Chapter 152: 152: Academy Life Starts VIII (Birthday celebrations part two)
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Fizz continued, "I got some money from John for the party."
Snake raised one brow. "You took money from John?"
Fizz tried to look innocent. "Borrowed. Briefly."
"Return it after you misuse it," Snake said, not unkind. "Be back by the seventh bell."
Fizz stood on the sofa cushion like a captain on a good ship. "I will be back by sixth and a half," he declared, and saluted again because it made his heart feel tidy.
Snake’s eyes twinkled. "Go, Professor Fizz," he said. "Plan mischief that keeps to the rules."
Fizz popped up, bowed toward the hat by accident, remembered not to stare, and zipped out into the hall, high on permission.
He ducked into an empty stair mouth and pulled the communication stone from his fluff. It was the twin to Edda’s — flat, smoky, veined like an old egg. He put both paws on it, closed his eyes, and breathed the way he’d seen John breathe when the world needed to move. He pushed a thin stream of his own mana into the stone.
"Edda," he said. "Pick up."
The stone warmed. A small, clear voice formed in the back of his head like a tap on a window. "Lord Fizz," she answered. "Lord of Small Snacks."
Fizz grinned. "Correct. Meet me in one hour at the east gate. We have work that smells like cake."
"I like cake," she said at once. "And money."
"There may be both," Fizz said, magnanimous. "Do not wear bells."
"On my way," she said, and cut the link clean.
Fizz tucked the stone away and flashed down to the main gate. He presented the pass to the guard like a prince presenting his seal. The guard looked at it, looked at Fizz, looked at the pass again as if the letters might change just to mess with him, and shrugged. "Back by tenth," he said.
Fizz saluted so big he almost fell over. "Seventh," he said. "Sixth and a half. Best behavior. Watch me."
He zipped out into the city.
The capital in the late morning was a pleasant animal. It stretched. It yawned. It got to work. Fizz loved it. He skimmed the bright lanes, waved at three women with baskets, insulted a mushroom (quietly), and stopped under the shadow of the east gate. Edda was already there, standing like a person who knows how to wait without ever looking like she is waiting.
She wore a plain gray cloak with the hood back, hair braided, face bare of paint, hands empty in a way that meant they could be full in one heartbeat. She looked up at Fizz and gave him a slight bow. Not mocking. Not dramatic. Professional.
"You called," she said. "Lord Fizz."
"I call; you answer," Fizz said, pleased. "We plan. Tomorrow is John’s birthday. Eighteen. We celebrate at the Bent Penny. We need stew, cake, decorations, mood, laughter, no guards. I need your help. Let’s go to Bent Penny."
Edda’s mouth curved. "Penny will like this," she said. "She likes any excuse to feed people too much."
"Good," Fizz said. "We go."
They walked. Fizz floated. He kept up a string of comments because silence makes him itch: a critique of door hinges, a ranking of street cats ("roof cat still number one"), a theory about why bread smells better on corners. Edda listened with half an ear and did the other half of her job with her eyes: checking shadows, reading corners, counting uniforms without counting, learning who had time to look and who did not.
They turned into the Bent Penny’s lane. The crooked sign hung like a tongue again, laughing in the morning. The door stood open. The smell of stew and soap and old wood came out like a welcome that didn’t pretend to be anything else.
Penny stood behind the counter with her sleeves rolled, her hair pinned with a fork because the hairpins had run away ages ago. She looked up, saw Fizz, and her serious mouth did the small move it does when happiness surprises it.
"Ah," she said. "Trouble I choose."
Pim popped up from the floor like a rabbit from a hat, because he had been under the counter trying to steal a raisin and got caught by fate. He saw Fizz and threw his hands up. "Lord Fizz!"
Fizz puffed. "At ease, citizen," he said. "We come with a plan. A noble plan. A plan so noble it will need a nap after that."
Penny set the rag down, leaned on the counter, and gave them the skeptical eye of a woman who has outlived five plans already this week. "Say it," she said.
"Party," Fizz said. "Tomorrow. John is eighteen."
Penny’s face softened like butter in a warm room. "Oh," she said. "Big boy now."
"We want to have a party here," Fizz said. "Small. Clean. Loud in the right way. We will bring our own ghosts."
Penny tapped the counter with two fingers. "Tomorrow I have no borders," she said. "Bless the boring. I can close for private if you bring coins and don’t break chairs. I will make a pot as large as Pim’s sins."
Pim looked outraged. "I do not have sins," he said. "Only hobbies."
Edda hid a smile. "I can help with coins," she said. "And decorations. I know a stall with paper ribbons that do not catch on fire unless spirits look rude at them."
Fizz clapped. "You are hired," he said. "The theme is ’simple and excessive.’ Make that make sense. We need a banner. It will say ’John’ in letters as big as his head."
Pim bounced. "I will paint," he said. "I will draw a black ball."
"No black balls on banners," Penny said, alarmed at the vision. "We do not advertise doom. We advertise stew."
Fizz leaned over the counter, chin in paws. "And cake," he said. "We will need cake. Big cake. With small cakes around it that are jealous."
"Cake is Ina," Fizz said at once. "Old Ina at the temple is good. Her hands remember sugar better than mine remember my taste."
"I will bring her," Fizz said. "Invite Sera. Invite Elara. BUT—" he wagged a paw "—no cabbage knights. No guards in armor with sticks. Only girls. And Ina. And perhaps the cat on the roof."
Penny pointed at Pim. "You will run a note to the temple. You will run a note to Elara’s barracks. You will not stop to pet every dog. You will not get into a fight with any boy bigger than you."
Pim saluted like a drunk soldier. "Yes, penny. I am in good behaviour, for; John."
Edda pulled a small purse and set it on the counter. The sound it made was happy. "For paper and ribbon and extra stew," she said. "Fizz, you keep your coin for chaos."
Fizz tapped his chin. "I am moved," he said. "I am touched. I am hungry." He looked at Penny with his best sad orphan eyes, which never work on her and always amuse her. "Do you have a small something for a great planner?"
Penny narrowed her eyes. "Small something," she repeated. "You eat like a hole in a barn."
Fizz folded like a wilted leaf. "True," he sighed. "Two small somethings? Three?"
She snorted and slid him a plate with two biscuits and a dish of honey. "Eat, liar."
Fizz attacked the honey with reverence. Pim, vibrating with the joy of errands, attempted to steal a crumb. Fizz slapped his hand without looking. "Collaborator," he said, and pushed him the bigger biscuit anyway. Pim grinned and stuffed it in his pocket to eat on the run later after it became lint.
"Decorations," Edda said, already making a list on a scrap. "Ribbons. Paper flowers. Table clothes. Chairs are fixed so they do not bite. Mop the back corner because it smells like beer ghosts."
Penny nodded with a general’s face. "I will throw out the old broom. It is rude. I will scrub the big pot. I will tell the stew to do its best."
Fizz finished the honey with alarming speed, licked his paw like a cat would if a cat were a star, and spun in place. "Next," he said. "Invites."
He lifted the stone again, poured a little mana, and said: "Sera."
The stone warmed. A soft, clear voice washed over his mind like water over clean stones. "Lord Fizz."
"Sera!" Fizz sang. "Queen of gentle eyes. We plan a party. Tomorrow. For John. Your friend. Your almost-Kisser. Ahem! He turns eighteen. We require your holy presence and your holy appetite."
A little laugh in his head. "I would not miss it," she said. "Time?"
"Afternoon," Fizz said. "At the Bent Penny. Bring the cake lady Ina. Ask her to make a big cake. Bring gifts for John. Bring only girls. No cabbage knight. No water boy. Only good people and sugar."
Sera’s smile was audible. "I will bring old Ina," she promised. "And I will bring something from the temple kitchens that will make you forgive all my sermons for a day."
"I forgive them always," Fizz lied. "See you."
He cut the link and breathed out, pleased with himself. "Next: Elara," he said. "Scary knight. Pretty scowl."