Chapter 15
15
Within the hour, Quorum will begin and my future as a Maker will be decided. I feel stiff in the formal clothes I borrowed from Georgie (which she had to alter to fit me). I’m wearing a navy balloon-sleeved blouse tucked into high-waisted black velvet trousers. And with my new high laced boots and half my hair braided into a crown atop my head, I almost look like I belong here. That is, until I realize that I’m standing in the wrong place.
Hundreds of Makers are crowded into the Equinox for the Quorum opening ceremony. I had automatically walked over to a group I recognized from my Sire lab, but this is the spot for journey Sires. No one seems to care that I don’t belong here, except for Rafe, who hisses at me and points to a cluster of children—the apprentices—all the way on the other side of the room. But I’m too embarrassed to cross the vast space with everyone watching, so I stay. Surprisingly, Rafe doesn’t push the issue, and I can’t help but notice that there’s a lightness to his expression I’ve never seen before. It almost looks like he’s… happy.
The herald announces the arrival of the delegation from Avant. A parade of important-looking people streams into the room. I’ve been told that more dignitaries than usual will be present at this Quorum since several notable apprentices are presenting their galleries, including Hypatia and Simon, who are apparently both from high-ranking Avant families.
Suddenly, the low hum of whispers and activity quiets, and I look to the doors. An imposing man with long, wild hair enters. The aura surrounding him sucks the attention from every corner of the room. He looks straight out of a movie set, wearing a long fur coat and leather pants tucked into knee-high leather boots. His chest is bare, an impressive tattoo of a dragon spans across the left side of his chest and up his neck, and some kind of claw hangs from a cord around his neck. How many dead animals is this guy wearing?
As if he knows what I’m thinking, Rafe whispers in my ear, “Would you believe his girlfriend is a vegetarian?” I stifle a laugh, the comment so anachronistic with the pageantry of the moment. And did Rafe just make a joke? To me ? He must be in a good mood.
The man looks so weird and so captivating that I can’t stop staring. His long rippling hair is midnight dark, though his beard is shot with gray. Atop his head rests a simple metal circlet.
“Prince Alexander, heir to the Blood Crown of Avant,” the herald introduces him. All of the Avant Makers—Rafe included—kiss the knuckles of their right hands. Everyone else acknowledges the prince’s presence with a deep nod of their heads.
Prince Alexander sweeps through the entrance hall. As he gets closer, I notice that each of the fingers on his right hand bears a different colored gemstone band, with two on his thumb. Six guilds. Is he a Master-of-All?
For some reason, he seems to be coming straight toward me. No, I realize, toward Rafe.
The prince stops in front of us, a wide smile softening his harsh features. Rafe is smiling too. Really smiling—with teeth and cheeks and twinkling eyes. I didn’t think he was capable of such an expression, and now I can’t make myself look away.
When the prince speaks, his voice is gravel. “Raphael, it’s been too long, brother.”
Brother?
The prince grabs Rafe’s hand, squeezing it as he leans over and kisses him on the cheek. His long hair shields them from view, but I am close enough to hear Rafe whisper, “I miss you. I miss home.”
“You are where you should be” is the quiet, gritty response.
“How are Ben and Mab?”
“Everyone is well and missing you.”
“And Gwen?”
“She misses you the most.”
And then Prince Alexander sweeps away.
I look up at Rafe, who is back to his stone-cold self.
“Are you kidding me?” I whisper to him. “You’re a prince ?”
He looks at me with disdainful amusement. “Obviously.”
Once all the delegations have arrived, the crowd makes their way through the archway that leads to the auditorium in the Autumn wing. The other apprentices who will be presenting their galleries are with their families, and I find myself on my own, awkwardly scanning the room for a familiar face.
“So, you’re the provincial Sire,” a melodic voice says from behind me. I spin around and see a petite woman in all black. She’s striking, with olive skin and dark brown hair in a sleek topknot. A pearl hoop hangs from her right earlobe, indicating that she’s a Cipher master.
“Aria Loew,” she introduces herself.
So this is Michael’s older sister. How is she so short when he’s so tall?
“Ada Castle,” I respond with a smile that she does not return. She is assessing me, looking more through me than at me.
“I know who you are.” She lifts her arm and slowly strokes her fingers through the air around me like harp strings. An onyx ring adorns her pointer finger. In my apprentice classes, we’d learned about some of Aria Loew’s research—smart, sciencey stuff I never really understood about strings that connect the universe. I knew she was doing further research in Avant, but I hadn’t realized she joined the Mystic guild as her ring would suggest. I had been under the impression that the Mystics barely accept anyone. In fact, I think Hypatia had told me they’d only accepted one Genesis student into the Mystics in the past two decades. She must have been referring to Aria Loew.
Aria inspects the air that flows through her hands and says, “Though you’ve been here such a short time, so many ties bind you to our people.” One dark eyebrow arches high in surprise as she adds, “Including to my brother.” With a quizzical look, her thumb and pointer come together and pull at something invisible. As if feeling the tug, Michael, who is a few yards away, conversing with a bearded and bespectacled old man, turns to glance in our direction. When he sees us, he says some last words to the man and heads over. Aria releases the invisible something and scrutinizes me more closely. She is now exploring the air with both hands, tugging and pulling at an invisible tapestry woven around me.
It’s pretty creepy, and it feels like she’s doing some kind of divination, like maybe she can somehow know things I really need her not to know. I shift my feet uncomfortably.
Aria brings her fingers close to her face and inspects the emptiness between the pads of her fingers. “You have secrets,” she says in a singsong voice, “but don’t worry. I won’t tell. Your intentions do not oppose my own.” I release a tense breath, not at all comforted by her words. “A piece of advice,” she says, meeting my eyes too sharply. “You should be asking more questions about why you needed to be rescued.”
What the hell?
She drops her hands as Michael approaches, gazing at her with a beaming smile and arms outstretched.
“Ari!” He envelops her in a hug that she tolerates more than returns, though her expression is pleased, with the quirk of a smile that reveals she has the family dimple. “I see you’ve met Ada.”
“Yes. She’s fine. I don’t mind her,” Ari replies, and Michael’s grin tells me that this is her version of a compliment. “I need to visit the library,” she says. And then walks off, leaving me with an exasperated but still smiling Michael.
“Well, that’s my sister.”
“She seems lovely,” I respond, and from the way he grins, I feel like I’ve passed some kind of test.
Ugh, that dimple! I remember the feeling of being the one to make it flash. I also remember the feeling of him playing guitar while looking into my eyes the other night.
I want to say something, anything, to reignite that intimacy. But he’s already looking away, nodding at two professorial-looking women, and I remind myself that I’m not supposed to be playing these games.
“I’ll see you when Quorum begins,” he says, walking toward the women. Then he turns, gives me an encouraging smile, and adds, “Stop worrying. I can tell you’re worrying. Just answer their questions honestly. You’re going to be great.”
The auditorium has amphitheater seating with a stage in the center. At the front of the stage, there’s a long table where the guildmasters sit taking notes. I watch from a section to the right of the stage along with the rest of the apprentices who will be presenting their galleries. Hypatia is sitting next to me, vibrating with nerves and rhythmically running her tongue back and forth along her teeth. She’d missed lunch with us yesterday because she was receiving treatment for her mystery illness, and today she’s positively shining with vitality. She keeps waving excitedly at her parents, who are sitting with Prince Alex. Because, of course, if Rafe is a prince, that makes Hypatia royal too. Can’t say I saw that one coming.
The Quorum begins with reassignments from Avant, like Simon. He bumbles through his gallerie, but, honestly, compared to anything I’m used to from teen boys back home, it’s quite an impressive display. I especially like one of his inventions—a lightweight portable boat that can be carried like a backpack and assembled quickly when necessary. It’s cool, but when he’s questioned about it, it’s revealed that the motor is too heavy, and the boat has a tendency to leak. He also performs a song on his hurdy-gurdy—a guitar-like instrument with a hand crank and a wheel that is much less ridiculous than it sounds—and when it comes to music, he is, as Hypatia has told us, quite talented. He’s reassigned from the Avant Artisan guild to the Genesis one, and he replaces his amethyst ring with a stud in his ear. Hypatia applauds enthusiastically for him.
The reassignments are followed by the masters who are seeking entrance to new guilds. Today’s group is small and has no one that I know. The last group will be journeys qualifying as masters, but first the big deal that everyone is most excited for is the apprentice placements.
Headmaster Bloche calls up each apprentice one by one to present their gallerie and to be interrogated by the guildmasters. Pockets of the crowd cheer each time an apprentice accepts a position in one of the guilds.
I take deep, calming breaths the way my pitch instructor, Madam Adelina, taught me, but my nerves are tenacious, and it’s hard to pay attention to the other galleries.
“Next apprentice is Hypatia Vanguard, fourteen years of age,” the herald announces. “Her mentor is Donatello Bloche, headmaster of the Genesis Institute and master of the Sophist, Alchemist, and Cipher guilds.” Wow, I didn’t realize that the headmaster himself mentored Hypatia. I guess that’s how it works when you’re a member of the royal family.
I squeeze Hypatia’s hand as she rises. Her clammy fingers squeeze mine in return, then slide out of my grasp as she walks confidently to the center of the stage.
Hypatia begins to present without even the slightest quaver in her voice. I want to see the gallerie she’s put so much of her heart into, and I give her my full focus.
Her presentation is flawless, and I’m bursting with pride on her behalf, but at the same time, there’s a stone in my stomach. She’s only fourteen, and her gallerie is much more impressive than mine. She performs a beautiful song on the harmonica and displays a gorgeous clockwork owl she made. She animates the owl, demonstrating the strength of her Sire abilities, and it flies around the stage. She also presents a variety of fragrances she’s developed.
The guildmasters ask her pointed questions, all of which she answers with confidence. She’s invited into two of the Genesis guilds—the Ciphers and the Alchemists—as well as, to my surprise but apparently not to anyone else’s, Avant’s Blood Science guild.
“I would be honored to accept the position of journeyman to the Alchemist guild.” Hypatia’s voice rings out loudly.
The Alchemists erupt into cheers and cries of “Honor a Maker.” I cheer along with them. I’m so happy for her. This world is new to me, but Hypatia has been preparing for this day for years. I clap enthusiastically, and Hypatia smiles at me before she heads off the stage. Her parents, along with Rafe and Prince Alex, flock to embrace her, their faces glowing with pride.
After Hypatia, there is a slew of other apprentices, a few of whom multiple guilds compete over. One apprentice conducts a symphony of tinkling glasses—without even touching them—by manipulating the sound waves utilizing only her voice. The Cipher guildmaster argues hard for her, but the girl chooses to join the Artisans. Another apprentice—who created a hair dye that changes color in different temperatures—accepts an invitation from Bioscience. Besides Hypatia’s, the Avant guilds do not make any additional invitations.
Around me, the seats grow sparse.
And then the herald is saying the words “Next apprentice is Sire Ada Castle from New York. Seventeen years of age. Her mentor is Michelangelo Loew, Sophist master and provincial liaison.”
I walk up to the stage. The guildmasters all seem to be looking down their noses at me, thinking, Who is this impostor? She doesn’t belong here. Where are we supposed to put her?
A young apprentice has pushed over my table with my prepared materials.
“You may present your gallerie,” Bloche prompts.
I swallow, then begin to present my work, starting with my best drawings, including the circulatory system piece. I read a short story and then demonstrate my ability to revive a dying philodendron plant. I was really nervous about this part, as my Sire abilities tend to be inconsistent, but after a nervous false start, I manage the task quickly. I then exhibit my design for window curtains made entirely out of woven living plants. I’d thought this was too silly to include, but Hypatia had told me it’s the kind of thing the guildmasters like. I hope she’s right.
It’s time for my song.
I grit my teeth. I can do this. I’ve been practicing nonstop for two days.
I lift the guitar and start with easy strums the way Michael showed me, nothing too intricate or easy to flub until I become more comfortable.
The whole room is focused on me. How the hell does Kor do this in front of entire stadiums?
I start to sing, my voice only a little shaky.
These hands of mine
Could sculpt a human out of stone
Could draw the views of worlds unknown
Could paint something with soul
But instead
These hands of mine are stained only with mistakes
These hands of mine
Could pull your heartstrings with a song
Could learn the keys to play along
Could write a symphony
But instead
These hands of mine stumble over clumsy notes
I remember what Madam Adelina said, to find the truth of the emotions of the song instead of focusing on the technique. “Your world ruined your singing,” she’d yelled at me. “They made you think that things need to be perfect. But beauty is in the flaws of truth. Stop covering up the truth!”
I try to sing my truth.
These hands of mine
Could reach out so I’m not alone
Could plant the seeds to grow a home
Could hold your face between them
But instead
These hands of mine stay clutched behind my back
I try my best to block out the crowd, to sing for no one but myself.
Will I do more on this earth than waste away my hours?
Can I do more for the earth than one day become her flowers?
As the last notes die out, I take a moment to compose myself. Following Madam Adelina’s advice had brought on more emotion than I had intended, but I think it went okay. Maybe not great but at least a perfectly acceptable level of good.
I take a deep breath. “That concludes my gallerie,” I say.
Although I’m mostly pleased, I can’t help but notice how anemic my presentation was in comparison to the others.
Headmaster Bloche and some of the other guildmasters ask me questions about my strengths (plants) and weaknesses (math), specific interests (healing), and methods used in the work I presented. I answer everything as best I can.
“One last question,” Bloche says. “How did you open your guild box?”
“Excuse me?”
“The box that was part of your application. The method used to open it can be a useful indicator for affinity and guild fit.”
Oh. Was there more than one way to open it? And how come no one else was asked this question? Maybe only recruits get a puzzle box. Well, I’m not going to admit I tried to break it.
“I pricked my finger,” I say.
Every single guildmaster’s head shoots up at this.
“You used blood?” Bloche asks, with the faintest note of accusation. The gaze behind his smoky monocle bores into me.
“It was… an accident?” I respond.
The Blood Science guildmaster looks down in derision, but the others continue to stare at me quizzically.
Bloche clears his throat.
And then the Cipher guildmaster rises.
It’s starting.
She says, “While we recognize that you have a strategic mind that would be beneficial to the Cipher guild, you have made it clear that mathematics is not a strength, and it does not appear that your interests align with our guild at this time. We do not extend an invitation to our guild.”
I hadn’t wanted to join the Ciphers, but that doesn’t prevent the sting of rejection.
The Artisan guildmaster is already rising. He says, “Though it seems you have a propensity for art, considering that you are a Sire, we are surprised that you had not cultivated a more developed talent in any of the fine arts before arriving here, which may be a sign that it is not your true calling.”
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 entitled Tree 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. I will .
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. Our guild 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. I can fit 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 the mystical 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.