Chapter 8
Tyche
Tyche hesitated in the center of his cell, straining to hear any sounds beyond the heavy metal door.
But there was nothing. Guards had taken Shawn from his cell a while ago, and Tyche had remained in his bunk, preferring to play dead rather than risking someone noticing that he was still alive and maybe he should be taken out at the same time.
He wasn’t too concerned about his prison mate. Shawn seemed like a stout, resilient sort. He’d be a little ragged afterward, but he wasn’t going to break. Not yet.
Once he was positive that he’d be left alone, he rushed to his bunk and pulled his hidden treasure out of the hole he’d dug in the mattress. He opened his hand, and the six sticks he’d carved out of chicken bones he’d collected during his stay lay on his palm.
Actual chicken bones. How freaking barbaric and crude could it get?
His first set in the old days had at least been made from human femurs.
That had been a sturdy, deadly accurate collection.
He’d later upgraded to blood marble and white jade.
What he wouldn’t give to have that first set back.
Any of them, really. But those bastards had stolen everything from him when they’d snatched him up and tossed him in here.
Whatever. He wasn’t staying here much longer. He could feel it. Shawn was going to be his ticket out.
Assuming he didn’t end up getting killed by the power that lurked inside the man.
Clutching the bones tightly in his fist, Tyche hurried to the wall where they both sat and talked while passing food.
He kneeled on the concrete floor and hunched as he poked at the tiles in his hand.
He’d sanded down the chicken bones on the rough concrete floor, forming them into long, rounded sticks that were flat on two sides and about the length of his fingers.
Into each stick he’d carved four symbols with his fingernail or even a bit of another chicken bone.
The symbols ranged from very good to very bad.
He’d even used a bit of his crappy coffee to color each symbol so that it stood out against the white bone.
He cupped his hands around the six bones and shook them lightly. The bones clacked softly together as they hit each other. He lifted his hands to his lips and closed his eyes. “Tell me this man’s luck.”
Three shakes.
Tyche opened his eyes and tossed the sticks at the wall. They hit and scattered in front of him. Only three landed with an end pointed toward Shawn’s cell, while the rest landed at odd angles near Tyche, so he discounted those. The three pointed at Shawn’s cell?
Very bad.
Bad.
Neutral.
“Bullshit,” Tyche snarled in a whisper as he scooped up all the bone tiles and shook them in his hands again. “We all know he’s not just a normal man. I felt that spark. Twice. He’s made a bargain with a god. Now, be serious. What’s his luck look like?”
He threw the bones at the wall a second time.
Bad.
Neutral.
Neutral.
That was better. Fuck. It was the best reading he’d gotten for any of his cellmates, but he still wasn’t convinced.
It was hard as hell to get a good reading in this place.
His focus was shit. Tyche was the first to admit that he was an introvert, but that didn’t mean that he could actually survive without people.
He needed them in more ways than he cared to admit.
He snatched up the bones and clenched them in his fist. “Fine. You’re getting warmed up. We’re out of practice. I get it. Let’s do an easy one. What’s his luck look like in terms of surviving his interrogation?”
The bones hit the wall and came back three good and two very good.
That was more like it. Unless Shawn did something stupid and forced them into a corner, they wouldn’t kill him.
Ugh, unless he opened his mouth and confessed who he really was. Tyche might not know the truth about him, but it was a safe bet he was someone powerful, and that was something these people couldn’t afford.
“Okay.” He exhaled over the bones in his hands.
They trembled, and Tyche squeezed his eyes shut.
His mouth had gone dry, and he had to swallow to get his tongue unstuck.
He hated to do this, but he wanted to throw everything behind this guy.
He’d tried to be patient, but he was so fucking tired of being trapped here.
Shawn was going to be the one to get him out.
It was the one hope holding his sanity together, and it was critical enough that he was willing to risk a tiny mote of magic.
He summoned a tiny speck of energy and pushed it into the bones. It was all he could chance in there.
“What are the chances of Shawn getting us both out of here alive?” he whispered.
He tossed the tiles, the soft clicking of the bones hitting the wall and the floor. Tyche took another breath and slowly peeled open one eye and then the other.
Very good
Very good
Good.
Very bad.
Yeah, that was what his gut had been telling him. Good luck was on their side for a breakout, but it was going to be dangerous as fuck.
Fine, he’d take it. This was the best reading he’d gotten yet. There was no way he was going to waste it.
On the other side of the main door, heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Someone was coming. Tyche snatched up the bones and stuffed them into the pocket of his filthy pants as he stood.
His footsteps instinctively carried him back, deeper into the cell, as he put as much room between him and the door in the bars.
Could they sense when he used magic?
His heart raced, and cold sweat broke out across his neck. He didn’t want to be taken. Not right now. He’d had a break for nearly a week, by his guess. Not being questioned was the only good thing about this entire captivity. Why couldn’t they stay focused on Shawn for a bit longer?
Sorry, Shawn.
The main door flung open, and two burly guards half dragged, half carried Shawn between them. The other prisoner was frightfully pale, but he was still conscious. For a moment as they passed Tyche’s cell, their eyes met.
Such blue eyes. Endless bright-blue eyes that seemed to pierce straight into his soul.
Not to mention lethally sharp cheekbones and a hard jaw. Shawn wasn’t just a powerful man, but he was devastatingly handsome as well.
Of course he is, Tyche thought with disgust at himself.
Handsome, powerful, and quite possibly lucky in a very good way.
Yep, Tyche was going to cling to Shawn like a damsel in distress as the man made his escape.
Someone like Tyche didn’t survive as long as he had without knowing his limitations.
Taking on a bunch of armed men was at the top of that list of limitations.
But after they were free, he had to run in the opposite direction.
The power that zinged through Shawn’s body wasn’t his own.
If he had a guess, it was a “gift” from Kaes, the God of Storms. That was not a god anyone wanted to fuck with.
If these idiots knew who they were dealing with, they’d shit themselves.
Which brought up the bigger question of why Shawn was letting them torment him when it was obvious he could rip them to shreds with a wave of his hand.
The guards shoved Shawn into his cell and slammed the door shut with a loud clang. As they passed Tyche’s cell, he was curled up on his bunk, cowering like an obedient prisoner.
They didn’t stop, and Tyche released a sigh of relief. A couple of moments later, Shawn’s shaky voice drifted through the silence.
“Ty?”
“Yeah?”
Shawn exhaled loudly, and Tyche unfolded himself from his ball, allowing his legs to dangle off the edge of the bed.
“Can you…can you talk to me for a while? I…I’m not feeling too great.”
A little smile teased Tyche’s lips, and he hopped down to stroll to the spot where he usually sat while they chatted. “Yeah. I can do that. Did you take the stuffing out of your ears?”
“One ear.”
“Why?”
“I was afraid that my acting wasn’t convincing, so I sneaked it out of one ear. I thought I could stay in control better if I wasn’t being hit with both ears.”
“Did it work?”
“Not really.” His voice was so glum, Tyche wished he could reach out and give Shawn a head pat. That, unfortunately, wasn’t an option, so he had to do the next best thing. He snorted with laughter.
“No shit.” A big, hulking, powerful guy like Shawn probably didn’t want to be coddled by a weakling like him. “I could have told you that your acting wasn’t very convincing. And acting terrified? Not an easy thing.”
“What do you mean my acting isn’t good?” Shawn snapped. The tremor of fear was gone from his voice. A smirk grew on Tyche’s lips as Shawn seemed to shake off the terror that had gripped him, just as Tyche had planned.
“Come on, do you think any of them actually believe you’re from Legton?” Tyche taunted.
“Sure. Why not?”
“First, your accent. Not a Legton accent. And second, you don’t even say the town name like a local. You say LEG-ton. It’s Lug-TUN, like you’re stuck lugging a ton of bricks.”
“Are you from Legton?” This time he tried to match Tyche’s accent.
“Nope, but I spent some time there. Talked to a lot of people. You don’t sound like them.”
“Oh.” Shawn’s voice was louder, as if he’d moved closer. There was a shifting of cloth and a grunt. Tyche could imagine him sitting on the other side of the wall from him. “You don’t sound like you’re from Bellcairn either.”
“I’m not from Damardor originally. I was passing through. Guessing the same as you.”
“You don’t think I’m from Damardor?”
“No offense, Shawn. You seem like a nice person who is up to some important shit that I don’t want to know anything about. But I thought I’d mention it before you get in too deep with Scarella and her goons.”
There was a low groan from the other side of the wall, and Tyche felt bad for the guy. It wasn’t his fault. Most wouldn’t notice it too much. Tyche had traveled most of the world, lived nearly everywhere. He spoke to the common people every day and knew their eccentricities better than most.
“Where do you think I’m from?”
Tyche bit the inside of his cheek. Did he dare? Even if he admitted his idea, would Shawn be honest with him?
“Probably Caspagir. Toward the north, or one of the bigger cities like Sirelis. Though it has been a very long time since I traveled that far north.”
“You get Caspagir from talking to me?”
“Eh. You also talk in your sleep. That changes your accent a lot.”
“I do not!”
Tyche had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Right now, he was more afraid of Shawn escaping his cell and beating the shit out of him. “Sure, and you’re not secretly upset with someone named Rayne.”
“I am not!” Shawn barked, sounding petulant this time. “Just…don’t talk about this. To anyone.”
“Why would I repeat any of this? You’re my ticket out of this hellhole, and I’m not fucking that up.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Tyche had no desire to ruffle Shawn’s feathers or to dig any further into his secrets.
He preferred not to be completely blind when it came to Shawn, but their relationship was fairly simple.
They were using each other to get free. Beyond that, they had no other need of each other.
Tyche knew the value of a secret. He had more than enough secrets that he wanted to keep hidden away from the world.
“I think this isn’t a government-run facility,” Shawn stated after a couple of minutes of silence.
“I’ve been wondering the same thing. With government, there are all these rules and restrictions. Checks and balances, right?”
“Yes, it’s chaotic here. No consistency. Either this is a poorly run government black site…” Shawn trailed off, leaving Tyche to finish the thought for him.
“Or this is a private citizen’s illegal operation, overseen by a bunch of amoral assholes.”
Shawn snorted. “Sounds right to me.”
“You’ll meet the private citizen soon enough. Right now, they must wear you down, make you vulnerable. They have to be sure you aren’t a risk to him.”
“You’ve met him?”
Tyche grunted. “Saw him once. Tried to slime his way into my good graces. Very smooth. Never gave his name, but I wouldn’t believe him even if he did.”
“I need to meet him, Ty. See him with my own eyes. After that, we’re out of here,” Shawn promised.
“I’m holding you to that,” Tyche muttered.
It was about what he’d expected from Shawn.
This was a man with a goal, and right now that goal demanded he peel back the layers of the organization that held him.
That was fine. Tyche wouldn’t mind seeing them dismantled and tortured the same way they’d tortured so many others.
He could wait. He just needed to know that there was a light shining at the end of this long, horrible tunnel.