“Have you ever drank anything older than you?”  Keto asked, her blue gaze peering into the depths of her tankard.

Quartes’ hooded gaze turned slowly to his companion.  The had settled into a tavern for the night.  A rare blessing in Keto’s mind, as the nearby fire warmed her skin and the stew they had been served warmed her from within.  The Landian for his part had spent his time watching and listening to the tavern’s other occupants.  Beneath his hood now an eyebrow raised.

“I would think that all water is older than me,” he offered.

Keto looked to the Landian now, her brow knitting.  “Isn’t rain new water?”

“I was taught that it’s water from elsewhere, settling back down.  Otherwise, if we kept getting rain the world would flood.”

She gave a nod and took a sip of her wine.  “Where does the rainwater come from then?”

“When pots are boiled or on hot days where you can see the mist coming off the water.”

“Huh, that’s a lot of people boiling pots,” Keto pointed out but the Landian shrugged.  “So let’s say have you drank anything older than that is made by thinking hands?”

“I don’t imbibe that often.”

“But you do indulge at times,” Keto quickly countered, raising her tankard with a smile.

The pale peridots of the Landian’s eyes disappeared for a moment as he shut them and took a breath.  “Yes,” came the response, its tone a hint of accusation that such indulgences were the fault of present company.

“Were any of them older than you?”  She pushed on, ignoring the accusation.

“Have you had anything older than you?”

“Yes actually,” Keto answered easily.  “I once was part of a group that saved some orchard owner’s son.  He rewarded us with a bottle of port that was over thirty years old.”  Keto’s gaze drifted off as she remembered the port.  “I think I nearly cried when we finished it.”

“By the time I met other Landians, and folk in general, I was older than anything that I was going to drink.”  Keto stored that fact away for later questioning.

“In all your years since, you’ve never come across anything that could rival you for age?  No, bottles sat undisturbed in some ruin?”

“I think you’re missing that even wine and spirits have an age after which they are no longer something you want to drink.  Like all things there is a prime, that thirty year port would not be enjoyable at a hundred years.  Nothing stops the Feys or time from pushing  the drink to foul over that much time.  So, whether three hundred or three thousand I was not going to find something brewed or crafted that is older than me and want to drink it.”

Keto nodded at the Landian’s explanation, taking another sip of her wine.  She thought to point out that he seemed to be doing good for his age, but then was reminded by the sight of Quartes’ scars that perhaps not even he was as good as he once was.  That was a sobering thought, one followed by another as her mind caught up to what had been said.  “Wait, so what is it?”  Quartes looked confused.  “Are you three hundred or three thousand years old?”

“Somewhere between the two,” the Landian offered before spooning some of the stew into his mouth.  His gaze turned back towards the other occupants as he chewed.

Keto took another sip of her wine, a longer one this time.  She watched over the rim of the tankard looked, gazing as the the Landian as he just sat there.  His stoic expression unchanged but the size of him seemed different to her now.  Her finger unconsciously traced the rim of her tankard as she lowered it.  How many years would he have with her?  One year most likely, a few decades if some strange fate made the impossible real.  Whether three hundred or three thousand, anytime they had together would be barely a flash for him.

His gaze had drifted about the room and returned to her and Keto realized that beneath that hood his brow had furrowed.  “What?” she asked him.

“You look sad,” he observed and he sat up, chair shifting as Quartes brought his attention around to her.  “I am sorry if I did that.”

Keto had to laugh, feeling a slight burning in her cheeks as she put her tankard down and waved away the concern.  “No, I think I was just realizing that…I was realizing how little the time I will get to spend with you will amount in the length of your life.”

Quartes did not immediately answer and she watched as his thumb ran along the handle spoon, finding the movement easier to look for the Landian’s pale gaze.  Finally he cleared his throat and spoke, “You are right that I have lived a long time, and I may have long years yet ahead of me.  Yet in all the years it’s not like every moment stands out, there are those I reflect on, whether because I know they were pivotal or because they were important to me, but there are many I may never have revisited the memory of.”

Quartes leaned forward, “Even now, as we are still travelling together, I think about our talks and our time together, and I expect to be doing that for long years to come.”