24 - New Deal
The heat had gone completely. So had some of the ache. He could move much more freely around the stone room now. Many days passed. He didn’t care much for it. He slept when he felt tired and ate when they brought him food. It wasn’t good. It wasn’t not good. It simply was.
And for a while that was enough.
But slowly as the days passed after the heart had gone, he’d begun to recognize some of the sounds being made at him.
Deal.
That was his favorite one next to Food. Deal. Always deals. He didn’t mind them. Liked them, in fact. Deal often led to Food, and Food was always tasty. It didn’t hurt much, these Deals. Not like before. If he sat still, they would give him food. If he got mad and snapped, there would be no food. No hurt. Not much. But no food. Deal wasn’t fun.
But it was tasty.
More sounds - other sounds - also became familiar.
Sit. Stay. Behave. Stop. Sting. Sting meant hurt. He didn’t like sting. Not good. But sting also meant Deal. And Deal meant Food.
So maybe Sting was okay. Sometimes.
But there was another he didn’t know how to feel about.
Luka.
Maeve said it. That was what he learned Soft Hands was called. He’d overheard the Stern Man - Garrick, he remembered after a moment - calling her that a few times. The sounds floated in his mind. Maeve. Garrick. Odd. But not as odd as that other sound.
Luka.
Was it praise? He doubted it. She hissed the sound as many times as she cooed it. But it didn’t seem bad either. He didn’t really understand. But he found that he didn’t really care either. All that really mattered was Food and Deal. That was enough.
But then one day, it wasn’t enough.
He sat in his cot, knees drawn to his chest and back pressed against the stone wall waiting like always. His eye flickered to the door. Any moment now and they’d appear with more Food. His tongue flickered out hungrily, and he pinched it between his teeth as he pictured what Food would be brought. Tasty meats. Tough meats. Maybe sweet, crunchy fruits if Soft Maeve wanted to check his eye again.
The door eventually opened up again, the scrape of iron against stone echoey on the walls. He perked up as both Stern Garrick and Soft Maeve entered. But one sniff of the air and one look at their empty hands made his heart quicken. Empty Hands meant Tricks. Tricks meant Hurt. He shrank back into the wall, wary. The chains on his wrists clanked. The air crackled with nervous tension.
This was not part of the deal.
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His lips curled in suspicion, and he emitted a low growl. But then Garrick reached into his pocket and tossed something at him. He started, then snatched it from midair and stuffed it into his mouth.
Sweet. Crunchy. Mm.
He looked up, hands held out. The chains rattled as they shifted, hanging loosely beneath his outstretched arms. More. But Stern Garrick shook his head.
“No more. Not yet,” he said.
He frowned. No more yet? Eye then?
But instead Garrick held up something else. More chains. They clanked and rattled as they were raised.
“New deal,” Garrick said, voice low. “Come with us and you’ll get more. Behave, obey. Deal?”
More. He frowned deeply, brows furrowed. More chains. But also more Treats. Was this a good deal? Felt like a Trick.
But sweetness lingered on his tongue. Tasty. Maybe…
There was a long moment of silence.
“He's not doing anything,” Soft Hands said.
She looked worried.
“We may have to force him out of here,” Garrick said.
His finger twitched. They stilled as he reached out and began to tap.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. This many.
He looked up. Were they listening? Maeve and Garrick blinked at him. He frowned and tapped five more times. Firm. Angry. Did they not understand? How slow.
“Well, well,” said a voice from outside the cell. “I'll be damned. He's negotiating.”
Strange sounds. They made no sense, but the silver man with the scar - the one who fed him apple slices every morning now - sounded pleased. He chuckled even, earning a stern look from the silver woman at his side. He tapped again. Tap, tap, tap, tap. tap. Slowly. Firmly. Then he looked up again. Did they understand now?
Finally, understanding dawned in Stern Garrick's eyes. He nodded.
“Five more. Deal.”
His chest puffed out. Good. They agreed.
“But,” Garrick added sternly, “you obey everything I say. Understand?”
Obey everything. He frowned. That sounded not so good, but he wanted them. Oh how he wanted them. So he grunted.
Deal.
He relaxed his body, feet dropping to the cold stone floor. He squirmed on the edge of his cot. Stern Garrick stepped forward slowly and presented the chains. Click. The weight of the iron collar settled around his neck, chafe at the magic band already there. He rumbled uncomfortably but did not move. Next came wrists. Wall shackles were replaced with new ones. Lighter ones, but tighter ones. Then the ankles.
Not good. They felt not good. He couldn't move freely. He stood and took a step. The chain between his ankles tightened before he could take a full one. He grumbled.
“Well done, Luka,” Maeve said.
That sounds again. He growled uncomfortably. The chains rattled as he tested their strength. His magic flared. Crimson and obsidian disappeared quickly into the magic band once more.
Maeve tensed, but Garrick placed a large hand on her shoulder.
“Let him test,” he said. “See there's no choice.”
No give. His shoulders slumped. He huffed through his nose and looked up, glowering.
Maeve and Garrick glanced at each other.
“Alright, Luka. Let’s go.”
Maeve stepped forward. Garrick fell in behind him. As soon as he stepped out of the cell, the other two silver people joined him on either side. He paused a moment, frowning. They were tall. They also had empty hands, but theirs were fisted tight at their sides. A low rumble of displeasure. A glance at Stern Garrick.
“This is Bran and Tamsin.”
More sounds. He didn’t care for them. But he did catch the tone. Quiet. Not nervous. He huffed through his nose again. Stern Man hadn’t lied yet. But he would be watching all the same.
He took a step forward.
