A sound that might have been a slight laugh escaped the king. “I highly doubt that Garrosh—”
“Just answer the question, please. Yes or no? Is it possible for a person who cares for his people and who is very intelligent to change?”
Varian scowled, opened his mouth, then closed it again. He took a breath, then said, quietly, “Yes. It’s possible.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I have no further questions for you.”
Tyrande had appeared to be struggling with staying seated, and now practically leaped up to question Varian, who looked almost as relieved as she.
“Your Majesty,” she said. “I only have a few more questions. First—are you genocidal?”
“What?” Varian stared at her, and Baine shouted, “With respect, I protest!”
“Fa’shua,” Tyrande said smoothly, “I am not accusing the witness of anything, merely asking him to define himself.”
“To what end, Chu’shao?” asked Taran Zhu.
“The Defender has brought in King Varian as a character witness for Garrosh. He has had the opportunity to establish the witness’s expertise, and now I am doing the same thing.”
“I agree with the Accuser. As long as I determine that you are not harassing the witness, you may proceed. Witness may respond.”
Tyrande inclined her head and returned her gaze to Varian. “Are you genocidal, Your Majesty?”
“No,” Varian stated, his brows drawing together. Anduin wondered where in the world Tyrande was going with this questioning.
“Do you crave, and have you ever craved, power?”
“No,” Varian said. “I would go so far as to say that the mantle of power and responsibility is a heavy one.” Anduin knew that at one point, his father would have preferred the simpler life as Lo’Gosh the gladiator to being King Varian.
“The Defender just showed us a scene of you and members of SI:7 infiltrating Ironforge, attacking the Dark Iron portion of the population, and threatening an unarmed female. Would you say this is something you do on a regular basis?”
“Of course not! This is ridiculous,” Varian began.
“Please, Your Majesty. Just answer the question.” Tyrande was completely unruffled.
“No!”
“At your angriest, darkest hour, did you ever calculatedly plan and execute a plan to exterminate the entire population of a major city?”
And then Anduin understood. “No,” replied his father.
Tyrande turned calmly to Taran Zhu. “Fa’shua, the Defender has brought King Varian in as an expert witness on the issues that Garrosh Hellscream must deal with. I submit that while King Varian may indeed have dealt with similar challenges, he is not, has not been, and will never be the same as Garrosh Hellscream. Therefore, he cannot be considered an expert on what Garrosh will or will not do. And in turn, I ask you to strike from the record everything this witness has said.”
“With respect, I—”
Taran Zhu held up a paw. “I see your point, Accuser, but I will not strike the witness’s testimony. I believe that both your line of questioning and that of the Defender are valid and appropriate ones.”
“But, Fa’shua—” Tyrande began.
“You have made your point, Accuser. Do you have any more questions for the witness?”
“No, Lord Zhu.”
“Very well. Court is now over for today. Tomorrow we will present closing arguments. Chu’shao Whisperwind, Chu’shao Bloodhoof, it will be your last chance to appeal to the jury. I suggest you do not squander it.”
31
It was the final day of the trial, and tension crackled in the air. As Sylvanas walked into the temple, she passed one of the goblin bookies who had thus far managed to elude the pandaren guards.
“Hey, Lady,” he said, his spectacles perched on his broad, bald head and the buttons on his waistcoat polished to gleaming perfection, “sure you don’t want to place a bet?”
Sylvanas was in high spirits, and the thought amused her, so she paused and smiled down at the little green cheat. “What are the odds?” she asked, a grin quirking her lips.
“Even money and dropping for swift execution, two to one for life imprisonment, and some truly fascinating odds for the crazier scenarios.”
“Such as?”
He consulted his notes. “Let’s see . . . twenty-five to one for a split jury, eighteen to one for an escape attempt, fifty to one for sudden unfortunate demise of the Accused, and two hundred to one for full and total repentance, including, but not limited to, volunteer work at the Orgrimmar Orphanage.” He peered up at her, the spectacles making his tiny eyes look disturbingly enormous.
“Does anybody really bet on that one?” she asked, amused.
“Hey, you’d be surprised. Long shots come in every day. I once saw a spit-and-polish gnomish drag car that was leading by fifteen lengths at the turn fail to finish on the old Mirage Raceway.”
Oh, the temptation. But Sylvanas could not risk the goblin remembering the bet, so instead she patted his shiny green head and went inside.
Tonight, after closing arguments, the August Celestials would withdraw to debate, and Garrosh would have his last meal. She knew it would be the green curry fish; it was Garrosh’s favorite, and Vereesa had confirmed it would be served. Whatever happened in the courtroom today, it was nothing more than inconsequential entertainment. Let others worry and wrinkle their brows in concern, debate and argue and fret. Sylvanas and Vereesa were the only ones who understood how marvelously pointless it all was.
Taran Zhu had to strike his gong a few more times than usual to quiet the buzz of chatter. “As I am certain all of you know by now, today is the final day of the trial of Garrosh Hellscream.” He peered at Tyrande. “Chu’shao Whisperwind, are there any witnesses you care to summon again to speak?”
Sylvanas noticed the night elf was wearing a more formal robe than she had previously, no doubt in anticipation of a victory. Which under any other circumstances Sylvanas would be delighted to have her celebrate. “There are none, Fa’shua.”
“Chu’shao Bloodhoof, are there any witnesses you care to summon again?”
Baine shook his horned head. “No, Fa’shua.”
“So noted. Before the closing arguments begin, in what is likely a vain effort to prevent the last few hours of this trial from turning into a carnival, I wish to inform all present what they may expect to see. Today will unfold thus: The Accuser will give her argument for the execution of the Accused. The Defender will then speak his argument for life imprisonment. We will take a respite for two hours, so that the Accused may eat what could potentially be a last meal before making any final statement, should he so choose.”
Sylvanas went rigid. What? She had thought the curry would be served tonight, after the jury had gone to deliberate, not in the middle of the afternoon! All their plans . . . Her gaze went to her sister. She could not make out Vereesa’s expression from this distance, but her sister suddenly seemed to develop a great interest in her bag. Vereesa rummaged through it, then nodded and turned to look over in the direction of the Forsaken seating area.
Elation replaced momentary panic. My dear sister, she thought, fighting back a smile, what a team we shall be! Vereesa was keeping the poison on her person at all times, it would seem. They would not fail, no matter when the cursed orc was supposed to shovel food into his boastful mouth.
Disaster averted, Sylvanas returned her attention to the judge. He looked over the crowd, his face stern. “I trust there will be no disruption at that point. His fate is about to be decided before us all. He has a right to say whatever is in his mind and heart and be heard, and to speak for as long as he desires. If this is not understood, I will be more than happy to make it clear by giving anyone who lacks clarity a month in the heart of the Shado-pan Monastery.”