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 the noise. 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?”

“Yeah. That was a real head-scratcher.”

“How did you do it?”

“I wrote a program that input every combination of the music notes until one tune finally opened it. It took three days.”

Georgie amazes me. She’s so talented with her clothing design, her art, and her coding. She’s a Renaissance woman if I ever saw one. I wonder if I’ll be able to accomplish anywhere near as much as her if I spend more time at the institute.