“Thank you, Life-Binder. I regret the necessity to cause you pain,” the tauren said. As if he means it. “I will be brief. You have suffered greatly at the hands of the Dragonmaw specifically, and the orcs in general. How do you feel about them now?”
“I have no quarrel with any race on Azeroth,” she replied. “I am the Life-Binder, and even though most of my powers as Aspect have disappeared, my heart is still the same.”
“Do you like them?”
“I love them,” she said simply. Jaina froze, then slowly lifted her head from her hands. Her eyes were wide and unblinking as she stared, shocked, at the Dragonqueen.
“Orcs?” said Baine, as if he had read Jaina’s mind. “Who did such terrible things to you? How could you possibly love them? Do you not cry out for their destruction? For the destruction, particularly, of Garrosh Hellscream, who restored them to power?”
“Few beings are truly evil,” said Alexstrasza. “And even they are not necessarily beyond redemption. Change is inherent in life. As long as something lives, it can grow. It can seek the light, or the darkness. It is only when it chooses the darkness so completely that life itself is endangered that I would say there is no hope.”
“As was the case with Deathwing and Malygos.”
“Yes. To my bitter regret.”
Tyrande was searching through documents at her table, her body taut. Now and then she glanced up, frowning slightly.
Jaina kept staring at the red dragon. “What is she saying?” Jaina whispered sharply. “What is she doing?”
“With respect, I protest!” shouted Tyrande. Jaina, relieved, closed her eyes.
“Yes, Chu’shao?” asked Taran Zhu.
“I call for a respite!”
“On what grounds?”
“The witness is clearly distraught by these questions!”
Taran Zhu blinked, then looked down at Alexstrasza. “Life-Binder, do you need a respite?”
“No, Fa’shua. It was painful to recount what happened, but I am well enough.”
“Request denied. Continue, Chu’shao Bloodhoof.”
“Thank you.” The tauren inclined his head, then turned to regard Alexstrasza. “I have a final question. If one of the selfsame orcs who so tormented you, who killed your children while they were still in the shell, were to come to you today and ask your forgiveness . . . what would you do?”
The great Life-Binder’s smile was small at first, but it grew. Alexstrasza looked over to where Go’el and his family were seated, and held his gaze. When she spoke at last, a light seemed to shine from her, so bright was her spirit.
“I would forgive him, of course.” She said it to Baine as if he were a child, as if it were a simple, obvious answer.
There were no further questions.
23
When Taran Zhu struck the gong and announced that court was over for the day, Anduin immediately turned to his father. “I’m going to go see Garrosh now,” he said. “I’ll probably miss dinner.” Usually, he had a meal with his father and often Jaina, Kalec, and Vereesa at Violet Rise, and then excused himself to return to do . . . whatever he was doing with Garrosh. He wasn’t sure if it was talking with, listening to, guiding spiritually, or simply being a verbal training dummy for the orc. Sometimes all four. Right now, he wished there was a fifth thing he could be doing—shaking some sense into Garrosh’s thick skull.
Varian nodded. “Thought you might want to do that,” he said. “There’ll be something left.”
“It’s all right. I’ll have some of Mi Shao’s dumplings.”
“Wait, what?” Jaina said. “Garrosh? Anduin, what are you doing with Garrosh?” She looked both angry and alarmed.
“I’ll explain it over dinner,” Varian told Jaina. “Go on, Son.”
Anduin jumped down lithely over a row of seats and hastened to the stairs. Behind him he heard Jaina saying, “Varian, what’s going on?”
Anduin winced. He’d been so intent on getting to Garrosh, he’d forgotten about Jaina’s presence. He’d deliberately not told Jaina about his meetings with Garrosh. Few knew, and he liked it that way precisely because of the sort of reaction he was getting from Jaina. Everyone seemed to think they had a say in what he chose to do and with whom he interacted, and he was growing very weary of it. Right now, though, that took second place to his need to see Hellscream.
He hurried down the hall to the doors that led to Garrosh’s cell. “The prince is swifter than the prisoner today,” Li Chu said as Anduin arrived. “He is still on his way.”
“I’ll wait.” Anduin stepped to the side of the corridor and leaned against the wall, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He tried to force himself to relax, had a brief moment of dark humor at the absurdity of that particular task, and simply stood there.
Garrosh arrived a few moments later, favoring his bad leg, his approach heralded by the clinking and dragging of the chains that bound him. He was accompanied by Yu Fei and the six guards always assigned to him whenever he left the cell. Anduin saw a flicker of surprise on the brown face, quickly quelled. The Chu brothers opened the door. Yu Fei entered first, beckoning to Anduin to follow her. They descended the ramp and stepped to the rear of the room to stand quietly as Garrosh clanked up to the open cell door. Two of the guards unlocked all his chains save the ones about his ankles, while the other four and the Chus stood by, watching the orc’s every move. Garrosh went to the furs and sat down while the door was closed and locked. Yu Fei stepped up and murmured an incantation, waving her paws in a delicate motion. The windows began to glow a soft purple.
“What does that do, specifically?” Obviously it was an extra security precaution, but Anduin realized he didn’t know exactly how it worked.
“It is a one-way barrier,” Yu Fei answered. “The guards can reach in should it be required, but Garrosh cannot reach out.”
“Smart,” said Anduin, and Yu Fei colored slightly and bowed.
“You honor me,” she said, eyes downcast, and scurried out. Briefly, Anduin wondered at her odd behavior, but was much more interested in having words with the orc. Li and Lo nodded to the prince, then closed and locked the outer door, as per Anduin’s request to be alone with the prisoner.
Anduin didn’t move at first. He simply glared at the orc, who seemed amused at his obvious anger.
“Speak, Prince Anduin, or you shall burst,” Garrosh said. “And I have no desire to be blamed for the mess.”
“How could you do that? How could you do any of this?” The words tumbled from Anduin’s lips, and as if the act of speaking had given him the ability to move once more, he strode forward and stood less than a foot away from Garrosh’s cell bars. “You’re not crazy. You’re not without feelings. So tell me—how can you do this?”
Garrosh was enjoying himself as he leaned back on his sleeping furs, the chains jingling with the gesture. “Do what?”
“You know what I’m talking about. Allying with the Dragonmaw!”
“For all your piety, you are very quick to judge,” Garrosh said. “Tyrande played a fine card today; I will give her that. Alexstrasza certainly made more than one eye grow moist with her tale.”
“Tale? Is that all it was to you?”
Garrosh shrugged. “It is history now, and wringing my hands over it will accomplish nothing.”
“Any more than would others wringing their hands over you?” Anduin shot back.
“Exactly. I do not need your sympathy, human.”
“So why did you want to talk to me? Me, a priest, someone you tried to kill?”
Garrosh was silent.
“She’s the Life-Binder, Garrosh. She’s—she’s the kindest thing in this world. And your people did that to her.”