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to her left was telling someone about his donkey getting bullied by his rooster, and the man to her right was arm wrestling the person beside him. She swung her stool around to face the rest of the Gold Hanky.
    Effie saw a man who must have been close to her age talking with what had to be a prostitute, given her revealing outfit and leaning interest in his conversation. As he noticed Effie’s glance, he looked over and met her eyes. Their stares locked for a moment before he turned back to the prostitute, said something brief, and then approached Effie.
    “Brady,” he said, extending his hand.
    Effie shook his hand and looked at him sideways. “Why are you talking to a prostie? Can’t get a woman that you don’t have to pay for?” She was genuinely curious, as he was young and handsome.
    He grew a smile that seemed to belong on his face, like it was harder for him to relax his mouth than to let it curl. “Yeah? So how many beers do I have to buy you before I can figure out if I even have a chance? At least with her it’s guaranteed.”
    I like this one. He’s clever. “Just one,” she replied.
    Brady studied her eyes for a moment, acting like he could discern if she was telling the truth. Then he nodded and ordered her a beer.
    Effie took a small sip and licked her lips.
    “So what are my chances?” he asked.
    “You’ll find out once I’m done.” Effie placed the mug on the bar and turned to him. She liked his blue eyes. Even in the dim bar, they seemed bright. “Are you a class?” she asked. His hands were course like a warrior’s, but she’d known chemists with palms just as rough, like Steffen.
    “Yes, I’m a psychic.” He facetiously touched the top of Effie’s head with a finger and squinted his eyes. “You want to finish your drink faster…did it work?”
    Effie turned to the counter behind her, slowly placed her hand on her beer, picked it up, turned back to face Brady, took a small sip, turned back to the counter, and slowly put the drink back down. “You’re not very good at psyche,” she said.
    Brady snorted. “Then I’m just like the rest of the psychics.”
    “So by that attitude I’m guessing you’re a warrior?” Effie decided not to bring up Reela. That conversation was not worth having with this stranger. She’d convinced Reela to come out with her once and then never again. Reela didn’t seem to care for men in bars, or really anywhere else, for that matter. She was always too straightforward with them.
    “Actually, a chemist,” he answered, using the first sincere tone she’d heard from him.
    Effie forced a gag. “A chemist is even worse, especially a horny one.”
    “We’re all horny,” he answered quickly, shifting his smile slightly so it sat a little crooked. “While some may give you the idea they want to help the world, really they just want to sell their discovery to the King so they can make money and buy a pretty girl a drink at a bar for a chance to take her to bed.”
    “I bet the smart ones just pay for the prostie.”
    “That they do.”
    Effie let her smile show for a breath. Then she picked up her beer, turned back to Brady, and began to gulp it. She had a skill for drinking quickly, sometimes relying on it to win bets. She didn’t stop until the glass was empty, slamming it down on the bar.
    “I’m leaving,” she said, holding in a belch. “I may be back later. Thanks for the beer.”
    “I won’t be here much longer,” he called after her.
    “Leave if you wish,” she told him as she went. Mixing with the beer in her belly was a drop of guilt, but there were other places she had to visit before leaving Oakshen for the Academy tomorrow morning.
    She visited two other bars that night, Steels and Fervor, only to be disappointed by the company she found there. She had a few more free drinks bought by generous older men and got harassed on the street once, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. It had been a couple hours since she’d