Fate Without Time

Chapter 13

 When we got up to the performance area, we saw a stage on one side of the hall and the curtains were closed. However, it seemed the stage wouldn't be used: a circle of candles had been laid out in the middle of the floor. Along with us, the other patrons were gathering around the circle but there didn't seem to be any seats. The number of tickets must have been pretty limited. Sarah and John were standing right beside each other, while Sherlock and I were standing together behind them. Then, John leaned over to speak with the two of us so that Sarah couldn't hear. "You said circus. This is not a circus. Look at the size of this crowd. Sherlock, this is ... art," said John. "This is not their day job," I said quietly. "No, sorry, I forgot. They're not a circus; they're a gang of international smugglers," said John. 

At that moment, the performance began with someone tapping out a rhythm on a tiny hand drum as an ornately costumed Chinese woman with a heavily painted face -- traditionally known as the Opera Singer according to my research -- walked into the center of the circle, looking imperiously at the audience before raising a hand up in the air. The drummer finished his riff. The Opera Singer walked across the circle to a large object covered with a cloth which she then pulled back to reveal an antique-looking crossbow on a stand. She picked up a long, thick, wooden arrow with white feathers at one end and a vicious metal point at the other end and showed it to the audience before fitting it into place on the crossbow. Straightening up, she pulled a single small, white feather from her headdress and again showed it to the audience. On the rear of the crossbow was a small metal cup and she gently dropped the feather into it. Instantly the arrow was released and whizzed across the room. Sherlock's head whipped around to follow its flight while John and Sarah were still gasping at the sound of the arrow's release. By the time they looked round a moment later, the arrow was embedded in a large painted board on the other side of the circle. Sarah turned to John and laughed, dramatically putting her hand over her heart. 

Instrumental music began, and the audience applauded as a new character entered the circle, wearing chainmail and an ornate head mask. He held his arms out to the sides and two men came over and started to attach heavy chains and straps to him, strapping his now-folded arms in front of him and then backing him up against the board and started to chain him to it. "Classic Chinese escapology act," Sherlock said softly. John, Sarah, and I turned to him. "Hmm?" asked John. "The crossbow's on a delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires," said Sherlock. The Opera Singer loads another arrow into the crossbow. The men attach more padlocks and chains and one of them pulls a chain tight, yanking the warrior's head back against the board. The warrior cries out. The men loop the chains through solid rings attached to the board and secure the warrior, who cries out again. Once they've finished, they step away. The music began building in intensity and cymbals crashed unexpectedly. Sarah jumped, clutching at John's arm. "Oh, God! I'm so sorry!" she said. She laughed in embarrassment, taking his arm with her other hand as well. John laughed with her, then smiled delightedly as she let go with her more distant hand but continued to hold onto his arm with the other. The Opera Singer picked up a small knife and displayed it to the audience. "She splits the sandbag; the sand pours out; gradually the weight lowers into the bowl," Sherlock said softly. The Opera Singer did just what Sherlock predicted – she reached up to a small sandbag hanging on a long cable and stabbed the knife into the bottom of the sack. Sand began to pour out, and the warrior repeatedly cried out with effort as he tugged at his chains. The sandbag's cable was looped over a pulley and a metal ball was attached to the other end. As the sand continued to pour out of the bag the weight lowered towards the bowl at the back of the crossbow. The warrior got one hand free. John was watching the weight lower, and Sarah now looked nervously at it as it crossed paths with the sandbag on its way up. They turned to look at the warrior as he got his other hand free and started tugging at the chains around his neck. The weight was now only a few feet above the bowl and Sarah clung tightly to John's arm, grimacing. The warrior cried out again as he pulled at his chains and the weight got ever closer. As it almost reached the lip of the bowl the warrior loosened the chains around his neck and struggled to free himself.