"How old is Yanek in years?"
She hesitated, biting her lip in puzzlement. "There is always Yanek, sintaha Rowley. Why should there be anything about him of years?"
She didn't know what he was talking about. Rowley felt excitement creep along the channels of his veins.
"Can you remember when Yanek was born?"
The look in her eyes made his heart pound harder. She was alarmed!
He pressed on, relentlessly. "Yesterday, Torl died. Today, she lives. You do not understand a simple thing like age. You do not remember when Yanek was born, but he is not over seven or eight. Tsu ... tell me ... are you and your people immortal?"
There was an anguish in his tone that made her drop her eyes.
"No," she said, without moving her lips.
That was the truth. His inner sense told him it was. And the truth was disappointing. What had he expected? The key to immortality? The Fountain of Youth? Men had sought it in ages past and never found it.
His thoughts darted. "If you cannot remember Yanek being born, perhaps he was not born. Yet, you have families. There must be love...."