Amber - 6 (An Order of Amber) (Patreon)

I bounced uncomfortably in my seat, the stagecoach skipping on the uneven stones of the cobbled road as we sped down the road to Gilneas City. As much as I might wish it was possible I couldn't have Lorna carry me everywhere, no matter how convenient it was. She was old enough that Darius brought her with him while administering to his territories, and with the growing refugee camps that still needed to be settled filling up from those who had lived outside the wall, there was a lot for both of them to do.

"Eugh." I rubbed my eyes, trying to blink away the fuzziness as I put my book aside. Reading while moving was a pain even before on stable trains and in cars with actual suspension, in a bouncy stagecoach it was miserable.

Even if I could do it it really wasn't worth the headache.

For a time I settled for staring out the window, watching the forest go by.

After a while, where I had found myself dozing off, we veered sharply to the side, the carriage tilting as it slowed and skidded.

"Woah! Woah!" The driver yelled. "Woah I said!"

The horses were whinnying loudly in distress at being called to a halt. Before I was even fully aware of what was happening I had braced myself against the wall, keeping myself from flying about; some of my luggage wasn't so lucky.

My poor book bounced off the wall and seats before slapping down into the footwell, spine bent and pages askew as it lay face down.

Irritating as that was, and I hoped it wasn't too damaged it was one of Lorna's favourites, there were more pressing matters. When we finally stopped moving entirely I pushed open the door and took a look at what had happened.

We were entirely turned around, the carriage facing back north, but just ahead there was a tree on the road. Entirely blocking the path.

"Driver?" I called out.

"Didn't see it miss, my apologies." He called back, brushing down the still agitated horses. "Have to find another route."

"No matter–" I cut myself off, cursing myself for still being half asleep and focused. A few squirrels in their nests, birds chittering agitatedly in the trees where they sheltered from the rain. And at least six people standing in the woods. "We have company."

"I know." Said the guard, his shotgun already out but pointed at the ground. "If you step back inside miss, we'll handle the issue."

"Ruddy bandits." The driver swore. "They've been getting bolder."

"More numerous." The guard corrected, nodding his head at the tree. "You lot can come out! No point wasting time."

A man swaggered out of the trees. "Well, you know how it goes. You've got the payment and we'll get the tree out of the way for ya'." He said, a confident smirk on his face. "And maybe a little extra from the little lady." His eyes roved over my body and I felt an icy chill run down my spine.

Then a burning fury built up in me. "And what exactly," I said, my voice frigid, "kind of extraare you thinking of?"

"Some service... or perhaps some coin?" He hedged, rubbing his fingers together. "I'm not an unreasonable man. All for getting the road clear, you understand? It's hard work, clearing trees."

I breathed deeply, tasting the forest air. It was fresh and clear, the scent of flowers in the air.

He was still watching me. I could feel his eyes on my skin. And I didn't like it.

"No," I said bluntly, the guard at my side tensing. The driver had already collected a small pouch from somewhere, filled with coins. A bribe to get them to leave us alone; why skin the sheep when it will shear its own wool for you? Well, I wasn't going to take part. "I think not."

The man's face turned dour, and he waved his arm. An arrow shot out of the trees, about to embed itself into the cart next to me–

"Gust," I said, and a blast of wind sent the branches of the trees shaking and the arrow bouncing in the air long enough to be seen before clattering down onto the cobbled road. "No, I think not." I raised my arm and flicked my wrist. The trees beside the road bent down, their branches grasping at the trunk of the fallen tree and dragging it to the side.

Off in the distance, behind the man who was staring white-faced and backing away, those hiding in the branches found their perches rather unsafeas the very foliage they hid within ensnared them.

"Witch! Witch! She's a bloody witch!" Came a woman's scream from the tree where the arrow had come from.

I ignored them, turning to the driver. "This is becoming more common?"

His eyes were wide as he looked at the tree trunk still being pulled off the road. Eventually, he nodded. "Yes ma'am. Lots of 'em of late." He spat on the ground. "Not enough men to guard the road from all these brigands."

Looking back at my new... prisoners, and wrinkling my nose at the fresh stench of urine emanating from them, I wondered exactly what I was going to do.

Killing them... I didn't have the right. They might be bandits but that didn't mean I had the right to execute them. Gilneas had an actual legal system, for all it was heavily biased towards the nobility. And, for all they were blatantlyperforming evil acts, bandits were usually a symptom, not a cause.

Bloody Genn Greymane and his sodding stupid wall. This was probably his fault.

"How far to the next town?" I asked idly as I dragged them all out beside the road and linked them together.

"A– an hour or so, lady witch. Ma'am." The driver said.

I hummed thoughtfully. There wasn't really room on the stagecoach to carrythem, but an hour or two wasn't too far. "The bindings will last long enough, then." Gently I brushed a hand against all four of the horses before moving to get back inside. "Take us away, we can inform the local guard about their presence. They'll still be here..." I glanced at the sky, late evening. "Until dawn, most likely."

Unless one of them was a master at escaping bonds they were very much stuck.

As we set off again I picked up my book, smoothing out the pages. Bandits. Of all the things.

-oOoOo-

Just like the last time I had come to the capital, the first thing that hit me as I stepped out of the stagecoach was the air. After years and years in clean, fresh, near enough pollutant-freeair one could easily forget what it was like to live in a city with industry. And Gilneas was far, far worse than where I had lived Before.

Even now in the summer, when there were far fewer fires burning to spew smoke out of the chimneys that decorated the tall slate roofs of Gilneas' city's homes, there was still smog. Billowing in from the industrial parts of the city, where I could see great pillars of grey and black smoke pouring into the sky. The great steel furnaces and coking ovens, rolling mills and blacksmiths. The gunsmiths and bullet foundries. The industry that had turned Gilneas from a weakened power to having the second strongest military of the human kingdoms.

Nowhere outside of Gilneas and Ironforge produced cannons and guns in anywhere near the quantity we did, nor made nearly as much use of them.

Before Genn buggered everything, even before the Alliance was formed, Kul Tirasbought the cannons for their ships from us. Ironforge didn't have the ports to export them which made acquiring the, admittedly higher quality, dwarven cannons far, far harder.

I turned away from the sight with a scowl on my face. I didn't likebeing in the city much, it was choking and smothering. The closest thing to a park in the entire place was the Cathedral Gardens or the enclosed spaces held private by the nobles in Greymane's Court. Some were big enough, like the one attached to the Greymane's own residence, to be proper parks but it wasn't like I could get to the damn thing.

"Good day," I said to the driver of my stagecoach before setting off. I quickly pulled a scarf over my face; sod the heat I wanted my lungs intact tomorrow.

Coal smog was the worst.

If it would rain the worst of it would go – right into the overburdened sewers and canals – but much like back home, it was bright and sunny with nary a cloud in the sky.

I walked through the city streets, dodging through the crowds and around clods of horse dung. Someone would come by to clean it up eventually, but not in the middle of the day, and the smell wouldn't go away anytime soon. Sewers or not not everyone had toilets, and even this far away from the main cattle markets the odour of penned-up animals was strong. Largely coming from the canals, which no one in their right mind would ever want to dip their toes in let alone swim.

Stormwind city had canals as well, and it really made me wonder if they had a bettersewer system or if they were the same teeming mass of human waste slowly washing out to sea.

Finding my way to the right spot wasn't hard. Unlike Dalaran there was basically no magic here, which made the few spots it did show up fairly obvious. And Darius had told me where to go, which also helped. It wasn't a surprise that the Spellwakers lived in the Greymane Court, even if they weren't nobles themselves Mages wouldn't be living in a poorer part of the city.

Knocking on the Spellwaker's door triggered some kind of magical alarm, an arcane pulse echoing inside the house. Useful, though I'd seen better in Dalaran.

There was shouting inside, getting louder as someone approached the door.

"Why won't you listen to me?!" A young woman shouted, right as the door opened. A rather tired-looking middle-aged lady in a simple, but enchanted, robe standing before me.

The lady turned back around. "Myriam! Manners." She snapped, before sighing. "We're rather busy, as you can tell." She said tiredly. "So we aren't taking–"

"Darius sent me," I said quickly, holding out my letter of introduction. "There's trouble brewing and I've need of some assistance. Gwyneth Arevin, missus Spellwaker...?"

Spellwaker nodded. "Lottie, pleased to meet you." She shot a glare over her shoulder at her daughter. "Though there could hardly have been a worse time."

"A few days from now would have been worse," Myriam said, crossing her arms and frowning. "If you had your way we wouldn't even be here!"

"Well. Come in, and do shut the door please." Lottie said as she waved me in, doing little more than roll her eyes at her daughter. "So, you're the witch that Darius hired on. I've heard good things about you; that was your work in the village some years back, wasn't it? Never did do any botany or biomancy. Never saw the point of working with plants but I suppose for a hedge mage they can be quite useful."

My face went stony at her rather brusque dismissal of my abilities. "Very useful," I said flatly. "Though Darius pays me more for my healing than plant shaping, and helping deal with minor problems in his demesne."

Lottie hummed, glancing at me as she read the letter.

The air inside the house was noticeablycleaner than outside, with no taste of coal in the air at all. The walls were fitted with gas lamps, but rather than flames, they held little mage lights illuminating the hall.

It was quite warm and inviting, even if the atmosphere wasn't so pleasant with how Myriam was still glaring at her mother.

Though she decided to stop and turn to me. "How is Lorna doing?" Myriam asked, stepping around her mother. They both shared the same soft features, though Myriam was very clearly the younger as she lacked the laugh lines of her mother. "When she was here for Noble Garden she was still gushing about her gryphon. Donovan, right?"

I flashed her a smile. "Lorna's well. And Donovan's certainly getting bigger, won't be that long until he can carry two unaided."

Though if we ever wanted to take Vivi it would probably be worth making something to boost his strength more permanently. He was nearing full size so making a better harness for him, or a tabard of some sort, wouldn't be a terrible idea.

"Darius doesn't mention why you're here," Lottie said, tapping the letter.

"Multiple reasons, really." She hadn't invited me to sit, or refreshments, or anything. "If you wish me gone, you can say so. I can return tomorrow." If she was going to be rude she could be open about it.

I could visit the tinkers in the meantime. It wasn't as if I'd travel all this way to spend a single day in the city, no matter how uncomfortable it was to be here for long stretches.

Lottie frowned for a moment before looking towards her daughter and sighing. "No, no. You can stay. Our argument wasn't going anywhere anyway."

"Just because yourefuse to listen to me when I say I'm stayingdoesn't mean I'm going to change my mind." Myriam snapped.

"Staying?" I asked, tilting my head quizzically.

"We're leaving for Dalaran. I for one have no intention of being trapped here."

I frowned. That was notideal, there were one or two other mages in Gilneas besides the Spellwakers – and bloody Arugal – that I'd learned of, but they were middling at best. And Darius only knew ofthem rather than knowing them personally. One was Godfrey'scousin, so sod dealing with him.

"This is our home!"

Lottie looked tiredly at her daughter. "As you can see, there is some disagreement. I am part of the Kirin Tor, Myriam. And you will be too."

"Actually..." I said, keeping my voice neutral. "A few years ago I was in Dalaran as an apprentice. I was thrown out due to Genn leaving the Alliance, they were no longer willing to let me stay and learn. So you may find it more difficult than you think."

A complete and total lie. I knewother Gilnean apprentices hadn't been thrown out like me. It had been targeted because of what I was doing at the time.

But if it kept the Spellwakers in Gilneas... then that was to my, and Darius', benefit.

"Well, that's that then, isn't it?" Myriam said triumphantly. "Even if they accept you back, they won't take me on. I'm. Not. Going."

"Your father–"

"Is gone!" Myriam yelled, glowering at her mother with clenched teeth. After a moment she remembered I was here, glancing at me and then wincing. "Sorry." She said perfunctorily, anger still colouring her voice.

"Ah–" Okay, maybe now really was a bad time.

"Wait," Myriam cut me off, letting out a long breath. She looked at her mother and forced herself to relax. "Let's not talk about this, mother." She said flatly, sounding almost tired. She brushed her hair behind her ear and walked deeper into the house. "I'll make tea while you help our guest."

Lottie stared after her until she was out of sight, then sighed. "May as well." She said, then muttered something under her breath I couldn't hear. "Come on, this way." She waved at me to follow.

We moved into a modest but well-decorated sitting room, paintings of both women – and many of Myriam as a child – decorating the walls. As well as those of a man wearing the robes of a Kirin Tor, the most prominent of which being one where he held a laughing baby with Lottie at his side.

Prying... was not something I was going to do. Keepers knew what I'd do to something that tried to drag up how I felt about myfamily woes when I wasn't up to it.

"So what is it you need help with?" Lottie asked again.

I nodded. "Multiple things, first I've a young cousin who was tested by a wandering mage and showed some talent with the Arcane. She's interested in being a mage, so I was looking for someone to teach her. Secondly..." I took in a deep breath. "Secondly I am aware of a curse that has had the seal on it... tampered with. What was contained within is notcontained anymore, and it's going to start to spread again. Lacking access to Dalaran I was hoping for any help you might have in ways to practice working against curses, whether practical or theoretical."

Lottie's eyes narrowed. "What curse?"

"The Worgen," I said. Much like with Darius, there was a flicker of recognition.

"Not a name I've heard in some time." She muttered, "Nor called a curse before." Her eyes bore into me, searching for something that she didn't seem to find. "What idiot is trying to summon them from their world now?"

"I don't know." I lied, it was gallingto consider letting things go as they had done. But I'd fussed over my decision enough, I wasn't stopping Arugal. "I have seen their prison, where they are kept deep in slumber, and there is a hole. An empty space where there should be none. One that, as far as I was able to perceive on my last visit... wasn't there seven years ago."

I tilted my head at her. "Who summoned them last time?"

"No one," Lottie said, failing to elaborate further as she eyed me searchingly. She only stopped as her daughter came into the room with a tray of cups and a teapot.

"How do you take it?" Myriam asked, oblivious to her mother's gaze.

"Milk, one sugar," I said. I didn't drink thatmuch tea, but honestly, I was Gilnean. I still drank it. Wouldn't be proper if I didn't. "You still know about the Worgen, someone had to have encountered them. Who?"

"What makes you call it a prison?" Lottie said, ignoring my question. "Ur called it another world."

Or maybe she was answering it at the same time.

Ur I knew about and wasn't new information. Both a relief and a shame at the same time; at least there weren't more idiots tampering with the Worgen than I thought.

I mulled over her question for a moment, not wanting to explain the entirety of the Emerald Dream and the Worgen's story to her. "It's both." I settled for saying. "In another realm, but a prison built within it. Most easily reached within dreams."

Myriam glanced back and forth between us, clearly confused, as she poured out our cups.

"Alright," Lottie said, her fingers drumming on the arm of her chair.  "Say I believe you, and if Darius trusts you I might as well, what is it you expect to do? What curseis it the Worgen have that you're worried about?"

"The Worgen Curse itself. The curse that changes men and women into Worgen, their very nature is that of an infectious transformation. Thatis what I need to know how to combat."

I left it at that, sipping at my tea while waiting for her response. The only sound in the room for several minutes was the steady swing of a grandfather clock and the ticking of its internal mechanisms.

"Myriam," Lottie said eventually. "We do still have a copy of The Book of Ur,don't we?"

"Uh," Myriam started, before stopping to think. "Ur... Ur, yes? Yes, it's part of the Bestiary collection."

"Neither of us are curse breakers," Lottie said to me. "Nor do we meddle in curses themselves. I'm sure there's a witch out there who's better suited for thatthan a proper mage." She snorted, "I'll loan you some books. Can't carry them all with us to Dalaran anyway."

Myriam stomped her foot in frustration. "Mother! Again, I am not going! I'm not! And miss Arevin already said that they're not accepting Gilneans anymore!"

Lottie rolled her eyes as she stood up. "Whatever you say, Mryi. Either way, you can't stop me from giving my own things away."

She walked away, leaving her daughter to stew in frustration behind her.

"I... Argh!" Myriam stomped her foot again. "I'm happyhere! I don't want to be just another apprentice.Does she really think life will be betterin a city where we aren't even above-averagemages?! We're respectedhere!"

I sipped my tea more. I reallydidn't want to get too deeply involved in this family dispute of theirs.

It took a few moments, and a fair bit more ranting, before Myriam remembered she had an audience. Her cheeks turned pink with embarrassment as she awkwardly stared at me.

"Myriam Spellwaker?" I said, deciding the only way out was to change the topic myself. "I did come here for another reason besides asking for help with the curse," Asking where I could find a Warlock was sounding a lotmore stupid in person than it had back when I'd been planning things, so I was writing that off for now. "My cousin got tested by a travelling Kirin Tor Mage and was found to have some talent for the Arcane. I'm looking for a teacher for her, if you were...?"

"I'm a bit young for an apprentice." She said quickly. "But, uh, I do want to take one on. I'm just not really readyto do it yet."

I smiled. "I know Iwas unprepared when I started teaching, but for all it's been a lot of work I've enjoyed it. My best student's already healing and enchanting."

"Really?" Myriam asked curiously. "Well, can you tell me about your cousin? And your students?"

"Sure. Rosaline's only seven, so she's still a little young for an apprenticeship. But I've made sure she knows her numbers and..."

We fell into an easy conversation about Rosaline and Emmaline, as well as some talk of my own students in Trix and Richard, or the adults I taught. Sometimes I wondered why I bothered, kids were a lot more open to feeling and connecting with nature than adults were. They weren't as set in their ways and were just that little bit more in touch with their instincts.

Eventually Lottie returned, bringing with her a pair of books that she foisted onto me. It wasn't long after that she shooed me away.

Considering I had been an uninvited guest I wasn't terribly put out by her not offering me dinner.

At least it was early enough I could easily find an inn to stay in.