---
The noble student stopped as if a rope had been pulled on his neck to choke him. His mouth snapped open. His eyes narrowed fast. He turned his head down and to the left to find the source. He did not look at the people around him. He did not look at the rope rail. He looked straight at Fizz, who hovered a hand above shoulder height like a small lamp you could never quite reach.
"Watch where you float, spirit scrap," the young man said in a low, sharp voice. He spoke like someone who was used to hearing boot licking words after he spoke.
Fizz leveled, paws hovering at his sides. "Pardon," he said. And that would have been that if the next words had not been born.
The noble student curled his lip. "Things that buzz should be swatted," he said. "Not saying pardon like men."
