Chapter 8: Read the Web (蛛 絲 馬 跡)
Daiwen found the finishing touch of their spider silk ensemble waiting for them on the rack the next morning: a perfectly fitted set of underwear. The sight cut through their bone-deep aches to put a smile on their face. It slipped off the instant that Mistress He's perfectly manicured hand landed on their shoulder.
"Good morning, Daiwen."
"Good morning, Mistress He."
"Lovely, isn't it?"
"Yanxi's the finest seamstress I've ever met."
"She's a good friend, too."
"Yes-"
"So don't disappoint her. She's your partner tonight. Rehearse with her. Don't be the weak link that shames you both."
"I understand."
Only after Mistress He left for breakfast did Daiwen's hands curl to fists. They smiled thanks at Yanxi at breakfast but ate their rice porridge in stony silence. They didn't speak a word until they'd entered yet another of the four small tents. Yanxi had already spun a web from pole to pole overhead.
"Are you ready, Daiwen?"
"Yanxi, I'm very sorry, but I won't be able to rehearse with you until this afternoon."
Yanxi's smile waned, her porcelain face falling inward.
"Daiwen, I don't think that will be enough time-"
"It will be. Please trust me."
"I don't really have a choice, do I?"
"I'll be back."
-/-
The village where most of the disappearances had occurred was only four miles west of Laoshi city but deep in the heart of the forest. The local constable brought Daiwen two miles further into the Mingdao Wood to the place where the body of one of the disappeared had been discovered, naked, wounded, and dead of the cold rain.
As soon as Daiwen followed the constable into the grove of pine, bamboo, and plum, they walked into a second wall of unnatural cold. The presence was much weaker than yesterday's. Daiwen knew without a shadow of a doubt that they would need to feed this languishing undead on spirit energies if they wanted to draw it out. Though bemused, the constable agreed to return to the village, leaving Daiwen and their necromancy alone in the grove.
Daiwen sat cross-legged in the dead leaves beneath the pelting rain. They closed their eyes. The tightly-clustered leaves rustled out scratchy whispers all around them.
They placed both hands on the damp, rotting leaves before them and let their aura flare. They could see the wreathing purple of their aura through their closed eyes. It spread out from them like a slow, cool fire and filled the grove from the canopy above to the rich decay below. The delicate life lines of every living being except for Daiwen within melted at the far ends at its touch.
"Hungry ghost, I'm here to feed you."
White mist rolled up from between the roots of the trees at Daiwen's call. As it sucked spirit energies through their aura, the ghost took an unnaturally thin but human shape. The ghost was faceless except for a mouth that could open no wider than a needle.
"I've helped you draw your fill. Please, help me."
The ghost said nothing, but neither did it disappear back into the pines.
"You were kidnapped. Please, show me where you were taken."
This time, the ghost did disappear between the pines. Daiwen scrambled to their feet. The ghost poked their faceless head out between the dark green spines.
Daiwen followed them further into the woods and the rain to a squat, stone-block windmill. Its clay tile roof had collapsed at one corner for a gaping, bite-like hole. The iron blade of the windmill from the same corner had vanished, leaving nothing but a rusted pole. The last three rusted blades point down toward the wooden door, new and locked.
The ghost passed through the pitch-painted wood. Daiwen removed their jacket, laid it over the nearest window, and broke the glass. They crawled over and into a large stone room full of workbenches and shelves lined with shriveled creatures in pieces suspended in different colored liquids. The air was heavy with the stench of spoiled food and acrid chemicals.
An iron ladder at the back of the room lead to a door in the ceiling. The ghost's misty feet vanished through the cracks to the second floor. Fortunately, this door wasn't locked.
The second floor held nothing but a pitch-painted cabinet against the wall. Dark stains ran from a puddle under the cabinet's squat legs to a metal drain, new, in the thick stone floor. The room was as cold as the dead of winter and only grew colder as Daiwen approached the cabinet doors. They let out a shaky breath between their chattering teeth and opened the cabinet.
Daiwen threw both hands over their mouth to keep from screaming. Human skins and faces hung like rubbery suits from wire hangers. The needle-mouthed ghost nodded wordlessly. Daiwen couldn't look close enough to pick out the features.
They staggered back from the cabinet, bile rising in their throat. Their heel stepped on air. Daiwen screamed and fell through the door in the floor. Their flailing arms slammed the iron ladder. Their hands were too sweaty to land a grip, but Daiwen slid and slowed.
They hit the stone floor feet-first and rolled back onto their butt and side. They laid still while the feeling prickled back into their limbs. Everything hurt, bruises blooming on their side, but they hadn't broken anything. They winced and grunted but crawled up to their feet.
Two large, hulking figures stood in the shadows of the doorway. The first held a dripping axe in one hand. The second held something like a metal club with a spiked head at its end. The two grinned at their unarmed intruder.
"I've been looking for something to wear to the trial."
The fear and the pain were too much. Daiwen whimpered and vomited.
"Ooo, disgusting. Let's get'em."
The two charged at them. Daiwen screamed. The two grabbed their arms and slammed Daiwen to the ground. Purple flared.
Rubbery skins and faces flew down from trapdoor. They wrapped around the first and the second's heads. The two dropped their weapons, screaming and clawing into the reanimated flesh. The skins continued to wrap and squeeze.
Daiwen sat up. They watched with nothing but contempt as the two banged into their own worktables and fell to the floor. It would be hard to explain to Esquire Kang or anyone else how they'd managed to smother both murderers. Daiwen picked up the first's axe.
-/-
Though not their intention, Daiwen returned to Yanxi's rehearsal tent at exactly a quarter till showtime. Daiwen threw off their clothes, red-faced and panting, to reveal a second skin of sweat over a map of bruises. They looked around wildly for the script.
Yanxi descended from the web above on a sturdy line of silk. She held both rolls of parchment in her forelegs.
"You're late," she said flatly, tossing one to Daiwen.
Daiwen dived for it. For their effort, they landed face-first in the dust, both hands empty. The script rolled across the ground and stopped under the toe of a knife-heeled boot.
Mistress He picked up the script. She unrolled it and gave the lines a little smile. The last rays of daylight filtered in through the opened tent flaps around her, passing through the thin paper.
"How was the rehearsal?"
Daiwen tore their eyes off the script to make a wordless plea over their shoulder. Yanxi's eight eyes never left the ringmaster's.
"We're ready," she said, "but I want to run through it one more time just to be safe. They have have all the luck, amateurs, but nothing beats practice in the long run."
"Show me what you've got."
Yanxi's eyes finally flicked to Daiwen's. Daiwen pushed up to their feet. As they dusted off their spider silk, they gave the phase spider a little wink.
"War. War never changes.
"The Empire of Yixing (意星) waged war for discovery and conquest. Shu (殊) built an empire from its lust for gold and power. The Empire of Leng Wa (崚凹) reshaped the broken Kingdoms of Shu into an economic superpower.
"But war never changes.
"In ten years time, war would wage again over the resources that could be acquired. Only this time, the spoils of war were also its weapons: skymetals and magic. The storm of world war had come again to Tian-Xia (天下). In two brief hours, most of the continent was reduced to cinders. And from the ashes of magical and technical devastation, the last two warriors on the battlefield would fight for their lives."
Daiwen's mother had taught them their characters. And the light passing through the paper was just enough to throw the inken shapes into sharp contrast.
Mistress He blinked but smile. She rolled up the script and handed it back to Daiwen.
"You have time. Keep practicing."
She walked out without another word. Daiwen pumped their fists in the air with a triumphant crow. The noise died on their lips at the sight of Yanxi.
"I'm sorry-I know I said-"
"Right."
The professional and the amateur began their long put-off practice.
-/-
The spotlight dropped straight on Daiwen at one edge of its curve in woven, costume armor. The three mogui at the other edge sharing the helm, armored jacket, and armored pants of a single warrior. Daiwen brandished a gleaming blade in both hands. Leiting, the warrior's torso, brandished one of their own.
Daiwen roared in challenge. Ailing, the warrior's head, roared back. Daiwen and Leiting set their swords. The two warriors charged at each other. Daiwen slashed twice as they crossed paths, high and low. The head, torso, and legs flew apart, but the torso flew sword-first into Daiwen.
Daiwen staggered back, Leiting's sword pinned under their arm with the rigid torso still attached. Daiwen fell to their knees, their loose helm rolling off through the dust.
The enemy's fingers finally released their deathgrip on the hilt of their blade. The torso dropped to the ground. Daiwen, with the tip of the sword still protruding out behind them, fell back. Their head lolled over their shoulder to the face audience with an unseeing stare.
Yanxi scuttled into the spotlight. She picked up Paopao in the armored pants and shook them over her open mandibles. She sighed and tossed him into the darkness. The mogui flew away.
Yanxi picked up Aili in the helm next. She shook her and, finding her empty, tossed her as well. Yanxi finally reached Leiting only a few paces from Daiwen. As the spider tossed the torso, the blade buried in Daiwen flashed in the light. Yanxi scuttled closer.
Daiwen, with their own deathgrip on a sword, pointed their blade at the giant spider.
"Take one more step and I'll kill you, spider."
"You're dying, but you would kill me, too?"
"I will die a warrior with my sword in my hand and bringing death to my enemies."
"I am no enemy. I am a simple spider heavy with young. If I don't eat, I will die and my children will never be born. You're dying. Please, let me drink before you give all your blood to the dirt."
"Never! Never!"
Daiwen's hand shook around their own hilt. The sword fell from their fingers. Daiwen gasped, eyes wide in sheer terror. They threw their limp-wristed arms over their face. But the spider didn't move.
Daiwen lowered their arms. Their eyes focused on the crowd.
"The spider could kill me. Why don't they? But if they did, I couldn't hold my sword. I couldn't fight. I couldn't die a warrior's death. I'd be at their mercy. No...I already am at their mercy."
Daiwen shut their eyes. They howled through their clenched teeth. With the last of their strength, they ripped their costume armor open over their chest. Their arms fell limp to their sides.
"Do your worst, spider."
Yanxi scuttled over Daiwen. She hooked the claws of her forelegs under Daiwen's armpits and lifted them into the air until their eyes were level with hers and their feet dangled off the ground.
"You haven't died until you've died to a spider."
Yanxi raised Daiwen's chest to her mouth. Her mandibles squeezed their breast, digging into the skin. Her sticky, hollow tongue flicked and teased the nipple with a wet suck. Daiwen whimpered, fingers clenching and unclenching at their sides as they struggled to stay limp in Yanxi's claws.
-/-
Explicit encounter on AO3