The Rithmatist (Rithmatist, #1)

by Brandon Sanderson

The house was empty. Silent, save for her panicked breathing. She’d given up on screaming. Nobody seemed to hear. It was as if the entire city had gone dead.

“Murder,” he repeated. “By a Rithmatist,” Florence said. Joel stiffened.

Now, who's had recent access to wild chalklings? hmMMMmm

He’d been planning to read a novel—he’d found an interesting one set during the Koreo Dynasty in JoSeun, during the first days when the JoSeun people had turned the Mongols to their side. It

Ahhhh ye HISTORY

school is about learning to learn. If you don’t practice studying things you don’t like, then you’ll have a very hard time in life. How are you going to become a brilliant Rithmatic scholar and attend university if you don’t learn to study when you don’t feel like it?”

Exton stopped writing, then stood up. He took his coat and bowler hat off their hooks on the wall. “I’ll take my break now, I think.”

BOWLER HAT

“Tantrums are a noble and time-tested strategy,” she said airily. “Particularly if you have a good set of lungs and are facing down a crotchety old priest. I know Stewart; he always bends if you make enough noise.”

“Wait,” Joel said, frowning. “You’re doing deliveries? Is that why you came down to get me? Because you were bored doing deliveries alone?” “Of course,” Melody said happily. “Didn’t you know that you exist to entertain me?”