For Every Star in the Sky

Chapter 5

Manners Maketh the Man

That lunch I went with Almus and Peter to the tailor and watched as Peter fretted when the tailors took measurements, held up swaths of fabric, and conversed with Almus. Peter turned to me, plucking at the plain white linen that was tacked to him by magic and had pencil marks all over it. One of the tailors was actually a Witch, I found out, and I marveled at the way she used her wand to make the tape measures move this way and that. Apparently, she worked together with her husband, an ex-artisan to produce exquisite hand crafted Artisan's robes. An Artisan, you see, didn't purchase formal robes very often as they were so very expensive and were instead usually owned by The House and passed around. An Artisan would go to a lesser tailor and have the House's robes magically altered to fit. However, it was a tradition to purchase a personally tailored formal robe for the Artisan's first Public Debut and then another for their Private Debut.

The tailor-fitting seemed to go on for hours and Peter was fidgeting more and more until finally the Witch pronounced him done. We had to race back through the streets of Eos to get back to the Academy and even then we were late for our Customs lesson.

Customs, was probably one of the most boring lessons that had ever been invented. Our teacher too, was extremely strict and made us repeat things sometimes more than twenty times before we got them right. The lesson covered everything from how to walk and talk, which was usually learned at a very young age, to who was who in the Wizarding world, how to make a goblin smile and how to hold your temper while being insulted. Peter had started private tuition only this week in preparation of his Debut. The class was even more boring without him and I was very glad when it was finished.

When we arrived home at 2.30, we had not yet finished for the day. Almus, who was also our teacher, then took us for another two hours of lessons. When i'd first arrived these included writing and reading, nowadays they included anything Almus could think of. Since we turned eleven, we had learned to play Quidditch, a very popular Wizarding sport. Almus had told us that a good Artisan was one who could do almost anything their client might ask of them and do it well. Quidditch was a distinct possibility and Peter and I had taken to it like ducks to water and within no time at all we were learning tricks and impressive stunts and we were both jumped at a chance for a bit of light hearted fun. We were therefore sorely disappointed to arrive home to find Almus waiting with a stack of books on the study table.

At the look on their faces, he smiled apologetically. "Sorry boys, we can't have you injuring yourselves so close to your Public Debut now, can we?"

Peter and I groaned and sat down for a couple of hours of torture. When I excused myself for the toilet, half an hour in, an idea occurred to me and I snuck down to my room. Pulling my mahogany box out from under my bed, I opened it and took out the scaly, leather bound book that had been tucked away in there for years. It was the book the old lady had given me that day, so many years ago. I had never managed to open it. The metal clasp had remained shut no matter what I had tried. I now thought of the way I had grasped hold of the magic and channeled it through my body and out into the locked door I had manipulated in my Elemental Arts class earlier that day. Closing my eyes, I concentrated hard on the book's lock. At first nothing happened and then I could feel the particles shifting until I heard a little click and the lock slid open.

Grinning like a maniac, I stuffed the book down my robes and made my way back to the study room where Peter had his head down in a dusty tomb and Almus was making notes on some parchment. Picking up a large book I slid the smaller book inside it and gently opened it.

The pages were made of thick parchment that had faded with age, particularly around the edges where the light had touched them. The first page had only three words and a line of symbols on it:

Aurelius Ambrosius. Annus CDLVII.

I had to work hard to suppress my groan. I knew only the little Latin that Almus had taught us, if the whole book was written in dialect I was stuffed. Frowning in concentration I tried to remember what the symbols meant. 'Annus' meant year, I was certain of that and it therefore logically followed that the symbols would be the year. 'VII' meant seven, but that was as far as I got. I must have let out a frustrated sigh because Almus looked up at me with a sharp look and I quickly buried my head back into the tomb. Flipping to the next page, I was surprised to find a paragraphs of writing in a different, but equally unfamiliar language. The interesting part was the that the text was hand-written in an elegant script and every couple of pages was a gap and a figure at the top before the script continued. This was a diary, I realised. The diary of Aurelius Ambrosius.

I signed again and shut the diary, discretely locking it and slipping it back under my robes. Some help that would be, I thought sourly. It wasn't the answers to all my questions, as the old lady had suggested. Instead it was a diary written by a person i'd never heard of, in a language I couldn't read.

Dinner came not a minute too soon and we both tucked in as though we hadn't eaten in days. There was a strained silence at dinner. Ardor and Alcedo had been arguing again. Almus noisily rumpled his paper and gave them both a stern look. Peter rolled his eyes across the table at me and I stifled a laugh, absentmindedly cooling my tea with a wave of my hand. When I noticed Aphrodite watching me with a longing, I flushed red with embarrassment and dropped my gaze. While I was very happy to be so talented at elemental magic, sometimes I couldn't help thinking it was just one more thing that made me different from other Artisans. I was also keenly aware that Aphrodite for all his beauty, was spectacularly untalented and would have given away all his good looks to become only a fraction as talented as either Peter or me. I realised it must be particularly difficult to not only be shown up at the Academy, but also to have it rubbed in your face once you got home as well.

Fortunately, Mrs. Pendragon broke the tension with a change of subject. "You won't be going to lessons tomorrow, Peter. You're to come with me to the temple. It's time for your seeing."

Peter looked up and chewed his lip nervously. Glancing around the table, I could see that the others all looked bored,although Aphrodite looked a little white. The temple, wasn't really a temple. It was a very old white stone building that stood next to the S.C.A.R.A.B in the main plaza. It was the place where every Eos Artisan had their name seeing. The idea of replacing your name with another one was very symbolic for an Artisan and had been done since the very earliest records. It was the first step in becoming a recognised Artisan, the first stage of adulthood.

I had witnessed Aphrodite's name reading the previous year and understood the basics of the ritual. The actual process involved two parts; name seeing and name reading. The name seeing was conducted by a group of the most re-knowned seers. They often took several days to agree on a suitable name. The name reading then occurred on the night of their Debut, in a private ceremony at the House. I gave Peter a sympathetic, but envious smile. He grinned nervously back, pushing his plate aside.

"I'm so nervous." Peter complained. "I need to do something to take my mind off it." He looked hopefully towards the hallway where the broom cupboard lived. Almus sent him him an amused look from over his paper that clearly said there was no way he was going to let us play Quidditch.

Mrs. Pendragon stood, summoning a house elf to clear their plates. "You can both help go and help you brothers get ready." She said, giving Peter a stern look. "You're not the only one who has a debut coming up. Aphrodite passed his final test today and it has been decided his Private debut shall take place tomorrow. Tonight will he will performing at the theatre."

I exchanged a guilty look with Peter. In the excited nervousness surrounding their own debut's we had completely forgotten the Aphrodite's was so imminent. I studied my brother's stark white face with a sudden sympathy.

"Come on," Almus said gently, a hand on Aphrodite's shoulder. "Let's get you dressed."

Aphrodite rose, shakily and made his way to his room, Peter and I following silently behind. Aphrodite stripped to his under robes and sat facing the mirror. Peter and I sat on the bed and watched in fascination as Almus and are elder brothers worked simultaneously to transform the red-haired boy, occasionally fetching and holding things.

I had of course seen my brother's preparing for clients hundreds of times, but I had never seen an Artisan preparing for a Debut before. When Aphrodite had been preparing for his public debut, over a year ago, Peter and I had been banished to our room for being too noisy. To see the transformation actually happening in front of my eyes was breath-taking and sent an excited sort of tingling sensation down my back.

A skin toner was applied on Artemis's face, neck, arms and feet to hide any blemishes, giving him an even paler complexion. Dark make-up was then applied to his eyes and lips, while a delicate pattern was applied to his neck, arms and legs, in dark ink with a fine paint brush. The pattern was made up of intricate flowers and vines and when it was finished, a gold gilt paste was applied, making the pattern glitter as Aphrodite moved under the candle light. His hair was lightly coated with dragon scale wax and was painstakingly pinned high up on the back of his head in neat folds creating a flower-like effect and a single long plait laced with gold hung from the bottom. A few fine pins and a gold garland completed the headdress. The garland was pinned firmly just above his hair line, with a small blue-jeweled decoration hanging onto his forehead.

Finally, Almus attached two tiny bells to the end of Aphrodite's plait. "For luck." He explained.

When Ardor was satisfied the ink decoration had dried, he had Peter and I stand by Aphrodite and pass him garments of clothing. When he was fully dressed Alcedo pointed him to a full length mirror and I heard an intact of breath. The whole process had taken almost two hours and it had completely transformed Aphrodite. My brother, who was already extremely handsome, could now only be describes as exquisite. The look in his eyes had also changed. No longer was I looking at the nervous, untalented Artisan student that was normally my brother, instead I looking at an Artisan who was about to come into his full status as a professional Artisan. In that moment I knew that Aphrodite was ready, and more importantly, his lack of artistic talent wouldn't matter in the slightest. As my customs teacher also said, 'Manners and a sense of self-confidence are what makes a true Artisan'. Aphrodite was destined to become a great Artisan.

That night I lay in bed thinking about my childhood, something I had thought very little on in recent years. I remembered the day of my Uncle's funeral and the wish I had made and wondered if I would ever come a moment in my life when I knew, as Aphrodite had known that evening, that my destiny had arrived. I wondered if I'd ever find that the meaning I sought in my life, because despite it all, all the kindness I had received at the House, I still felt there was something missing, that another destiny was somehow still waiting for me. It was silly, I thought, I was happy here, much happier than i'd ever been with my relatives and the magic felt right, but something still didn't quite sit right, it was like I was somehow expecting more. It was a feeling I just couldn't shake.

Sighing lightly, I drifted off to sleep, images of gold garlands and ink patterns running though my head and sound of Peter's rhythmic breathing filling my ears.