Page 66 of The Art of Exiley

She grabs an empty sewing box. “Here, puke bucket. I’m not about to stop.”

“How do you even know about him?” Kor only shot to notoriety in the past two years, after Georgie had already moved to Arcadia.

She puts her hand on her heart. “Ada, I was a fan of Korach Chevalier before he was famous. I’ve been listening to his music for years.” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Okay, I’m over my fangirl paralysis. Show me pictures of the rest of your family.”

I open the most recent pictures I have of my dad. He’s waving at the camera from a beach in Costa Rica, where, last I heard, he was spending his days playing guitar for tourists and surfing. His wavy brown hair is grown out almost as long as mine, so different from the neat cut he always had when I was young. I’ve been missing him more than usual lately. He’d love to know about my new interest in sustainable agriculture and that I’ve been getting better at guitar. We might finally have something to talk about.

I swipe to a photo of Grandfather. I only took it a few months before I left, but he was already so much thinner the day I said goodbye, and even worse today. I feel my tears returning. I hope he’s okay.

The Makers could help him. I must get ahold of their cures or find a way to make Sire abilities more accessible. For Grandfather, for the Families, and for the rest ofmyworld. Now that I’m an Alchemist, I have access to their Testament scrolls. I’ve gotten too distracted by guilds and guys and hoverboards.

It’s high time I visit the Ark.

18

I asked Hypatia to come with me for my first visit to the Alchemist Guild Testament, and she scheduled us a time slot in the Ark for today.

As I approach the winding staircase that leads up to the Ark, I’m surprised to see that next to the ever-present stone-faced Guard stands Simon, wearing a matching black uniform. His shiny silver buttons are smudged.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him.

“My family doesn’t want me to fall behind in my Guard training while I’m away from Avant, so I’m doing some basic training here. Congratulations on joining the Alchemists, by the way.”

I have to blink away a vivid image of him flying over a field of flowers—Why am I still getting flashbacks from that annoying dream?—before I respond with, “Thanks. I really liked your hurdy-gurdy performance and your boat.”

He lights up. “Thank you! Are you here to see your guild’s testament?”

“Yeah, I’m just waiting for Hypatia.”

“I’m here!” Hypatia sings, coming up behind me. The other Guard grunts, wanting us to move things along.

They search us—Simon’s cheeks pinkening as he pats Hypatia’s pockets—and take everything we have, including both our spoons. Once cleared, we make our way up the twisty staircase.

At the top of the landing, there’s a large circular desk. The pregnant steward I’ve been befriending, Xander, is on duty.

“Ada! Hypatia!” she greets us. “Congratulations to you both for becoming journeys.”

At the sight of Xander’s warm smile, an icy shard of guilt spears through me. Hypatia, Simon, Xander—they all trust me, and I’m planning to use that trust to steal from them.

But I know it’s the right thing to do.

Xander escorts us into the sealed glass room of the Ark and carefully retrieves the Alchemist Testament. She removes the emerald-green velvet cover embroidered with the Alchemist emblem of a mortar and pestle in front of the Tree of Life, and she shows us how to unroll the scrolls and use the index system to find what we need. We wear protective gloves so as not to damage the parchment with the oils on our hands and use a pointer to direct our eyes over the cramped calligraphy. Touching the Testaments feels… important. It’s just a scroll written by humans, yet it feels holy. I know some Makers would say itisholy. That human innovation is divine, the continuation of the work of the Conductor. It’s easy to believe that sentiment when surrounded by the evolution of human advancement so carefully collected and treasured here inside the Ark.

Thinking of it as sacred certainly doesn’t help me alleviate my guilt over appropriating it.

“What do you want to look at first?” Hypatia asks once Xander has left the room.

“Medicines,” I say resolutely.

While I see absolutely nothing about giving Sire abilities to non-Sires, no conversation with Kor or online forums could have prepared for what we dofind. The breadth of information in the index alone is overwhelming. I’ve only looked at one section in the actual scrolls, and already my mind is reeling. The recipes, trials, experiments, and results. The magnitude of how much the Makers have solved, how much they can prevent, how much they can cure.

Unrolled beneath my gloved hands are cures for genetic diseases, infections, cancers; references to Bioscience surgical procedures utilizing Sire healing. I don’t know how I’m going to manage to get my phone in here, but I’m going to have to find a way. This information must be shared.

The words before me blur together as I think of packed children’s wards, overflowing intensive care units, of global pandemics that have killed so many. The Makers could stop it all. I guess I’ve kind of known all along. But now I knowfor sure. And that makes it so much worse.

My anger grows until my hands tremble so hard that Hypatia takes the pointer from me before I accidentally gouge the sensitive parchment.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

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