The Tales of Tarya, Books 1-3

Chapter 5 - Transformations-1

Transformations‘Tell me about Katriela,’ Mina asked, pushing aside her anger that Lisette had led Rico to her. Although last time she saw him he had seemed dangerous and crazy, she realised she wanted to restore this girl who moved through the world as an empty shell. Here was a living example of how stealing dreams could leave a person broken.

The only difficulty was she had no idea where to start.

‘We should get the wagons off the road,’ Dario suggested, as she mused on the problem. Mina nodded, grateful for the time to think.

Half an hour later they had set up temporary camp at the side of the road, but Mina was no clearer about how to heal Katriela. Perhaps more information would help.

‘What was she like before she became like this?’

Rico’s words tumbled out as he spoke of Katriela’s shining beauty and love for life. Yet it was Carlo’s quiet interjections that brought a glimmer of hope.

‘She was a skilled seamstress,’ he said. ‘She could make the most beautiful garments, and all the ladies of Clusone came to her for their dresses. She hoped she might even be asked to make a dress for the queen one day. But our parents … well, I love them, but they wanted to keep Katriela working only for them.’

Seated nearby, Dario and Lisette exchanged glances. Lisette leaned forward, her voice low. ‘Rico, Carlo, would you excuse us a moment? We must talk a little.’

The men assented reluctantly, confusion clear in their expressions. Rico’s gentle manner in leading Katriela some distance away made Mina revise her opinion of him further.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘Sofia, we must ask you to leave too,’ Dario said. He noticed puzzlement on Luka’s face.

‘You haven’t been initiated as a player, have you?’ he asked the younger man.

Luka shook his head. ‘It all happened too quickly—they needed me for the festival but there was no time …’

‘We have an oath,’ Dario continued. ‘You’ll have to take it, and soon. But for now what you need to know is that there are certain things we can’t discuss in front of Reizi.’

Luka raised an eyebrow.

‘Non-players,’ Dario explained.

‘Non-travellers,’ Mina corrected. ‘Sofia knows about Tarya. She can touch it when she tells.’

The players turned to stare at the story teller. Mina drew them back to the conversation.

‘Dario, what is this? You have an idea. Tell me. I know the healing must involve Tarya, but beyond that I’m in the dark.’

‘It is not how to do healing,’ Lisette said. ‘It is the girl. We know her story.’

It was Mina’s turn to stare. After a moment she had it. ‘The Tale of the Ambitious Seamstress.’

Dario nodded. He had begun to teach her the story once, but Uberto had stopped him. It all fell into place for Mina.

‘No wonder Uberto wouldn’t let us perform it in Clusone. Rico went crazy enough without us performing his wife’s stolen dream for the entire town.’

Lisette nodded.

‘I know the feel of this canovaccio well. It is my one starring role. I could take you to it, in Tarya. But after that I do not know what to do.’

‘Canovaccio?’ Sofia interrupted.

‘The story,’ Dario explained. ‘It has a … well, it becomes real, in a way, in Tarya.’

‘Do you mean you can touch it?’ Sofia leaned in, her eyes intent.

‘I suppose, yes.’

Lisette continued her explanation. ‘But we only ever reach them to perform them. And we have not the masks. I cannot reach Tarya.’

‘But I never need a mask,’ Mina said. ‘I’m sure I can help you.’

Doubt was clear in Lisette’s expression, until Dario reminded her the Inamorati also never wore masks but still managed to transform.

‘I don’t think the normal rules apply when it comes to Mina,’ he said, glancing at Mina. A thrill she thought lost ran through her stomach. ‘What we know about Tarya is changing all the time.’

‘But she is special,’ Lisette protested. ‘Who is to say we can do as she does?’

‘I’ll teach you if I can,’ Mina said. ‘I’ll start by teaching you how to reach Tarya without a mask. Then you can show me how to find the canovaccio made up of Katriela’s dream of creating garments for royalty. After that I’m not sure what to do.’

‘I think I know,’ Sofia said.

~

After further discussion they decided to try their experiment in Pedon’s divina, since healing was a power gifted by the Creator. They rode back to the centre of town, where Sofia promised the town leaders an evening of storytelling to gain permission to use the divina. Dario stood guard at the entrance to discourage the curious.

The divina was small but immaculately clean. Benches carved with detailed dancing figures encircled the room in three rows. At the centre the Creator’s seat was a simple affair, burnished with age. From a distance it appeared carved with tiny images, but up closer it became apparent each carving was a name—many of them almost too small to read. Each represented a citizen of Pedon. However old the seat was, more than half its surface was still smooth, waiting for the names of the generations to come.

Paolo led Mina to the seat and, taking her hand, proudly showed her where ‘Colum’ was carved, at the edge of the tide of names creeping across the wood. He flitted away, seating himself on a pile of cushions against the curved wall.

Rico and Carlo sat on either side of Katriela, directly in front of the Creator’s seat. Mina almost couldn’t bear to look at the shining hope in Rico’s face. She made a silent wish for success. Lisette was wearing her servant’s costume, her hands fluttering restlessly, while Mina had donned her story teller outfit.

Luka sat at the back of the divina, watching Mina intently. It had been his suggestion to use this sacred space for what they were about to attempt, and though at first the idea had shocked everyone, they had quickly become comfortable with it once Sofia quietly said she thought it was appropriate.

Sofia whispered last-minute instructions to Mina. Though she had previously taken two apprentices, she again voiced her surprise at how quickly the younger woman absorbed every piece of story teller lore.

Finally the preparations were complete and they began. The first part was simple, in theory, for Lisette was very experienced in drawing canovaccio from Tarya’s Horizon to perform onstage. But after an hour of frustrated attempts, with Lisette failing to reach Tarya time and again, Mina’s gentle suggestion that they try once more caused Lisette to burst into tears and run from the divina. Rico stood and swore, jaw locked and eyes flaming.

‘I know the canovaccio too,’ Dario said. ‘I could try.’

Mina shook her head. ‘I have a feeling this is something Lisette needs to do. Let’s give her a little time.’

~

Lisette stumbled along the street, unaware of her surroundings, her failure a palpable weight on her shoulders. She needed a mask. She couldn’t reach Tarya otherwise. She’d never done it. Everyone was waiting for her, and the more gently they spoke to her, the more patient they seemed, the more it hurt that she could not do it. And she wanted to. The need to make things right burned inside her. She didn’t want to feel powerless anymore.

Lisette stopped in front of a taverna. Townsfolk sat at small tables, chatting and laughing as the afternoon sun faded. A handful of children played in the street with hoops and sticks.

One little girl caught Lisette’s eye. She was playing with the others, her pretty eyes glowing with laughter, blonde hair bouncing in beautiful curls off her tiny shoulders. Lisette watched her, tears forgotten. Her little Liliana had been the same age when she died. She would be fourteen now. In her mind’s eye Lisette pictured a young woman, beautiful, full of energy, excited about life.

She thought of Katriela, not much older but shattered and withdrawn. The dreadful waste of it bowed her down, and she slid to the ground, head in hands.

A tentative tap on her shoulder made her look up. It was the little girl. She held out a flower to Lisette, a fragile dandelion.

‘Shall we set the fairies free?’ she asked with a cheeky smile. Lisette nodded. Following the girl’s lead, she took an exaggerated breath, and they both blew as hard as they could. Tiny dandelion seeds danced away, were picked up by a current, and swirled into the air. The little girl clapped her hands.

‘They’re free. They’re free. They wanted to be free so badly.’

She skipped off, light as a dandelion seed. A spark ignited in Lisette. She ran back to the divina, shoving the door open, and strode to where Mina still stood next to the Creator’s chair. She glanced at Katriela, slumped on the front bench, dead eyes staring down at the wooden floor.

Lisette reached out for Mina’s hands and as she touched them she was surrounded by light. Cobwebs of gold and silver filled the air around them, and they stood on the Horizon. With a nod of her head, Lisette unerringly drew Mina with her toward a floating silver orb that swirled as though filled with shimmering oil.

~

Mina reached out a hand to the orb tentatively. Last time she had touched one of these she had seen the owner of the dream. Now the same thing occurred. As her fingers touched the surface it seemed for a moment she was back in the divina, standing directly in front of Katriela. Her eyes, and some other sense, told her there was something missing in the girl. There was no spark about her, no joy. Mina’s fingers passed through the orb’s shimmering surface. A searing heat swept over her hand and deep despair dragged at her. She watched as the silvery oil swiftly swam up her arm to engulf her entire body.

A cloud of hopelessness fogged her thoughts, but she shook her head and pushed it away. Instinctively she let energy flow from within her and felt it slowly dissolve the pain emanating from the surface of the orb. She reached deep into its core, sensing this was where she would find the heart of Katriela’s story. Then she was aware of standing in the divina again. She began to weave a tale. The words flowed easily as she described a young woman with vaulting dreams and aspirations. She spoke of the skill with which Katriela created dresses of exquisite perfection and how, when she did, she was at peace, sewing and designing.

She spoke next of Katriela’s family, who recognised her gifts and saw a way to exploit them, then of a loving young man who tried to help her. In a flash she realised this was Rico.

As the story flowed from her, filling the sacred space, the words arose from deep within. The story was part of her, and she part of it. Simultaneously she was in Tarya, watching fleeting images of Katriela’s life, and standing in the divina, sharing the gift of her tale.

A curious thing began to occur. In front of her, as the words reached the air, she began to see them, motes of dust that danced together in shapes she half recognised. Up close, they were intricate crystals in exquisite shapes. Mina understood they were a part of her that she was drawing out and shaping to form these living crystals. She watched them dance outward, specks of her being filling the room, cavorting around her listeners, then coming to rest finally around Katriela.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the listening girl began to change. Glinting dust motes settled onto her hair and skin, melting like snowflakes. Colour began to seep across her features. Her skin grew pinker and her eyes shifted from a washed-out nothing to a deep blue. As Mina continued to tell her tale, more and more of the motes infused Katriela with colour, until her skin began to glow.

~

For the others watching, it was Mina who glowed, as her tale held them captivated. Her voice rose and fell as she strode around the divina, spinning to face her listeners, drawing them in with the dramatics of her telling. Her descriptions allowed them to see Katriela’s home, and her parents, and the wealthy ladies who offered her employ.