Baine’s ears flattened and his nostrils flared. “Yes, my warchief. You have made yourself quite clear.”
Malkorok watched him go.
Baine felt as if his own core were molten with outrage. It was with the greatest of efforts that he had kept from exploding in anger when Malkorok had challenged him. He was not afraid Malkorok could defeat him—by all accounts, Cairne had been winning the battle against Garrosh, before Magatha’s poison had claimed him. Baine bore his father’s blood and he had youth on his side. No, he had declined because there was no way to truly win. Poison would be used again, but better hidden this time. Or even if he slew Malkorok, there would be an ambush waiting in the shadows. And then, what would happen to his people? There was no clear successor yet. Garrosh would somehow see to it that a tauren was appointed whose thinking was more in line with his own—or who could be persuaded to think so.
No. His people needed him alive. And so, Baine would live, and do what he was ordered to do. Exactly, and only, what he was ordered to do. And when all this exploded in Garrosh’s tattooed face, as it certainly would, Baine, Vol’jin, and other cooler heads would be there to pick up the pieces and protect the Horde. What Garrosh had left of it, at least.
But Baine Bloodhoof was not helpless. The idea that had been forming as he began the march on Northwatch had solidified. Seeing Garrosh’s thoughtless, heedless, selfish manipulation of the elements for personal power had merely confirmed in Baine’s head what he knew in his heart to be the right path.
He had left orders to the tauren he commanded to attend to the bodies of the fallen. They would receive the proper death rituals. Too, he had ordered his people not to desecrate the bodies of the Alliance. Such disregard displeased the Earth Mother, who loved all her children. He did not stay for the ceremonies, leaving them in the capable hands of Kador.
He retired to his traveling teepee, to put his plan into motion. Before lifting the flap, he looked about carefully. There were no signs of any listening ears. To a young brave standing guard outside, he said, “Send me Perith Stormhoof. I have a very important task for him.”
9
“We ought to be able to figure this out,” said Jaina, anger—a feeling she rarely experienced—creeping into her voice. “We’ve got a blue dragon, two extremely skilled magi, and a talented and insightful apprentice. Plus the Kirin Tor at our disposal.” She ran a hand through her blond hair, forcing back the emotion that threatened to cloud her thoughts. She couldn’t afford the luxury of anger or irritation now. She had to think.
“Lady, there simply is no record anywhere of a spell that can hide a magical object from being sensed by a superior mage,” Kinndy said. “We’ve got to assume that Kalecgos here is superior to any mage of the shorter-lived Azerothian races. And begging your pardon, but it’s hard to sit here and think and ponder and twiddle our thumbs while Northwatch may be falling to the Horde right this moment!”
“Not to make light of your concern, Kinndy,” said Kalecgos, “but if I do not recover the Focusing Iris, the destruction that could be wrought on this world will make the fall of Northwatch look like a captured piece in a board game.”
Kinndy frowned and looked away.
“We all are distracted,” Jaina said, forcing calm upon her mind. “But Kalec’s right. The sooner we can figure out how its abductors are hiding the Focusing Iris from Kalec’s sensing, the safer we will all be.”
Kinndy nodded. “I know, I know,” she said. “But… it’s hard.”
Jaina regarded her apprentice and thought of the last time she had seen her own master, Antonidas. They had stood together in his happily disorganized study, and she had asked—begged—to stay and help him defend Dalaran against Arthas Menethil. Arthas had already arrived, was standing right outside, shouting taunts that wounded Jaina as much as if they had been physical arrows. How desperately she had wanted to protect the beautiful mage city—and how bitter it had been to know that Arthas, her Arthas, was the one responsible for the threat to it. But Antonidas had refused to permit her to linger. “You have other duties,” he had said. “Keep safe those you have promised to take care of, Jaina Proudmoore. One more or one less here… will make no difference.”
Jaina had no doubt that she and Kalec could make a difference at Northwatch—if they arrived in time. But even if they did, what then? Every minute counted now. They still didn’t know who had the cursed artifact, or what his or her plans were. And so, just as leaving Antonidas to die and Dalaran to fall had been the right thing to do, wrenching though the choice had been, she had to believe that staying here and finding the Iris were the right things to do this time.
Jaina felt the tears in her eyes again, even after so long. She reached over and squeezed Kinndy’s limp hand. “Part of becoming a mage, and having so much responsibility, is learning how to make the hard choices. I understand how you feel, Kinndy. But we are where we need to be.”
Kinndy nodded. The gnome girl was tired, as were they all. Her pink hair was messily tied, and there were circles under her large eyes. Tervosh looked years older than his actual age. Even Kalec’s lips were pressed together in a thin line, and Jaina didn’t want to know what she looked like. She’d been avoiding mirrors.
Her brow furrowed as she examined yet another scroll. Then, abruptly, she put it down and looked at them all. “Kinndy is right about the fact that there is no known record of a spell that can do what is being done. But obviously, someone figured it out, because it’s happening right now. Someone is hiding the artifact from Kalecgos. And I simply refuse to believe that we can’t undo this!” She slammed her hand down on the table and they all looked at her, startled. Jaina never erupted in fits of temper. “If we know what spell was used, or even can make a guess at the type, we can determine how to counter it.”
“But—” Kinndy said, then bit her lip as Jaina shot her a sharp look.
“No buts. No excuses.”
No one knew how to respond. Kalecgos was regarding her curiously, a faint frown of worry on his lips. Once again, Jaina reached for calm. “I’m sorry I raised my voice. But surely, surely we will find a way to solve this!”
Kinndy rose and got them all fresh tea as they sat in silence. Finally, Kalecgos spoke in a halting, uncertain voice.
“Let’s agree that there is no known spell that can hide so powerful an object from a mage as skilled as I am. Especially as I have a unique connection to the Focusing Iris,” he said. Jaina took a sip of the tea, letting the familiar scent and taste steady her, and nodded that he should continue. “So the logical conclusion is either that there is a mage out there clever enough to create such a spell, or… that’s not what’s going on here.”
“What do you mean, ‘that’s not what’s going on here’?” yelped Kinndy. “That’s exactly what’s going on!”
Jaina lifted a hand. It trembled slightly… with renewed hope. “Hold on a moment,” she said. “Kalec… I think I know what you’re getting at.”
He smiled, radiant and happy. “I knew you would.”
“It’s not actually being hidden,” Jaina said, encouraged by his reaction. She worked it through step by step as she spoke, getting to her feet and pacing. “We just think it is because we can’t sense it.”
“And we can’t sense it because it’s not what we’re looking for,” Kalec said.
“Exactly!”
“Someone care to enlighten us poor mortals?” said Tervosh dryly. He was leaning his chair back, the front two legs off the floor. “I’m not following this at all.”