CHAPTER 163: 163: ACADEMY LIFE STARTS XX

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Edda woke up next and lifted her head slowly. She did not fling a knife at anyone. That was growth. "I do not snore," she announced to the world, just in case.

Fizz pointed gently. "You purr," he said. "Like a cart with one good wheel."

Penny stretched. It was a big stretch. Joints popped like corn. "Where are other people," she asked. "The guests are gone?"

"Gone early," John said. "Sera, Elara, Ina. They left a note. They had some work and they will visit some other day."

Penny nodded like a captain counting her crew after a storm. "Good," she said, and then she sniffed the air. "Is that my kettle?"

"I put it on," John said.

"You are a blessing," Penny said, and meant it.

Pim came blinking out of the side hall, hair flat on one side and wild on the other, shirt buttoned in a new way no shirt had ever wanted. He stopped at the edge of the room and took in the battlefield. "Wow," he said. "It looks like a festival fought with a farm and had a mess."

"Get a broom," Penny said without turning. "And a kiss for your mother."

Pim kissed her cheek, made a face at the taste of flour, and went to get the broom.

They worked together. That is what people do after good nights: work. John took down the streamers and stacked chairs. Fizz licked his paws clean and then helped by pushing crumbs into a neat pile with earnest little air sweeps. Edda carried plates and glasses to the back and washed them with a speed that said washing was not work to her, it was music. Penny made tea and handed it out like orders: "Drink. Then work. Then drink again."

"Where is the cat?" Fizz asked, peeking toward the yard.

"On the roof, judging us," Penny said. "That cat has been living there for years. It was here before we bought the place."

Fizz murmured to himself, "That cat is older than you."

Pim swept with gusto and no plan. John took the broom gently and showed him how to hold it lower and push careful, not hard. "Look," John said, "short strokes. Think of it as drawing straight lines."

Pim tried. He did better. He grinned like a boy grins when his hands tell him yes, you can.

"What is this," Pim asked later, finding a small paper crown under a chair.

Fizz looked solemn. "We played as kings last night," he said. "A good reign. Just and short."

Penny snorted into her tea.

They found the lost fork. They found the stray ribbon. They found a coin under a bench, not gold, but a good copper, which Pim pocketed with a look at Penny. She nodded. "Sweepers’ tax," she said.

"Are you two leaving today, wanna stay here for a few days?" Penny asked when the floor shone again and the tables stood like soldiers who had been forgiven.

"No, we need to go back to the academy," John said. "We have to go back. We can’t stay. Classes will start in a few days. There are rules. We already broke a rule by staying the night."

Penny made a face. "Didn’t fizz take permission?" she asked. "Fizz told me he got permission for the party."

Fizz puffed his chest. "I got the permission," he said. He pointed to his fur. "But not for a night out."

Edda leaned a hip on a chair and finished her tea in one long swallow. "Sir, I should leave," she asked, as if it did not matter to her, but it did.

John turned to her. "I have a task for you," he said. "Two, really. First, there is the shop paper Sera gave me." He touched his coat. " As you know, it is a little forge and a little house behind it. I want it to be clean. Ready. First clean it. Then inform me, I will send you with a letter to the village soon. I will bring two or three people from there to start work. Until then, you will set the place in order. Sweep. Fix what can be fixed. List what cannot and rebuild it."

Edda nodded once. Work she understood. Work steadied her.

"Okay," Edda said, mouth bending. "That is not my expertise, but I will it perfectly. I know people who can do it."

Fizz floated between them. "Also," he said, "build a snack holding place and buy snacks to store."

Edda saluted with the empty cup. "It will be done."

Penny clapped her big hands softly. "Eat before you go," she said. "Bread and eggs. I cannot have young men fainting in the fancy halls. You can’t leave in empty belly."

"Who said we will leave without eating?" Fizz began. "I won’t leave until you full my belly."

"We will eat," John said, and sat. "Fizz don’t eat too much."

They ate fast and clean. Bread, eggs, a slice of apple for each, a pickle because Penny believed in pickles the way priests believe in lit candles. Fizz took a small jar of leftover cream as a "souvenir of party" and then stopped because Penny gave him a Look.

By late morning, the Bent Penny looked like itself again: sturdy, square, ready for the opening. Penny stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips and judged her own work, which is the best kind of judging. Pim leaned on the broom and tried to look taller. The cat watched from the shed roof and pretended not to care, which meant it cared for something.

They stood in the yard a moment, saying the simple things people say when they want to say harder things but cannot, because the sun is up and the day has jobs.

"Come back soon," Penny said.

"We will," John said.

"Bring that hat man," Pim said, meaning Snake, and Fizz choked on air. Fizz told him some made up and some real stories about him to pim.

"Absolutely not," Fizz said. "His hat is dangerous and you are just a little kid."