Thrall frowned slightly. "My apologies, Grandmother. Aggra. I am frustrated because the situation is dire, and I as of yet can do nothing to help. It serves no one to take my irritation out on you."
Aggra nodded. She looked annoyed, but somehow Thrall sensed that—for once—it was not with him. She seemed annoyed with herself.
The young shaman confounded him, he had to admit. He did not know what to make of her. Thrall was not unaccustomed to dealing with intelligent, strong women. He had known two—Taretha Foxton and Jaina Proudmoore. But they were both human, and he was coming to realize that their strength came from a place that was very different from where orc females drew their strength. He had heard stories of his mother, Draka, who
had been born sickly but through her own will and determination had become as strong physically as she was mentally and emotionally. "A warrior made," he had once heard Geyah say of Draka with admiration. "It is easy to be a good warrior when the ancestors gift you with speed and strength and a strong heart. It is not so easy when you must wrest these things from a world that does not want to give them to you, as Draka did."
Now she spoke to Thrall, though it was upon Aggra that her gaze was fixed. "Your mother's spirit is within you, Thrall. Like her, everything you are, you have made of yourself. What you gave your people was not an easy thing—you had to fight for it. You are your mother's son as well as your father's, Go'el, son of Durotan—and Draka."
"I came here to do whatever was necessary to learn how to help my world," Thrall said. "But I would be about this vision quest as quickly as possible."
'You will stay as long as it takes, and you know it," Aggra said.
Growling slightly to himself, Thrall said nothing, because he did know it.
Anduin knew well that he was not "an honored guest." He was, in fact, a hostage, and the single most valuable one Moira had.
The envelope, written in a flowing hand, was on the table of the main room when Anduin came back after an hour spent with Rohan four days after Moira and her Dark Iron dwarves had swept into the city. He gritted his teeth as he saw that the red wax was sealed with the royal seal of Ironforge. He opened it while Drukan, the "special guard" assigned to Anduin to "make sure he was well taken care of, as he was such an honored guest," looked on sullenly.
The Pleasure of your Company is requested at Twilight this Evening. Formal Attire is required and Promptness is appreciated.
Anduin resisted the urge to crumple the letter and throw it away. Instead, he smiled politely at Drukan.
"Please tell Her Majesty that I shall be happy to attend. I'm sure she'll want to hear from me as soon as possible." At least, he thought, this would send off the watchdog for a few moments. He waited until Drukan determined he couldn't get out of the errand. The dwarf scowled and stomped off.
Anduin realized he actually found Drukan's lack of pretense, interest, and concern refreshing. At least Drukan wasn't lying about his feelings.
Anduin bathed and dressed. Moira may have thought she was pulling the strings on a puppet by demanding his attendance, but by insisting on formal attire, she was giving Anduin permission to wear his crown and other regalia that marked him as her equal. Anduin was well aware of the power such subtleties could convey. Wvll helped him dress, adjusted his crown with about a dozen delicate, infinitesimal tweaks, and then produced a mirror.
Anduin blinked a little. He always hated it when adults said he had "grown so much since the last time I saw you," but he was forced to see the evidence now with his own eyes. He hadn't paid much attention to what he looked like in the mirror recently, but now he could see that there was a new somberness to his eyes, a set to his jaw. He'd not had anything resembling a sheltered childhood, but he just hadn't expected the stress of the last few days to be so… visible.
"Everything all right, Your Highness?" Wyll inquired.
'Yes, Wyll. Everything is fine."
The elderly servant leaned forward. "I am certain your father is working diligently to find a way to secure your release," he said, pitching his voice very soft.
Anduin merely nodded. "Well," he sighed, "time for dinner."
Anduin was led past the High Seat and discovered that there were only two place settings at a surprisingly small table. Apparently it was to be an intimate gathering.
In other words, he was going to be interrogated.
He assumed Moira would take the head of the table, so he stood politely beside his chair awaiting her arrival.
He waited. And waited. The minutes crept past, and he realized that this, too, was all part of the game that was being played. He understood it better than she thought. He was young and he knew it, and he knew that people underestimated him precisely for that reason. He could use that to his benefit.
And, being young, he could stand for a long time without discomfort.
At last a door was flung open. A Dark Iron dwarf clad in the livery of Ironforge stepped forward, puffed out his chest, and announced in a voice that would earn in a crowd of hundreds, "Rise to greet Her Majesty, Queen Moira of Ironforge!"
Anduin gave the dwarf a half smile and spread his hands slightly to indicate that he was already standing. The prince bowed as Moira entered, still maintaining the proper depth of the bow to an equal. When he straightened, smiling politely, he saw a flicker of annoyance cross Moira's usually set - in - stone expression of false cordiality.
"Ah, Anduin. You are right on time," Moira said as she swept into the room. A servant pulled out her chair for her, and she settled in, then nodded to Anduin that he might do likewise.
"I believe punctuality to be a great virtue," he said. He did not need to mention that she had kept him waiting. They both knew it.
"I trust you have been having a pleasant and enlightening time conversing with my other subjects," she said, permitting the servant to place the napkin in her lap.
Other subjects? Was she implying that Anduin was—no, she wasn't, but she wanted him to think she was. Anduin smiled pleasantly, nodding thanks to the servant who poured him a glass of water. Another was pouring blood - red wine for Moira. Beer, apparently, was not high on the list of the queen's favorite beverages.
"By that, of course, you mean the Dark Iron dwarves, not just the dwarves of Ironforge," he said pleasantly. "I've not had much conversation with Drukan. Kind of a quiet fellow."
Moira lifted a delicate hand to her mouth, hiding a smile. "Oh, dear, why yes, that is very true. Most of them aren't talkers, you know. Which is one reason I am so terribly glad that you are here, my dear friend."
Anduin smiled politely and dipped his spoon into the soup.
"I am very much looking forward to the long conversations we are certain to have as the weeks and months unfold."
He forced himself not to choke on the soup, swallowing hard. "While I am sure they would be fascinating," and that at least was not a lie, "I think that my father will need me back before then. I fear you must get as much stimulating conversation as you can with me now."
A flicker in the depths of Moira's eyes, then the brittle smile. "Oh, I daresay your father will indulge me. Tell me of him. I understand he's had quite the ordeal."
Anduin was very certain indeed that Moira knew everything there was to know. She did not strike him as someone who would have waited this long to find out what she wanted to learn. Nonetheless, through the soup course and the salad, he told her what was general knowledge of his father's adventures.
"That must have been quite hard on you, Anduin."
He didn't think she really cared, but a thought occurred to him. He decided to run with it.