"Dating"

"This painting was made by the court painter Vero Blainett on Violet Thorn Mountain in the Rikaner Kingdom in the year 3663 of the fourteenth Elven Era, or 663 of the Saint Laurent Calendar."

When Annan came downstairs from his bedroom, Irilanze was admiring the enormous Oil Painting on the hall wall.

The Elf was no longer as disheveled as she had been yesterday. She wore a moon-white robe, and a green twig loosely bound her long, dark teal hair.

Yesterday's frenzy was gone, too. Unlike other Elves, she had not braided her hair into fine plaits or hung glittering ornaments from it. Her casual appearance made her look like a scholarly Elf.

And this Elf Mentor had broadened Annan's horizons: Elves could get dark circles under their eyes, too.

Irilanze was different from Della. The dark circles detracted somewhat from her bearing, but her beauty was something to admire. Della's was something that made him want to reach out and touch her.

Annan had no Artistic Germs whatsoever. He walked down the stairs into the Living Room. "Have you been to the Royal Capital?"

"Kenny and I were standing beside Vero Blainett when he painted it."

Right. That was what it meant to be long-lived. As the Warlock's Handbook put it: to them, a human life, for all its triumphs and hardships, was like watching a babbling child run out to play in the morning and return that evening as a frail old man leaning on a cane.

The pain of being unable to resist the passage of time could certainly make a person gloomy. Annan was all right for now; he was still young, practically a child. Besides, the Warlock's Handbook said most sorcerers could live out their lives in peace and reach an age that made them