Chapter 4 One Aeon Pre-Great War
One Aeon Pre-Great War
The ceremony was a formality for Lila, as most things were.
Still, with all the other graduates of their class, she and Castor filed into the sweeping grandeur of the newly finished Great Hall where they waited their turn in a corridor tiled from top to bottom with stunning geometric mosaics.
The greens, blues, and golds of the tiles glittered in the light filtering through the circular skylights between each pointed arch in the creamy yellow limestone arcade.
Someone coughed. Another graduate cleared their throat. Lila peered down at her embroidered gold slippers, unused to feeling cloth instead of stone under her bare feet.
Her graduating class had been issued shoes for the occasion, and soon they would be issued gold pins with the insignia of the artisan guild they would be joining.
Though they’d been giggling in lines together since childhood, most everyone was hushed, too aware of the sanctity of what was happening in the next room, beyond the final lancet arch.
Only the thud of the gold double doors closing and the footsteps of a graduate leaving the chamber could occasionally be heard.
It was just as well; Lila was in no mood to giggle.
Unfortunately, Castor was in the mood to talk.
“I don’t know why they insist on making us wait here like children,” he complained in Lila’s ear. “We could be enjoying the banquet already, but no. At the very least, they could offer refreshments. A goblet of wine, perhaps?”
“Castor…hush,” Lila snapped through clenched teeth.
Glancing around them, he remarked with a frown, “I don’t see who I’m bothering.”
“Some angels like to have a quiet moment of reflection before they dedicate the rest of their existence to a particular field.”
“Well, it’s not like they haven’t known about the ceremony forever. What’s the big deal?”
Lila sighed. It was like talking to masonry.
Thankfully, the student before them exited—Cleo—with a sigh of relief and a wry grin to those still waiting.
Suddenly, it was Lila and Castor’s turn.
Lila hurried ahead of Castor and propped open the heavy gold door, with a nod to Cleo for holding it open. Scowling at Lila, Castor marched in—the bejeweled gold circlet atop his flowing black hair slightly askew—and Lila followed. The door thudded behind them.
Neither of them had seen the Artisanal Chamber of the Great Hall before, and Lila couldn’t help but gasp as she took it all in.
The architect Mauritius had designed this room; he had specialized in glasswork, from what Lila knew of him, and the floor-to-ceiling stained-glass windows on both sides of the chamber were a testament to this fact.
Colored light splashed across the beige marble floor as Lila and Castor crossed the length of the room with him in front and Lila trailing behind.
Though she couldn’t inspect the details too closely, Lila noticed that each window, set in its own lancet arch, featured an image of a different artisan craft being performed. One window per guild. Six windows on each side. Twelve windows in total.
There were carpenters, who crafted anything made out of wood, but nothing of particular interest to Lila.
Blacksmiths, who crafted anything made out of metal, including tools, jewelry, and structural supports for buildings.
Glassworkers, who produced all types of glass for use in decorations and in functional designs such as windows.
Stonemasons, who specialized in sculptures, ceramics, and the building blocks of all stone structures, including the marble floor beneath Lila’s feet and the limestone framing the stained glass.
Weavers, who produced the angels’ robes as well as all the fabrics used throughout Heaven. Ornamental rugs and tapestries, event banners and tablecloths, that sort of thing.
Painters, who specialized in painting and drawing. They produced illustrations for manuscripts, murals for buildings, and backdrops for theatre scenes, along with other decorative artworks.
Botanists, who cared for and studied the plants used in decoration and cuisine.
Thespians, who provided entertainment in the form of music and play-acting. They also prepared and delivered speeches for important events, such as the graduation banquet.
Culinarians, who prepared food and drink for common meals and special events.
Scholars, who either became instructors, performed specific research and messenger duties on behalf of guild councils, or worked in the Library. Some of their tasks included keeping records of the angels’ history, producing calligraphic art, and developing new types of paper for use in scrolls.
Warriors, the most secretive of all guilds. In Lila’s opinion, they weren’t so much building something as they were keeping something from being destroyed, but in any case…
Finally, architects. The ones who designed and planned new architectural projects, including those involving stone, jewels, metal, glass, wood, and special features such as water and plants.
To be an architect, in Lila’s opinion, was to be at the highest level of any of the guilds.
Usually, one became an architect after first specializing in one of the other areas, then receiving additional training in design work.
Preferably, an architect had a thorough understanding of all the arts, or at least the ones pertaining to the field of architecture.
Lila had applied to be an architect once; she’d also applied to be in metalworking. She’d been turned down on both counts, but that was to be expected. She thought she must have a dreadful sense of humor, the way she liked to play practical jokes on herself.
Her as an architect? Sure. When the Void opened up and refused to swallow them, it would happen.
As it was, she’d been sorted into woodworking along with Castor. The dullest of the guilds. The one requiring the least natural aptitude and the least industrious attitude, or so Lila assumed based on Castor’s defining characteristics.
At present, she and Castor had reached the front of the chamber, where Master Zachariah, the head carpenter of the woodworking guild, stood with the heads of the other respective guilds on a raised platform.
Behind the group, a shallow alcove contained a limestone table, atop which sat a collection of gold insignia pins, a scroll with the official seal of the Library, and a stick of burning incense inside a shallow gold bowl.
The smoke from the incense tickled Lila’s nose, and she tried to refrain from sneezing.
A short, sinewy angel, Master Zachariah stepped forward and unrolled the scroll, which Lila knew to be the oath of faithfulness to their chosen craft—chosen usually meaning some mystifying mixture of personal preference, natural aptitude, and guild approval, though in Lila’s case it meant none of those things.
Master Zachariah instructed Castor and Lila to bow their heads, and Lila stared at her unfamiliar gold slippers while Castor, in her stead, answered the master carpenter’s questions and repeated the required affirmations.
“Do you pledge to perform your best work, to serve all of Heaven with your gifts and talents? Do you pledge to assist others in the woodworking guild in times of need?” The deep timbre of the master’s voice boomed throughout the chamber.
“Yes, Master. Yes, Master,” Castor replied.
Lila chewed the inside of her cheek.
“Do you pledge to uphold the seven virtues of master artisans, those being patience, perseverance, discipline, discernment, humility, unity, and variety?”
Lila blinked.
“Yes, Master,” Castor replied.
“Excellent. Please hold out your hands for the blessing.”
Lila fisted her white robes.
“Carpenter Lila?…Carpenter Lila?”
She jerked her head up. Master Zachariah was eyeing her with amusement, as though she’d missed a joke.
“Yes?” she croaked, then cleared her throat. “Yes, Master?”
“You may hold out your hands for this part.”
“Oh.” Lila imitated Castor, extending her arms out with the palms of her hands facing upward.
Master Zachariah placed his dark palms above Castor’s pale ones first. Then he droned some more. A litany of blessing written by the Creator when the first angels had been tasked with the work of adorning Heaven in splendor.
Having finished with Castor, the master hovered his hands over hers, and as he spoke, her palms tingled. Sparks flew up from her skin, and her hands glowed with pure light.
Then the blessing concluded, and Lila felt nothing again.
Master Zachariah stuck their newly minted insignia pins onto the collars of their white robes: two crossed hammers. As Lila watched him thread the needle through the thick fabric, the weight of the pin felt like a foundation stone being laid on her chest.
A final suffocation.
In the Banquet Hall, Lila and Castor sat with Beni, Eva, and Adrianna, just as they’d always done.
Each oak table had been decorated with tea candles and a large centerpiece of flowers cast in resin.
Once all the noodle dishes, bean stews, curries, quiches, and savory herb pies had been cleared away, the centerpiece served as a dessert board with a variety of fruits and honeyed cakes.
Violin music floated on the aether amid the raucous laughter surrounding them, and wine flowed steadily into golden cups.
The hall itself was a massive stone chamber with crisscrossing wooden arches and more stained-glass windows.
Long oak tables dominated most of the space, but there were a few smaller ones set around the periphery of the room, and they’d commandeered one of these.
Front and center, a wooden dais ornamented with many jewels offered a speaking platform where earlier one of the graduating thespians from their class had given a farewell speech and a toast.