For her final number, Kivaira began a tale of her own composition, one she had worked on for many nights.  This was to be her first performance of it and the knowledge that so far all she had done was retell familiar tales, though with a flair all her own, had her nerves on edge.  It was a far different thing to tell one that was hers alone, yet she would never consider herself a bard until she had gained a place as an author of tales as well.<br/><br/>Taking a deep breath, she launched into the story of a simple woman whose husband had been torn from her first by war and then by death at the hands of illness contracted in the soldiers’ camp.  He had never even made it to the first battle and so was not afforded a hero’s death.  Her tale was the woman’s lament that the world had not known him as the man she had known who would have made a hero of renown, had he but given the chance.  She called it Sindra’s Lament and it ended on a haunting note of loss for young love and the hopes and dreams that accompany it.<br/><br/>As the spotlight closed upon her bowed head, she stood and waited what seemed to her a lifetime to see how the audience reacted as there was a long pause before they finally burst into deafening applause.  Sighing with relief as the stage lights came back up, she lifted her head and smiled before bowing gracefully in appreciation and exiting the stage.<br/><br/>“I loved the new tale, Miss Kivaira,”  Jon, the aging prop master flung over his shoulder as he quickly brushed past her to set up for the next act.<br/><br/>“Oh, yes, honey.  That’s sure to be a requested one soon,” added Mathisa, the Halfling wardrobe mistress with a smile as she helped the young woman from her stage robes.  “You do have a way with a tale.”<br/><br/>Kivaira thanked the two old people who had always been so kind to her as she learned her way around the stage.  She had come to Sharn knowing nothing of stagecraft or theatre lore, thinking just telling a tale well was all there was to it.  They had taken the time to teach her about the things that made a true difference for a public performance; costume, props, lighting, makeup and all the myriad of things the audience never realized helped to make the magic.  In fact, she had learned, it was necessary that the spectators weren’t aware of those things, for if they were, the magic didn’t happen.<br/><br/>She closed the door to the dressing room and sat down before her mirror to remove the stage makeup, enjoying the peace and quiet as she let the good feelings from the audience’s approval continue to warm her.<br/>