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have thought it possible.”
    Glyrenden smiled and raised a hand, signaling for more ale. “You have a lot to learn, young Aubrey,” he said.
    A minute or two later, the landlord’s pretty young daughter brought over another tray of drinks. She nodded coolly enough to Glyrenden, but gave Aubrey a warm smile when he thanked her.
    â€œIt’s good ale,” she offered. “My pa brews it himself, and his pa brewed it before him. He’s training my brother now.”
    â€œAnd will you work with your brother when this becomes his place?” Aubrey asked, smiling back at her.
    She laughed heartily. “La, no, I don’t want to be a working girl,” she said. “I’ve my eye on a good young man, and we’ll buy a farm and raise chickens. And babies,” she added, with a sidelong grin.
    â€œA young man picked out already, and I’ve scarcely gotten a chance to know you,” Aubrey responded, putting one hand across his heart. She was used to flirtations; she laughed again and wrapped her hands in her apron.
    â€œSweethearts in every town—you’re that type,” she said shrewdly. “You don’t need to be making eyes at me.”
    â€œBut there are sweet women in every town,” Aubrey protested. “How can I help myself?”
    â€œQuestions like that will get young men in trouble every time,” she replied. A voice across the room called out for another round; she waved a hand in that direction and bobbed a curtsey at Aubrey. “Back to work for me. Holler if you want more ale.” And smiling still, she left them.
    Aubrey tasted the ale, which was fine indeed, and looked up to find Glyrenden watching him sardonically.
    â€œMy instincts tell me she named you rightly,” the wizard said. “Do you indeed boast a girl in every village?”
    â€œHardly that,” Aubrey said, grinning. “I flatter and I smile. It rarely goes beyond that.”
    â€œBut you like women.”
    Aubrey laughed. “What man does not?”
    Glyrenden nodded at the tavernkeeper’s daughter, now talking happily with customers across the room. “That one, now. She found you a fine, handsome fellow. You could have your way with her tonight, if you were so inclined.”
    â€œNo, I’m sure I couldn’t. You heard her—she has a man all picked out, a steady sort who will give her a home and a family. She’s not feckless enough to trade all that in for a penniless magician’s apprentice.”
    â€œMagic makes even the most sensible girl feckless,” Glyrenden observed.
    â€œMagic? You mean love potions?” Aubrey sat straighter in his chair, prepared to debate the point. “I’ve mixed a few in my time, and I’ve seen their immediate effects, but I confess I find them a poor substitute for real affection.”
    â€œAh, you’re a romantic,” Glyrenden said, nodding sagely. “You want to believe the protestation of desire.”
    â€œWell, of course! Who would enjoy the coerced kiss? Now, I realize a potion is not physical coercion, and the woman who has drunk the drug may feel an induced passion, but I have a sense of justice about the whole thing. I would not want to experience desire projected onto me by magic, and neither would I want to believe that no one would love me of her own free will.”
    Glyrenden shrugged. “Even men without recourse to sorcery practice a little magic in their seductions,” he said. “It is, perhaps, merely a matter of degree. If a man has a woman in his arms, and he whispers lies, and she believes them, how is that any more honest than casting a spell? Or say the seduction has been a protracted campaign—a matter of roses sent and invitations issued and, on one special night, the room prepared with musicians and incense and wine—a woman might lose herself in such heady surroundings and give herself when she had no intention of