I’m here, in this place where I can learn to use my abilities, at the same institute great minds like Ada Lovelace attended. I know I have a job to do for the Families, but, for a moment, I let myself imagine that I’m here just to learn from these people.

I can’t wait to start.

8

The next day is a kaleidoscope of newness. My morning starts at the infirmary, where a slender redhead with a slightly hunched back named Kaylie Botticelli gives me a host of inoculations. Kaylie’s a master of the Bioscience guild (amber hoop guildstone, I’m learning), and she’s kind and extremely patient with all my questions. She also gives me a diamond earring, which is apparently something all Sires wear. I’ve never owned anything so valuable in my life, and I keep checking to make sure I haven’t lost it yet.

The first class that I attend is Testaments, taught by Master Bose, who I met in the forest yesterday. The Testaments are the written records of the Makers, including the History Testaments (recorded Maker history), the Council Testaments (Maker laws), and the Testaments of the Prophets (recorded prophecies because, oh yeah, apparently prophecy exists, and being a Prophet is also a “perfectly normal genetic condition”). The class is currently studying the prophecies of a woman named Psalm, as well as those of her daughter, Chorus, the last known Prophet, who I have not failed to notice has the same name as whoever Michael and the headmaster were discussing yesterday.

I recognize that all the Testaments are full of information that will be useful for the Families, but it seems irrelevant for helping Grandfather, so I’m eager to move on to my next class, which could make all the difference.

Ha’i class is specifically for apprentice Sires to master control of their Ha’i—crucial information for the Families and for me. The sooner I learn how to use my Ha’i, the sooner I can learn how to use it to heal.

The class is in a candlelit room with a grass floor and a man in the corner playing a combination of lyre and singing bowls. The instructor, Master Liu, is a graceful older woman with her hair in a long silver braid who guides everyone through various meditations using movements reminiscent of tai chi.

My head spins with the knowledge that everyone in the room must have abilities like mine. I have never met another person that I knew to share my condition, and my heart seems to pound with the excitement of no longer being alone. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, listening to the echoes of the singing bowls and feeling the grass beneath my feet. But the wonder of it all doesn’t quite subdue my frustration at how impractical these slow movements feel when I just want to learn how to use my abilities quickly.