Harlequin's Riddle

By Rachel Nightingale

When Mina joins a troupe of travelling actors, her aim is to find her missing brother, but her search unlocks a series of secrets that will change the world she knows forever.

Tarya, the mystical realm spoken of in tales, is real, and her gift for story telling opens a way to it. But Tarya has a shadow side, and someone in the troupe of actors is using it to harm people. Mina soon realises she may be the only one with the power to stop them. Harlequin’s Riddle is the first book in a Young Adult fantasy trilogy about the gift of creativity and where it can take you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Odyssey Books
• Release date: Jun 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781925652000

Book preview

Published by Odyssey Books in 2017

Copyright © Rachel Nightingale 2017

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

www.odysseybooks.com.au

A Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available from the National Library of Australia

ISBN: 978-1-922200-99-0 (pbk)

ISBN: 978-1-925652-00-0 (ebook)

Cover artwork by Nadia Turner (www.waywardharper.com)

Cover design by Jamie Le Rossignol

Harlequin's Riddle is dedicated to Bob Larkins—author,

wordsmith, fantastic father and my inspiration.

I would never have become a writer without him.

The Gazini Players

are proud to present

for your Edification and Enjoyment

Tales of great Joy, and of great Woe

as told by our magnificent Madama Narratori (Mina D’Aniello)

Will our lovers, Jal Fiorillo and Isabella Modini,

the most beauteous Inamorati in all of Litonya, find True Love?

Despite the wickedness of those rapacious old men

Il Dottore (Aldo di Castelli) and his infamous

partner in plots Pantalone (Ciro Lupini)?

Will the vain Il Capitano (Dario Gazini) achieve his foolish aims,

or will he be fooled himself by those most wily of Zanni,

the servants:

capricious Harlequin (Uberto Gazini himself!!)

nefarious Scapino (Roberto Anonza)

and plain-spoken Smeraldina (Lisette de Chansons)

as they aid and abet our lovers?

Enjoy the tumbles and tricks of hilarious lazzi

Watch brilliant burle, those scenes you know and love

In both canovaccio (one act) and scenario (three act) plots

and featuring the famous concetti, the renowned speeches,

Spoken by our own Master of Rhetoric, Aldo di Castelli

Addendum: The role of Il Dottore will be performed by

Vincenzo Maritsa, late of the Archiari Players.

Also, we are proud to announce the addition of a

Pierrot (Luka Parma)

Uberto Gazini would like to express his sincere thanks

for your generous patronage that will allow us

to continue our performances. He also wishes to thank

his beautiful wife, Cristina, for her undying support.

Prologue

Tarya

Shall I speak to you of dreams?

No, not of dreams. What I speak of lies before waking, but beyond sleep.

There is a moment, just before the dreamer stirs, when the mysteries of the world offer up their meanings. There is a moment, just beyond the ordinary, when perfection can be reached playing a melody or telling a tale. This moment is born in a world that lies between reality and dream. To reach it is as precious as life, but as dangerous as a nightmare.

In these in-between moments, when inspiration and meaning are a heartbeat away, I have seen the Shadow People draw eager breath and reach with empty fingers to snatch at stray dreams. But it is worse even than that. Their long grasp penetrates souls and hearts. In that moment hope is extinguished, destinies are changed, and the future falls into shadow.

Perhaps you will understand best if I show you. If I tell you my story, you can see, and know.

Where must the story begin? Some say each story has many beginnings, but I am a story weaver, trained to find the true heart from which a story can grow. If I am to tell truly, my story should begin with events that reached their end years before my brother and I were even born. Is that so strange? All stories are woven together in webs of great beauty, strength and, do not doubt it, tragedy. The simplest tale may have at its heart the distant past, or present secrets locked in deep caves, or a future we cannot even picture. But some secrets must not be told too soon.

We paid a great price, my friends and I, to uncover what had been hidden. I cannot give away truth lightly. So my tale will begin, as my journey did, with the day the players returned to Andon, a small, isolated town in the south of Litonya, drenched in endless sunlight. My father was one of few men who did not make a living from the sea that hissed and raged at the cliffs below the town. He loved Andon and never left it during his lifetime. He did not pass this love on to my brother Paolo. Paolo always said Andon was a village with pretensions, imagining itself a town. His dreams spoke of an exciting world beyond its confines, a world he could reach if only he stretched his arms out far enough. My uncle Tonio dreamed such dreams too, once. The problem is, if you hold the dream of something better before you, it shines so brightly that it casts long shadows. You can chase the brightness and not see the shadows that chase you. And if the dream dies, the shadows do not go away. I have seen them.

Chapter 1

The Players Arrive

Harlequin blew in with a summer storm, sweeping change before him. When the rain and fury settled, the cobwebs of Mina ’ s memory cleared and she remembered long-forgotten details from when her brother Paolo ran away to make his fortune as a travelling player. Before then she had remembered only the happy years of childhood, and the lonely years after he left. Paolo ’ s departure sat like a wisp of smoke, formless and dark, in her thoughts. Until Harlequin ’ s return.

A musical tinkling broke Mina’s concentration as she sat reading at her window seat. Curious, she opened her second-storey window and tried to make out what was happening in the distant village square. A large wagon lumbered into view, spilling out people whose clothes splashed scarlet and blue against the town’s white-washed buildings. The villagers, scurrying like ants in their drab colours, surrounded the newly arrived wagon.

Artisans! Across Litonya, artisans were regarded as living treasures for their talents. Unfortunately, they came to isolated Andon rarely. It was too much trouble.

Mina leaned from the window, trying to decide what type they were. They might be cirquers, with acrobatic tricks and funny costumes, or perhaps musicians. Not a story teller, because none travelled in such a gaudy contraption. Carefully placing the precious book on her bed, Mina raced downstairs. Her mother was waiting for her in the kitchen doorway.

‘I’m going to see what’s going on,’ Mina gushed.

‘Be back in time for dinner. Papa will be mad if you’re late.’

‘I know.’ Mina kissed her mother on her cheek. Behind Mama, seated at the table, Uncle Tonio looked up and gave Mina a sad, lopsided grin.

‘Do you want to come, Uncle? There’s something happening in the square. Artisans of some kind.’

Uncle Tonio rose up from his seat, a grin splashed across his face, nodding. Mama quickly stepped in to block his way.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mina,’ she murmured.

Uncle Tonio looked down, his shoulders slumped. ‘Want to go!’

‘Let’s find out what it is first,’ Mama said in her most soothing voice. ‘Mina can come back and tell us what she finds, okay?’

She helped Uncle Tonio back to his chair and grabbed a shawl that was draped there. Mama followed Mina out the front door and held it closed behind her, handing Mina the shawl.

‘If it’s travelling players,’ she said in a low voice, ‘don’t tell him.’

‘Why not?’

Mama shook her head. ‘Just don’t.’

Mina tried to hand the shawl back. ‘I won’t need this. It’s perfect weather today.’

Mama turned to re-enter the house. ‘Take it. There’s a storm coming.’

Mina walked the short distance to the town centre, puzzling over her mother’s words. Her parents had always spoken disparagingly of travelling players, but she had never known why. As far as she knew they had not played any role in the family tragedy. Before Mina was born, Uncle Tonio’s wife, Ana, died in a fire in the fruit shed. Mama had been crippled trying to save her. No one ever spoke of it, but once, Mina had seen the scars on her Mama’s legs, like great rivers running through the flesh. She’d never forgotten. After Ana’s death Uncle Tonio had changed, become like a child, but no one ever spoke of that either.

Mina put those thoughts behind her. At seventeen she was entirely bored with the steady, unchanging routine of her days, longing for colour and change. Today it appeared her wish would be granted. When she reached the square it became clear the visitors were travelling players. Their wagon dominated a quarter of the town square. Mina’s breath caught as she saw how its every surface was painted with landscapes of vibrant green fields and mountains so purple they almost didn’t look real. The colours were a little too garish to her eye, the proportions not quite right. But the pictures were vivid and exciting, easily catching everyone’s attention.

Most of Andon was bustling about, pretending to go about their business as they waited for the players to begin. Gradually they moved closer to the wagon, like wasps to a sugar well, chattering with nerves and excitement. They hushed momentarily as a tall man with long brown hair appeared from behind the wagon, a player in garish tights and bright tunic. He turned his back on them and opened the side of the wagon, a huge double door. Everyone drew a collective breath of anticipation.

On the inside of each door was an elaborate painting, one showing a sumptuous room, with cushions and gold leaf, and the other a stand that held a great book. The scenic paintwork was so vivid it could have been painted the day before. Behind the open doors emerald curtains hid the secrets of the wagon. Though these shifted a little, teasing, the wagon was otherwise still and silent amidst the expectant murmurs of the townsfolk. With so little to see, the crowd let out their breath again with a disappointed sigh. Mina thought the wagon was like a jewellery box with hidden compartments, and wondered what marvellous secrets might be revealed. Above the shimmering curtains were more paintings, too small to see, perhaps dancing lads and lasses. The tall man reappeared and placed a set of steps, blue as the sky, with clouds drifting across them, in front of the curtains, leading down to the audience.

Despite the movement of the curtain, nothing seemed to be happening, until a pipe and drum began playing music to dance to, although from where, no one could tell. As one, the crowd surged toward the emerald curtain. Mina found herself caught up in the crowd, pushed toward the front without conscious choice.

A figure ran by her, creating a breeze that spun the air. He wore a tight-fitting suit of coloured diamonds and a dark, long-nosed mask. He was singing as he ran, in some strange language Mina thought she might understand if she listened hard enough. A few stragglers followed, lured by his song. When they saw the player wagon, they stopped and quieted and waited. The man ran up the three steps at the front of the wagon to stand before the curtains. He waited, fingers to his lips, breathing in the energy of the crowd.

He seemed to grow larger. Then he spoke.

‘I am Harlequin,’ he cried. ‘I may be who I am not, but I may be who I am. Who is to say? Listen to my riddles and you may hear the truth. If there is truth to be found. Some say there is not. But let me not bore you with my mystery. Shall I show you a tale?’

Eager, the crowd called out, voices overlapping each other.

‘Yes, a tale. Show us your best tale.’

Harlequin spun, pulling a cloak from nowhere and swirling it around his body. He came down one step and put his finger to his lips.

‘A tale of joy, or a tale of woe? What is it to be?’

The crowd called out contradictory desires. Harlequin played them, putting his hand to his ear and promising the tale to those who could demand the loudest. Finally he broke the cacophony with a sweep of his hand.

‘I think it best if I ask just one person, or I stand to lose my hearing! What say you, little bird? Shall it be joy, or woe?’

Strange, Mina thought. One minute his eyes are blue, the next grey, then green, then brown. They never settle on a colour. Then she realised Harlequin was looking at her and the crowd was demanding she answer.

‘I don’t understand woe,’ she replied. Why had he called her a bird? That had been Paolo’s name for her, a nickname she only remembered as he spoke it.

‘Ah, you are fortunate not to know woe!’ Harlequin’s hands swept out from his body. ‘Perhaps we will show her, so she may guard against it.’

With a sigh, the emerald curtains parted. Filtered sunlight illuminated a backdrop painted with a village square much like Andon’s, showing distant buildings and a fountain. In the centre of the stage a couple faced each other, hands clasped together. Both wore white paint that masked their features, so at first they seemed expressionless, though their gaze indicated they were deeply in love. The man had blond curls and a confident posture, while the girl was slim with cascades of ash-blond hair. Both wore colourful, elaborate garb, a doublet for him and bejewelled dress for her. Mina had an odd thought that the girl should have black hair, but she forgot it as, with a few final shuffling movements and mutters, the crowd stilled and the performance began.

‘Now,’ began Harlequin, ‘Silvia loved her Silvio, more than all the world. And Silvio loved his Silvia more than the moon. When he held her hands, and kissed her soft cheek, he knew all the world was his.’

With those words, Silvio walked to the front of the stage, and sighed. He raised his hand, and the audience leaned forward as one. The playing was about to begin! Mina looked around at their eager faces. What was happening? She almost missed the moment, but something drew her eyes back to the stage as Silvio lowered his hand again. When it passed his face, his features transformed. His jaw became squarer. His eyes were suddenly wide and blue, and his hair seemed to glow with a golden sheen. He even seemed to grow taller. The painted face had melted into the flesh and blood face of a strong, handsome man.

The audience released their breath. The man turned to the maiden, and began declaring his great love for her. He thanked her for leaving her family for him, and spoke of the wonderful life they would lead together. The girl’s face seemed to shimmer, like a river’s surface when a pebble is dropped in, and then her features too changed. Mina shook her head, trying to shake off a feeling of light-headed confusion. Neither of the players looked like they wore white paint on their faces anymore. It was as though they had become someone else. Standing in the shadows behind them, Harlequin too changed, his mask seeming to melt away until his features were completely different. Mina reminded herself it was all illusion, part of the act.

There was a familiarity to their changing faces. As Mina watched the two lovers enact their love scene on the stage, under the hawk gaze of Harlequin, another memory tugged at her thoughts. When someone bumped her from behind, it flooded into her consciousness.

A hand placed over her mouth, to stop her screaming …

Mina had been seven. She knew this because Mama had told her this was when Paolo left. She had been watching the players then too, her excitement at their performance tinged with sadness, knowing her brother was to leave with them. She had gasped to see their strange masks appear to change before her very eyes, shifting from exaggerated features to normal faces in the space of a heartbeat. Yet the performance had barely begun when someone had seized her from behind. She had struggled to bite the big hand that held her mouth closed, kicking her feet against her captor, but his grip was too firm. Terrible thoughts rushed through her head. Paolo had told her tales of children taken and sold into slavery. And surely the perfect time to take a child was while all of Andon was captivated by the players.

She was dragged away from the crowd and into one of the narrow streets beyond the square. Usually a busy thoroughfare, it was empty now. Windows gazed blindly down at their passing. The entire village was in the square, enjoying the rare entertainment. Then her captor stumbled to a stop, dropped Mina, and squatted in the gutter.

Mina’s heart was beating so fast she could feel it in her throat. She looked around at her captor, ready to run, and her heart caught. Uncle Tonio had pulled himself into a ball, arms wrapped around his legs, and was rocking back and forth. His wild eyes saw nothing. Mina reached out a little hand to touch her uncle’s face. She’d never seen him so distressed. Quicker than she could imagine, he seized her hand, squeezing so it hurt her fingers.

‘I saw. Know him. But it’s not him. Why isn’t it? But it is. Won’t let me forget. Can’t find it. Locked in faces.’

Uncle Tonio must have realised he was squeezing too hard. He let Mina’s hand drop. ‘Hurt the little one. Too much. Too much pain. Have to go back. No more dreams.’

Mina took her uncle’s hand again, and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘It’ll be fine, Uncle,’ she said, and patted his cheek.

Tonio rocked for a long time, gradually stilling his meaningless babble. Mina sat beside him, patient. She didn’t know what had upset him, but it didn’t matter really. At night the sound of an owl outside could send him pacing the house, shaking his head for hours. Tiny things nobody else even noticed could aggravate him beyond understanding. Even Mina, who noticed much that nobody else did, could not always tell what had set him pacing or ranting.

Mina reached out her little hand now and then to pat her uncle’s arm. It would have seemed strange to a passer-by, the tiny child acting the adult for the hulking man, but no one saw. For a long time, the street remained empty. By the time Uncle Tonio finally calmed down enough for them to go home, the playing had ended and villagers began walking past, returning to the everyday world. Those who passed by Mina and her uncle first had a funny, vacant sort of a look, as though they did not see what was around them. They wore great smiles, but their eyes were distant.

Fascinated, Mina remained perched on the gutter, watching. Slowly the passers-by seemed to return to themselves, and they began to notice the small child and the fool sitting in the gutter. Their response, as always with Uncle Tonio, was to stare and whisper and walk just the slightest bit faster past the big man with the wild hair and eyes.

Mina giggled.

‘Let’s be wise fools,’ she said to her uncle, who was now calm, and he grinned at her, nodding. Mina used a kerchief to wipe the spittle from the side of his mouth. Then she and her uncle began their game, one they played whenever they were sick of the villagers’ stares. Mina stuck her hands against her ears and waggled them at the passing townsfolk, bouncing her eyes up and down. Tonio copied her. It took a while for what they were doing to register. Then the matrons tutted and hurried past, and the mothers rushed their children on. Only the boys stopped to watch and laugh.

Next it was Tonio’s turn to lead. He pushed his nose up with two long fingers, widened his eyes and poked out his tongue. With a giggle, Mina copied him, and then the boys across the street did too. Villagers continued to hurry past, no longer staring and whispering, but looking away.

They played their wise fools game for a while, each face wilder and more grotesque than the one before, deterring the stares of the villagers until the passing crowd dwindled to the usual street traffic. Then Mina helped her uncle up and walked him home. As always, she wished she could make things right for him. She didn’t understand why Uncle Tonio was so different, though she loved him no less for it, but she sensed pain ran river-deep beneath the foolish façade. Even at this age she sensed Uncle Tonio’s grief would never end. Beyond the emptiness in his eyes was a pain so great his pupils were dark with it. The darkness scared her.

Frenetic applause brought Mina back to the present. She realised the air had chilled, and gathered her shawl in tight, thankful for her mother’s foresight. Onstage, Harlequin and the lovers bowed alongside three others, two dressed as wealthy older men and one in the simple garb of a servant. Somehow, absorbed in the past, Mina had missed the whole performance. The sky above had grown heavy with clouds but around her, oblivious to the change in the air, townsfolk applauded and cat-called. Turning in a circle to examine those surrounding her she saw, despite their enthusiasm, their faces held the odd, glazed look of her memory. She completed her circle to find herself face to face with Harlequin. He had stepped down from the stage and now stood so close she could smell his breath. It smelled of autumn and chocolate.

His eyes flashed more colours than she’d ever seen. She took in all the details in an instant: the diamond patches of brown, yellow, red, and green on his costume, the black cap concealing his hair. From a wide belt at his waist hung a pouch and strange black stick. His mask was of age-darkened leather, with a sharp nose and elongated almond eyes. Mina realised she had raised her hand as if to touch it. She drew back with a shudder.

‘What are you?’ she asked, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them.

The man winked. ‘Well! You are a wise one! What do you really see, I wonder?’

He turned his head so he was looking at her through one eye. His eye flashed, the pupil filling the iris so it became entirely black, before it shrunk away again to nothing. It happened so swiftly Mina wasn’t even sure she had seen it. She took a step back, her heart beating faster. The man twirled both hands up into the air, as though brushing away cobwebs from around Mina’s head.

‘Yes, there is something,’ he mused. ‘And you are fair as the dawn. Have you ever thought of being a player?’

Mina shook her head.

‘The time is ripe, sweetling,’ he continued, his voice suddenly light. ‘Not long ago my own daughter departed from us.’

‘She … she died?’

The thin man burst into great bouts of laughter. His eyes flashed green. Mina caught another flash, bright at the edge of her vision. Mama’s storm was coming, but still distant.

‘Oh no! Died! Oh, I do not laugh at you, beautiful maiden. No, no, no. Ah, she is a fortunate one, my darling girl. The queen herself took a liking to her, and invited her to be her personal handmaiden, so she left her poor parents and found a better life in the royal palace.’ He pouted, taking on a posture of deep dejection, then transformed again to a stance of triumph as he declared, ‘Is that not a wonderful fate for a player, and the daughter of players? Handmaiden to the queen! But it has left us one player short. You would be perfect.’

He laughed again, but there had been a strange edge to his words that Mina found confusing. She smiled tentatively, unsure of the mercurial storm of emotions behind the laughter, and took a step back, overwhelmed by his strange offer.

‘I … no … I care for my uncle … I couldn’t …’

In the distance, thunder cracked. She turned and ran into the crowd, the player’s voice chasing her.

‘This offer will last until tomorrow, little bird. Think on it well. A life of adventure awaits!’

~

Mina stopped halfway down the street. Duty and curiosity warred within her. She knew she should go home and let Uncle Tonio know what was happening in the square, but her mother had said not to tell him if they were players, so she was not sure what she could say. In the end she decided to avoid the question by staying in the square. She burned to know more about the players. She had spent so many years looking after her uncle, while her father ran the family orchards and her mother kept the house. For one afternoon, she would allow herself a little freedom. But only as long as she could outrun the storm.

All the performers moved amongst the buzzing townsfolk, still in costume but without their masks, collecting coins and other gifts as thanks for the performance. Despite the crowd’s excitement, everyone still wore the strange, glazed look Mina remembered from long ago. Even Lucetta, who wore her hair loose like a young woman even though her face was like crumpled paper, and who traded in gossip as others traded in fish, was subdued. Mina spat on the ground behind Lucetta when she passed her, a secret habit grown from years of quiet anger for the way Lucetta always made fun of Tonio.

As the players slipped away with their takings, the townsfolk seemed to awaken, their conversation brightening as they dissected every aspect of what they had just seen. Yet even this passed after a while. With anxious glances at the darkening sky they began to shuffle away, falling back into the comfortable, time-worn topics of people who live decade after decade in the same place.

Mina walked to the fountain in the centre of the square, watching jets of water rise from a seven-pointed star in its centre, then arc down to create smatterings of foam. She could see the glimmer of coins and pins through the water, each one a wish long forgotten. The ancient fountain had six stone children frolicking in its basin, some holding toys, others frozen as though caught mid-leap under the dancing water. A little stone boy sat on the edge, his legs dangling in the water, a book forgotten on his lap. Fragments of worn words could still be read, vol, egra, ucin, eula. Only one looked like it might be a complete word: Calin. None were words Mina knew. Worn too were the features of the boy, but for all the wear, the fountain was kept clean and in good repair. Yet in a country where everything seemed to have a tale attached to it, Mina had heard none told about this fountain. Unperturbed, she had made up her own stories for each of the seven children who inhabited its wide basin.

She had named the seated boy Tonio after her uncle, because he had the same air of unending sadness about him, and because he too sat forever on the edge, never able to join in. His mouth was always open, as though he were calling out to the other children, perhaps asking to join their fun.

Gazing across the fountain reminded Mina of a time, long ago, when she had pretended she was a story teller, telling tales to Tonio, the only statue who sat still to listen. Back then, she had sat next to the little stone boy, her skinny legs dangling in the water. She remembered having the crazy idea that when she told a story it became real. But even story tellers, revered throughout Litonya for their skills with tale telling, could not do that. A few times a year, for the sacred festivals, a story teller would come to Andon to tell the sacred tales of the Creator and the Muses. At those times everyone gathered in the divina, a circular building at the edge of town, to listen to the traditional stories, and perhaps more mundane stories from other towns too.

Mesmerised by the water falling in front of her, Mina thought of the years she had sat by the fountain, waiting for her brother to appear, when her duties were done and Papa allowed her an hour of free time. Although she could not remember the day of his departure, she still had a small pouch her mother had made her from a shining scrap of fabric he had given her as a parting gift. She had given him something too … a bead perhaps? She had no idea where the pouch was now—at some point she had put it away, realising Paolo had broken his promise to return.

Mina’s thoughts, dancing like Harlequin, turned to the strange player’s offer. Though nothing was ever said, she knew her parents expected her to care for Uncle

Reviews for Harlequin's Riddle

[sandyamcpherson · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is a magnificent first novel: a young woman, with an innate ability for magical storytelling, travels with a group of nomadic Players. Her real objective is to discover what happened to her brother, who set off years ago with the same group. The characterizations are compelling and the suspense as to which Player is worthy of trust very effective. My one criticism (and hence, deducting a 1/2 star) is that the opening of the novel is very weak: the Prologue makes no contribution and is very oblique, even after finishing the story and re-reading the beginning again. However, as a story of Medieval adventure and journey-quests, this is a marvellous novel. "Can't wait" for the continuation in Book 2!

[elizabeth_foster-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The stories I like best are those that whisk me away effortlessly from everyday life and this historical fantasy did just that. The gorgeous cover of Harlequin’s Riddle kept calling me to explore the rich world created within and I wasn’t disappointed. The playbill at the start reveals what we may expect from the pages within, and also announces Mina, the protagonist of the story.

A rich, entertaining story follows, told with great flourish, just as the playbill promises. I bonded early on with the main character, seventeen-year-old Mina who has been endowed with a special gift. Because of her unusual talents, she is offered a position in a troupe fashioned after the Commedia Dell’Arte, an improvised style of theatre featuring stock characters. Mina is on the cusp of adulthood and exploring the new, including a growing attraction to Dario. She is also on a mission to find out what happened to her long missing brother, whose disappearance may be connected with the players and perhaps the secrets of Tarya.

Harlequin’s Riddle glides between the real and surreal with ease, rather like the Gazini Players’ caravan which seamlessly transforms each night into the stage. The story was like a rich puzzle box, slowly unveiling its secrets and twists at a satisfying pace. This debut novel hooked me in from the first chapter with an alchemical weave of words that didn’t lift their magic once.

[carolyndenman · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I wasn’t entirely certain what to expect when I opened this book. Which is exactly how I like my books to be. If a book has a pretty premise, a pretty cover (and wow, what a cover!) the promise of a new world to explore, and a hint of magic, then I’m willing to give it a go. Harlequin did not disappoint.

Young Mina has a talent for creating stories, and is clearly destined for more excitement than her small village has to offer. When she joins the travelling Players, she learns that there is a magical foundation to her creativity. But is it really magic or just illusion? And why do some of the townsfolk they encounter revile their kind? Perhaps they are simply ignorant and distrustful – or perhaps they know more than Mina does about her new adopted family.
This story is so rich in flavour and colour that it should be served in one of those fancy glasses and sprinkled with glitter.
“Yet the whole rainbow was tiny, no more than a thumbnail in length. She reached out to it with star-shadowed hands, and connected.”

Yet not everything is Happy Rainbow Ponies. There is drama and danger enough to satisfy the most hardened YA reader, and Harlequin’s Riddle draws you in just as deftly as the Harlequin himself.

Do yourself a favour. Go light the Coonara, Spotify some lute or harp music (I’m sure there’s some on there if you look hard enough), pour yourself a mulled goldberry wine, and run away with the travelling folk – just for a little while. You won’t regret it.

[shoosty · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

When a group of players comes to her small town Mina decides to join them, and at the same time look for her brother that also left with a group of players many years earlier. When on stage the players wear masks that allow them to transform into the people they are playing. Mina’s gift is a little different as she is a storyteller and brings the scenes to life. As Mina travels with the players she finds not everything is at it seems and there is a dark side to what the players do when they transform.I enjoyed this story and I am looking forward to read the next book. The description were detailed and well done. Having said that, the storyline was predictable and Mina’s love interest Dario was flat.