He had work to do.
Chapter 9
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.