Page 30 of The Art of Exiley

The response on the tip of my tongue is that this has all been very fast and I can’t commit to anything yet. But I’m not here to be honest. I’m here to make these people trust me. So instead, I say, “Absolutely, sir. I’m excited to learn.”

“Thank you, Ms. Castle. You will be given until the next anniversary of the Exodus. At that time, you will have to decide whether you would like to make your home here and forgo your old life, or whether you want to leave here, never to return.”

I nod and swallow, having no sense of how much time that actually gives me. And what will they do if––when—I tell them I want to leave? Would they really just let me go after learning all their secrets? I’m not so sure.

The headmaster continues, “Our community runs on a guild system. You will need to put together a gallerie to gain acceptance to a guild at Quorum.”

“A gallerie is a portfolio of your skills and interests,” Michael explains. “Quorum is when apprentices present their galleries to the guildmasters for application to become journeymen. Your guild will provide you with all the necessary education, guidance, and resources for your artistic and scientific pursuits, and in turn, you will share your research and innovations with your guild.”

This all sounds complicated. I thought I’d done what I had to do to get into this school, but now I’ll also need to apply and be accepted to a guild? I feel the stirrings of the college admission trauma I thought I’d left behind.

Michael continues. “The five Genesis guilds are the Sophists, the Artisans, the Alchemists, the Ciphers, and Bioscience. Over the next few months, we’ll help you get acquainted with each so that you will be able to choose between your options at Quorum.”

I try my best to hide my abject horror at the intimidating nature of the list.

Bloche says, “As an apprentice, most of your needs will be provided for you, but you should have some currency for incidentals.” He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a pouch, which he hands to me. “That should be enough to tide you over until you collect a guild stipend.”

I peek inside the pouch and see gold coins, each a little smaller and thicker than a dime. Their shape and texture are imperfect, inconsistent, though they all have the same imprint, an intricate design of a circuit-like maze.

“Sense.” Michael names them for me.

“Cents, like pennies?”

“No, sense.” He taps his temple. “Likesensibility, and nonsense.”

“Hold on to those. They will be useful to you for more than currency,” Headmaster Bloche says.

“Can I exchange dollars for sense?” I ask, nervous now. I hadn’t considered that finances would be different.

“No, but you don’t need to,” Michael assures me. “You’ll receive an apprentice stipend from the institute, and all necessities are provided for free—sense is only needed to purchase luxuries.”

Necessities arefree? When the most powerful country in the world can’t even provide affordable health care? Maybe this is Utopia after all.

But I can’t afford to think like that. Any whiff of utopian ideals only lasts as far as the boundaries of this island, and I need to prepare myself to be able to steal from these people.

The headmaster rises, so I assume I should too. He says to Michael, “I have to travel again, so I’ll ask you to cover some of my meetings that cannot be postponed, and someone on the island must have a council key for emergencies.”

Michael looks extremely uneasy. “Maybe one of the guildmasters—”

The headmaster cuts him off. “I know that you worry you are too young and that the guildmasters will question your authority, but none of the guildmasters have worked as my direct apprentice. I know I can trust you, and that is more important than your colleagues’ professional jealousy. You have proven yourself time and again, and those who haven’t seen it yet will soon.” He takes a large, ornate key from his pocket and hands it to Michael. “Now, if you would please direct Apprentice Castle to her apartment.”

“Yes, Master Bloche.” Michael sighs.

Before we exit, I take one last look at the painting that might be a priceless,stolen Rembrandt. I want to ask Michael about it, but I don’t know how to without sounding accusatory. I need to appear excited to be here, not suspicious. So I paste on a smile and follow him out.

On the way to my room, Michael provides a mini tour of the institute. The entrance hall is called the Equinox, and it branches into a sunburst of five peripheral wings. One wing is the library, the heart of the school. The Autumn and Spring wings have classrooms, offices, and communal facilities, and the Summer and Winter wings are mostly for residence. My room is in the Winter wing.

I know we’ve entered the Winter wing when the rich warm hues of the wallpaper and window hangings change to cool blues, deep evergreens, and snowy whites. There are ornaments and light fixtures of crystal and glass, reminiscent of ice, and even the scenes in the paintings on the wall have shifted in season and tone.

We turn into a hallway with walls that somehow manage to be the exact color of twilight after fresh snowfall, and we stop at an arched door. There’s a brass knocker in the shape of tree branches and a small hole where the knob should be.

“Your fingerprint is linked with the lock,” Michael says, indicating the small hole and wiggling his pointer finger. I had submitted a full set of fingerprints during my application process. I stick my pointer into the groove, and the door swings open to a common area.

The room has the feel of a winter cabin with walls of aged wood full of grooves and knots and a floor of plush rugs in deep reds and soft ochers. Numerous glass spheres hang from the exposed beams of the ceiling, illuminating the space with the glow of Edison coils. A large window looks out onto the mists, and a fire crackles in a woodburning stove. My tower of bags is already here, stacked neatly outside one of the two closed doors, and a third door opens to a small bathroom.

“Hello?” Michael calls out, but no one responds.

I stand at the entrance, unsure what happens next. He seems to be unsure as well, and he awkwardly fingers the sapphire hoop in his ear. All the Makers I’ve met so far have had gemstones in their ears.

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