The Rithmatist

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Authors: Brandon Sanderson
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“I think you need to have a talk with the principal,” he finally said, scribbling a note to the office.
    Perfect, Joel thought, taking the note.
    * * *
    He reached the office and pushed open the door. Florence was actually hard at work this time, and the room was quiet save for the scratchings of quills against paper.
    Exton looked up as Joel entered. The clerk wore a blue bow tie this day, matched by his suspenders. “Joel,” he said. “Is it fifth period already?” He glanced at the clock in the corner, then adjusted his spectacles. “No…”
    “I have been sent to see the principal,” Joel said, holding out the note.
    “Oh, Joel,” Florence said. “What have you done this time?”
    Joel sat at one of the chairs at the side of the office, his view of Exton blocked by the large wooden counter.
    “Joel.” Florence folded her arms. “Answer me.”
    “I wasn’t prepared for the test,” Joel said.
    “Your mother said you were quite confident.”
    Joel didn’t respond. His heart thumped nervously in his chest. Part of him couldn’t believe what he’d done. He’d forgotten assignments before, or failed to prepare. However, he’d never deliberately sabotaged his grade. This meant he’d failed at least one class each of his four years at Armedius. Students got expelled for things like that.
    “Well, whatever it is,” Florence said, looking at the note, “you’ll have to wait a few minutes. The principal is—”
    The door to the office banged open. Nalizar, wearing his red, ankle-length Rithmatic coat, stood in the doorway.
    “Professor Nalizar?” Exton asked, standing. “Is there something you need?”
    Nalizar swept into the room, blond hair stylishly waved. It didn’t seem Nalizar was wearing Fitch’s coat—this one looked too new, too well tailored to Nalizar’s body. Joel let out a soft hiss of displeasure. That would mean that Nalizar had forced Fitch to give up his coat in front of an entire class when Nalizar already had his own coat ready and waiting.
    “It has come to my attention,” Nalizar said, “that you have common students delivering messages and interrupting valuable Rithmatic training time.”
    Though Florence paled, Exton didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. “We have messages that must be delivered to the classrooms, Professor. You suggest we force the Rithmatic professors to come to the office between each period to check for notes?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” Nalizar said with a wave of the hand. His fingers were dusted red with chalk. “Interruptions are unavoidable. However, I am concerned about the integrity of the Rithmatic campus. It is unseemly to have students who do not belong there loitering about.”
    “And what do you propose be done about it?” Exton said flatly. “Send Rithmatic students on errands? I asked for one, once, but was told their time was ‘too valuable.’”
    “Miss Muns, come in, please,” Nalizar snapped. A girl in a white skirt trailed into the room, curly red hair standing out sharply against her grey sweater. It was Melody, the girl from Joel’s mathematics class.
    “Miss Muns has shown unusual ineptitude for basic Rithmatics,” Nalizar said. “This lack of dedication could present great danger to both her and those who fight beside her. It has been determined that she should undergo some form of punishment, and so she will come to the office each day after her summer elective to run errands for you to the Rithmatic campus.”
    Melody sighed softly.
    “This will be acceptable, I presume?” Nalizar asked.
    Exton hesitated, then nodded.
    Joel, however, felt himself beginning to fume. “You did this because of me.”
    Nalizar finally looked at Joel, then frowned. “And you are…?”
    “This is a lot to go through, just to keep one boy out of your classrooms,” Joel snapped.
    Nalizar looked him up and down, then cocked his head.
    Dusts, Joel thought. He actually doesn’t recognize me. Does he pay so little

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