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Andraste swung her leg over the saddle, landing with a stiff groan on the cobbled road. Bending her knees a bit, she reached to brush back her auburn hair and tuck it behind her ears. She glanced across the saddle to her companion, who had already dismounted. With his back to the sunset, Callyss was gathering his reigns to walk the horse behind the house. His pale eyes were vacant, his body acting on muscle memory. Andraste cleared her throat, walking around the front of her roan pony to get his attention. “You'll put the horses away?” Callyss looked up at the sound of her voice, meeting her bright green eyes. He hummed his agreement to her question, reaching out to take her pony’s reigns. Andraste pulled them forward from her saddle, handing them over to the drow. “Do you want me to wait?”
“No,” he replied, already turning for the corner of the house. “Go in, I’ll find my way.”
“Don’t die without me,” the wood elf replied nonchalantly, waving once as she headed for the front door, just off the street. Callyss replied with a half-hearted grunt as he disappeared to the stable, the two riding ponies trailing tiredly behind him. After their last day of riding Evermoor Way, it was always a relief and delight to finally arrive at the gates of Everlund. She knew Callyss enjoyed his time in the city just as much as she did, but he always became cagey around her family. They became cagey around each other. Shaking her head, Andraste stepped off the road and up the front steps of the townhouse to knock on the door.
Her fist rapped against the ornately carved, solid wood. A mirrored design of scrollwork and lilies had been hand-carved by her adoptive father 25 years previous, and the details were still well cared-for. After a moment the lock in the door turned, and it swung open to reveal Drusilia. Andraste's adopted mother shared her age in appearance, but was otherwise very distinct. The tall moon elf's dark hair and porcelain skin were a stark contrast to the bard's red hair and deep tan.
"Andraste," the older woman greeted warmly, a smile on her face. "I am so glad you've come. Please." Drusilia stepped aside to usher her in. Inside, the family home was not much changed. The careful greenery and lifelike paintings were at once an echo of old elvish regality and a touch of the personal. Deep blue rugs covered floors in the adjoining rooms, and large windows allowed for ample natural light.
"Afternoon Mother, " Andraste returned, briefly placing a hand on her shoulder. "Where is everyone?"
"Syllin was painting in her room, though I'm sure she's heard you by now. Lucan is out finishing some errands for me. He'll be home soon." The two women turned to walk down the main hall together. "Would you like to put down your things? It's not much—did you bring anything else?"
"Oh, no," Andraste grabbed her the thick strap of her pack on her shoulder absently. "Callyss is putting the horses up. There is more."
"I see," Drusilia said, her expression losing some of its light. Just then, footsteps echoed out from ahead of them—a light tap-tap-tap-tap that quickly grew louder. The little girl rounded the corner at the end of the hall, long white hair swinging behind her. Her orange tunic played nicely with the warm tones in her freckled skin. Syllin ran up to her mother, throwing her arms around her waist in greeting.
"Hello!" Andraste exclaimed, reflexively embracing the child. "How big you are! Has it been so long, my love?" Crouching low, the bard drew her daughter into a real hug, squeezing her tightly.
"O'si," Syllin began, pulling back slightly. "Come and see my painting I'm doing! U'Osi got me metal paints and I am painting the stars."
"Beautiful," Andraste smiled. She stood back up, taking her daughter's hand to follow her lead.
"Is Ilharn here too?" Syllin headed toward her own room at the back of the house.
"Yes, outside. He'll be in soon," Andraste squeezed Syllin's hand. "What else have you been doing?"
"I got a bow too! A small one. For my birthday." The girl's shoulders crept up slightly. "I've been trying it outside. I'm—I'm good but U'Osi says I have to be better before I can have a real one."
The elven triplet reached the end of the hallway, and Syllin pulled them to the doorway beneath the stair into her own room. It was neat and clean, with every item in its own place. A large purple knit blanket was the only piece awry, tossed across the bed. A child-sized easel and canvas were propped up near the large bay window, metallic paints catching the beautiful light of the sunset outside.
"Well both your parents can help you with that," Andraste assured her, smiling. "And can you pull the string all by yourself?"
"Yes, but it's hard. Only a few times in a row." Syllin let go of her mother's hand and went to the window, gathering a few brushes from her work desk and starting to clean them off. "See? What else shall I add?"
"Hmm." Andraste came closer, bending forward with hands on her knees to peer at the painting. "You know I'm not this kind of artist. It's beautiful as it is."
Just then, the sound of the back door being pulled open reached them. And after a moment: the soft tap signaling it was shut again. Syllin whirled around, brushes still in hand, and darted out of the room. "Ilharn!" Her voice called from the hallway.
"And how long will you stay?" Drusilia asked, picking up their conversation after a beat.
"Oh, I don't know," Andraste brushed a hand through her auburn hair. "A few weeks I suppose. Until you get sick of us."
The pale elf gave a non-committal hum, turning to leave as well. "I assume you can put your things away in the usual place."
"Of course." With that, Andraste headed for the back of the house. Her backpack was beginning to wear on her shoulder, and suddenly all she wanted was to collapse onto a bed and rest her muscles. The faint smell of her dirty clothes came back to her, and she wondered how quickly hot water could be made for a bath.
Their large kitchen ran perpendicular to the front of the house, with a wide view of the small stable out back and the green garden yard between them. There were vibrant fruits on some of the nearer trees, and a wandering stone path stretched from the back door to the side lane. A polished oak table was the centerpiece of the kitchen, surrounded by counters and shelves and cabinets. They held a variety of foods and cutlery, Andraste knew, in the same places as when she had grown up. She leaned against the doorway and took in the room.
Callyss stood between the table and the back door, a pile of packs at his feet. He held his sword belt in one hand with two sheathed scimitars, and had Syllin cradled against his side with the other arm. She was staring up at him, repeating her news about her archery pursuits.
"I'll get a real one when I get better!" she said, excitedly clasping her hands in front of her chest. Suddenly, she reached out toward the swords dangling in front of her, stopping just short of the scabbards. "Can I see?"
"Don't drop them," Callyss replied, only a hint of exhaustion in his voice. He waited for her to grab hold of the two swords before letting go of the belt and turning to pick up the packs on the floor.
Syllin hugged the weapons to her chest and stepped around the side of the table. Andraste smirked to see that the swords were nearly longer than the girl herself. Gently, Syllin lowered them to the ground and sat down. Reaching out, she ran her small hands over the hilt, guard, and engraved leather of the scabbards.
"Same as usual," Andraste nodded to the drow as he carried their belongings over, carefully sidestepping their daughter without a glance.
"Don't let her swing them around," he replied, brushing intentionally close as he passed her in the doorway.
"I'm no idiot," Andraste quipped over her shoulder. She crossed the distance and sat down on the floor with Syllin, crosslegged in front of the blades. "Would you like a sword?"
"Like these?" Syllin looked up, eyes wide and excited. "I like Ilharn's swords. They are pretty."
Andraste let out a little laugh, leaning over to muss the girl's white hair. "You be sure to tell him that. You'd have to have something simpler first. And smaller, of course. Those are too big for you to learn with."
"Oh." The little elf went back to tracing the patterns and letters in the worked leather scabbards.
"Do you know, this one here," Andraste tapped the large symmetrical flourish at the top of the scabbard, overlain by a sharp arch. "This one's your house."
"House?"
"Well, since you're part drow too, and your Ilharn is from House Duskryn, you are too. It's like a family. Mostly." Andraste turned over the sword laid on top, and traced a vertical stack of runes embossed near the end. "Oloth, zhah, tu'abbil, lu'ogglin."
Syllin sat up from examining the sword. "What's that mean?"
"I believe it's the motto. 'Darkness is both friend and enemy.' Most drow prefer to fight in the dark. But that can be dangerous also."
"I don't want to fight at all," Syllin replied, getting up from the floor. "But I still want to learn swords. And bows too!"
"That's okay," Andraste grabbed the sword belt and followed the little girl's lead. "You can be a drow either way. And I'm sure you'll be great at both those things." She slung the belt over her shoulder and reached for Syllin's hand. "Let's go take these to Cal and then decide what to do with the evening."
---
Andraste hauled the last of the hot water down the hallway, finally dumping the bucket into the bath. The tub was emitting faint steam in the lamplight as she closed the door. The bronze bucket clattered lightly as she set it on the bedroom hearth and began to drop her dirty travel clothes into a pile. Her traveling bags were sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed along with Callyss's. Her rapier lay on the side table with his scimitars. Often hers would lay forgotten for weeks, but he could never keep his hands off the swords that long. A small smile came to her at the thought of his latent paranoia.
Shucking off her clothes and dipping her toes into the tub, the redhead took a moment to adjust before slowly easing in. The warm water instantly eased her tired muscles. Andraste sighed as she sat down, leaning her head against the back of the oblong tub. Although some things had changed over the decades, this house was still the home of her childhood. Despite their occasional arguments, it was nostalgic to be back under a roof with Lucan and Drusilia, and to have regular meals in the same four walls. To see Syllin running back and forth from her old room.
The latch on the door turned without warning. Andraste glanced over as the door opened halfway to admit Callyss, who silently shut it behind himself. The drow walked between the tub and the bed to the side table without comment.
"You should change," Andraste commented, tailing him with her eyes.
"I will, leave the water would you?" He was removing one of his scabbards from the belt, hands brushing over straps and tethers in a practiced way.
"I can get new water, it won't take too long. I just want to sit a moment. What are you doing?"
He turned back toward the tub, a spark in his eyes as he flexed his grip on the single sword. "Going out back to dance. Asking the Dark Maiden to help me not kill your relatives as they sleep."
Andraste sat up a bit, poking her shoulders up out of the water as she drew her fingers over her collarbone. "My parents. And here I thought you'd left your old ways."
"Only mostly," he replied, voice softening as he crossed the space to look down on her in the water.
"You know I love your humor," the elf said flatly, resting her head back to stare up at him. "What did she say to you?"
"Nothing. I’d rather not recount it." Callyss bent to brush a dry kiss against her cheek before heading for the door again, sword still in hand.
"I always know when it's you, you never knock." Andraste slid down into the water, wetting her pointed ears and hair for a brief moment.
"Did you want me to?" Callyss asked, pausing at the door.
"Not really." The hot water was swirling in her wake, making fine, beautiful little ripples all around her body. "I'll freshen the water a bit when I get out. I know you love the moon but you should come back soon, or it will be cold."
"Or you could come dance with me and I'll bathe tomorrow."
"Not if you're planning to sleep in that bed you won't," she smiled at him over the edge of the tub, enjoying the promise of both solitude and company. "Get outside already, I'd like to keep my parents."
"If you say so," Callyss agreed, shutting the door behind him.
---
Morning came and went, and the brisk dawn faded into a mild day. The yard was green under a cloudless sky, and the fruit trees provided a border of shade around the space. Three tidy bales of yellow straw were stacked atop each other near the end of the wild grass. The wide circles of red paint Lucan had left on them formed a rough target field, although some of it was already wearing away.
Syllin stood in the grass, ten feet back from the bales. Light and soft on her skin, her dark shirt and white vest shifted in the breeze. She looked on as Callyss knelt to string her small bow and set out the arrows in a line. "Stand how you would," he directed as he worked. Glancing at him once more, Syllin turned perpendicular to the straw bales, spreading her feet and standing tall as she could.
After a moment, Callyss' shadow fell over her and he put the bow in her hands, reaching down also to narrow her stance with a tap on her ankle. "Shoulder width is enough, if you stand too wide you'll be easy to knock over."
"By who?" Twisting around to watch him behind her, she caught the black-skinned elf's twitch. The dark burst-shaped scar across the bridge of his nose was barely discernible with his face in shadow.
"No one now. Face the target."
Syllin turned forward, grabbing an arrow from near her feet, then holding up her bow as though she would aim. It took a moment to knock the arrow to the string. Twisting up her mouth and shutting one eye, she prepared to draw it back.
"Open both your eyes." Callyss corrected from behind her. "Then, do what you've been doing."
Forgetting herself for a moment, the point of her arrow dipped as she adjusted her whole body. Both eyes open, she began again. Syllin took a deep breath and pulled the taught string back to her shoulder. Doing her best to aim at the middle of the red target, she let go and heard the arrow fly. It embedded into the straw, to the right and just down from the second ring of the target.
"I hit it!" Syllin looked back up at Callyss' face, waiting for his next directions. He glanced to the straw bales.
"Yes, you hit it." Crouching down to her height, he turned her body back toward the target. "I knew you would. But don't worry about that. You need to use your body right, first. Then worry about what you hit." He grabbed the bottom limb of her bow, and used it to push her arms back into a horizontal position. "Your left hand is gripping too tight, and it makes you stiff. Let go a moment."
Syllin opened her fingers, the bow only being held aloft by Callyss. He gently tipped the rest back against her hand, resting the grip against the soft bulge at the base of her index finger. Immediately, she grasped it in her fist.
Except that he caught her fingers, keeping them open. "Not like that. You want all of the force to rest against here." Rocking the bow slightly, he tapped the grip against the same place in her hand. "Keep the rest of it open, and a little loose. That way when you let the arrow go, the bow can follow through. Try it again, Dalharil."
Cautiously, Syllin closed her hand around the rest again, trying to leave little gaps of air between her fingers and the wood. Callyss held onto the limb until she had taken up another arrow and set it to the string. With the bow all to herself, Syllin started again, pulling as hard as she could to get the string to her shoulder. Pausing a moment to take a breath, she aimed with both eyes, then let the arrow go. The wooden shaft sank into the straw, a few inches right of her last arrow. The little elf groaned, turning back to Callyss abruptly.
"It went farther!"
"You did it right," he replied, the corner of his mouth turned up. "It doesn't matter what you hit, you did what I asked. Now, do it again."