Page 60 of The Art of Exiley

I stand on the Quorum stage feeling the pressure of countless gazes watching, waiting for my decision. Other apprentices have had most of their lives to prepare for this choice, but all I have is now. I’ve been rejected by my first choice, but I now have several other offers, including a tantalizing new option that has just presented itself.

Should I consider the Mystic’s offer? Hypatia said it’s dangerous to study mysticism. Yet I can’t deny that I feel a pull to it. Aria Loew had fascinated me, not to mention that I desperately want to find out why this mysterious guild that is so selective would ever wantme. The idea of it makes me feel… elite, maybe even powerful. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling some temptation to throw my plans to the wind and see what learning from the Mystics could mean.

But no. The Families need me at Genesis, right? And everything I’ve heard about Avant makes it clear it won’t be hospitable for a recruit. I wish I could consult with Kor to be sure.

Everyone is still silently waiting for my answer, and I feel like I should just make an impulsive choice—the way I do whenever a waiter comes to take my order. Ugh. If I can’t even choose an entrée, how am I supposedto make this decision that absolutely should not be rushed? I close my eyes, trying to think clearly.

I think about how Aria Loew seemed toknowthings. The idea that the Mystic guild probably has members who could divine my secrets reinforces my decision that it’s not safe.

I have to choose between the Artisans, the Sophists, and the Alchemists. Michael had said to trust my gut. So I try. And when I do, strangely, the difficulty of the choice melts away. One guild feels like the obvious best fit, both for my talents and my priorities. I open my eyes.

“I would be honored to join the Alchemist guild,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.

And then I am deafened by the sound of cheers. The Alchemists in the audience are on their feet, applauding and roaring their approval.

I squint into the crowd, surprised to see all the beaming faces. Surprised by their whoops of welcome. They want me. I didn’t expect that. I’m an outsider, a stranger who’s been taking children’s classes. I see Hypatia and Mbali standing among the Alchemists, applauding along with them, and I know I have a place by their side.

Michael approaches me when Quorum is over. “Your song was superb! I love how you altered the key in the bridge.” That had been a mistake, but I guess it worked out.

“Thanks,” I say, fingering the new emerald guildstone in my ear, my emotions still a blur from the whole experience.

Everyone is heading to the faire in the village, and we follow the crowd. Since so many people come from the different Maker communities for each Quorum, it’s become tradition for craftsmen, traders, and performers to travel with their wares to the faire.

“I wait for months to get my favorite fudge,” Michael chatters as wewalk along the crowded forest path. “This one old lady from the Misty Isles makes it from a secret recipe. But she’s getting on in years. I hope her recipe doesn’t die with her.”

“If you’re charming enough, maybe she’ll leave you the recipe in her will,” I suggest.

“Don’t think I haven’t considered it. Most people I bother to charm have something I hope to inherit.”

I look at him with one eyebrow raised.

“Your fuzzy polka-dot socks,” he says in answer to my unspoken question. “The ones you were wearing when we traveled from New York.”

“Your feet are almost double the size of mine. My socks will not fit you.”

“But theywillfit my hands, which is all that matters since I intend to wear them as mittens. I have always wanted fuzzy polka-dot mittens.”

“Noted,” I say with a laugh.

When we arrive at the village, it’s unrecognizable. The normally sleepy stretch of road is bustling with people. Hundreds of stalls are propped up, their brightly colored canopies creating a patchwork tunnel of noisy and pungent activity.

I thought once we got to the faire, we’d part ways, but Michael stays by my side. “Today I will be your guide and introduce you to your first Quorum faire, and together we will celebrate your accomplishment!” I’m pretty sure he just wants to keep an eye on me since the faire is teeming with nonlocal Makers who may be uncomfortable with recruits. But I’m certainly not going to protest his company.

There are performers everywhere—mimes, musicians, magicians—along with unique crafts and aromatic foods. Clothing, sheet music, pigments, puppets. The air is wafting with every kind of smell: freshly baked bread, sizzling meats, spicy perfumes, earthy clays, wood, and wax.

And thenoise. It’s harmonious in its deafening discord. Instruments, singing, laughter, bells.

I gravitate toward a stall of beautiful Venetian masks—all intricate and delicate, made completely of glace—but Michael bounds in the opposite direction.

“Eureka!” he exclaims, heading toward a small stall piled with chocolate confections. His old lady and her fudge. I watch as he exchanges a flute—which he whittled out of a reed—for a brick of fudge wrapped in waxy linen. From the way the rickety old woman smiles up at him and pats his cheek, I wouldn’t be surprised if she does indeed leave him her precious recipe.

We continue to navigate the rainbow of stalls, stopping often to watch performances or chat with friends. There’s a strong Avant Guard presence. I steer clear of them as much as possible, though with Michael by my side, I’m not too worried.

We see Hypatia, who introduces me to a bunch of Alchemists she’s already befriended. I should probably be making new friends in our guild too, but, well, there’s always tomorrow. Or any other time when I haven’t been offered Michael’s undivided attention.

I make sure to visit Georgie, who is helping Elsa—the island’s premier tailor—in exchange for her allowing Georgie to sell some of her own designs. Georgie is having a lot of success. She’s sold more than half her wares, and she has a satisfied glow about her. I run my hands over a pile of fingerless silk gloves.

“These are beautiful,” I tell her. Then, struck by a thought, I ask, “Did you have to open a guild box when you were recruited?”

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