CHAPTER 92: 92: THE ACADEMY TEST II

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"Good choice," Fizz said. "We are very touchy."

The guard did not smile. He opened the small wicket gate next to the main doors and led them through.

The first court made them slow down without thinking. It was a large garden with shaped hedges and white gravel paths. A long, shallow pool ran down the middle. Bright fish cut slow lines under the water. Small trees spread green shade over stone benches. The place smelled like water, clean stone, and a little bit like flowers that felt too polite to shout.

They crossed the garden. The main building rose ahead. Wide steps led to a line of tall doors with carved panels. People moved in and out in small groups. Most wore white, gray, or blue. Their shoes made soft sounds that did not echo. The guard brought John and Fizz to a side hall with a row of chairs and a long table with a water jug and cups.

"Wait here," the guard said. "I will inform someone."

"Which someone," John asked.

"A temple clerk or an assistant," the guard said. "Maybe a deacon if it is real."

"If what is real," Fizz asked.

"Your claim that Priestess Sera invited you," the guard said, his tone back to dry. Then he walked off down a side corridor and was soon gone.

John sat. He set the cart handle against the wall and kept it in reach. Fizz sat on air and put his chin in his paws. They waited. Many temple people came and went. Most did not look at them. A few did. The looks were not kind. Nice clothes do not love old coats. Some eyes slid over John and stuck to Fizz like burrs to fur. Fizz did not blink. John did not fidget.

An hour passed. The water in the jug went warm. A young acolyte came into the hall, saw them, and turned away with a small sniff. Two women in clean robes walked by and dropped their voices, and not in a good way. A boy in temple gray stared with open interest until an older man tapped his arm and moved him along.

Fizz let out a long sigh. "I have had enough of waiting," he said in a quiet voice that still managed to be dramatic. "It has been so long. Nobody came. Did she prank us? I thought she was a good person. I do not like pranks when someone else does it."

John looked at the corner of the table. He did not speak at first. His face stayed even, but it took work. Then he said, "She is not that kind of person. She is away, or busy. Maybe she is not in the temple at all. We will come back tomorrow."

Fizz’s ears dropped. "You are right," he said, but he did not sound happy. "I do not like it. But you are right."

John stood. Fizz rose. John touched the cart handle. They turned to leave.

"John," a voice called from behind them. Firm. Female. A soldier’s voice.

They turned. Elara stood in the doorway. The Crunch Paladin looked much the same: tall, straight, calm. Her hair was tied back tight. Her armor was plain and honest. The look on her face was not friendly, not hostile, not anything but ready. She took them in with one slow sweep. She had a letter in her hand.

"Elara," John said. "Hello."

Fizz crossed his arms in the air and kept his mouth shut in a way that was very loud.

Elara took three steps closer. "John the blacksmith. You came, just like Sera said you would." Her eyes flicked to Fizz for a beat. "And the spirit who does not enjoy rules and talks too much."

Fizz stared back. He did not bow. He did not speak. He slanted his chin as if to say, Yes, I am that one.

Elara did not seem to mind. She looked at John again. "Sera asked me to help you when you arrived. She is not in the temple. She is—" Elara paused, picking a simple word, "—away."

"How is everyone in the village," she asked, switching to small talk with the speed of someone trained to fill silence with something other than trouble.

"Everyone is well," John said. "The forge lives. The work grows."

Elara gave a single, small nod. "It has been six months since we left. You have not changed that much." Her eyes flicked down to his coat. "I still do not like you. It is nothing personal. It is the weird vibe of you. But Sera trusts you. So I will help you."

Fizz made a soft sound that was not a word. It was an opinion.

Elara held out the letter. "This is your letter of introduction. For the Heart Magic Academy. From Sera." She tapped the seal. It was the temple seal. "You barely made it. The entrance tests are in two days. You must register today. If you were one day later, it would be over."

John took the letter. The paper was heavy. The wax seal was clean and deep. He felt the weight of the choice that had walked beside him for six months finally put its hand on his shoulder.

"Come," Elara said. "I will show you the way. The academy is not far. There is a window for new names. We will fit you in it."

Fizz finally spoke. "We waited an hour," he said, pointing his paw toward the hall. "We would have waited two. Three. We would have grown roots like old trees."

Elara’s mouth almost smiled and did not. "That is how the temple checks if you will cause trouble when asked to sit." She turned. "Bring your cart. Do not block the middle. Keep close. The city bites those who walk like they own it."

John nodded. He took the cart handle. Fizz floated and sat on his shoulder again. They followed Elara back through the long hall, past the cool garden with the shallow pool, and out into the bright day.