Amber - Speakers (Patreon)

Aderic followed his longtime friend, Fitz, back into Lord Renard's lair. It had been more than a decade since he had last brought someone to see their god, and as far as he was aware none had entranced his lord quite so thoroughly before and after their meeting. If there was one thing he had learned over his century of being a speaker, it was that the Fox loved nothing more than a curiosity or a puzzle that he had to solve.

Only a story unheard of and utterly new, such as that of the orcs and the distant world of Draenor, had ever come close.

Gwyneth and her knowledge were both.

The inside of the glade was largely how he expected it to be, young Gwyneth resting peacefully in a pile of fur, tails, and foxes. Nim and Nem, the youngest blink fox's parents, were providing the bulk of her 'bed' and seemed quite content with the matter.

Considering she had saved their sole kit from a foolish death, such was not much of a surprise to Aderic. The Foxes remembered their debts and made sure to pay them, and when friendship was won it was won for a lifetime. And as off to the side said kit, growing faster than was normal for a blink fox, was wrestling with a ball of magic as large as her head and gnawing on it – coalesced starlight in the form of the Blue Child – he suspected that companionship had been won without even thinking.

He kneeled down and smiled as he scratched Fitz's ears again.

"Thank you, friend." He whispered in a tongue no mortal man spoke any longer.

Fitz crooned at him before strutting over to the fox pile and nestling in. Most folk thought of foxes as solitary creatures, seeing them only as they hunted or foraged for food, but when one was privy to their lives at home and in sanctuary one would find them adoring and caring mates. One of the reasons that the foxes and ravens got along, even though Lord Renard and Lady Rokkri did not, was their shared care for kin and love of play.

"Welcome back, Addy." The Fox spoke from where he lay, his eyes lingering on the pile of foxes. "Your underlings behaving themselves?"

"Largely, Renny." Aderic replied casually. If his lord wished for informality, it was informality he received. "Young Gwyneth's new mate is quite worried about her – and her actions regarding her."

Renny snorted and flicked his tail. "I've claimed her for the night and the little Windwalker can have her back come morning. They can kiss and canoodle and all those things you humans do to get over her worries."

Aderic nodded, that was to be expected. "I have already told her such."

A bright yellow eye turned its gaze towards Aderic curiously, sparkling with mirth.

"The morning part, not the canoodling. What they choose to do with each other is their business and not mine." Aderic said quickly, then huffed out a sigh as Renny started to snicker. "Did you find what you wanted to find?"

"Yes," Renny hummed, his ear flat and relaxed with contentment. "And more besides. She smells almost like Mother, you know?"

"There is a feel to her that puzzled me." Aderic admitted, though he had attributed it to her impressive usage of magic and the fact she never seemed to stop rather than a theoretical connection to Fren. "She passed the tests?"

"Would she be here if she did not?" Renny asked rhetorically, swishing his tail for emphasis. "She did not run, she did not cower, she did not beg. Even though I did not fake my anger and struck out in ways I had not wished to." He lifted his head to point at a tree, wrapped in thornvine and interwoven with the branches of others. Its trunk was marked with bands of new growth, connecting the base to the upper reaches. "She is not a seer, Aderic. She has lived two lives and glimpsed a world that shall never be."

Aderic hummed, he had joined in the betting pool as to what the girl was once he learned there was one. Irwen, Samantha, Celestine, and Joseline. Though little – not so little anymore, she'd birthed a child and been gone more than a decade and a half – Irwen was unlikely to gain her winnings now that they had an answer.

Reincarnation was not something Aderic had never heard of, not something he did not believe to be possible. After all, Renny had told him stories of past witches who had lived other lives, some as foxes or ravens, or even as a human or troll, in the past. It was a simple fact that the Cycle of Dream and Shadow sometimes failed to wipe clean a life's memories.

"What little she told me of her life before, her life under another star, can you imagine, Addy? A whole different world than Azeroth... it was fascinating." Renny returned to staring at the young woman as she dozed. "I would give her your role, your authority, just to hear more of the stories she remembers. To dream her dreams." Before Aderic could grow worried Renny sighed despondently. "It is not to be."

"Well," Aderic moved to sit beside his god. To touch him was a fool's act if you were not kin, and at this moment Aderic needed the ability to speak. "I must say I am glad for that, Renny. What would I do without you and yours to fill my days?"

Nim snorted softly, flicking one of her tails at him.

But Renny, Lord Renard, didn't stir.

Didn't respond to what in the past was pounced on as a perfect opportunity to turn a joke around or play on Aderic's insecurities. He simply lay still, watching the young woman with bright yellow eyes.

"Renny?"

Aderic was met with silence, concern and tension building as the air shifted and became heavy.

"I am glad my youngest has chosen to stand beside her." Lord Renard said softly, and off to the side, Tricks perked up, her ears flaring as she paused in her gnawing on the ball of magic. "The child will need able companions to face what is coming. And face it she must for she is one of the few that knows the stakes."

"Lord Renard...?" Aderic said cautiously. "Should that not be–"

"You are no fighter, my dear Speaker." His God said bluntly. "Nor are many of your kin. Your greatest lies here, the second departed for crimes committed and only half true. Your Order of Amber is not ready even if the Wild Home has given you their blessing."

Mulling that over for a moment, Aderic chose to seek more information. "If Meredith was falsely accused, why did you allow us to banish her?"

Lord Renard rolled his head to meet Aderic's gaze with both eyes. "I do not interfere unless you seek to punish an innocent, dear Speaker. And though not all blamed upon her was true she bore guilt as your kind see it." He looked away. "How you choose to punish your own is not something I care for. And did you not find it convenient? Was that not part of your reasoning?"

Letting out a long breath Aderic nodded, for lying to his god was something he had long learned not to do.

Though he and Joseline had not lied about the contents of the mug that young Gwyneth had drunk from, the truth was that the dosage was not so strong. Perhaps Joseline had not noticed, perhaps she had too little experience with Purple Lotus, but it was clear enough to him that Meredith had used it to account for dilution in a honeyed tea. To allow it to be disguised.

While some would have been appalled regardless of the strength of the tea, understanding the violation being tricked and used meant, others were old enough to recall the story of Jenny the Wallflower. A story told only during the Mingling itself, of a girl that was too shy, too timid, too frigid, and too alone to consider opening herself to love and lust. Who refused to express herself and join in on the Mingling, year after year, even as those around her found family and happiness, and warned her that time was fleeting.

That she was condemning herself to a listless and lifeless existence without the heart's joy.

Until one of her kin, who saw her as pitiable, took things into their own hands and brewed the first mingling tea and tricked Jenny into drinking it. Spurring her to find love, joy, family, and fulfilment in the arms of others.

From Lord Renard, he had learned that the story was, in many parts, true. Though Jenny had been appalled by what had happened to her and never touched the tea, or the Mingling, again, she had found love and family in the daughter she bore from that day.

It had fallen out of favour in more recent decades, in part due to Aderic's own efforts, with other love stories that were less dubious and criminal under Gilnean law taking the fore, but even if it had not been told since before Celestine's time as an apprentice there were still dozens, like him, who remembered the tale.

He even recalled an instance much like Gwyneth occurred, though it was a boy rather than a girl. A young man who had sworn himself to marry his childhood sweetheart and take no other into his heart was swayed into breaking his word by a poisoned gift.

That boy was long dead now, a man old and with grandchildren of his own before his passing. Though he still found marriage with his love he never forgave the one who had harmed him.

But they had not been punished. It was not looked upon as a crime. For the tea was not considered evil. To spur the uncertain, afraid, and reluctant to act was seen by many at the time as the right thing to do. To help him as Jenny the Wallflower had been helped.

So, Aderic had chosen to spin a lie. To ensure that what happened this time was not comparable to a simple story and that it was not considered forgivable. Not to aid Gwyneth and grant her retribution, no.

But to see that Meredith, a thorn in the side of their reformation efforts, was removed. It was too good of an opportunity to ignore.

Though with the revelations about Alwyn and his actions, it had proven unnecessary. He had not known if Meredith had been lying when she denied knowledge of what Alwyn did, though now he knew she had not, but the situation had been too suspicious for all but those most closely aligned to her to ignore.

Tainted by association she would have been cast out regardless of the lie he spun about the strength of the potion.

Alwyn had been lucky to receive as much mercy as he had. That a man amongst them had acted like one of the Crowskins made Aderic's skin crawl; he should have been strung up and had ravens peck out his eyes in Odmar's name for his crimes.

Worse still, magic that had been used to cause great harm and had been hidden by speakers long past had been laid to bare once more. Though the stories and truths behind the Crowskins and how Glynda had forged them remained secret... it would be ten generations before enough was forgotten for it to be as safe as it had been.

If it ever would be, with how things had been changing.

The Inquisitions had not been hunting nothing when they came to Gilneas and Aderic hoped to never give them reason to do so again.

"Contemplating, I see." Lord Renard murmured.

"My apologies, Lord Renard." Aderic bowed his head to his god. "I was lost in thought at the situation. You are correct that convenience was a large part of my decision."

"So long as you are honest to yourself, you may lie as you wish." Lord Renard said with a flick of his tail. "I shall not fault you for it."

Aderic nodded calmly, it was an answer he had heard many times over the years. He looked to the night sky above, feeling for a moment for those distant points of light... but there was nothing.

He was a curious sort. He knew more of their history, their lore, than the last Fox Speaker had before he was twenty. The moment his apprenticeship was done gone travelling across all of Gilneas to find their kin and learn every story he could. It was why he had lasted so long as Speaker, he understood much of Lord Renard's motivations. Each year he brought back new tales to tell.

Truly, young Gwyneth was the greatest threat to his position in half a century.

"Why did she call Fren Freya?" Aderic asked.

Lord Renard twitched amusedly. "Because that is her name."

Looking at his god, Aderic felt confused for a moment. "You have never objected to my calling her Fren, nor the names of any of the Watchers."

The great fox snickered. "Because that is her name too. Just as the Wild Home is Talloren, Tal'Doren – as the child calls it – and Ótamdrasil also, she is both Fren and Freya, and Freyja and Freja and Frina. They all bear the same meaning. She is the Lifewarden, Shepherd of Life, Keeper of Gardens, and Giver of Dreams. The only mother I have ever known." Lord Renard clambered to his feet, standing half as tall as a man. "She would not begrudge you her name. No, she would be proud. Proud her children's children have come so far and still remember her."

He started walking towards the fox pile and paused, turning back for a moment. "Ah, but Odyn? That sanctimonious one-eyed twit would rip off your head for disrespecting him by saying his name wrong." Aderic was long used to the wide and toothy grin that Lord Renard gave him, but it was still unnerving all the same. "Something to keep in mind."

"I shall should I ever meet the revered All-Father." He answered, filing that information away for the future. Perhaps it would be possible in this lifetime with the changes Gwyneth was making. "Is there anything you wish done, Lord Renard?"

Rather than answer his god resumed his slow walk to the pile and a few of the unnamed foxes shifted to allow him closer. Slowly, gently, he pressed his nose to her forehead.

Aderic took in a deep breath, reminding himself that Lord Renard had already said that making her his Speaker was not to be.

The girl shifted in her sleep, batting at Lord Renard's snout and whining incoherently. As she wiped at the wetness on her forehead, her face screwed up into a restful pout, Aderic fixed the image in his mind. Even if this was the moment of her blessing, of being offered their god's form, that sight would serve as good blackmail material in the future.

"Tricks," Lord Renard said softly, so as not to disturb the girl further. "As she is your human, it is your duty to see she learns how to handle herself."

Tricks whined, gnawing on her ball of magic further. She was floating atop it, somehow achieving a facsimile of flight through its levitation and substance. It was, however, noticeably smaller than it had been.

"No, it can't wait. Go to sleep, little one."

Smiling at Lord Renard as he argued with his youngest descendant, Aderic bowed.

"I shall ensure her friends do not attempt a rescue mission before morning, Lord Renard." He said, receiving a dismissive flick of his god's tail.

"No, I can't do it. I blessed her. You're the one who had her save your fluffy little tail. Now go to sleep and teach her how to walk before she hurts herself!"

As he left the fox-filled grove he wondered what kind of fox she would come out as. He bore his god's colours, as was proper for a speaker, but little of his majesty nor strength. He flexed that part of him and fell to all fours, the world shifting as the maze leading out and home suddenly became a clear and straight path.

Yes, it would be good to have another true fox amongst them.

-oOoOo-

Celestine rolled the bead of magical amber her former apprentice had given her between her fingers as she left Alys' little coterie behind and headed back to her own fire and group, the only part of the glade where glimmering magic lights shone. She'd had far more success than expected in convincing them, only Sherrel refusing to join the Order of Amber and surrendering her token. The woman had never made much use of her magic, living as a seamstress in Duskhaven rather than as a witch, so it was hardly a surprise. No, what had been a surprise was that Alys, Morgan, and Catherine were all willing to contribute to their work in restoring the harvest for this year.

Tabitha would join the order but wouldn't take part in this first great work they performed. Though with her pregnancy, and the two young children she had with her, the decision was understandable. The young mother was exhausted just from keeping her home without adding in spending her magic on others.

And it was largely due to Gwyneth's latest surprise act. She, as Speaker of Ravens, had a connection to and could hear Talloren, as could Old Grims and Longtooth, but most merely felt the weight of aeons when the tree felt the need to bend its attention their way.

Gwyneth should not have been able to beseech the tree. Should not have been able to understand it. Should not have been able to convince it to give her a gift.

What the young woman had promised the great tree in return worried Celestine. The whisper of fur, fangs, claws, and a grievance older than Gilneas' history was enough to make clear that the subject had been the worgen. The worgen that, Watchers willing, would remain little more than the myths that were spoken of to frighten children into staying home at night. There was much Gwyneth hadn't told her, of that she was painfully aware, but they had spoken on the beasts that would drive back the undead Scourge that loomed on the horizon.

She understood, having seen with her own eyes the blight those monsters could bring, why Gwyneth was willing to allow the worgen to be freed to fight them... and yet she still worried for her former apprentice. That she had taken up a mantle too great too soon, to find a cure and solution to the burden Talloren and the great tree's twin had borne for untold aeons.

Even with her knowledge, it was a great task. One that might never see an end.

"Do you think she's going to be okay?" Mistmantle asked, looking up at Celestine worriedly before glancing away, past Talloren, at where Longtooth had taken Gwyneth. It was almost as if she had read her mind, but no. "She's still not back to normal, and... and I'm worried."

The reason for the question had been mundane, for all of its timing as Celestine reached their fire.

Folding her skirts as she sat Celestine sighed softly. "Only time will mend this, Vivianne."

"But–!" Mistmantle blurted loudly, grimacing as she cut herself off to continue more quietly. "What if she hates me? For not noticing because... for me drinking... why didn't you tell me she hated it so much?! I should've–"

"Don't blame yourself for Meredith's actions, Vivianne." Celestine said firmly, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Did Heather, who knows Gwyneth as well as you, see anything amiss? She learned alchemy under her mother and yet missed the signs, surely she would have known before you."

When she had selected the Mistmantle girl it had been for multiple reasons. They truly did need a representative of the Crowley lord to speak amongst them, to demonstrate that they had legitimacy, but the daughter of that house was the superior choice. Her mount and her bond with it were plain to see, much akin to the woodsmen and women that they were familiar with, as well as having more direct authority than the second child of a minor noble.

But it had been the clear affection that she and Gwyneth had shown each other, that had been expressed plainly and yet not blossomed, that had made her choice. Gwyneth needed more than the love of family, friends, and her students to see her through the burdens she carried.

One so clearly devoted to her and skilled enough in battle to see her guarded when she failed to recognise danger... the decision had been obvious. At least, it had been.

"Heather isn't the one who–" The girl blushed brightly, the redness reaching all the way to her ears. "She didn't... she didn't take advantage of her. Like I did."

Her head fell and the girl curled in on herself due to misplaced guilt.

"I already told you she doesn't blame you," Rosethorn grumbled frustratedly as she tossed a stick into their fire. "Even if she isn't happy about the way she happened the way she looks at you, the way she touched you when she left, she isn't going to give you up."

The fire crackled into the dark, heating the pot of stew that was cooking. It was still strange to Celestine that the fire wasn't their primary source of light as the sun finally faded from the sky, the efforts of her daughter – now dozing against the younger Rosethorn who was watching the other two children of their group – shining like floating stars around the camp.

An alien chill ran through her as she added to their number, a bead of light forming at the tip of her finger and joining the constellation.

"Joseline is correct, Vivianne." Celestine said, smiling reassuringly as she squeezed the young woman's shoulder. "Gwyneth looks at you like I looked at my husband when we first married and when I first started carrying Emmaline." Her smile twitched lightly as she put on a more jovial tone. "Of course, I didn't look at him that way for Rosaline. I knew better."

Rosethorn snorted and started coughing, but one of her hands trailed to her stomach. "True, you learn better after the first one." She smiled widely. "Still, it's worth it."

Mistmantle looked deeply uncomfortable as she shifted in place. "What if Gwen wants children?" She uttered in a terrified whisper.

Looking down at the troubled young woman Celestine wondered if her decision had truly been the best one. The young woman – no, a girl, nobles were privileged enough to have longer childhoods – had hidden her insecurities and worries well during their stay at Gwyneth's home.

Some were to be expected, she was entering into a relationship and was afraid for the future, but she needed to be a pillar of support, not a millstone around Gwyneth's neck.

"There are ways," Rosethorn said mysteriously, "tricks and methods to achieving a child."

"Traditionally a conspiracy such as yours would take part in a Mingling like this one for such purposes." Celestine said, gesturing openly at the plethora of candidates to father a child on either of them. "Rare is a man who turns down a woman asking to bear his child, and on your part... well, even the most conspiratorial of ravens can find a fox attractive if they drink enough tea."

By the look of utter disgust on Mistmantle's face after she processed Celestine's words she was one of the more extreme examples of a conspiratorial raven. Gwyneth had shown enough interest in both foxes and ravens to be much lesser on the scale.

"I don't– oh she's going to hate me when she finds out..." Mistmantle fretted.

Biting back a sigh Celestine looked to Rosethorn, sharing a frustrated look with her. This wasn't something they could leave alone.

It was well past the witching hour before they managed to calm the girl down completely, and even then only with Heather's greater familiarity and knowledge of the two's friendship was it possible. Having to reassure her that Gwyneth wouldn't turn on her for taking mingling tea, for using it for its intended purpose of gaining confidence and self-assuredness, in order to seduce her.

That it hadn't been the tea itself that drove Gwyneth into the fury that had her assault a fellow witch, but the issue of her lack of consent in taking it, as well as the circumstances that followed from taking it. And, of course, that she hadn't taken advantage of her. Or that it didn't matter that she had because Gwyneth chose to stay with her afterwards of her own free will.

Knowing that if the girl would just tell Gwyneth her worries the whole farce of a problem would resolve itself left Celestine immensely frustrated. It was tempting to force the issue, to inform Gwyneth of her conspirator's worries...

But that wouldn't allow them to grow.

"This is such a mess." Celestine said, rubbing at the bridge of her nose after Mistmantle had gone to sleep along with the children. "I regret not wringing Meredith's neck when I had the chance."

"You never had the heart for it" Old Grims said mockingly as she dropped down beside the fire. She didn't bother looking at anyone, instead staring at the floating lights. "She was better before she lost her little girl."

"I suppose you would know," Heather said sceptically, "though I can't see it."

"Not a story anyone likes telling." Rosethorn said to her daughter. "Way it goes, as I remember it, was Meredith found love with a mage boy as a child. He got scouted by a proper mage out of Dalaran and went to learn, promised to come back and did. Never stayed long, but she was happy with that."

Celestine nodded, she and Irwen had only been apprentices back then, the same as Rosethorn, but even the apprentices and children heard about Meredith and her wizard boy at the Minglings.

"Then, she got pregnant. As you do." Rosethorn rubbed her belly again. Heather whined at the oft-repeated reminder of the woman's success in her mission this year. "And she had a girl, made sure she did the same as me, and all was well. Until the girl started showing she had magic to her father."

"Boy decided his little girl wasn't going to live out her life like a peasant hedge mage and stole her away to Dalaran." Old Grims grabbed a stick and stirred the fire angrily. "Blame meself for that, denied her when she asked to bring him and her girl to a Mingling, to show them that she weren't just a hedge mage and there was more to her life than brewing potions. She kept the secret and it cost her."

"Oh," Heather said softly, "that's... that's horrible."

Old Grims sniffed loudly. "Still her own choice to make it her life to keep the secret afterwards. Don't go wasting time sympathising with her when she hates your guts."

"Alys mentioned that she compares all of her apprentices to her daughter and finds them wanting," Celestine added, it had been something she needed to look into after Meredith's record with them had been brought up. "The last pair, the twins she brought to the Mingling two years ago, ran away after finding her too demanding a teacher."

Heather opened her mouth for a moment, then hesitated and looked away.

After a moment Rosethorn sighed. "She wants to know what happened to Jennith, though she's worried what the answer might be."

"Mum!"

Celestine looked at Old Grims, who merely closed her eyes, and turned to meet Heather's gaze sadly. "Jennith ran into the Blackwald to try and save a friend who was lost while collecting silk from the spiders. She never returned and Meredith chose not to look for her."

And was most certainly dead, though that was best left unspoken lest the words make it true if she was not.

"Oh, watchers, no..." Heather whispered, her voice fading and sorrowful. "Jens... I... I think I will retire, Celestine. I... thank you... for telling me."

She rose, blinking rapidly as she walked to the Rosethorn's tent.

They remained silent for a while, the only sounds the creaking of the forest and the crackling of the fire. The loss of an apprentice to the dangers that existed in the world was hardly a rare thing, especially those who were reckless, but it was always a sad thing.

"Almost makes me wonder whether Gynweth found Meredith's girl in Dalaran. Or the boy who fathered him." Rosethorn mused idly. "Not that I recall their names."

"Alice," Old Grims said quietly, more subdued than Celestine had heard from her before, "Alice and Thomas Corrinth. Girl probably doesn't even remember her mother, spirited away before she was five. Could've been another Gwyneth if Meredith spoke true back then. Or Gwyneth another Alice." She looked off towards Talloren with a frown on her face. "Doubt it. No one's quite like that girl."

Celestine closed her eyes. Meredith might have had a reason behind her behaviour, her envy and anger towards Gwyneth and their plans, but she wouldn't spare a moment of sleep on her fate.

They couldn't change the past no matter how much they might wish to, and thus Meredith was always going to fight against the changes they sought.