“I do not ‘claim’ to have found it. I did.” A rare fury stirred in the former guard captain. “And if you are considering me as the possible assassin, you will find yourself sorely mistaken.”
Malfurion raised his staff between the pair. “I am certain that Var’dyn is not making any unwarranted accusations, Jarod. We are all struggling to come to grips with this foul matter. I am sure Var’dyn joins me in commending you for immediately alerting us to this second murder.”
The mage hesitated, then replied, “Yes. Of course. Thank you, Jarod Shadowsong.”
It surprised Jarod that Var’dyn knew who he was, especially considering his threatening posture a moment before. He nodded to the mage but said nothing.
“All is being done to find the perpetrators, Var’dyn,” the high priestess assured. “Maiev is dedicated to the truth, and nothing will stand in her way.”
“She has a coarse way about her, but I have spoken with this one’s sister and find her as you say,” the Highborne admitted. “However, she is one, where these assassins could be many. . . . Darnassus is surely riddled with those plotting against the return of the Highborne, and we will not stand idly by any longer!”
At that point, Var’dyn gave Tyrande and Malfurion a fleeting bow, then turned on his heel and marched off. Jarod could not tell whether he had been satisfied by the high priestess’s promises or he merely knew that he could do nothing without this Archmage Mordent’s permission.
“Amazing that anyone should dislike the Highborne,” Shandris remarked under her breath. “They are the epitome of respect and congeniality.”
Jarod made no response, although he was aware that she had spoken so that he was the only other one who would hear.
Both Malfurion and Tyrande turned their attention to him. Jarod suddenly felt uneasy. He was certain that the pair desired something of him.
“Jarod, I want to again express our appreciation of your handling of the vile discovery,” Tyrande said.
“I did as should be done.”
“Not everyone would have behaved the same way. Your training and common sense shone through.” She glanced at her husband, who nodded back. “Var’dyn is correct in one thing. Maiev will need some assistance. We cannot afford for this to continue, not only for the Highborne’s sake, but also for everything we are trying to accomplish with this summit.”
“My sister is very competent and very determined. I cannot think of anyone more suited for the task.”
Tyrande smiled. “Perhaps, but her brother would certainly be an asset to the search.”
Even though he had seen the suggestion coming, Jarod did not know how to answer. “If the high priestess—if you think this a necessary duty—”
“It is a request, Jarod. No command. You can refuse and we will understand perfectly.”
He knew that she truly meant that, but hearing her say so proved the impetus to his decision. “I will do my part, though I will bow to Maiev’s authority on this.”
“Of course.” Tyrande looked grateful.
The archdruid also showed his pleasure. “Your support will be invaluable, Jarod. We need everyone right now.”
“I will do all I can . . . and the first thing I need to do is find my sister and explain this.”
The high priestess shook her head. “I will inform her.”
“With all due respect, I would like to tell her myself. It would be . . . more appropriate in this case.”
“As you wish, then.”
Jarod bowed to both. Shandris did the same and joined him as he departed. The general sent the Sentinel accompanying them on to other duties.
“I am very glad to have you a part of this,” she said quietly once the pair was alone. “Your sister is very dedicated, but often her focus is a bit too . . . narrow.”
“I know Maiev has faults, but I have as many if not more. We will do all we can to stop these assassinations.”
“Let us hope so. I am no admirer of the Highborne, but I can see how they might grow restive as their members are cut down. Darnassus—the night elf race in general—can ill afford a conflict between them and everyone else.”
He stopped. “You have dealt with my sister. Where would I most likely find her at this point? Where I left the body?”
Shandris took the unspoken farewell without a beat. She pointed. “No. By this point, she and her Watchers are probably moving it for better study. I would say your best bet is to meet her there instead.”
“And where is that?”
“The place where she and her Watchers train. I know that she organized and conducted her investigation of the first murder from there.”
“Thank you.” He dared not say anything more, though her eyes showed that she waited for him to do so. Steeling himself, Jarod bowed to her and headed in the direction she had indicated. As he journeyed, Jarod drew the dagger sheathed at his side. He probably did not need it . . . but then, two people had been slain. That they had been Highborne did not rule out that the perpetrators might not kill someone interfering with their plans.
The sounds of Darnassus muted abruptly as he neared the location Shandris had suggested. The dark mood of his surroundings fit well with how he saw his sister. She had always been the driven one, while he had simply stumbled through life, rising—in his estimation—more by chance than by ability. Still, Jarod hoped that Maiev would see his value in this mission.
The practice area used by his sister and her followers appeared empty. The crudely drawn expressions on the row of wooden practice dummies seemed to mock his failure to find Maiev. False swords raised high and chipped shields ever at the ready, even as savagely hacked as they were, they looked at the moment far more capable than Jarod felt. The male night elf looked around, pondering where to go next if Maiev did not show up soon. He considered the fact that she might have gone to the Highborne encampment, but ruled that out as reckless, even by his sister’s standards.
Frustrated at not finding Maiev here, Jarod turned—
And stared directly into the eyes of what could only be one of his sister’s Watchers. She wore armor akin to Maiev’s, but of a slightly duller shade. Her helmet hung from a branch just to her left, as if the Watcher had just taken it off. Propped against the trunk of the same tree was her umbra crescent.
“You are he,” the younger night elf stated without preamble. “You are her brother.” She eyed him critically. “I expected you to be taller and more scarred from all those battles.”
Her comment made him wonder just what Maiev had said about him over the millennia. Had he so disappointed her that she had been forced to make him more in the image of what he should have been?
When Jarod did not respond, the Watcher added, “I am Neva.” She started walking, her movements as smooth as those of a nightsaber. Jarod felt as if she were sizing up prey. Neva circled him, taking in every aspect of Maiev’s brother. “No . . . you are as you should be. Like her.”
Not certain how to take that, he asked, “Where is Maiev? I need to speak with her.”
“She was here not long ago, but no sooner did they bring the body of that spellcaster than some of his kind showed up to take it away. Maiev was not too pleased. She was not done with it.”
Neva might as well have been talking about a chair or some other insignificant object. Jarod sighed. “So she is at their encampment?”
“Very possibly.” Neva sauntered to his side, then leaned uncomfortably close. “You can wait here with me. She will be back very soon; I am certain—”
Jarod suddenly pushed past Neva, but not because of her. Rather, something watched both from beyond the area—something that did not remind him of a night elf.