"Thank you," said Varian. "And of course I'll continue to publicly appear as baffled as she wants me to be."
"As will I. We'll let Moira think she's succeeded in hiding her coup. And in the meantime—"
"Don't worry." Varian smiled coldly. "I've got a plan."
And with that, his face vanished. Jaina blinked at the abrupt dismissal.
"He looked angry," Anduin said quietly.
"Well, I'm sure he is. I was angry when I heard about all this, too, and the danger you were in. And he's your father."
Anduin sighed. "I wish there were something more I could do to help the people of Ironforge, or the tauren."
Jaina resisted the urge to ruffle his hair. He wasn't a child anymore, and although he was probably too courteous to protest, she suspected he wouldn't like it. She contented herself with giving him a reassuring smile.
"Anduin, believe me when I say that, somehow, I'm certain you'll find a way."
Anduin was surprised but pleased when he learned that Baine Bloodhoof had actually requested his presence at the next night's meeting with Jaina. Although the sitting room where they had spoken last night seemed a strange place for such weighty negotiations, Anduin didn't object when Jaina suggested it again. And neither did Baine, although it was obvious that nothing in the room was ever intended for one of his bulk. Anduin wondered if somehow Baine, too, sensed the comfort of the room, even though it was so far removed from what Anduin understood to be the tauren lifestyle. But here friends had often gathered to ward off the chill of a cold
rainy day with lively conversation, hot tea, and cookies. Maybe some of that good cheer lingered and was perceived by Baine.
It was an odd way to conduct negotiations, Anduin thought, remembering the summit at Theramore long ago. No formal declarations, no weapons to lay down, no guards. Just three people.
He decided he liked it.
Baine and Jaina were already there when Anduin came to join them. To Anduin, the tauren seemed a little calmer, but sadder, than he had last night. Anduin greeted Baine politely and sincerely, bowing the correct distance to an equal. Baine made his own gesture of respect, touching his heart and then his forehead. Anduin smiled. It began as an awkward smile, but as he regarded Baine, it softened into an easy, sincere one.
Baine, Jaina, and Anduin again sat on the floor. Anduin's back was to the fire, and the heat beating against him was comfortable. Jaina brought in a tray of tea, placing it in the center between all of them. This time, Anduin noticed, she had an oversized mug for their guest.
Baine noticed it, too, and made a small, gentle, snorting sound. "Thank you, Lady Jaina," he said. "I see the details do not escape you. Thrall does well to put his trust in you, I believe."
"Thank you, Baine," Jaina said. "Thrall's trust means a great deal to me. I would never jeopardize it—or yours."
Baine took a swallow from the mug, which, even though large, still looked small in his great hands. He stared into the cup for a moment. "There are some among the Forsaken who read tea leaves," he said. "Do you know such an art, Lady Jaina?"
Jaina shook her bright head. "No, I do not," she said. "Although I'm told that used tea leaves make a fine compost."
It was a weak joke, but they all smiled. "It is just as well. I do not need to have an oracle tell me what my future holds. I have been thinking, praying for direction from the Earth Mother. Asking her to guide my heart. It is full of pain and anger now, and I do not know if it is altogether wise."
"What does it tell you?" Jaina asked quietly.
He looked up at her with calm brown eyes. "My father was stolen from me by treachery. My heart cries out for vengeance for that despicable action." His voice was steady, almost a monotone, but even so, Anduin found himself instinctively shrinking from it. Baine was not anyone he would ever want charging at him demanding vengeance.
"My heart says: They took from you, take from them. Take the Grimtotem who entered a peaceful city of their own kind in the dark of night, and who slew by smothering or stabbing victims too deep in slumber to fight back. Take their matriarch who placed poison on a blade instead of sacredly anointing it. Take the arrogant fool who dared fight my father and who could only win by stooping to—"
Baine was beginning to raise his voice, and the calmness in his eyes was slowly being replaced by anger. His hands tightened into fists the size of Anduin's head, and his tail began to lash. Abruptly he halted in midsentence and took a deep breath.
"As you see, my heart is not wise at this moment. I am in agreement with it on one thing. I must retake my people's territory—Thunder Bluff, Bloodhoof Village, Sun Rock Retreat, Camp Mojache, any other village or outpost where they have made incursions and spilled innocent blood."
Anduin found himself nodding. He agreed completely, for many reasons. The Grimtotem shouldn't be rewarded for such violence and cruelty, Baine would be a better leader than this Magatha, and besides, any hope of peace with the Alliance would only be made with this brave young tauren at the head of his people.
"I think you should as well," Jaina said, but Anduin caught the note of caution in her voice. He knew she was wondering what exactly he intended to do—and what would be asked of her. She must be willing to help in some way, or else she would never have permitted Baine to come speak with her in the first place. He held his tongue and let Baine continue.
"But there is something I cannot, I must not do. Even though my heart drives me to it. I cannot do this thing because I know my father would not wish me to, and I must honor his wishes—what he fought for, what he did with his life—rather than my own emotions." Baine heaved an enormous sigh. "Much as I long to… I cannot attack Garrosh Hellscream."
Jaina relaxed almost imperceptibly.
"Garrosh was appointed by my warchief, Thrall. My father swore loyalty to Thrall, as did I. My father believed in his heart Garrosh was responsible for the attack against the Sentinels in Ashenvale and also an attack on a peaceful gathering of druids. He therefore issued the mak'gora against Garrosh, for the good of the Horde, and even stood by his challenge when Garrosh changed the rules and made it a battle to the death. In that situation, I believe what he did was right. His motives were not anger, or hatred, or vengeance."
Baine's voice broke, ever so slightly. "His motives were love of the Horde, and a desire to see it safe. He was willing to risk his life for it—and it was with his life that he paid."
Anduin found the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. "But no one would deny you your right to vengeance, especially if you can prove that Garrosh let Magatha poison his blade! And the attack on the druids—"
Jaina wasn't happy with his outburst, and Baine appeared startled. He swung his large head around to face Anduin for a moment.
"Yes. But what you do not understand—and even you might not, Jaina—is that my father issued the challenge of the mak'gora. The outcome determines the matter once and for all. The Earth Mother has spoken."
"But if Garrosh cheated - "
"We have evidence that Magatha poisoned the blade. None that Garrosh consented. There was no doubt in my father's heart. There is doubt in mine. If I challenge him without absolute faith that I am right, I then ignore the ancient tradition of my people. I say, I do not like these laws, so I will not obey them. I deny the Earth Mother. What does that make me, young Anduin?"