Both Eladrin looked away from each other in the ensuing silence. Such words and emotions were unbecoming even in private."

Jhendayre spoke first. “I apologize if I upset you.”

Ramar rubbed one calloused hand through his hair. “No, it is I who should apologize. You are a guest in my home, I should not have lost my temper.”

“Perhaps I could offer you tea, to make amends.”

“Wine would be better than tea.”

At Ramar’s words, Jhendayre loosened the front of his robe and pulled out a slender bottle of dark liquid and offered it to him. “Would a sixty-four year old vintage be acceptable?”

The old Eladrin accepted the bottle and slowly rotated it in his hands. The seal of Izhenthorne Manor was stamped onto the side. “Is this…accurate?”

Jhendayre nodded gravely. “It is.”

“This is priceless.”

“I brought it to show you how serious I am.”

“But your mother-”

“Is dead. I never knew her, only of her.”

Ramar regarded the bottle. Then he bowed deeply, not bothering to hide the pain that accompanied the movement.