Varian took a seat and rested his face in his hands. “Magni . . . he was your friend, Anduin. Fearbreaker was a precious thing for him to give to you. Why did you give it away to a tauren? For him to just—throw back in your face?”
There it was—the hurt beneath the anger. “Because it felt like the right thing to do. The Light liked Baine. And he gave it back to me because he was honorable. He had chosen his side, and the last thing he wanted was to have to use Fearbreaker against Jaina in battle.”
Varian closed his eyes for a moment. “I hadn’t thought about it like that. I’m still very angry with Jaina, Son.”
“She knows why. She’s hurting now, though. I think . . . seeing her old home today was difficult for her.”
“Of course it was. This trial . . .” He shook his head. “I will be glad when it is over. Whatever the outcome, Garrosh is no longer in power. I don’t think it matters anymore if he dies or languishes in prison, as long as he was stopped.”
“Your Majesty?” It was one of Varian’s guards calling from outside the tent. “I have a missive for you.”
“Enter,” Varian called. The guard entered, saluted smartly as rainwater dripped everywhere, and gave the king a rolled-up scroll that had somehow remained dry. It was sealed with wax and bore the Pandaren characters that marked it as an official court document. Varian slid a finger beneath the seal, cracked the wax, and read. He looked absolutely furious for an instant, and then started to laugh.
“What is it?”
For answer, Varian tossed the scroll to Anduin.
To His Majesty, King Varian Wrynn:
YOU ARE SUMMONED to appear at the Temple of the White Tiger to testify for the Accused in the trial of Garrosh Hellscream.
It was signed with a tauren hoofprint.
After dinner, Anduin went down to the beach. The rain had stopped, at least for the moment, and he did not want to be around his father or Jaina. He sat on a boulder and looked out over the ocean, at the rocking ships in the harbor, at the violet light of the tower.
He heard the flapping of wings. Alert, he jumped to his feet, Fearbreaker in his hand, then relaxed when he saw a shape about the size of a large dog hovering a few yards over his head. In one forepaw, the creature carried a leather satchel.
“Care for company?” Wrathion asked.
“You know,” Anduin replied, “Jaina and my father would just as soon I not talk to you anymore, so by all means, please do come down and keep me company.”
Wrathion let out a laugh and dropped easily onto another rock near the prince. Swifter than a blink, he had changed into his human-shaped form. He was still grinning.
“I don’t see Left and Right,” Anduin said, referring to Wrathion’s nearly omnipresent bodyguards.
“I gave them the evening off. I came to see if you were all right after the rousing adventure that was today’s testimony,” he said. “I was quite prepared to break you out of prison if your father was so inclined as to put you there. I just wanted to make sure you knew that.”
“Very kind of you,” Anduin said. “That’s been bypassed for the moment, at least until after the trial. I think Father would like to see me locked up until I turn thirty-seven.”
“I am given to understand that is a sentiment shared by most human parents at times,” replied Wrathion. “You did not go see Garrosh today, I assume.”
“How did—never mind.” He hadn’t exactly tried to hide it, but he had not volunteered the information, and he was certain that no one else had. But Wrathion always seemed to find out whatever he wanted to. “I’m . . . not sure I’m going to see him again.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve given up trying to bring the fellow into the Light!” Wrathion put a hand on his heart and recoiled melodramatically. “I confess I should be rather sad to hear that, although I’ve long maintained your naiveté will be your undoing.”
Anduin rubbed his chin and sighed. “I don’t know. I’m just tired, I think. Tired of all of this. And I’m stuck here, especially now.”
“When I am a little older,” Wrathion announced, “I shall, if asked politely, take you on my back and ferry you to fascinating places, where we will have adventures that will age your father ten years in one night.”
“You have no idea how wonderful that sounds,” Anduin said morosely.
“In the meantime,” the black dragon said, “I see driftwood for a fire, to keep out the chill and provide illumination for—” With a flourish he withdrew something from the satchel. “Jihui.”
Anduin’s spirits lifted. A game whose goal was to have both parties in balance sounded like the perfect way to spend this particular evening.
“You’re on,” he said.
28
“Accuser, you may summon your final witness,” said Taran Zhu.
Tyrande looked tired, Jaina thought.
“May it please the court, I summon Lady Jaina Proudmoore to speak.”
Jaina rose and without haste descended the steps to the temple floor. She questioned the wisdom of what Tyrande had done yesterday for many reasons, not the least of which was the fact that the night elf had besmirched the reputation of her best witness. No matter, thought Jaina. There was, surely, more than enough evidence of Garrosh’s horrendousness that even such compassionate beings as the celestials would see the need to lock him up somewhere dank and dark—and then forget he was there.
Kalec had tried to talk to her last night, but she had told him she was fine, and very tired, and she would see him in the morning at court. She then had nightmares, both in reaction to Perith’s testimony and in sick anxiety over her own.
“First, let me say, Lady Jaina, that I am truly sorry to force you to relive certain things.”
Jaina looked Tyrande directly in the eye. Bluntly, she said, “Chu’shao, I relive Theramore every day. Ask your questions.”
Tyrande nodded, looking somewhat chastised, and began to walk and speak. “Lady Jaina, as we heard yesterday from Perith Stormhoof, you had warning about the attack on Theramore.”
“I did.”
“What did you do after receiving that warning?”
“I gave instructions that the civilians of Theramore were to be notified. Those who wished to leave were free to do so. As it turned out, most of them wanted to stay and fight. Later, we sent a full ship of civilians, including all the children, to Gadgetzan. I then contacted King Varian.”
This was not as difficult as she had feared. Simply answer the questions, she told herself. Keep it impersonal.
“And what was his response?”
“He told me that he would send the 7th Legion’s naval fleet, and would recall several of his generals from their stations in various parts of Azeroth. He would also contact Genn Greymane, and I would speak to the other Alliance leaders for aid.”
Tyrande kept walking, her hands clasped in front of her, her gaze not on Jaina but on the jury. “What happened after that?”
“I was later informed that several Horde ships arrived. They anchored just out of Alliance waters.”
“When you learned this, did you attack?”
Now Jaina did start to feel something, a sick, queasy sensation in the pit of her stomach. She shook her head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because they were not in our waters. And I did not want to be the one to provoke a war.” I should have. Light help me, I should have. Maybe if we’d struck before the generals arrived . . .
“You said you sought help from the other Alliance leaders. Did you ask anyone else for aid?”
Jaina licked her lips. “Yes,” she said. “I went to Dalaran and spoke with the Council of Six. They responded to my request by sending Rhonin himself, along with several other prominent magi. Rhonin’s wife, Vereesa Windrunner, ranger-general of the Silver Covenant, also accompanied him.”