CHAPTER 98: 98: THE ACADEMY TEST VIII

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She looked over the rows slowly. "Third. Spirits. A contracted spirit may attend the briefing and wait outside the testing rings. In step one, the spirit waits in the yard. In step two, the spirit waits at the fence. In step three, the spirit waits outside the door. If we see a spirit act for a candidate during a test that forbids aid, both fail. If a spirit causes trouble in the yard, the candidate fails and leaves."

Fizz listened without a sound. He kept his paws folded. His ears flicked once.

"Fourth," Master Hale said. "Names. We do not care if your name comes with a house. We do not care if your name comes with a goat. We care if your work is good, if your mind is sound, and if you can learn without making a mess for others. Speak simple. Stand straight. If you are sick or hurt, say so. If you are afraid, breathe. Fear is normal. Breathe."

She stepped back. The man with the chalk-stained hands took her place.

"I am Master Venn," he said. "I will say the small things. Do not bring blades. Do not bring a book unless it is a simple book of words in your own tongue. Do not bring a loud friend. Do not bring a vendor into the yard. If you are hungry, there is a stall outside the north gate that sells rolls with eggs. They are fine. If a person offers you a charm to ’pass the test,’ they are a liar. If you buy it anyway, you deserve to lose the coin."

A ripple of low laughter ran through the rows. John’s mouth did not change, but inside he liked that the man had said it plain.

Master Venn went on: "Step one starts at ninth bell. Step two starts by small groups as they pass. Step three runs all day. You will not sit for all three in one morning. You will sit step one in the morning, step two by groups in the middle day, and step three when it is your turn. If you finish step one first, do not shout. If you finish step two first, do not brag. If you finish step three and you are proud, tell your mother. Do not tell the yard."

Fizz leaned close to John’s ear. "I like him."

"Listen," John said.

Master Hale came back to the front. "Questions," she said. "Ask now."

A hand went up near the back. "Can we use a wand in step two," a girl asked.

"No," Master Hale said. "Your hands are your wand. If you need a stick to draw, we will give you one. If you use a wand, we will take it and you will leave."

A boy raised his hand. "What if the circle is good but my breath shakes."

"Breathe slower," Master Venn said. "We look for control, not hero tricks. No points for fainting."

A man with gray hair raised his hand halfway. "What is the pass mark," he asked.

"We do not give a number," Master Hale said. "We give a result. You pass if your work is safe and sound and your mind is useful. We take the number we can take this year. If we have many who pass, good. If we have few, it’s also fine. This is not bread. We do not bake more to feed the crowd."

More small questions came. Paper size. Ink color. If left-handed writing smudged, could they turn the page. Could a candidate sit on a bench if a leg hurts. The answers were simple and kind.

John soaked it all in. He watched the boards. He noted the times. He set the steps in his head in order and built around them a small plan for the day. He thought of ink. He thought of chalk. He thought of the line in his chest and how it held steady. He did not think of anything that would not help.

Fizz listened too. He kept still because spirits were being watched. He let his eyes wander, but his body did not. He noticed the gardener at the hedge packing his tools into a low box. He noticed a group of older students passing along the side path beyond the rope. They wore the academy dress: long coats to the knee, the cloth a deep gray-blue with a thin piping in colors that marked their houses or their focus. Some had silver at the collar. Some wore small badges on the breast. One group had a water drop crest stitched near the shoulder. Their coats had a light blue line along the edge. Their steps were smooth. Often, smooth steps were taught at home.

Fizz’s gaze snagged on them and then moved on. He did not stare. He simply looked at things because that is what he loved to do. He shifted a little in the air for a better angle on the chalk board, and because the rows had filled tight, he edged sideways a few feet to the right.

At that same second, the group of older students cut across the back of the yard along the rope rail. The one at the center of their line did not slow. He did not look. He walked like a person who believed lanes shifted for him. He was tall, thin, and held his chin a shade too high. His hair was light, combed like a rule. His eyes were a clear, cold blue that liked reflections of itself. On his coat, the piping was light blue, and the crest on his shoulder was a small wave. His name would be learned in a moment: Fartray of the Aqua family, one of the Ten Count Houses.

Fizz drifted a half-hand back to give an older woman room to step, and at that exact breath, he bumped the noble student under the chin.

The touch was small. It was soft. It was also public. He was trying not to float above people’s heads.