Finally, Jaina put down her cup and looked at them. “Your daughter,” she said, “is doing a fine job. No,” she said, amending that, “a tremendous job. She impresses me more every day. I’m sure once her training is completed, she’ll impress everyone else. Many apprentices have potential. Not all of them live up to it.”
The couple beamed and turned to each other, clasping hands. “She’s our only one, you know,” Windle said. “I’m sure you haven’t noticed, but I’m getting up in years.” It was said with a twinkle in his eye; the long white beard gave him away. “Jaxi and I had all but given up hope of having a child. Kinndy’s our little miracle.”
“We do worry about her, all the way over there in Theramore,” Jaxi said, “but we appreciate that you let her come visit us so often.”
“You must be teasing me,” Jaina said, “considering that every time she comes back, she brings us all some of your pastries! I’d send her to you daily if I could spare her!”
They all chuckled. It was so serene, sitting in this cozy, old-fashioned room next to a blazing fire. Jaina wished with all her heart that it could remain so simple and so untroubled by thoughts of the danger Theramore was facing.
“Oh, Lady Jaina,” said Jaxi, “What unhappy thought makes you so sad?”
Jaina sighed. Much as she might wish otherwise, these good people had a right to know that their daughter was in danger.
“Theramore is in need of aid from the Kirin Tor,” Jaina said quietly. “It was actually Kinndy’s idea that I come here and ask for help. More I cannot tell you, but I fear I am going to go home empty-handed.”
“What kind of—” Jaxi began to say, but Windle laid a wrinkled hand over hers and squeezed it.
“Now, now, Lady Jaina has an awful lot going on,” he said. “If she can’t tell us, well, that’s good enough for me.”
“And me, of course,” said Jaxi. Her other hand crept over to hold her husband’s. “I just… Is Kinndy…”
“Kinndy has been working tirelessly, and her aid is invaluable,” Jaina said. “I give you my word, I will keep her as safe as I possibly can. After all”—and she tried to keep her voice light—“I’ve invested a great deal of time into training her. I’d hate to have to start all over again with a new apprentice all wet behind the ears!”
“Don’t you fret about the Kirin Tor,” Windle said, trying to reassure her. “They wouldn’t just leave you hanging out there alone in Theramore. They’ll do the right thing. You’ll see!”
They loaded her down with hugs, the fondest of wishes, and a bag of various boxed pastries. So confident and cheerful were they that Jaina began to think that maybe, just maybe, this particular trip to Dalaran would yield fruit.
13
“I suspect, little miss apprentice,” Kalec said as he stared at the small pieces on the table, “that you are intimately familiar with the nuances of this game.”
Kinndy’s large eyes grew even larger in feigned innocence. “Me? Oh, hardly! Tervosh only taught it to me last week.” The dragon lifted his blue gaze from the game pieces on the board and quirked an indigo eyebrow. Her expression dissolved into a grin. “Well,” she said, “there might be a reason no one else will play with me anymore.”
“So I’m simply fresh blood?”
“Mmmm,” Kinndy said noncommittally. Kalec was just about to move the knight when he heard the familiar sound of a teleportation spell. He turned, the game forgotten, as Jaina materialized in her parlor. She was smiling, an expression Kalec had not often seen on her face, and he said a silent thanks to whoever or whatever had caused it.
“Your parents,” Jaina said to Kinndy, “are the nicest people in Azeroth. And the most generous.” She handed Kinndy a box of pastries from the bag. Kinndy opened it to reveal a staggering variety—small cakes, individual pies, éclairs, puffs, all manner of delicious-appearing delights.
“So, how did it go?” asked Kinndy, taking a bite of something frosted and divine-smelling.
Jaina’s expression sobered. She slipped into her own chair and poured some tea. “Not well,” she confessed. “But I think I did manage to change a few minds. Don’t look so downcast,” she added as Kinndy slumped a bit in her seat. “They haven’t given me their decision on it yet. Which means there’s going to be more debate and discussion. The tide may yet turn. Regardless, it was a good idea, Kinndy.”
“It would be a better idea if a whole bunch of the Kirin Tor had come back with you,” Kinndy said.
“I cannot argue that point,” Jaina replied, “but I will take what I can get. And what I can get are berry pastries.”
“I am glad to see that you do not feel that all of the sweetness has gone out of the world,” Kalec said, helping himself to one. “But I regret that the meeting was not more positive.”
Jaina waved a sugared hand. “I will not worry until I hear one way or the other,” she said. “But I would not object if you had some good news about the situation here.”
“If only I did,” Kalec said, meaning the words with his whole heart. “The Horde continues to wait on our doorstep, careful not to advance. And unfortunately the Focusing Iris is still on its tour of Kalimdor at speeds that astonish me.”
Kinndy was watching them both as she ate her pastry, and her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I think I’ll go finish this upstairs in my room,” she said. “There’s a book there I’ve been meaning to get to. I might learn something that could help.”
She placed her tea and pastry on a tray and with no further word trundled off. Jaina raised a golden eyebrow, and her forehead furrowed in confusion.
“What do you think that was all about?” she asked.
“I’ve no idea,” responded Kalec. It was not entirely the truth. He did have a suspicion as to why the gnome wished to leave the two of them alone… but he had no desire to dwell on it.
She turned to him, eyeing him curiously. “Why are you here, Kalecgos of the blue dragonflight?”
For no reason he could understand, the question made him uncomfortable. “I’m looking for—”
“The Focusing Iris, I know. That may be what brought you here, but… why do you stay? You could pick any place in the continent to wait for the Focusing Iris to slow and stabilize, yet you linger here.”
Kalec felt heat rise in his cheeks. It was a simple question: Why did he linger here, rather than seek silence in the wilderness? He could sense the magical object he had come in search of easily enough elsewhere. Yet here he stayed, learning to play chess with a gnome, discussing military tactics with a night elf, the nature of the arcane with Tervosh and—
Jaina.
He stayed because of Jaina.
She was looking at him expectantly, one slender hand tucking a stray lock of golden hair behind her ear, her head tilted in a quizzical expression, that distinctive furrow of curiosity creasing a brow that was otherwise remarkably unmarred for a human of her age.
She wanted an answer, and he could not give her one. At least, not one that was true. And as he opened his mouth for a glib fabrication, he found he did not wish to lie to her.
“There are several reasons,” he said, looking away.
Jaina leaned forward. “Oh?”
“Well… you are a master of magic among your people, Jaina. I feel comfortable with you. Maybe I want to stay with the younger races because my people persecuted yours. With no real right to do so other than a vaguely worded statement about being the minders of magic. So very many died in the Nexus War, among both dragonkind and the younger races. They died needlessly and brutally.” His blue eyes met hers, and this time it was she who had to look away. “I suppose I feel I owe it to you to help. And…” He smiled a little, knowing that this much, at least, was true. “You’re good company.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” Jaina said.
“I don’t.” His voice was soft, and he realized it trembled. He wanted to place his hand over hers but did not dare. Kalecgos was himself unsure of what drove this interest in Lady Jaina Proudmoore, mage. He needed to know exactly what he did feel, and why, before he even ventured to inquire if she felt the same way.