CHAPTER 95: 95: THE ACADEMY TEST V

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Elara stopped under a sign that showed a bent coin with a hole in it. The letters said The Bent Penny. The door stood open. The air smelled like soup and beer and old wood. A woman behind the counter looked up. She was heavy in the way of people who carry a place on their back and make it look easy.

"Afternoon, Elara," the woman said. "You bring me honest trouble or foolish trouble today."

"Honest," Elara said. She stepped aside so the woman could see John and Fizz. "One room. Two nights. A lock that works. A place for a cart. He will pay."

The woman sized John in one long look. "You look like you pay on time," she said. "You also look like you fix things that creak. I like both. Two nights is four silvers. If you break the bed by fighting, it is eight."

"So expensive..." Fizz raised a paw. "What if we break the bed by dancing?"

"Oh my... how cute fur ball. If you can show me the dance then Six," the woman said, and Fizz closed his mouth with a small squeak. His dancing was only for John’s eyes.

John set coins on the counter. He did not make a show of it. He counted them straight and slid them over. "Is there a place to set a cart for two days? It is tied now outside the tavern gate."

"In the yard," the woman said. "Gate locks at dark. I keep one key and my son keeps the other. His name is Pim. If you need him, shout Pim, stop hiding. He is a bit naughty."

"Understood," John said.

The woman pulled a key from a hook with a brass tag. "Room three," she said. "Top of the stairs, second door. Two beds, one window, one table, one chair. The washroom is down the hall. If you drip on the floor I will make you mop the floor. Lunch is stew with beans and ham. Bread is fresh. Beer is cold. Water is free if you don’t act like it costs me my life to pour it."

"We will not act like that," Fizz said, solemn as a priest.

They went up the narrow stairs. The hall smelled like soap and wood. The floor felt honest under the boots. Room three was small and neat. Two beds side by side under a low window. A table between them. A single chair by the wall. A hook for coats. A shelf for a bag. The beds looked firm. The linen looked clean. The window looked out over a small yard with a shed and a strip of grass where three chickens lived a small life. Beyond that, the backs of other houses made a soft wall.

John set the small bag on the shelf. He went to the window and lifted the latch and pushed it open to test the hinge. It moved well. He nodded to himself. He put the token on the table and the folded rule sheet beside it.

Elara stayed in the doorway. She did not step into the room. She did not sit. She looked at John as if she were about to say five short things in a row. She did.

"Rule one," she said. "Do not cause trouble."

Fizz opened his mouth. Elara lifted a hand. "I am not finished."

"Rule two. If you do cause trouble, do not use Sera’s name. Do not use the temple’s name."

She paused, to let that land deep.

"Rule three. Deal with your own actions. If you cannot, be ready to pay double. Coin or sweat or apology. Do not make me clean it."

John met her eyes. "I am not the kind to use another person’s name," he said. "I do not ask others to carry my fault. We will not cause trouble. If something happens, you do not have to worry. I will stand up and pay for it."

Elara studied his face a moment longer. What she was looking for, she either found or decided she did not need. She let out a breath. "Good," she said.

Fizz floated up until he was eye level with her. "I will also be good," he said. "I will be a gentle fur. I will not roast anyone. I will not pull pranks. Unless they truly deserve it. If they deserve it, I must obey fate."

John turned his head slowly. "Fizz."

Fizz held up both paws in surrender. "I heard. Be kind. Do not roast. Do not prank. Save spice for pancakes."

Elara put her hand on the door frame and tapped twice with the tips of two fingers, a small habit of soldiers when they leave a room. "I will go," she said. "Register was the first task. The second task is staying calm until the test. Do not drink any strong drinks today or tomorrow. Do not get lost. Do not buy charms from a man who swears his mother is a lake. Come to the south yard before sunset for the briefing. If you miss it, you will wait a year. That is too long."

"We will be there," John said.

Elara nodded. "Good," she said. "One more thing."

She looked at Fizz. "You are not allowed to explode."

Fizz blinked. "Unfair."

"Noted," John said.

Elara stepped back into the hall. "If I hear your names in a bad story before sunset," she said, "I will know you made a choice. Do not make that choice."

She turned and went down the stairs. Her boots sounded like a clock ticking.

Fizz let out a long breath he had been holding for drama. He flopped sideways in the air and pretended to faint on the empty chair. "I am a reformed creature," he said in a weak voice. "I have turned away from my wicked roast. I will now live a quiet life and learn to knit."

John set the letter and token on the table and then sat on the bed nearest the window. He looked at the small room. He liked the clean boards. He liked the way the light lay on the bed. He liked that the door latch had a good bite and would not slip.

He held up the folded rules. "Read," he said.

Fizz floated closer and read over his shoulder. The rules were plain.

One. Come on time. Late names are refused.

Two. No weapons. No hidden blades. No fighting in lines.

Three. No outside aid unless the rule of that test says aid is allowed.

Four. No cheating with tools, marks, or muttered work. If caught, leave.

Five. Respect the ground. Do not break what you do not own.

Six. Respect staff and guards. Speak simply. Do not shout.

Seven. Do not harm others to move ahead.

Eight. Keep the token safe. Show it when asked.

Nine. You are responsible for your spirit. If it breaks a rule, you broke it.

Ten. If you are not sure, ask before you act.

Fizz nodded at each line. He did not argue. At number nine he sighed in a theatrical way and pressed his paw to his chest. "They fear my power," he said.

"They fear noise," John said. "I also fear noise. No noise."

Fizz pointed at the lines again. "Simple rules," he said. "I like simple rules. They are like pancakes. If you burn them, it is your fault."

"Lunch," John said, as if the thought had just found him. "Then we walk the streets. We see what is near the academy. We learn where the south yard is. We see the path we will take later so we do not run."

Fizz perked. "Lunch first. Walking after. Then quiet sitting. Then more walking. It is a plan. It is like a dance but with less music."

They went back down. The tavern was busier now. Men with work on their hands ate with their sleeves rolled up. A woman in a red scarf fed a baby and told a story to her friend with fast hands. Two older men argued quietly about the cost of wood. The smell of stew was warm and thick.

They took a table near the window. The tavern woman came with a bowl and a loaf without asking. "You look like stew," she said. "And bread."

Fizz raised his paw. "And a small plate of whatever is making that nice smell from the kitchen that makes my heart remember a better life."

"Ham," she said. "You can have a slice if you promise to be polite to my cat."

"I love your cat," Fizz said at once. "I love all cats except one. He knows who he is."

The woman snorted and went back to the counter. She brought stew, bread, two cups of water, and a thin slice of ham on a small plate. Fizz stared at the ham like a man meeting his hero. He patted the air where a napkin would be if he used napkins.