Page 59 of The Art of Exiley

My muscles feel as tight as an overtuned string instrument. They’re not going to accept me. The easiest guild to get into is going to turn me down.

“However,” he continues, “you have made great strides in only a few months, and you clearly have an eye for aestheticism. Considering your potential, we invite you to join as a journeyman to the Artisan guild.”

I breathe, panic subsiding.

“We especially enjoyed your song and both the technique and metaphorical expression of your painting entitledTree in Autumn. If you choose to join our guild, we will foster your skills in both visual art and music. We would be honored to have you as a member of our guild.” He takes his seat.

They like my work. I can’t believe it. I don’t yet know if any other guilds will accept me, but I already know I’d feel comfortable with the Artisans.

The Bioscience guildmaster stands next. This is it. My first choice.

The guildmaster says crisply, “Though you are a Sire, which is a quality that often makes for a good healer, no particular information has been presented to indicate that you are a good fit for the Bioscience guild. At this time, we do not extend an invitation to our guild.”

My chest constricts. I needed to see the Bioscience Guild Testaments. Kor will be disappointed. But I find that I’m less disappointed than I expected to be. At least I have the Artisans. I shouldn’t mind numerous rejections. They’re to be expected. I’m a stranger to this place and am lucky to have received even one invitation. But Grandfather… I can’t think about that right now. I’ll find another way. Iwill.

The Alchemist Guildmaster stands. “You lack a steady hand.” I guess she saw my trembling despite my efforts to hide it. “And proficiency with numbers, both qualities often necessary in our guild.”

Oh no. How do the apprentices handle all these rejections? I want to dissolve into my own shadow.

“However, the fact that you have managed control over plant life before having any Sire training is a strong indicator that you have botanical gifts. We invite you to join as a journeyman to the Alchemist guild. We can foster your affinity for plants and introduce you to apothecary medicine, as you are interested in healing. It would be our honor if you were to join our guild.”

Wait, what? The thrill of another acceptance has my heart pounding. And I didn’t realize the Alchemists work with medicines, though now that I think about it, it totally makes sense.

The Sophist guildmaster—Professor Lovelace—rises. My stomach has calmed. I can handle more rejection now. I have two good options.

“Though you are unfamiliar with our history, your song and story both demonstrate an intuitive understanding of universal human experience. We are honored to invite you to be a journeyman to the Sophist guild. Ourguild would foster your songwriting and storytelling and could guide you on various paths that you seem well suited for, including education, guidance, or psychological and emotional healing. We believe that you would be a great fit for our guild, and we hope you agree.”

Three invitations! That’s the most offers any apprentice has had so far today. And Michael’s guild no less. My blood sings with triumph. Icanfit in here.

A small voice in the back of my head reminds me that my purpose in fitting in here has nothing to do with developing the skills the guildmasters are speaking of, but I shush it.

It’s now time for the Avant guildmasters. I square my shoulders ready for their rejections.

The Blood Science guildmaster, Rafe’s old master, doesn’t even deign to stand to acknowledge me. He speaks tightly, hardly opening his lips, yet his voice booms across the room as he says, “The Blood Science guild does not extend an invitation to Ada Castle of New York.”

I expected as much. It’s fine.

At least this is almost over.

The Mystic guildmaster—an extremely old man with a long white beard and a large skullcap—rises on shaky legs. He grips his ivory cane with both hands, and in a heavily accented voice that crackles like dead leaves crunching underfoot, he says, “The Mystic guild invites Sire Ada Castle to join us as a journeyman.”

There are numerous audible gasps around the room. His words were somewhat muffled by his waist-long beard, but I’m pretty sure I heard him correctly.

The Blood Science guildmaster’s face is pinched. The Genesis guildmasters all have wide eyes. Even Bloche looks ruffled.

The Mystic continues. “You can complete your foundational studies here at the Genesis Institute and come to the Academy at Avant to train in themystical arts after next winter’s thaw, when the threat to our young Sires will have passed. We hope you will consider our offer, cousin.”

Cousin?

He leans heavily on his cane and creakily lowers himself back into his seat.

I look around the room, at a loss, unsure of what just happened. The entire room is ghost quiet. All I can hear is my own heartbeat.

An Avant guild has invited me—a recruit—to join the most exclusive of all the guilds. And now I have more invitations than any other apprentice today.

It’s time for me to make a choice.

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