“I debated ending the trial for the day,” Taran Zhu said, his voice harder than normal and his eyes bright with a rare display of outrage. “But it is my hope that by the end of this witness’s testimony, we will all be in a more civilized place. If not, know that I will immediately put any witnesses or persons named in this court under Shado-pan protection if I feel they are in any danger. This is not the Darkmoon Faire, nor is it a gladiator ring. It is a courtroom. It is a place for justice, and for truth. And I will have it so.”
No one spoke. He took a moment to glance around the seats; then his gaze traveled back down to Tyrande. “Chu’shao, you may resume your questioning.”
“Thank you, Fa’shua.” Taking her time, she rose, smoothed her gown, and walked over to Perith. “I believe where we left off,” she said, as if they had merely paused for an ordinary respite, “we saw that Baine Bloodhoof was planning to meet with Lady Jaina Proudmoore.”
All eyes went to Jaina. She sat straight and calm, her hands folded in her lap, but her flushed face and quickened breathing belied her cool exterior. Beside her, Kalec looked ready to spring into action if he felt the need to, and Varian’s face was thunderous. His gaze darted from Perith to Tyrande, and Baine couldn’t tell which one the human king was angriest with.
“That is correct.”
“Were you present at that meeting?”
“No, I was not.”
“But you know what happened?”
“I know what my high chieftain told me.”
“And that was?”
Perith glanced at Baine, deep sorrow in his eyes. “Lady Jaina would not bring the Alliance into war with the Horde, but she did agree to personally offer aid.”
“And what form did that aid take?”
“She gave him gold.”
Disapproval rippled through the audience. “How much gold?” inquired Tyrande.
“I was not privy to those details.”
“Was this the only time your high chieftain had dealings with the lady Jaina?”
Baine tensed. This second visit was not common knowledge. Perith’s voice was ragged as he answered.
“No, it was not.”
Tyrande nodded to Chromie. “May it please the court, I have a second Vision to present.”
26
Jaina was still numb from the revelation. It would wear off, she knew, but for the moment, she welcomed it. Her emotions were so conflicted, so knife-sharp, she did not wish to examine them—not here, not now, certainly. Varian had not immediately whirled on her—or his son—as a traitor, and right now, that was enough. He was waiting to see how the rest unfolded.
So, truth be told, was she.
Jaina’s cozy little parlor appeared, its fireplace flanked by two chairs and rows of books, and she grew dizzy for a moment. A simple thing, her parlor. Just a room. And it was gone, blown to violet dust along with everyone and everything in Theramore. The crackle of the fire, the clink of teacups on saucers, the sound of laughter or lively, intellectual conversation—never to be heard again.
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the scene, but reached out blindly to Kalecgos. He caught her hand and held it tight.
And the sight of herself, in a hastily thrown-on robe—
Golden hair, kind eyes, a face that bore a single furrow in its brow, lips that knew more of gentle words than shrieks of pain.
It was an alien face.
Jaina’s heart was shattered at the visible evidence of how truly innocent she had been not that long ago. She did not want to break down, not in front of everyone, and Kalec knew that. So he made no move to wrap an arm around her or comfort her other than to grip her hand, steady as stone.
The Vision-Jaina paced, then turned to greet her visitor. How small she looked next to a tauren—Jaina thought the pedestrian observation a little oasis in the midst of her personal emotional hurricane. He wore a cloak and stood quietly, not protesting the roughness displayed by the guards who led him in.
“Leave us,” Jaina said.
My voice . . . Did I truly sound so young?
“My lady? Leave you alone with this . . . creature?” one of the guards protested. She glanced at the guard sharply.
“He has come to me in good faith, and you will not speak so of him.”
The guard blushed a little, embarrassed. Then, bowing to his mistress, he and the other withdrew.
Perith pulled off his hood. “Lady Jaina Proudmoore. My name is Perith Stormhoof. I come on orders from my high chieftain. He asked me to give you the mace. He said . . . it would help you to believe my words are truth.”
Fearbreaker. An exquisite and ancient dwarven weapon, given by Magni Bronzebeard to Anduin Wrynn, who had in turn given it to Baine Bloodhoof in that selfsame parlor. Only now did Jaina remember that she had held it during this meeting. It was clutched in the then-Jaina’s hands, as pristine and perfect as the day it was forged. It bore a head of silver wrapped in bands of gold, and was etched with runes and dotted with small gems.
“I would never mistake Fearbreaker,” the then-Jaina said. Nor would anyone else. Those who knew Anduin would know Fearbreaker, and so now Tyrande had exposed the prince of Stormwind as well as the lady of Theramore.
“He knew you would not. Lady Jaina—my high chieftain thinks gratefully and highly of you, and it is because of the memory of the night when he received Fearbreaker that he has sent me with this warning. Northwatch Hold has fallen to the Horde.”
Angry cries started to come, some directed at Jaina, but most at Baine. Jaina understood why. Going to Jaina for aid against Magatha—an internal conflict—was not the same as warning her about a Horde attack against the Alliance. For the first time in what felt like ages, Jaina found herself concerned for the well-being of a member of the Horde.
Taran Zhu struck the gong, and while the tension did not subside, the spectators fell quiet. No one wanted to be expelled from the courtroom at this juncture.
The image of Perith continued speaking. “It further wounds him that this victory was won with the usage of dark shamanic magic. He despises these actions, but to protect his people, Baine has agreed that the tauren will continue to serve the Horde as they are needed. He wishes me to emphasize that at times, this obligation brings him little joy.”
Some of the anger abated, but the room still fairly crackled with fury.
“Well do I believe that,” Jaina heard herself say. “Still, he has participated in an act of violence against the Alliance. Northwatch Hold—”
“Is only a start,” Perith said, interrupting her. “Hellscream would reach much farther than a simple hold.”
“What?” Even now Jaina recalled feeling as if she had been punched in the stomach.
“His goal is nothing less than the conquest of the continent. He will shortly be ordering the Horde to march on Theramore. And mark me well, their numbers are strong. As you are now, you will fall. My high chieftain remembers the aid you gave him and asked me to warn you. He has no wish to see you caught unawares.”
“Your high chieftain,” she said, her heart full, “is a truly honorable tauren. I am proud to be so highly regarded by him. I thank him for this timely warning. Please tell him it will help save innocent lives.”
“He regrets that a warning is all he can give you, my lady. And . . . he asks you to please take Fearbreaker, and return it to the one who so kindly gifted it to him. Baine feels that it is no longer his to keep.”
There, Jaina thought, surely Vol’jin will understand; perhaps he even knew about this—
“I will see to it that Fearbreaker is returned to its former owner,” the image of Jaina said. Her voice was rich with warmth and gratitude. I was . . . good, Jaina realized. I was good, then . . .
She could tell that Perith saw that as he bowed deeply to her. Quickly Jaina scribbled a note, sealed it, and gave it to the Longwalker.