“This looks familiar,” Varian murmured.
“What does?” Jaina inquired.
“That,” he said, and Varian nodded at the seats starting to fill with spectators. “That’s the same look I saw when I fought in the gladiator pits. They’re thirsty for blood.”
“They will not get it today,” said Vereesa. She did not have to add, But if there is justice, they will by the end of this trial.
“They’d better not,” said Varian. “Everything will be lost if this dissolves into chaos. Including far too many lives.”
Jaina turned her attention to the floor. Baine and Tyrande were already present. Each sat in a chair at his or her respective table, waiting. That did not surprise Jaina. What did surprise her was that there were two others also awaiting the arrival of Taran Zhu, the celestials, and Garrosh. Jaina recognized Chromie, the extremely powerful bronze dragon who opted for the least threatening appearance possible, but did not know the handsome high elf to whom Chromie was speaking. Both wore the brown tabard of their order and sat beside a small table set off to one side, atop which perched a covered object.
Just as Jaina wondered why two bronzes were present—and apparently in an official capacity at that—a pandaren dressed from head to toe in long, formal robes entered. He carried a polearm that bore the standard of the Shado-pan. He slammed down the butt of the weapon three times, and the crowds quieted, settling into their seats.
“Respect for the rule of law is dear to the pandaren people. Law is the means by which wrongs can be righted, and by which balance can be restored. This is a historic occasion, as, for the first time in our long history, outsiders will be participating. In the search for righting the wrong, we traditionally name the one who is on trial, and the one or ones who seek justice. And so, with all solemnity, we open the judgment upon Garrosh Hellscream for wrongs against the people of Azeroth. Please stand to acknowledge the August Celestials, who will listen with open ears and hearts to the testimony presented here, and to show respect to he who will judge the lawfulness of the proceedings, lord of the Shado-pan, Taran Zhu.”
Everyone obeyed, getting to their feet. Chi-Ji, Xuen, Niuzao, and Yu’lon entered the balcony, all seeming to move without effort. Their grace and beauty, as always, made Jaina’s breath catch, even in these new forms. She had asked Aysa about it. The pandaren had told her that it was a gesture of respect to the Horde and Alliance. They were exquisite and unique, not just in their appearances, but in the energy that seemed to emanate from them. Taran Zhu might be more accessible, as he was a mortal being, but even he was imposing, and his posture bespoke controlled power and peace. He ascended into the fa’shua’s chair and, picking up a small mallet, struck a gong three times, letting the echo subside before he spoke.
“You may be seated,” he said, his clear, quiet voice carrying even in the enormous chamber. “Before the Accused appears, I will advise all present that I will tolerate no disturbance of this trial. Anyone who violates this rule will be held under guard until the trial’s completion. Also, to suit the uniqueness of this situation, there will be a unique manner of presenting evidence.”
He nodded to the two bronze dragons. They got to their feet and whisked away the concealing cloth, revealing an hourglass.
Jaina understood what they would be doing before they even began to speak. Their voices, explaining how this Vision of Time artifact would work, faded away, and a dull roaring sound filled her ears. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe; for a moment, she was drowning again, just like when—
The pain of her hand being tightly gripped brought her back to the present. Breath came in, and she gasped quietly as it flooded her lungs. The roaring ceased, though Jaina could still hear her heart thudding, swift as a rabbit’s. She turned to Kalec, who watched her keenly, concern on his beautiful face. She licked dry lips and nodded, mouthing I’m all right.
He looked uncertain, but relaxed his grip. Jaina took several slow, deep breaths. The bronze dragons had finished their explanation and stepped back.
Taran Zhu nodded to the guard. “You may bring in the prisoner.”
The effect of those six words was galvanic. Everyone in the room was suddenly alert, their eyes focused on the door that led to the outside, and to the lower chambers.
Garrosh Hellscream entered, flanked by six guards—two Horde, a troll and a tauren; two Alliance, a night elf Sentinel and a draenei vindicator; and two of the largest, most muscular pandaren Jaina had ever seen. Garrosh’s distinctive armor—adorned with the tusks of the demon slain by the orc’s illustrious father, Grom—was gone. He wore only a belted cloth tunic and simple shoes. The fabric had obviously not been cut for him and strained against his massive shoulders and chest. Dark tracings, like webby fingers, competed with the tattoos on his brown skin—the legacy of the sha. Chains, each link bigger than Jaina’s hand, bound him at the neck, wrists, and feet, reducing his long stride to a halting shuffle exaggerated by his damaged leg. His face was impassive, and he displayed neither a cowed stance nor a prideful one.
For a moment, the silence was absolute, broken only by the clank of the chains and the tramp of the guards’ boots.
Then chaos erupted.
Waves of people—both Alliance and Horde, and even some nominally neutral parties—rose in their seats, some rushing down to the balconies to scream epithets and shake their fists. Although Jaina disliked the dampening field as much as anyone, she was grateful for it now. She realized she did not want Garrosh to be killed out of hand by an angry mob. She wanted him to hear and—thanks to the bronze dragons—to see all he had done. The devastation he had caused. The hate he had engendered. She wanted him to know how severely all of Azeroth had turned against him.
And, she realized with a burst of shame, if she couldn’t kill him, she didn’t want some unknown, furious crowd member to have the honor.
The pandaren response was swift. Most of the guards stationed in the seating area were monks, whose own bodies were weapons, and the protestors were quickly subdued and removed from the arena. Garrosh’s guards all drew their weapons and closed ranks about him, their backs to the orc and their calm faces turned to the crowd.
Other than the guards, the only ones who seemed unruffled by the outburst were Taran Zhu, the four celestials, and Garrosh Hellscream himself. The orc’s brown, tattooed face might as well have been carved from stone for all the emotion it revealed.
Taran Zhu’s voice carried a stern warning: “You have now all witnessed what happens should you disrupt this court. Those who have done so will be held under guard for the remainder of the trial, at which time they will be released. Anyone who further disturbs this most solemn event will join them.”
He nodded, and the guards around Garrosh returned to their flanking formation. Garrosh was led before Taran Zhu’s dais, where he halted. The two massive pandaren took up sentry positions behind him. Jaina knew that the only movement they would display—barring another outburst of violence—would be the slow blinking of their eyes. The remaining four guards bowed to Taran Zhu and filed out. Taran Zhu looked down at the orc for a moment. “Garrosh Hellscream. You have been charged with war crimes, and crimes against the very essence of sentient beings of Azeroth, as well as crimes against Azeroth itself. You are also charged for all acts committed in your name, or by those with whom you have allied.”
Garrosh merely stood there, silent and still.
Taran Zhu continued. “The charges are as follows: Genocide. Murder. Forcible transfer of population. Enforced disappearance of individuals.”
The list of the heinous crimes alone was powerful enough to make Jaina tense. She glanced over at where Vol’jin and the other Horde leaders sat. She had heard of the treatment of trolls under Garrosh—and what the orc had tried to do to Vol’jin himself.