Chapter 104: 104: The Academy Test XIV
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He wrung out the rag and lifted the coat for the gardener to shake. His ears were calm. His paws were clean. His plan sat in the cloth like a yawn waiting for bedtime.
"I am very sorry, coat," Fizz murmured, because he could not help talking to things. "You did not choose your boy. But you are a very handsome thread. I am feeling sad that you will turn into ashes."
Then Fizz used wind magic to dry the coat. It was very loud.
"You will be quiet," Master Venn said without turning. Fizz nodded and kept his wind magic small instead of all the way.
The brown-haired proctor touched John’s elbow and moved him two steps aside. "Statement table," he said, pointing. "Short. Simple. Do not make an excuse. Do not make a speech."
John glanced at Fizz, saw him working, and then looked at Fartray. The other boy stared at a fixed point in the air as if the point had wronged him. John did not speak to him. He went where the proctor pointed and wrote seven lines that said what happened: water whip, mud, black orb, teacher’s stop, sorry for the yard.
At the table, a girl with ink on her wrist looked at the seven lines and nodded. "Good," she said. "Next."
Fartray came next and wrote fast with tight letters. He stabbed the paper with dots over his i’s like he was killing flies. He finished and pushed the pen too hard. It left a blot. He stared at the blot as if it had told him a dirty story.
While they wrote, the crowd did what crowds do. A boy spread his hands and said, "It was this big," and his hands lied a little. A girl said, "Void is not black magic; my aunt has a cousin, his sixth sister brother-in-law’s best friend’s sister studies it, she said it’s very unique magic. Nobody saw it. It was only mentioned in the books." and her friends nodded as if they knew and understood the relationship. A small group of students with the water-drop crest stood just outside the guard’s reach and watched Fartray. Their faces were flat. One smiled, but only with his eyes.
Master Hale stepped back up onto the stage. She did not speak to the yard again. She bent to the side and said a few words to the clerk there. The clerk wrote something down and then looked at John as if measuring him for a new kind of trouble.
Master Venn walked a small circle, then came back to John. "You will come to the north gate early on test day," he said. "You will show your token and your face. You will not bring void magic to step one or step two. If you need to use it in step three, you will not break the room."
"I will not," John said. He meant it. He felt the steady line inside his chest settle again like a tool put back in the right drawer.
Master Venn put his hands on his hips. "Good," he said. He lowered his voice a little. "Big work in a small yard scares people. Scare them less. Pass the test. Let your work speak where it should. I am really looking forward to teaching you."
John gave a slow nod. "Yes, Master Venn."
Fizz finished the coat and held it up. It looked very clean, though perhaps a little damp and a little more honest than it had this morning. The gardener took it and shook it once more, neat as a bell. He handed it to Fartray’s friend, who did not know what to do with his face.
Fizz then went to the hedge with a different rag and dabbed at the leaves with gentle hands. "You brave green things," he whispered. "I am sorry the water boy was rude to you. You did not ask to be splashed by a wet fart."
"Language," Master Venn said again, but this time the corner of his mouth twitched with a smile.
Fartray put his coat back on. He adjusted the collar three times. He lifted his chin again. The world returned to him a little at a time. He looked at John. His eyes were still cold, but a new line had formed there: a narrow line of caution and hate. He had learned a thing today even if he would deny it. He had learned that not all boys in plain coats come from fields that never learned to read.
"This is not done," Fartray said under his breath as he stepped past John, low and hard.
"It is done for today," John said. "We have rules. Which saved you from me. You tried to hurt my friend..."
Fartray did not answer. He left with his two friends, walking straight, coat drying on his shoulders, pride bright as ever, but thinner at the edges. He was planning an evil plan for John.
The circle around the small scene loosened. People went to the north table for handouts. A boy tried to copy the chalk arch Master Venn had drawn on a loose stone with a pebble. It did not work. His pebble broke. He looked at it, confused, then laughed at himself and went to get his paper.
Fizz fluttered up to John’s shoulder level again. His paws smelled like soap. His ears were damp at the tips from the splash. He tucked his paws behind his back like a very good spirit. He kept his voice very small.
"I did not say a single joke while washing," he reported. "I am a hero."
"You are impossible," John said, "why did you pick a fight? I told you to behave."
"I didn’t start it. That fart attacked me. You told me that we won’t let it slide if someone attacks us. It wasn’t my mistake. This place was very crowded. I was trying not to float above people’s heads. Some girls were trying to touch my fur. I bumped him because I was trying to avoid them." Fizz glanced toward the stage. "Are we expelled," he whispered.