CHAPTER 93: 93: THE ACADEMY TEST III

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They stepped onto the street, and the city swallowed them up. The towers of the temple stood at their back, tall and still. Ahead, streets crossed like threads on a loom, and somewhere in that weave stood the Heart Magic Academy, the place Sera had written about, the place John had tried not to dream too hard about. Fizz leaned close.

"Two days," he said. "We can do two days. And we can roast any cabbage knight we see on the way, yes."

Elara did not look back. "If you roast anyone," she said, "make it after registration."

Fizz blinked, then brightened. "Sure. I only roast the bad guys."

They turned the corner. The temple gate fell out of sight. The academy road waited.

They left the temple square and followed Elara through the city. She walked at a steady pace. She did not hurry. She did not stroll. She moved like a person who knew every turn and had no time to waste on wrong ones.

The capital in the late morning was loud but not wild. Wheels clicked on stone. Vendors called in clear voices. A group of students in gray coats crossed the street with books under their arms. A line of laundresses carried baskets on their heads. A pair of guards talked in low tones at a corner. A boy chased a dog and then the dog chased the boy. It felt like a place that had a hundred plans and kept most of them.

Fizz floated a little higher to see more. He spun once, slow and pleased. "I like this city," he said. "It looks like a room where twelve people are all working and no one is in the way."

John pushed the cart. He watched the ground, watched elbows, watched where the sun fell and where shadows pooled. He kept his eyes up enough to learn the lines of the streets. He kept them down enough to avoid wheels and boots. He liked how the roads were wide near markets and narrow near old walls. He liked how the tall buildings found a way to leave light for the street.

Elara cut across a small square where a stone fountain made a steady sound. Pigeons lifted, then settled. She pointed with two fingers as she walked. "That way is the iron street. You can smell it. That way is the scribe lane. You can tell by the dust on their cuffs. Straight ahead is your road."

The academy showed itself long before they reached the gate. Its walls were clean and tall. Its roofs were green tiles that caught the sun. Two towers rose above the main hall. Not as high as the temple towers. Wider. Heavier. Practical. The front court held three old trees with thick trunks and round tops trimmed by calm hands. Children were not allowed to run here. They walked, or their parents slowed them. The air felt different. Quiet, but not afraid.

"Heart Magic Academy," Elara said. "You will enter by the side gate for new names. Do not use the grand door until you pass something."

Fizz peered at the stone. "It looks like a big calm animal," he said. "It is large, and it is not trying to scare anyone because it does not need to."

They came to the side gate. A sign above it said New Candidates in plain letters. A smaller sign below it said No Animals, No Carts, No Blades. Elara pointed at the signs. "Leave the cart with the porter. Keep the tools wrapped. You can bring a small bag. You cannot bring the cart. You cannot bring kitchen knives. Keep it simple."

John tied the cart to a ring set in the wall and spoke with the porter, a man with a wide belt and a calm face. The porter gave him a token carved with a number and wrote the same number on a slate. He tapped the wheel once and nodded. "Safe here," he said. "Do not worry."

John took the small bag with chalk, the letter, and a few coins. He lifted his eyes to Elara. She had already moved to the rope rail that held the line in shape.

There was a line, of course. It moved in steps. It curved under an awning where shade made the wait kind. It was made of every sort of person. There were boys and girls in neat coats who had never been cold in a winter wind. There were farmers’ sons in Sunday shirts. There were two women in travel cloaks with close hair and hard eyes who looked like they had walked far and would walk farther if the answer was no. There was a tall boy with freckles and a sword at his hip who muttered when the guard asked him to leave it at the desk. There was a girl who was too young and a man who was too old, but both wore firm faces that said they would not turn back.

Fizz leaned near John’s ear. "Look," he whispered. "Every face looks like a plan trying not to shake."

John kept his eyes forward. He did not let his shoulders rise. He did not let them sink. He stood as he stands when a stranger comes into a shop: open to the talk, closed to the trick.

A clerk at a table under the awning called out names from a list. Another clerk took letters and held them to the light. A third clerk held a crystal the size of a fist and spoke now and then to a boy or girl and then noted something down. A guard stood nearby and said nothing unless a voice rose, and then his hand lifted and the voice dropped again without anyone losing face.

Elara did not stand in line with them. She stood to the side with her arms behind her back. She watched the gate. She watched the street. She did not watch John, but she would see if he did something foolish. It felt like having a wall at his spine that would not fall on him, but it would not catch him if he ran backward either.