"There might be few days like this left before winter," the Speaker's daughter had argued. "You'll blink your eyes, and winter will be here, Tanis."

She had laughed, but Tanis had shivered a little. He already could feel the winds of winter in his bones, and he knew, somehow, that the changing of the seasons meant more to him than it did to other elves. Maybe it was that he could feel himself changing with the season, growing older. Maybe it was that individual seasons meant more to races that expected fewer of them than the elves did; a half-elf lived a shorter life than the centuries that a full elf could expect, although a half-elf in turn could expect a longer life than humans could.

The mage and his pupil turned to a new subject- the workings of wings. Miral had found a dead sparrow and a brown bat in a walk through the woods this morning; he and Tanis examined the two creatures lying on a tray on the tutor's desk, illuminated by a lamp that lent the room a scent of spiced oil. Still, as the two stood head by head examining the dead bat and the bird, there was a strain between master and pupil. Tanis tried hard to turn his attention back toward Miral's lesson.

"Do you see the differences between the bat and the sparrow, then, Tanis?" Miral asked. His breath smelled of bay leaves.

"I think so," Tanis said. He traced the fragile lines of the bat's wing with a finger. "In the bat, the wing is made of skin stretched between the finger bones, which have grown very long, except for the thumb." He turned his attention to the sparrow lying still on the desk. "And in the bird, the fingers are lost, and the wing is fashioned of feathers springing from the arm."

"Good," Miral said gravely. "I suspect that's enough for today. I wouldn't want you to get ideas about flying, yourself."

Tanis smiled with Miral. "I'm afraid if I tried that, my fate would be the same as these poor fellows." He looked wistfully at the animals lying still on the desk.

"Life and death are both part of the cycle of nature," Miral said, catching his expression. "And if we can learn from death, then so much the better." He moved the tray aside, and poured a cup of wine for each of them to sip as they talked. "Now, I think there's time left for another story. What shall it be?"

"You," Tanis replied. "I want to hear your life story."

The shadows in the room deepened again as the mage's clear eyes took in the half-elf's serious expression. The stone floors seemed to radiate a chill, and the half-elf shivered. Miral appeared to come to some decision, took another sip of wine, and asked, "What tale of myself is there for me to tell?"

"What about all of your journeys?" the half-elf pressed.

Miral turned away from the table. "The aimless wanderings of a foolish young elf, that was all," the mage said with a shrug. "My life was of little importance until I finally had the sense to come to Qualinost."

Tanis took another swallow of wine, then another, gaining a weak form of courage. "How did you get here? You say you are Silvanesti. Why come to Qualinost, then?"

"It's early afternoon. Aren't you late for your archery lesson?"

"You said we have time for another story," Tanis said stubbornly.

Miral sighed. "I see you will not leave this until I satisfy you with some explanation of a middle-aged mage's life. Come, then. Let me walk with you to your session with Tyresian. We can talk along the way."

They drained their goblets, and Tanis followed Miral into the hallway, the mage careful to set the lock in the door. At Miral's request, the corridor outside his chambers was always dimly lit. A guard was never present, also at his request.

"What do you know of me, Tanis?" Miral asked as they stepped slowly along the corridor.

Tanis matched his gait to that of the mage. Both made little noise as they walked, the half-elf because he wore leather moccasins, the mage because he shod his feet with padded slippers. "I know that you were a friend of the Speaker's brother, Arelas. And that you came here when I was a child." Tanis flushed, hoping that the mage would not say the half-elf was a child still.

The mage, however, appeared engrossed in examining the gray veins in the marble floor as the pair progressed along the hallway. They'd gone far enough from the mage's quarters that the wall sconces again held torches for light; they stepped from one circle of light into darkness and then into the next illuminated circle. Finally, Miral spoke, his voice seeming to come from deep within his hood.

"We were longtime friends," the mage said hoarsely. "You know that Arelas grew up away from court?"

Tanis nodded, then realized that Miral could not see to the side as he walked, hooded, facing forward. "Yes, of course," he said.

"Arelas was the youngest of the three brothers. Solostaran was eldest, of course. Kethrenan was many years younger, and Arelas was only a few years younger than Kethrenan. Arelas was sent away from court as a very young child – some say because he was frail and could not thrive here," Miral said. "He was sent to a group of clerics near Caergoth, several weeks' travel north of here, through mountains and across the Straits of Schallsea. Shortly before that, I had come to the same area as an apprentice with a group of mages.

"You would think two elves living in a human city would become friends easily, purely out of loneliness," Miral continued. "But such wasn't the case. We lived near the same city for long years, passing each other in the marketplace, nodding but never speaking. He never went home to Qualinost. I never went home to Silvanost." He paused, and Tanis practically heard his friend groping for the correct words. As they passed one doorway, Lord Xenoth, the Speaker's elderly adviser, emerged with a swirl of his silver-gray robe, but passed without acknowledging the pair.

"Xenoth disliked me from the start," Miral murmured. "Why, I don't know. I've never done anything against him. I certainly am no threat to his position at court, which is all he seems to care about."

As they passed by a window, a vertical slash in the quartz, Tanis sidestepped a freestanding planter overflowing with ferns. "Yet you and Arelas eventually met," he prompted.

Miral turned right and headed down wide stone steps to the courtyard. "We met through my magic. One day in the Caergoth marketplace, Arelas took ill. He was ever a frail elf. I was nearby and rushed to his aid. I know many spells for easing minor ills, although I am not an accomplished healer, as you well know." Tanis rushed to disagree, but Miral waved aside his polite assurances with one of his characteristic gestures, and the half-elf fell silent again. Miral, in fact, was only a minor mage, but his friendly personality and willingness to share his time had made him relatively popular.

"At any rate," Miral said, "I was able to ease Arelas's pain, and in the days afterward I visited him often. At last, we became friends."

They had arrived at the double doors that opened from the Speaker's palace into the courtyard. The doors were fashioned of polished steel-making them particularly valuable in an era when the constant threat of war made steel, used for weapons, worth more than gold or silver. Each door stood as high as two elves and as wide as one, although the precision of the elven craftsmen meant that any elf, regardless of strength, could set the doors swinging open. Tanis opened one, enough to see Tyresian lounging arrogantly against a pillar forty feet outside the door. Miral stepped back into the shadows, and the half-elf let the door swing shut again.

"How did you end up in Qualinost?" Tanis asked. "And what happened to Arelas?"

Miral pulled his hood back from his face. "Perhaps this should wait for another time. It is not the kind of tale to be tossed out as two friends part." But at Tanis's look, he continued. "Arelas decided to visit Qualinost, and he asked me to accompany him. I had always wanted to see the western elven lands, so I agreed. We could have sent to Qualinost, to court, for an escort, I suppose, but Arelas wanted to enter Qualinesti anonymously-why, I never did discover. In so many ways, he was a secretive sort.