The Tales of Tarya, Books 1-3

Chapter 10 - Vigil-1

VigilDespite Vincenzo’s comments about the treatment of Innaroi, after leaving the wagons the troupe were led to the grand front entrance of the palace by a waiting steward in a black tabard emblazoned with a silver seven-pointed star. There they were greeted by the lord chamberlain and led inside to an astonishing spiral staircase of immense proportions, carved of black marble streaked with silver. Upstairs, they were led through another set of enormous doors into a great exhibition hall filled with sculptures, paintings, jewellery—every kind of art imaginable—resting on marble plinths. Enormous pictures adorned the walls, each made entirely of many painted tiles, like the buildings in the streets. The chamberlain led them to a door cleverly painted to look like another picture on the wall. Passing through, they stood in a room equally immense, lined with wood panelling and teeming with people.

‘This is the artisans’ wing,’ the chamberlain announced. He then departed, leaving them to face the stares of several hundred people.

Though some looked much like anyone from the streets of Aurea, there was a wild, untamed energy about many others. Mina returned their greetings, wondering at their colourful hair and clothing, their lithe bodies, and the profusion of jewellery. After their initial appraisal, the crowd resumed their work of carrying in boxes, rolled scenery and other paraphernalia, setting these up around the hall.

Long rails stood against the walls, bulging with costumes. The centre of the hall contained four long banquet tables. Now, though, they were laden with a cornucopia of creativity: bright fabrics, bizarrely shaped bags, musical instruments and more, much to the dismay of a number of palace servants. As fast as they were able to convince an artisan to remove his gear from the table, another two would appear with more boxes or bags. It looked like a war might break out between the stiff, conservatively attired servants and the artisans with their knotted hair and bright clothing.

Amidst this chaos another servant greeted the troupe. He didn’t bother to introduce himself, but led them beyond the hall and along the full length of a quiet corridor with many open doors revealing small, makeshift bedrooms. Just before the players reached the end of the corridor, where a wrought iron spiral staircase led downward, their guide stopped at a door with a sign reading ‘Gazini Players’ and beckoned for them to enter.

‘All of us?’ Mina whispered to Dario, who had stayed close to her.

He nodded. ‘We won’t spend much time here,’ he replied softly, ‘but we’ll be warm!’

As the troupe made the cramped room as habitable as possible, Jal explained that usually the Royal Troupe of Players and other royal performers resided in this wing.

‘Not only that,’ Isabella added, ‘but an entire section of the city is set aside for artisans of all types to live, work and sell their arts. Imagine, having a house provided because you’re known to be a great artiste!’

‘My father’s a sculptor in the city,’ Jal continued. ‘He wasn’t selected for the competition this time though. I grew up in the artisans’ quarters so of course I had to become arty, but I don’t think player was on my parents’ list!’

He smiled a half smile that turned into a full grin as his stomach growled loudly.

‘Let’s go and eat some royal food!’ he declared, and led the way back to the crowded banquet hall, where they found a grand repast being set out for all the festival performers. The servants had won the war of the banquet tables, for now, with the aid of this feast. There were fruits and cheeses dappled with herbs or dried fruits, pastries in the shape of winged animals, meats of uncertain provenance, even fish, despite Aurea’s great distance from any port.

Lunch was a truly egalitarian affair too. There was no seating, so everyone sat on the floor. Players mingled with story tellers and musicians, while artists sat chatting with dancers, all enjoying the company of other creative people. Mina sat with Mama Tina and Dario, but the rest of the troupe dispersed to catch up with old friends. Despite what she’d learned on the road, Mina saw no sign that any group of artisans looked down on any other. They all seemed genuinely thrilled to encounter friends they had met at previous festivals, or on the road, regardless of their profession. Lisette found another woman from Rien, and the two started talking at speed in their own language.

After the socialising and eating had been going on for some time, Uberto gathered the troupe together and led them back past their room and down the wooden stairs, to a door that led outside. Hedges blocked their view.

‘No exploring now,’ Uberto said. ‘I don’t want to send out a search party!’

‘It’s just a garden,’ Luka said.

Mama Tina laughed. ‘No, it’s a maze. Enter it and you may never find your way out again. If we stay close to this edge we reach the stables, but follow any of those enticing paths and someone will have to come find you. The maze is changed each year, and two servants alone know its secrets, so you could be lost in there a while!’

The troupe stuck close to the edge of the maze until they were back at the stables and their wagons. They fetched their props, masks, and costumes, taking many trips up the spiral stairs, along the corridor and back to the artisans’ hall. During these journeys, Mina learned they wouldn’t perform on their wagon, but on a stage within the palace. If she’d thought about it before now she would have realised they couldn’t drive their wagons into the palace to perform, but it was a shock to realise she wouldn’t perform on the stage she knew well.

‘This is everything,’ Mama Tina said finally, loading Mina with costumes. ‘Nothing more to take into the palace.’

It was then, away from the magnificence and the crowds, that Mina remembered her terrible discovery of that morning. Aurea’s wonders had made her forget the dark truth behind playing, but now the burden of knowledge resettled on her shoulders.

With its return she knew she must act. But who could she trust? Did everyone know the devastating effect of breaking the gold threads? Or no one? Whoever had harmed Paolo knew. And she had no idea who that was.

Mama Tina nodded to one of the grooms in the stable. ‘We’re done,’ she said. The man nodded back, and immediately four grooms led the horses back into their traces.

‘The wagons will be stationed elsewhere,’ Mama Tina said to Mina and Luka, the novices.

Trying to think, Mina stopped to farewell Petruchio to buy time. Maybe the Council of Muses could resolve her dilemma. All she knew was that they judged the festival competition. But they must have other roles. She watched the wagons drive out of the palace grounds, and realised Dario was waiting for her. Mama Tina stood behind Dario and for the first time Mina wondered whether she was always under close watch, and if so, why?

Instinct told her Dario was a man of integrity. The weight of what she knew was a burden she had to share. Nodding her head just a fraction, she tried to communicate to Dario wordlessly that she needed to talk. She felt her breath release when Dario seemed to understand.

‘Mama, can Mina and I have some time alone?’ he asked. ‘We won’t get any during the festival.’

Mama Tina took an eternity to respond. ‘Of course,’ she said with a small smile. ‘If you want privacy you could enter the maze, but stay close to the edge. It’s nearly sunset and we don’t have time for two players to become lost.’

Mama Tina turned, her arms full, and headed back to the artisans’ wing. With a smile, Dario led Mina to the maze entrance. Immediately the path split, and he hesitated. Mina drew him forward along the left fork.

‘No Mina, we can’t go any further,’ Dario said. ‘We’ll get lost.’

An idea struck her, and with a smile she hung one of the costumes she carried on the hedge, using a sleeve to point the way they had just come. Dario smiled and walked willingly through two more intersections, helping Mina set up the ghosts of costumes to guide them out. When Mina felt they were sufficiently distant from the edge of the maze, and the possibility of being overheard, she turned to Dario to speak her concerns. But before she could speak, he swept her up in a passionate kiss, and their armloads of costumes fell to the ground around their feet.

Mina enjoyed the kiss for a time, but the pounding in her heart wasn’t solely because of Dario.

‘Wait, stop,’ she said finally, pulling back. ‘Dario, I have to talk to you.’

He searched her eyes, his arms still around her. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’ve learned … something terrible,’ Mina said. ‘You’re the only person I trust. I don’t know what to do.’

‘What is it?’ Dario asked, gripping her arms, his face furrowed with worry.

‘What does the Council of Muses do?’

‘Well, they judge who’ll become the royal artisans.’

‘But the rest of the time?’

‘Oh. Well, they arbitrate disputes between artisans. And they establish rules, ensure they’re kept. People say they’re less concerned about players than other artisans, but …’

‘So if they found out an artisan was doing something wrong …’ Mina interrupted.

‘They would deal with it, yes. Why, Mina?’

‘Do you remember the day on the beach, when you told me I should leave the players? Were you going to tell me about the dreams? About stealing dreams? Or about the gold threads?’

‘What about the golden threads?’ Dario asked, and Mina felt a chill pass over her at the wariness in his voice.

‘Do you know what happens when we break the gold threads?’

Dario nodded, and Mina felt a cold sweat break out over her body. If she’d been wrong in trusting Dario, she had just led herself into a maze of danger.

‘Of course, Uberto tells us when we first create a new character. There are Il Capitanos in every troupe, but they each have their own name and history. I learned to play using one character, but to make Il Capitano my own I had to take on a new character. So Uberto taught me how to harvest the gold threads. It’s dangerous, because it can make the person very ill.’

‘But does it have any lasting effect, that he’s told you?’

‘Not really, not if we do it properly. I can’t tell you how it’s done, because you have to learn from Uberto, and there’s a ritual. But Uberto’s done it for years, and players before him, for two and a half centuries. The threads re-grow, then people recover.’

‘And what’s their illness?’

‘Oh, being really tired, without energy. It lasts a couple of weeks.’

‘Dario, have you seen anyone like this?’

Dario shook his head vigorously. ‘I don’t think that’s possible. I think, though Uberto hasn’t really said, but he’s hinted, that you can’t meet the real person or you’ll lose the character again. I haven’t thought about it much.’

Dario turned away, clearly agitated. When he turned back, he brushed his hand through his shoulder length hair, worry clear in his brown eyes.

‘It’s not like that, is it, Mina? You know what really happens.’

Mina nodded.

Dario continued. ‘I’ve never thought about it … I heard all this from a young age, but I’ve never questioned it. I’ve never felt good about breaking the threads, and I’ve always thought there must be consequences. Oh, we all say the dreams are left over, or that we’re only making people a little sick, but we know those dreams still belong to people, when we transform. We sense it. And sometimes I see people who look … kind of hollow. But if we didn’t use the dreams, or break the threads … how would we play? We’d have no scenes, no characters, nothing to show the audience. Dreams are the stuff of life. Without them, our performances would mean nothing.’

Mina closed her eyes and asked quietly, ‘What did you feel when you broke a gold thread?’