch from drawing further on that side. The Sumsion Defense, then, started with a very strong front side, but that front couldn’t be protected. The Rithmatist would spend their time drawing chalklings at the sides and sending them out to attack.

I need to strike hard at that front, Joel thought. Break through in the place where he thinks he’s strong, but can’t protect himself.

That probably meant Ballintain was the best. Joel, however, didn’t draw that one. He wanted something more dramatic. He scribbled furiously on the rough wood floor, constructing a nine-point circle with a large number of bound chalklings around it, giving himself a very strong defense. He didn’t bother with Lines of Forbiddance to anchor himself. He went straight into drawing Lines of Vigor to launch at the very front of Fitch’s circle.

“All right,” Fitch said, standing. “Let us see here. Hum…”

Joel glanced to the side. Melody had drawn the Ballintain Defense, and done a fairly good job of it, for her. The lines were wobbly, and the circle lopsided, but she’d gotten each part in the right place.

“Yes indeed,” Fitch said. “That’s actually quite good, my dear. You may not have an eye for circles, but you can think like a Rithmatist.” Fitch hesitated, then leaned down to inspect her work more closely. “And, my! Will you look at that chalkling! Indeed!”

Joel leaned over. Most Rithmatists used simplistic chalklings. Snakes, spiders, occasionally a dragon. Fitch himself favored more intricate drawings—they were stronger, apparently, than ones with fewer lines. Joel hadn’t been able to study a lot of chalkling theory.



Melody’s single chalkling—there was only room for one on Ballintain—was incredibly detailed and complex, despite the small scale. The tiny bear was shaded with shadows, had little lines for fur, and had perfect proportions. It walked back and forth across the wood in front of her circle, connected to the bind point by a tiny chalk chain, each link drawn individually.

“Wow,” Joel said despite himself.



“Yes indeed,” Fitch said. “And Ballintain was the correct choice in this instance, I believe—though something with a very strong defense against chalklings would have been good as well.”

Fitch glanced at Joel’s circle. “Ah, a nine-pointer? Showing off a little, are we?”

Joel shrugged.

“Hum,” Fitch continued. “Not bad, Joel, I must say. The third point is a few degrees off, but the others are within reasonable limits. Is that a Hill Defense?”

“A modified one.”

“No Lines of Forbiddance?”

“You drew Sumsion,” Joel said. “So you probably weren’t going to use many Lines of Vigor—not unless you’re an expert at reflecting them, but you didn’t set yourself up to do that. So you couldn’t have pushed me about. That means I didn’t need the stabilization.”

“Excellent point,” Fitch said. “Unless, of course, I were to notice what you’d done. Remember, I could always dismiss the Line of Forbiddance and attack you from the front by surprise!”

“That would take you a few seconds,” Joel said. “I’d notice and stabilize my defense.”

“Assuming you were watching carefully,” Fitch said.

“I would be,” Joel said. “Trust me.”

“Yes … I believe that you would be. Well, that’s certainly impressive. I think that both of you might very well have defeated me!”

Doubtful, Joel thought. He’d seen Fitch draw, and the man was good. Uncertain of himself in a duel, true, but quite good. Still, Joel suspected that the professor wasn’t trying to be patronizing, just encouraging.

Judging from Melody’s response, it was working. She actually seemed excited to be drawing. “What’s next?” she asked.

“Well, I suppose we can do a few more,” Professor Fitch said, making his lines disappear. Melody did the same.

Joel just stared down at his. “Um…” he said. “Do you have an eraser?”

Fitch looked up, surprised. “Oh! Well, hum, let me see.…”

After about five minutes of searching through the room’s scholarly debris, Fitch managed to produce an eraser. Joel used it, but it didn’t work all that well. The lines just smudged on the floor, which hadn’t been designed for chalk drawing.

Joel felt his face redden as he brushed harder.

“Perhaps we should have you draw on a board from now on, Joel…” Fitch said, digging out a small chalkboard.

Joel looked down at the poorly erased chalk drawing in front of him. It seemed like a sharp and distinct reminder of what he was. No matter how hard he tried or studied, he’d never be a Rithmatist, able to make his chalk lines come alive or vanish with a thought.

“Maybe I should get back to my research,” Joel said, standing.

“Oh, do a few more with us,” Fitch said, wagging the board as he proffered it. “You’ve worked too hard on those census reports, and it will be good for Miss Muns to have some competition.”

Joel’s breath caught in his throat. It was the first time that a Rithmatist had actually offered to let Joel participate. He smiled, then reached out to take the board.

“Excellent!” Fitch said. He seemed to find the prospect of teaching them far more exciting than research.

Over the next few hours, they went over a dozen more examples of defenses and counters. Fitch drew more complicated circles, challenging Joel and Melody to discuss two or three ways to attack each one. There were no actual duels. Professor Fitch seemed to shy away from such things.

Instead, he would draw, explain, and coach. They talked about which defenses were best against multiple opponents. They discussed why it was important to think about being surrounded—since on the Nebrask battlefield, a Rithmatist might have to fight in several directions at the same time. They also discussed timing, drawing to their strengths, and some general theory. All of this was interspersed with more drawings.

Joel threw himself into it with excitement. Though this wasn’t the deep Rithmatic lecture he’d been hoping for, it was actual drawing with actual Rithmatists. It was wonderful.

And it was far better than looking at census records.

Eventually, Fitch glanced at the clock. “Well, we should move on for the day.”

“What?” Melody demanded, looking up from their latest set of drawings. “You can’t! He’s winning!”

Joel smiled smugly. By his count—and he suspected Melody had kept a similar count in her head—Fitch had approved of Joel’s counter-defenses seven times, while Melody had only done the right defense three times.

“Winning?” Fitch said. “Why, this isn’t a competition.”

“Yes, Melody,” Joel said. “It’s not a competition—at least, it’s not a competition when you are involved. None at all.”

She flinched, looking like she’d been slapped. Joel hesitated, realizing how harsh those words had been.

Instead of snapping back a retort, Melody grabbed her sketchbook. “I’ll just … keep practicing some more sketches, Professor.”

“Yes, dear,” Fitch said, shooting a glance at Joel. “That is a good idea. Joel, I need to run some of these books back to the library. Would you help me carry them?”

Joel shrugged, then picked up the indicated stack of books and followed the professor out into the stairwell. Melody remained behind, sniffling.

They stepped out of the stairwell onto the campus green, and Joel blinked against the sunlight—it was easy to lose track of the hours in Fitch’s office.

“You’re quite accomplished at Rithmatic drawings, Joel,” Fitch said. “I honestly don’t know that I’ve ever seen a student as skilled as you. You draw like a man with thirty years of practice.”

“I usually get the nine-point wrong,” Joel said.

“Few Rithmatists even come close with nine-point drawings,” Fitch said. “Your ability, particularly as a non-Rithmatist, is nothing short of astounding. You are, however, also an insensitive bully.”

“A bully!” Joel exclaimed.

Fitch raised a finger. “The most dangerous kind of man is not the one who spent his youth shoving others around. That kind of man gets lazy, and is often too content with his life to be truly dangerous. The man who spent his youth being shoved around, however … When that man gets a little power and authority, he often uses it to become a tyrant on par with the worst warlords in history. I worry this could become you.”

Joel looked down. “I wasn’t trying to make her look bad, Professor. I was just trying to draw my best!”

“There is nothing wrong with doing your best, son,” Fitch said sternly. “Never be ashamed of aptitude. However, the comment you made in there … That was not the sign of a boy who was proud of his aptitude. It was a boy who was proud of being better than another. You disappointed me greatly.”

“I…” What could he say? “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t believe I’m the one to whom you should apologize. You are young, Joel. Young enough that you still have time to decide the type of man you would like to become. Do not let jealousy, bitterness, or anger be what guides that path. But, here now, I have probably been too hard on you in turn. Just promise me you will think about what I have said.”

“I will.”

The two of them continued across campus, Joel feeling shamed to the bones as he carried the books. “Professor, do you really think you can train her to be a great Rithmatist?”

“Melody?” he replied. “Her uncertainty is her only true hindrance. I’ve looked into the girl’s records. It’s remarkable that she’s kept going, all things considered. I think that, with proper training in the basics—”

“Why, Professor Fitch!” a voice called.

Fitch turned, surprised. Joel hadn’t noticed it before, but a small crowd was gathered near the campus quad, where the grass was broken by a hilltop plateau of concrete. A man in a red Rithmatic coat stood there, arms folded as he looked down at Joel and Fitch.

“Professor Nalizar,” Fitch said. “Shouldn’t you be in class right now?”

“We are having class out here today,” Nalizar said, nodding toward the top of the hill, where a large group of Rithmatic students knelt on the concrete, drawing. “The only way to learn is to do, and the only way to win is to fight. These students have had enough time of dusty classrooms and lectures.”

It also lets him show off, Joel thought, noting the attention Nalizar’s display had drawn from the students and professors who had been playing soccer nearby.

“Hum,” Fitch said. “Yes. Interesting. Well, have a nice day.”

“Are you certain you wouldn’t like to come up here, Professor?” Nalizar called. “Have a little match, you and I? Give the children another glimpse of how it is 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.