Asher Converse's Arc

Chapter 15 of 30

The alley door held its bolt, and the storage behind it filled fast. Asher and Tucker hauled in casks, sacks of grain, crates of brass mugs. The new room stacked to the rafters. Elixir now had more to sell than hands to sell it. Asher stood at the bar one night and watched the crowd press three deep. He poured until his arm ached. Tucker worked the far end, laughing, sliding drinks. They could not keep up. "We need a server," Asher said. "One more set of hands." Tucker wiped a mug and set it down. His chains caught the lantern light. He looked at Asher longer than the job needed, then let his eyes drop to the gold chain at Asher's throat. Asher noticed. He had noticed for weeks now. He let it go, but tonight he did not step back. He leaned on the bar and let Tucker look. The dress shirt hung open two buttons. Asher felt the warmth of being seen, and he did not hate it. "You like the attention," Tucker said. Dry, quiet. Not a question. "Business is business," Asher said. He grinned and tugged his collar wider. Tucker's mouth curved under his mustache. He poured two drinks and slid one over. For a moment neither man moved to the next customer. Then a shout broke it. A patron waved coins, waiting too long. Asher straightened. "The server," he said. "Who?" Tucker thought a beat. "Someone who won't skim the till. Someone we already trust." He named no one. He rarely did until he was sure. Asher scanned the room. He knew the faces that came each night. Most were strangers passing through, exactly the men he wanted here. But strangers behind his bar meant coins walking out the door. He needed a hand he could watch, one already sworn to the group below the floor. The thought landed hard. His fighters gathered in the hidden room most nights. One of them could stand behind the bar in plain sight. A server who watched the door, watched the crowd, watched for the stranger who had once studied Asher's table too closely. The job did double work. "Rowan," Asher said. "He blends anywhere. He reads a room. And he’s easy on the eyes for those who look." Tucker nodded slow. "He'd hear everything." Asher wiped his hands on a rag. Decision made. He would put a fighter at the taps. The bar stayed loud and open for wandering men, and now his own eyes stood in the middle of it. "I'll ask him tomorrow," Asher said. He served the waiting patron and took the coins. Behind him the full storage waited to be poured out. Elixir had the goods. Now it would have the hands, and they would belong to a man who could hold a bow as easily as a pitcher.