Cataria Ghita's page

Cataria Ghita, 3rd daughter - 7th child overall - of Sorin Ghita, Korvosa's Magistrate of Infrastructure, is something of a black sheep among the Magistrates' families. Her parents knew from a young age that she relished any opportunity to break free of her station. Her solitary nights were often spent on the streets of Korvosa, sneaking across the High Bridge from her home on the East Shore and through the city proper. She found escape in Midland, where she danced for pocket change on the corner outside an old Harrower's tent.

After a time, though, this became too commonplace an affair. Cataria grew bored with Midland, and moved further from home on her travels. She'd venture to Bridgefront and The Shingles with a veil over her face. She got a thrill out of dancing for Korvosa's poorest and least fortunate. She delighted in bringing them a moment of respite from their lives of relative misery. Her family clearly forbade such things, and punished her harshly on the rare occasion she was caught. Her parents, Sorin and Lia, preferred to keep Cataria locked away in the courtyard, learning of all the trappings of a Magistrate’s life – intrigue, diplomacy, history, and social etiquette.

Cataria grew tired of scholastic studies nearly instantly. She couldn't sit still, and often found herself tapping small rhythms and beats with her foot on the cobblestones. Her tutors were not amused, though they recognized that her talents were certainly not arcane or scholarly in nature.

On the rare occasions that she was free of obligations during the day, Cataria loved to visit Midland without her veil, taking in the sights and smells and sounds of the city. She especially loved to watch the buskers and performers in the town square. She would sit for hours on the grass, laughing and smiling as the performers collected their tips and plied their trades. It’s good, honest work, for good, honest people. she often thought, while absorbed in the culture and life of Korvosa. These thoughts were not uncommon to the young Varisian girl. She often found herself allying with the less fortunate, and the proud, blue-collar tradesmen of the city.

About a year ago, Cataria made the decision to leave her home for good for the hustle and bustle of Korvosan common-life. She consulted with Anca, the Harrower she'd become so fond of over the years. The older woman generously offered Cataria a place to sleep, provided she work as an assistant, and only dance outside the fortune-teller's tent.

Anca was, to Cataria, the mother that she always wanted. She met the old gypsy one evening, when Anca had commented on her dance in the town square – a slow, dreamy dance that had enraptured a dozen or so people for several minutes by the time Anca had arrived. After the dance, while Cataria was resting, Anca challenged her to do a faster affair, and produced a tambourine to beat a rhythm on. Cataria did so with pleasure, her hips and arms moving in perfect time with the rattling of the instrument, even when Anca began to play slightly faster with each measure. After the performance was done, the older woman invited Cataria to her tent, not far from the square. She made Cataria a hot, spiced tea as payment for the beautiful performance. Cataria accepted it graciously - Cataria was always gracious - and the two talked most of the night away. After that, it was common for Cataria to meet with the woman, and the two became fast friends.

Equal parts busker and hawker, Cataria thinks on those first few months fondly. She learned of the Harrow from Anca, slept when she pleased, and walked the streets in disguise. Anca had loaned her some old travelers’ clothing. The plain linens and thick leather were a sharp contrast to the delicate clothing of her childhood. She loved the smell of the oil and the feel of rough cloth. She found herself missing her sister, Carmen, more than her parents. Carmen was the oldest of the siblings, and the only one aside from Cataria still living on the Family Estate. The rest had either been married off or started families of their own, so she felt like she barely knew them.

Working for Anca brought Cataria no small amount of delight – she basked in the attention it brought from passersby of all stations, though she was quick to shy away from any attempts to touch her. It didn't happen often, though it was more likely during the licentious nights of the Korvosan summer. Cataria relished life outside the oppressive cleanliness of the estate. She began to beat and stain and wear her clothes after moving in with Anca. This was initially done as part of her disguise, to avoid any notice from the town guards or her parents’ porters, though eventually she came to enjoy not having to fret over every wrinkle or stain on her clothes. This is not to say that Cataria couldn’t dress the part in high society, merely that she chose to eschew anything reminiscent of her sheltered life.

For the first several months of her new life, Cataria was flitting to and fro, ever the social butterfly, never still. She made new friends every night at the local taverns and watering holes, prayed to a new God or Goddess every morning, and spent her days charming and chatting with all manner of people in front of Anca’s tent. She tried her hand at a handful of Harrow readings, and while she wasn’t completely incompetent, Anca preferred that she train for another several years before accepting payment from people for her efforts.

It was about six months ago that Cataria fell deathly ill. She was in bed for weeks, suffering from a strange sickness, which gave her feverish visions and awful night-terrors. When she emerged from her bedroom in the back of Anca’s house, she was mortified. She could no longer hear. Freed from the barrage of sensory information from her once-keen ears, her mind turned itself inward, tugging on new strands of information and unraveling them, uncovering information she should not have possessed. She was in awe at the flood of lore, knowledge, and power that she felt thrumming behind her eyes. She’s learned to harness that power, drawing upon divine energy from some God or Goddess that has gifted her with faint premonitions of what is to come. She practices focusing these premonitions through the Harrow, like Anca taught her. She still dances outside Anca’s tent, and though it pains her that she cannot hear music, she feels vibrations in her slippered feet, and taps her own beats. It is not perfect, but it is enough for Cataria Ghita.