"How can you harbor a fellow Alliance member?" Baine snorted.
"Because Magni Bronzebeard is dead; his daughter, Moira Bronzebeard, has returned to Ironforge from Shadowforge City with a bunch of Dark Iron dwarves and is declaring herself empress; she's got Ironforge in a lockdown; and she's going to be very, very upset that I got out," Anduin said bluntly. Baine was right. There was no reason he should trust Anduin, prince of Stormwind… unless Anduin gave him a reason to. Besides, if he didn't know already, he soon would. Moira couldn't keep her intent secret forever. Baine's massive, horned head swiveled around, and he blinked at Anduin for a moment.
"Some would call you traitor for revealing that information, young prince," he said quietly.
"What Moira is doing is wrong, even if she is the legitimate heir," Anduin said. "Some of her goals and plans make sense. But how she's going about them—I can't approve of that. Just because she's a dwarf and the daughter of a friend doesn't mean I blindly support her. And just because you're a member of the Horde doesn't mean I wouldn't support you."
He kept his gaze on Baine, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Jaina relax slightly, hopefully.
"He has met Thrall, and they like and respect each other," Jaina said. "You could ask for no better endorsement, Baine."
Baine nodded, though his ears flapped, presumably in distress. "Had not Thrall left, though, I would have no need of your aid, and…" He paused, and took a deep breath, blowing it out through his nostrils. "And my father would still be alive."
Anduin gasped and looked at Jaina. Her eyes were sad, and she nodded. "Baine already told me," she said quietly.
"I'm so sorry," he said, and meant it. Whatever anyone thought of the Horde, everyone agreed that Cairne had been a good, decent leader and a good… man? Person? But it was not unexpected. Cairne was old. It seemed strange that Baine seemed so upset. No, not upset—anyone who loved his father would be upset at his passing—but… agitated. Distressed. "What happened?"
"Sit down," Jaina said, not unkindly. This time Anduin and Baine complied, taking seats on the floor. Jaina poured tea for all of them, put the cups on a tray, and sat down on the floor, cross - legged, herself. Anduin took a cup, and, after a moment, so did Baine. He regarded the tiny cup in his massive hand and gave a little chuckle—possibly the first, Anduin suspected, he had uttered since learning of his father's death.
Jaina glanced from one to the other. "Neither of you knows how much I wish we three were meeting under different circumstances," she said quietly, "particularly yours, Baine. But at least we are meeting. Maybe this conversation tonight will lay the groundwork for future, more formal conversations between our people."
Anduin lifted his cup. "To better times," he said. Jaina lifted hers and clinked it gently. After a moment Baine did so, too.
"I think… my father would be glad of this," he said. "Prince Anduin. Let me tell you what suffering this past day has brought."
"I'm listening," the prince of Stormwind said.
"Are you listening to me?" Moira screamed.
"Aye, Your Excellency, I—"
"How could you let him escape?"
"I dinna ken! We've arrested th' magi…. Perhaps a warlock summoning frae outside?" Drukan was reaching here, and he knew it.
"We have wards up against such a thing!" Moira was pacing now. It was early morning, and this was not the sort of news she had wished to awaken to. Not at all. She had simply thrown on a wrap when Drukan had sent her an agitated message that her prize pet had escaped. "No, it must have been something else. Perhaps you simply drank too much and slept while he tiptoed past you!"
Drukan frowned but bit back a retort. "I dinna drink on duty, Yer Excellency. And even if he had slipped past me, he would not have gotten past the guards stationed at every entrance."
Moira placed a hand to her throbbing temples and massaged them. "How is not important. We…"A crafty smile curved her lips. "Perhaps we are mistaken. Perhaps my pretty little caged bird of a prince has not escaped after all."
Drukan looked at her, perplexed. She sighed. "He has clearly left his quarters, yes. But perhaps he is still in Ironforge, simply hiding. There are many places for one to hide in this city."
"Indeed there - oh."
She smiled sweetly. "I will send you as many additional guards as you need to search for him. But you must not attract undue attention! No one must know that he is missing. You have taken the doddering old servant in for questioning?"
Drukan brightened somewhat. "Oh, yes indeed."
"Take care he is not mistreated. We want Anduin… cooperative."
"Of course."
"This must stay as quiet as possible. We shall put out word that Anduin is ill.… No, no, then that pesky Rohan will insist upon seeing him. What to do, what to do…" Moira paced the room, pausing beside her son's cradle and rocking it absently.
"Ah… we shall say he has gone to visit Dun Morogh. Yes! That's just the thing." This would accomplish two purposes. It would provide a plausible cover for why Anduin was not available and would give the impression that, at least in some cases, there was contact with the outside world that Moira approved of. Continuing to rock the cradle, she waved a hand at Drukan. "Go, shoo. Be about your task. Oh, and Drukan?" She lifted her eyes from her child and regarded him coldly. 'You must make certain that no one knows about Anduin's disappearance and no one knows what has happened here. I will reveal my agenda in my own time, and in my own way. Is that clear?"
Drukan swallowed audibly. "Y - yes, Yer Excellency."
Palkar returned with fresh meat to prepare for his and Drek'Thar's evening meal and found a bedraggled tauren courier waiting for him. He was one of Cairne's Longwalkers, which meant that the news he bore was important indeed. He was weather stained, and Palkar could see dried blood on his clothing. It was uncertain at first glance if the blood was the tauren's or that of another.
"Greetings, Longwalker," he said. "I am Palkar. Come inside and eat with us, then share your news."
"I am Perith Stormhoof," the Longwalker replied. "And my news cannot wait. I will share it with your master now."
Palkar hesitated. He did not like to talk about Drek'Thar's declining health with anyone. 'You can share it with me. I will make sure that he receives it. He has not been well as of late and—"
"No," said Perith flatly. "I have instructions to deliver the news to Drek’Thar, and deliver it I shall."
There was no other option. "Drek'Thar's mind is not what it once was. I tend to him. If you speak only to him, your words will be lost."
The tauren twitched an ear, his harsh expression softening slightly. "I regret to hear this news. You may hear it with him, then. But I must speak with him."
"I understand. Come in."
Palkar held open the tent flap, and Perith entered, having to duck as the flap was not designed to accommodate one of his size. Drek’Thar was awake, and his body posture seemed attentive and alert. He was, however, seated a good six feet away from his sleeping furs.
"Drek’Thar, we have an honored guest. It is one of Cairne's Longwalkers, Perith Stormhoof."
"My sleeping furs… why did you move them? You are always disturbing my things, Palkar," he said, his voice displaying his confusion.
Palkar gently helped the elderly orc to his feet, guided him to the furs, and helped him into a comfortable seating position.
"Now," Palkar said to Perith, "you may share your news with us."
Perith nodded. "The news is grave. The heart of the matter is that our beloved leader, Cairne Bloodhoof, is murdered, and the Grimtotem have taken over many of our cities in a bloody coup."
Drek’Thar and Palkar both stared at him, horrified. The news seemed to jolt Drek’Thar into one of his lucid phases.