Chapter 5: Throw the Stone (投石問路)
Yanxi, the ringmaster, and the winged tiger freed their respective mogui partners. The entire, sweat-soaked troupe in various states of dishevelment and undress swarmed around Daiwen at a polite but pungent distance. Daiwen could barely keep track of who was making what rapidfire introduction, but they did their best to put a name to a face. Or a skull.
The winged tiger was a creature known as a qionqi (窮奇). His name was Mangtun (尨暾). The ringmaster, mistress of the entire circus troupe, was He Kaileng (核開稜). The two horse-skull-headed creatures were beings known as mamian (馬面). One was named Motou (魔頭), an agender they/them. The other was named Langhai (狼孩), a genderfluid they/them.
The sheer mass of the troupe shepherded Daiwen over to one of the cannons at the side of the dirt-ring stage. Daiwen leaned against the solid wrought-iron for support. Mistress He flapped her perfectly manicured hands at the performers to give Daiwen some air. She herself leaned her crooked elbow and jutting hip against the cannon.
"So what brings you to this side of town?"
"I'm just trying to get home. I'm not from around here."
"Yeah, we could tell."
Daiwen recounted the priest's words with as much as they'd managed to make of them. They had to search the nearby city for the next spirit gate or at least find someone who knew where it might be.
Mistress He's red eyes flashed Daiwen with a skeptical once-over.
"You know everything in the city comes at a price, right?"
That was going to be a problem. Mistress He snapped her fingers at Daiwen's glaring worry and poverty.
"We're in town for six more days, counting tonight. I can take you on as a sideshow for exactly that long-room, board, and five gold a day."
Daiwen's eyes went as wide as golden shells. As a village seamster, they'd never earned more than five gold in a month, much less a day.
"Done!"
Mistress He clapped her hands and rubbed her palms under her pointy chin.
"Excellent. Rehearsals-" she cut off at Daiwen's raised hand. "Yes, question?"
"Sorry, I know rehearsals must be important-"
"Mandatory."
"Mandatory, but I've been through a lot this morning. Would you mind if I took a quick break first?"
"Of course, of course! Say, you came here for Laoshi City (老石). I could give you a quick tour if you'd like-my treat for our new sideshow attraction."
"That'd be great! Does anyone else want to come?"
Mistress He and the other performers shared a cringing look.
"Humans only, I'm afraid."
Mistress He grabbed a red umbrella and explained as they strolled down the road between the trees. Laoshi had recently suffered a spate of grisly murders and unsolved but likely related disappearances in the surrounding farms. With the culprit at large, a group of cityfolk had grown suspicious of the circus's less humanoid performers despite the start of the crimes having predated the circus's arrival. Give or take a day.
"That can't be good for business."
"Surprisingly true. It turns out not all scandals grab you by the horn."
They crossed a stone bridge over a river with water so clear and soil so dark that it appeared as black as liquid earth. Daiwen leaned over the rail, a giggle rising in their throat at their rippling reflection in the water. Mistress He linked her arm with Daiwen's and turned them toward the city's rising skyline.
"Kid, you ain't seen nothing yet."
The city's wall-to-wall buildings rose five, six stories high on gray stone tiers lined with sloping clay tiles. They reminded Daiwen of Bashi Temple from a distance. Before they crossed under the stone arch at the end of the bridge, a sheer wall of pure noise rolled out to greet them.
Daiwen stepped closer to Mistress He as they walked up the stone road between dark stone lanterns. Scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants on foot or in ox-pulled carts bustled like bees on dizzying routes in the narrow streets. Daiwen lost count of how many strangers bumped into them, but the end of their street finally opened to a sunny stone plaza full of vibrantly covered market stalls.
Strangers rushed past them not to any stall but to the far end of the marketplace where a large crowd had already gathered. Daiwen and Mistress He followed them a cautious pace. Every mouth in the crowd murmured two words into the wind: 'yaoguai (妖怪)' and 'murderer.'
Morbid curiosity pulled Daiwen's arm from Mistress He's. They weaved between the jostling bodies to the front of the crowd in search of the one person in this other Shenmen who might've been a bigger sinner than themself.
On a massive, black-stained millstone, heavy iron chains bound a sitting, humanoid shape larger than any human. The yaoguai had the head, horns, and muscled mass of a bull falling apart. Here and there, ragged strips of their hide flapped over bone and muscle bound by wire stitches. Their shackled hands were more talon and bone than flesh. Their cloven hooves lacked a natural shine.
"Death to the murderer! Death to the yaoguai!"
The yaoguai could barely raise their head to the crowd under the weight of their iron collar and chains. They raised their solid black eyes instead. As they swept over Daiwen's, the yaoguai's bound fury struck Daiwen like a whack to the upside of the head. They knew that anger. It was the same anger they'd aimed at the bandit lord, the one that brought their father back from the dead to kill him.
Mistress He's hand found Daiwen's as the crowd began slinging rocks and rotten produce at the accused. She pulled them away, guards in woven armor wading in as slow as if the roads had turned to mud, but the look in the yaoguai's eyes burned into the back of their skull.
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The chittering, chirping crowd fell silent as Mistress He stepped into the spotlight and spread her arms once more in welcome.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlefolk. Tonight we have for your viewing pleasure a bittersweet tale of aquatic delight: The Pearl and the Fisherman's Beloved."
Up in the tent top, Yanxi turned the spotlight from the ringmaster to Daiwen. They straddled a log supported by bamboo stilts over a shallow pool. A thick, sticky band of spiderweb strapped them down around the calves, so they could sit or kneel but were trapped on the log. In a cold sweat. Under their flimsy costume of a night shift and the heavy, hole-boring eyes of the audience.
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Explicit encounter on AO3
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Backstage in the curtained wings of the big top, the three mogui freed themselves from their costumes and Daiwen from the strap. They pulled Daiwen up into a four-body embrace. The mogui laughed and cheered, whirling in the air.
"Woah, ha, please no spinning."
The three set Daiwen back down with sheepish grins. They guided Daiwen to the washroom, offering more assistance if needed. Daiwen politely declined. They flew off, leaving them to their bath.
Before Daiwen climbed into the waiting tub of warm, sudsy water, they grabbed a pair of scissors off an old wooden crate serving as a low table. They sat on the edge of the crate with the scissors in their lap. They pulled their long, black tangles over their shoulder and into one fist.
The blades of the scissors broke their reflection into slivers of hair and flesh. As they cut above their clenched fist, their thoughts drifted back to the burning eyes of the yaoguai.