The Tales of Tarya, Books 1-3

Chapter 6 - Truth and Tragedy-3

‘Superstitious fools,’ Roberto whispered.

They left the feast in the wagon and walked across the field without speaking. As they neared the pile of wood, Mina realised Aldo’s body lay on top. Her gasp caused Mama Tina to rush to her side and place a reassuring hand on Mina’s arm. She placed her arm around Mina’s shoulders as they approached Aldo’s body, guiding her to stand between Jal and Roberto. The players formed a circle around the pyre. Uberto stood at the head, with Mama Tina at the feet. Clothing, a hairbrush and a few pieces of folded paper nestled amidst the logs—everything Aldo had owned. Everything, that is, except the one thing that had defined his life.

Uberto lifted Aldo’s mask up to the sky. Mina could see a star gazing at her through each eye socket. Then Uberto lowered the mask, and passed it to Jal on his right. Jal nodded at the piece of leather, lifeless, empty, and passed it to Mina. She stroked the smooth cheek of the mask, silently wishing farewell to Aldo. She turned it over and saw the shape of Aldo’s face worn into the lining. She wondered whether there were other masks that had belonged to Aldo, when he was younger. Through the tears that threatened to fall, the image inside the mask wavered, and she imagined she saw Paolo’s face, impressed in the soft leather. The image struck her like a knife in the belly. Could there be a mask, somewhere in the wagons, that had been made for Paolo? She had told no one of her secret quest. With a start she realised everyone was staring at her and she passed the mask on.

During the endless hours of journeying on the wagon, Isabella had explained, along with a lot else, that every player, even those who didn’t wear one, made a mask as part of their training. But what could Mina do if she found Paolo’s mask? Go to Uberto and say, ‘This is my brother’s face, where is he now?’ No, she realised. If Aldo had lived, she might have been able to trust him. But Uberto was too unpredictable, despite his kindness. His reaction when she saved Aldo had shown Mina the world of the players wasn’t straightforward. There were too many shadows and secrets. Be wary, her mother had told her at their parting. It seemed like a long time ago now. Mina began to understand there might be some members of the troupe she could never trust.

Looking up, Mina realised Isabella, the last in the circle, had Aldo’s mask. The other girl lifted it and placed a whisper of a kiss on its cheek, then handed it back to Uberto. He reached out with the mask held in both hands and gently placed it on Aldo’s face. Then he picked up a branch that lay on the ground next to him and lit it with a tinderbox from his pocket. He passed the burning branch to Jal, who pulled at it until a smaller branch split off. Jal passed it to Mina, who saw it was a bundle of branches tied together. She took one and passed on the larger bundle.

Each player took a branch and passed on the others, until Uberto received a single remaining branch, which he raised high into the air. His eyes shone red, reflecting the flame. The other players also raised their branches to the sky and, taking their lead from Uberto, lowered them to the pyre. Mina stood frozen until Roberto took her branch and added it to the now burning pile. Mama Tina drew Mina away from the growing flames. Isabella and Lisette followed them.

‘Women don’t watch,’ Mama Tina whispered.

They hurried away into the engulfing night. Mina could hear a crackling and spitting behind them. Over her shoulder she saw a red glow that grew to a raging orange fury. She thought Mama Tina would take them to fetch the feast now, but instead they kept walking, until they left the field. A strange, unpleasant smell filled the air behind them. Lisette held her ever-present scarf up to her mouth and nose and hurried behind. Soon, the sound of running water could be heard, and Mina followed the others to a stream.

‘Wash now,’ Mama Tina said in a normal voice. She removed her shoes, tucked her skirt into its waistband and stepped into the stream. Then she scooped up water, splashing it over her arms and face. The others followed her example. Still they didn’t speak. Mina turned to face the distant field and saw a column of smoke, grey and wavering, climbing into the night air.

Mina stumbled on the pebbled stream-bed. The dark, and the smoke, and her hunger, made her feel faint and a little strange. She turned back to face the bank, thinking she would have to leave the stream before she fell, and saw flames across the sky. They had risen higher, licking at the smoke. A rushing sound filled Mina’s ears and she saw the smoke flow downward from the sky, like a great waterfall. She turned to the others to ask if they saw it too, but they were gone. Instead, floating on the stream was a beautiful carven boat, laden with red and orange and gold silken cushions. At its stern, a shadowy Aldo stood facing her. He was taller and much thinner, and surrounded by a gentle orange light.

Questions leaped into Mina’s mind. What did he have to tell her about Tarya? What was so bad about stealing dreams? Why, once she’d been to the Place of Dreams, would she be stepping onto a path from which there was no return? He must warn her! He had promised. Yet Mina couldn’t speak. Maybe it was just superstition, but if Lisette was right, Mina’s words might be enough to make Aldo stay, when he already looked healthier and younger than she’d ever seen. Whatever was waiting for him was better than what he had left behind.

The questions died in Mina’s throat, despite the frantic desperation of her thoughts. All she could do was watch, and smile a small smile, and wish him a safe journey in her mind as the boat moved away. He nodded to her, then turned to face the prow of the boat, and the vision faded. Then the roaring waterfall noise was gone. The distant crackles of the blazing fire remained.

Mina realised Mama Tina was watching her. Her eyes were impossible to read in the darkness. Isabella and Lisette continued to wash themselves, oblivious. Mina bent and scooped icy water over her arms. She splashed a stream of water across her brow, wiped her face and shook out her now damp hair, then followed the others out of the stream.

They waited by the running water, silent and growing cold in the night air as the distant smoke cloud became fainter. Once it was gone, Mama Tina led them back to the field. The pyre was gone. A black, ashy mound remained, its unusual length betraying its purpose. Aldo’s hairbrush was still visible in the ash, the wooden handle crumbled and charred but the metal prongs shining as though cleansed by the fire. No one looked too closely.

As the women approached, Uberto swept into his familiar bow then flung his arms skyward, a dramatic gesture.

‘Aldo has left us. He is freed. He is one with the Great Creator. Tarya is his eternal home.’

His stage voice disappeared as he smiled at the gathered players. ‘I hope they have plenty to drink in Tarya. Aldo’s appetites will no doubt be revived by the journey he has just undertaken.’

Most of the players laughed, but not Ciro. Mina looked at him properly for the first time since last night and was shocked. His shoulders were stooped and his face sunken. He looked years older, his face carved with bewilderment and pain.

Uberto spoke again. ‘No doubt the women have prepared a feast worthy of Tarya itself. Let your hearts be light! I know you have lost a brother, but he has gained a great freedom, and he would wish us to celebrate his life as he lived it.’

Uberto stepped through the circle of players to Mina, and drew her into his embrace, leading her toward the wagon. The others followed. He dropped his voice so those following might not hear.

‘Mina, sweetling, I know you have not long been with us, but I have seen how you became close with Aldo. After the events of last night you might feel somewhat responsible. You must not think in any way that …’

Mina stopped and faced Uberto. ‘I don’t.’

Mama Tina herded the others around them, leaving Mina and Uberto standing at the edge of the field. She began to bark commands regarding the setting up of the feast. The players followed her example and began talking, almost too cheerily, so Mina and Uberto’s words were mere whispers in the darkness.

‘I know I’m not responsible. Ciro is. Do you know what happened?’

Uberto nodded. ‘Ciro spoke with me about it last night,’ he said.

‘What are you going to do about it?’

For once Uberto seemed without a ready answer. He shrugged, a sad, heavy gesture.

‘Uberto, I’m not the first. Isabella has told me what Ciro is like. If not for Aldo it would have been worse. I hate to think what might have occurred in other towns. Perhaps everything they say about us is because of Ciro. Perhaps …’

‘No, Mina.’

The players were unpacking the blankets and feasting gear, laying them out near the wagon. Roberto and Jal lit candles and hung them in coloured glass bowls with silver chains from the curlicues at the corners of the wagon. Uberto and Mina stood outside their circle of light.

‘Mina, listen to me. You are one of us now. You live by our rules. Player rules. Ciro is also one of us, and has been so far longer than you. I know what he is. You are young. Everything seems simple to you. But Ciro is not all he seems. I am sorry for what happened to you. Or, to be precise, nearly happened.’

He held up a warning hand as Mina made to speak.

‘And what did happen to Aldo. But you must think like an Innaroi now, if you are to remain one. There are enough who wish to destroy us, or at least condemn us, in the places to which we travel. We do not condemn our own. There are shades of darkness in all of us, child. You will find your own, do not doubt it. Do not judge others theirs.’

A frustration welled up inside Mina. How could this be? It seemed so simple to her. Ciro had attempted to r**e her, and now Aldo was dead because of it. How could Uberto condone this? How could he allow Ciro to remain?

Uberto took her hand. She tried to pull away, without success.

‘Mina, I want you to watch Ciro. Do not think he takes any joy in this. He is an old man, pretending he is still a young man. In a way we all pretend, playing some part or another. Aldo played a part himself, always smiling and eating and drinking. When dreams die, sometimes playing is all that remains. You will learn. You will see beneath the masks of those around you, as you become older. It is not only onstage that we don a mask. Lovers in real life are themselves for such a brief time. Then the years take their toll, hopes fade and …’

Uberto’s eyes seemed faded now, no longer bright and gleaming. Yet Mina wasn’t sure whether this was an illusion. So much about him seemed to shift and change, leaving her uncertain of who the real Uberto was. It wasn’t just that he played a part, either. The real Uberto was a different person from second to second, just as his eyes shifted with each change of light or mood.

‘Mina, you are strong and sure. You would not have stayed with us as a player if you were not exceptionally gifted. What we do is difficult, believe me. It requires stamina, and talent, and quick thinking. But it also requires strength, to travel as we do, to live with change all the time. And it requires perception. We see things and bring them to life on our stage. I need you to see now, Mina. See Ciro as he really is. Give him this much respect. Then come back to me and tell me how you judge him. Then we will talk about this again.’

Mina looked deep into Uberto’s eyes and wasn’t sure what she saw there. One moment he was almost threatening, the next pleading. Now he looked terribly sad.

‘We have lost a dear friend. This is a difficult time, young Mina. For all of us. Tonight we mourn. Tomorrow, we resume our work. That does not mean we put our mourning aside, be sure of that. In our hearts, we will all mourn for longer than we would care to think about. But we must eat, and to eat we must play. You must learn the secrets of Tarya, and we have many preparations to complete before we reach Aurea. Now, back to the wagon. The feast awaits us.’

Uberto released Mina's hand. Inside, she still seethed. He was going to do nothing about Ciro. For now, at least. But she could wait. She banked her anger to a flickering coal inside her heart, not forgotten, but set aside until a fire was needed. There were other matters at hand. As she walked away it came to her that the incident with Ciro gave her the excuse to walk away. But why should she, and he get to remain? Beneath the laughter and onstage antics a whole world waited. Tarya. A place of power, and of secrets. A place that frightened her, and called to her. Dario and Aldo had tried to warn her, although she wasn’t clear about what. If she left now, would she be free of the shadows she could feel gathering? Tonight, now, she could leave the players, and no one would question why. Tomorrow it would be too late. She would be one of them.

Chapter 7