“Exclusive drinks, huh?” Nythir said lightly, setting his mug on the bar. “Think you can find one for me?”
Luna’s gaze sharpened.
“Of course, sir,” she said in her customer voice. “I’ll get that for you right away.”
“Why doesheget beer?” Vorrik muttered.
“Because I’m not an idiot,” Nythir said under his breath, “and I can read a room.”
“Something’s happening?” Vorrik asked, genuinely baffled.
Nythir tipped his head toward Karl’s table. “Luna is siphoning information from the men dressed like a traveling circus.”
Vorrik’s expression shifted from confusion to sympathy. “Oh.”
He glanced back at the table.
“They don’t know what’s about to hit them.”
Vorrik handled problems that required presence. Nythir dealt with the ones that required patience. Together, they ensured jobs never escalated beyond necessary. Stonehaven preferred its violence contained, its deals clean, and its informants alive.
“Exactly.”
Luna returned with a fresh mug for him, the foam thick and proper this time. He didn’t want it, but he took a sip anyway and leaned across the counter, slipping on his best lazy half-smile.
“If Nythir is flirting with Luna,” the regulars liked to say, “shut up and don’t interrupt.”
So no one listened too closely when they whispered.
Nythir slid a copper coin into her cleavage. “Payment for the beer.”
The more inappropriate the gesture, the more invisible it became. To strangers, he was just another drunk, and she was just another bartender playing along for tips.
“Oh my, how generous,” Luna said brightly. She flashed the flower-etched side of the coin toward Vorrik and the others. “You make me as happy as a caged bird who’s learned to sing.”
“Birds shouldn’t be caged,” Nythir murmured. “Maybe I should set you free.”
“How about tomorrow at sunrise?” she replied smoothly. “I hear the view is lovely just past the bend.”
Sunrise meetings were never romantic. They were neutral ground. Early enough that tempers had cooled and witnesses were scarce. Whatever Luna brought tomorrow would determine the scope of the favor, and whatever Nythir offered in return would set the terms. Information for action. Protection for cooperation. That was how guild relations stayed profitable and bloodless.
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“Bar wench! What’s keeping you?” Karl shouted.
If being an outsider in Stonehaven hadn’t already been obvious, that sealed it.
Luna leaned closer to Nythir, her smile never slipping, teeth grinding behind it. “The bird is going to get killed if Sable doesn’t arrive soon.”
Nythir pitied her.
He wouldn’t have been able to keep up the act while getting groped. If the guild master didn’t arrive soon, Luna was going to find the most painful poison and make them suffer.
She grabbed a blue bottle and poured out amber liquid. Nythir rarely saw her pull that drink. The men were about to get very honest, very fast. Luna usually preferred subtler methods—something about savoring the euphoria of information—but even she had her breaking points.
“What does the birdcage mean again?” Vorrik asked.
“Why have codes if you’re not going to remember them?”
