Page 51 of The Art of Exiley

But I know I’m doing the right thing. I may be enjoying everything I’m learning, and I may have a growing respect for a lot of the Maker ideals, but that doesn’t change the reality of their inherent selfishness. I’m here for the benefit of the whole world, not just for me.

Except for this week. Right now I’m way too busy and distracted to do anything other than work on polishing my gallerie for Quorum.

Which is in two days.

Not only will being a journey give me access to the Ark and the Guild Testaments, but I’ll also get access to the guild labs and stockrooms. Everything about my job here relies on me getting accepted into a guild.

The guild system is not nearly as confining as I’d expected. Unlike provincial university—where you basically have to choose your career path as a child, and if you choose wrong, too bad—the guilds expose you to all different disciplines aligned with your skills.

A journey can choose to become a master of their guild if they contribute an original study or invention to their guild’s testament, and once they master… Well, I don’t know much about masters yet, but the ones at Genesis seem to have mostly educational or administrative roles. Masters can also join other guilds. Over the course of Maker history, there have even been six people who mastered every guild and were given the title Master-of-All. This tidbit was told to me by Hypatia, who had proudly added, “And two of them have been from my family.”

While I’m excited at the prospect of becoming a journeyman for a guild, every time I think about presenting my premature gallerie in front of the guildmasters, I feel like my skin doesn’t fit right.

“Has anyone ever not been accepted to a guild?” I ask Georgie.

“I think it’s happened before,” she answers. “But if I managed to get accepted, you for sure will.”

We’re in the kitchen performing our cleaning rotation. Master Bose and Mbali are on duty with us. Instead of it being considered menial labor, everyone at the institute—from apprentices to guildmasters—takes turns completing the practical tasks necessary to keep the institute running smoothly.

“Don’t let the fear of rejection cause you anxiety,” Master Bose says as he works his way through a barrel of serving dishes, scraping any remaining waste into the compost. “Genesis works with everyone to find their place.” He stacks the plates in a stone oven that uses energy generated by themethane from the compost to clean dishes using ultraviolet light and steam. “When an apprentice receives no guild invitations, the guildmasters give them assignments to work on, and they then reapply at the next season’s Quorum.”

That’s nice and all, but I can’t let that happen. Headmaster Bloche said he will send me away if I don’t renounce my provincial life before the next anniversary of the Exodus, which now that I have a basic understanding of the Maker calendar, I think is only a little more than half a year away. I need to join a guildnow.

“But you really don’t need to worry,” Georgie interjects. “You’re a Sire! Guilds are always dying to recruit Sires. Plus, the hoverjoust teams all want you.” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “Officially, guildmasters don’t take that into consideration, but everyone knows they all want to give their teams an advantage. You’ll for sure get more than one invitation.”

Mbali adds softly, “Do prepare to be rejected by the Avant guilds, but don’t let it wound you. They’re extremely selective.”

And they’d never accept a provincial recruitis the part she doesn’t say out loud.

She’s referring to the Blood Science and Mysticism guilds, both of which are illegal at Genesis but still practiced at Avant.

Master Bose nods in agreement. “Not that you’d want to go to Avant anyway… bunch of stuck-up monarchists.” He looks over at Mbali. “Present company excepted, of course, Journey Keftiu. I have great respect for the Matriarchy of the Isles.”

Tracing her finger along her snake necklace, Mbali winks and says to me, “If you’re truly unhappy with your placement options, you can always join the Pirates.”

“Who are the Pirates?” I ask dubiously.

“They’re a group of Makers who have rejected both Genesis and Avant.They live at sea and believe that no one should be limited by a guild or council.”

“Never heard of ’em,” Georgie says. “But they sound like my kinda people. I’ve been called a pirate once or twice.”

Once we’re finished our cleaning duties, Mbali and I head together to the Sire lab. As I work on my woeful attempt at creating a golem that can move its limbs and support itself well enough to walk (but does not yet have any useful purpose), I’m still obsessing over Quorum.

I dubiously look over at Rafe. Since Hypatia, Simon, and Mbali have all decided to like me, he’s mostly stopped being overtly hateful, though I can tell it costs him something. But I actually learn a lot from observing him while he barks orders at me and gives me withering glances. As long as I don’t talk much or, heaven forbid, bump into him, he’s generally tolerable.

And Rafe is in my top choice of guild, the one most likely to have information about Sire ability sharing and the one best suited for me to help Grandfather. I need advice from wherever I can get it, so I decide to chance it.

“Why did you choose the Bioscience guild?” I ask him.

He looks up at me and blinks.

For a moment I lose my train of thought as an image vividly overlays my vision.

Rafe lying in a field of red flowers.

I thought I’d finally managed to be free of that dream weeks ago, but the picture in my mind is as clear and detailed as a photograph.

I blink away the memory and refocus on the real Rafe, who is staring at me as if he can’t believe that I’ve attempted small talk. “It’s just that I’m trying to figure out what guild is best for me, assuming I get any invitations,” I say.

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