Unity: Defiance - Chapter 2
And here is part 2! Now with more goblins!
Title: Unity: Defiance
Part: 2 of 5 + Epilogue
Word Count: 6015 (of this part)
Includes: Violence, drama, polymorphing, plot mangling, goblins pirates, ninja assassins, pirate-mages, pirate cows, alcohol and tobacco use (mild), booty shorts.
Pairings: Thrall/Jaina, mentioned Mathias/Edwin
Summary: Jaina fills Bolvar in, and goes to check in with a contact and an old friend.
Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 Sidestory: Linguistics
13 14 15 16 17 18
Sidestory: Defiance - 1
“This is embarrassing and unfortunate,” Bolvar said, looking decidedly sheepish. The Highlord of Stormwind was a large man, tall and broad, though he reminded Jaina more of Thrall than Arthas. Perhaps it was something in the way he smiled, and tried to make himself seem more unobtrusive.
Or perhaps it’s that lack of arrogance, Jaina thought idly, pushing away thoughts of black, green, and gold. “It is, but it gives us an opportunity. Consider, if you will, the possibility that there is more to the Defias Brotherhood than meets the eye. If there is, that could be the key to putting down unrest here. I just need to investigate.”
“I suppose telling you that you don’t need to do this for us, that we have our own sources to look into things won’t help, will it?” Bolvar asked, and Jaina smiled up at him.
“I do love a mystery,” Jaina said. “It’s gotten me into trouble before... but also netted me a great many valuable experiences, and this will help. I know it.”
“I’m grateful, then,” Bolvar said, and hesitated. “I know there are... other places you’d rather be right now.”
I shouldn’t be entirely surprised that he’s heard. I wonder if Varian knows? “I’ve always made it a personal goal to help as many people as possible and this is no different. Kalimdor will keep for now. Everyone’s an adult who can look after themselves.”
“Of course,” Bolvar agreed easily, and offered her a courtly bow. “If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”
“There is, actually,” Jaina said, and grinned mischievously. “I don’t suppose you can get me a change of clothes and a box of nice cigars?”
~ * ~
Jaina inhaled deeply. To many, one harbour smelled much like another: of fish, of ships, of salt. To Jaina, who had spent much of her life, one way or another, in port towns, each one had a unique smell. Theramore smelled primarily of fish, strongly dependent on its fishing fleets. It was small, yet, and so new that one could still smell the fresh paint and rope wax if they put their minds to it. Boralus Harbour, overlooked by Boralus Keep, in Kul Tiras smelled of gunpowder and the wax on a ship’s sails. It was busy constantly, the merchant fleets very old and well established, and the navy just as old and just as well trained. Orgrimmar’s harbour actually smelled more of oil as the goblin ships they used tended to be a great deal dirtier than Tiran warships or sleek Theran cruisers. Stormwind’s tended to smell of fruit, imported from Stranglethorn and the South Seas. This harbour, however, didn’t smell like any of those things.
Booty Bay’s harbour smelled of profit. Profit smelled like oil and tar. Profit smelled like large loads of cargo, questionably obtained, being offloaded in a hurry. Profit smelled like sailors, who worked hard, drank hard, and partied harder. Profit smelled like the people who made money from those sailors: the bartenders, the wenches, the gambling dens. Profit smelled like the Bruisers, goblins armed with truncheons and shotguns, prepared to deal with troublemakers and empty their pockets for their troubles.
Archmages of the Kirin Tor and Theramore League did not simply walk into Booty Bay. Neither did daughters of ancient and noble houses. Fortunately, Jaina knew how to be something other than those two things, as her identity fanned itself out, and she selected a particular card to play.
Jaina was clad in brown leather breeches, adorned with a handful of silver buckles and matching boots. Her shirt was long-sleeved and blue, and cut just low enough to fit in, though not enough to draw attention. She wore a blue vest on top of it, with two silver buttons that fastened it at her waist. With some amount of haste, an aqua anchor had been embroidered into the left breast pocket. With luck, that would be enough. Jaina had made adjustments to the shoulder harness she was wearing, and with a flick of her wrist and a touch of magic, her gun would be in her hand. At her waist, sitting in a sword sheath, was a wand. She missed her staff, but a wand in a sheath looked closer to a short sword or a dagger, which was the general idea.
I think I confused Bolvar just a bit with all of this, Jaina thought, checking the box of cigars that was tucked into her vest. It’s a Proudmoore thing. It’s also a Booty Bay thing--
Jaina’s gun was in her hand in a moment, and she pressed the muzzle against the back of the sailor that brushed against her. “Hands off that, if you please.”
“You startin’ somethin’, lady?” the sailor asked. He was head and shoulders taller than she was, nut-brown and broad. He gave her a dark-toothed grin.
Jaina cocked the hammer back, and jabbed him with it. “No, but I’ll end it. I’m here to see The Boss.”
The sailor’s eyes widened, and he backed away from her. “Didn’t know... you ain’t a goblin.”
“Not all goblins have green skin,” she said in Kezanite, and smirked before continuing on her way. “Pleasant day to you.”
It took confidence to walk the multi-tiered streets of Booty Bay. It was deliberately designed to be maze-like, with ramps leading from very top of the city to the lowest layers that threatened to dump passers-by into the harbour itself. If you hesitated, if you looked confused or lost, predators would come for you. They’d herd you into the darkest corners of the city and strip you for all you had. Only a fool would come here with no escort if they were inexperienced, and having an escort meant you knew someone in the city itself.
Jaina needed no such escort. She flicked her eyes along the ramps briefly, and strode right towards the Salty Sailor Tavern, and headed in the door. It was the middle of the afternoon, but the bar was well over half full. Sailors of virtually every race were sitting at tables, drinking, dicing, and hoping to catch the eye of a friendly bar wench. Few gave her more than a moment’s look even as she slid up to the bar.
“I want to go upstairs,” Jaina said simply to the bartender. The dwarf looked at her, plainly unbelieving.
“Plenty want to, why should ye?” he asked gruffly, polishing one of the mugs. Jaina tapped the embroidered symbol on her pocket and he snorted. “It’s an anchor, girlie. Anyone can put one there.”
“True, but not here.” She slid her gun across the bar to him, and pointed to the bottom of the handle. His eyes widened.
“Ain’t ye supposed to be in--”
“I go where I please,” Jaina interrupted smoothly, scooping her gun back up. “And where it pleases me to go is upstairs.”
“Go right on in,” the dwarf muttered. Jaina nodded to him, slid him a coin, and went upstairs. Several of the sailors watched her go, curious now. Jaina gave them a jaunty wave and went upstairs. This tavern had once been a ship and it showed: the structure was that of a vessel cut in half, and roughly constructed into an inn. Jaina could still smell the brine, the tar, and the wood. She smiled.
Almost as good as going home, she thought, though ‘home’ was mixed between her beloved Theramore and Thrall’s quarters in Grommash Hold. She smiled at the thought, even as she passed people moving between rooms. They snorted, and she ignored them.
‘Upstairs’ was not merely the second, or even third, floor of the tavern. It was a very specific area, once the observation deck of a fine ship. Now, it was the home of one Baron Revilgaz, ruler of Booty Bay, and high ranking affiliate of the Steamwheedle Cartel.
And blackmailer, and smuggler, and two steps shy of a pirate, Jaina reflected with fondness. Not to mention information broker. She knocked on the door.
“Richie?!” called a voice. It was pitched higher than a human male’s voice, but there was no mistaking the age behind it. "Are those the drinks?"
Jaina beamed. It's so good to hear his voice again. She drew back her foot and kicked the door open. Inside the room was a middle-aged goblin, dressed in blue cotton trousers, a wide-sleeved white shirt and a black vest with a double-row of gem-studded buttons that matched the larger, gaudier gems that adorned his wide belt. Standing next to him was a tall, broad tauren, Grimtotem-dark, wearing brown trousers and a loose cream shirt, a pirate hat balanced precariously between his wicked, sharp horns. Both looked startled, though Jaina could see a flicker of admiration on the goblin's face. The goblin, it seemed, had been speaking to a human man. He was dark-skinned, with caramel-brown hair and piercing black eyes. Jaina nodded briefly to him, and pointed her gun at the goblin.
Immediately, the goblin drew a grenade from his pocket, and Jaina noted the detonator had an automatic sparker. He'd only need one hand. Seahorn drew a musket, and pointed it squarely at Jaina, while the dark-skinned man drew long knives, one pointed at the goblin and the other pointed at Jaina. She smiled.
"You're one short, blondie," the goblin barked, extending his thumb. "End of the line."
"No, you're just not paying attention," Jaina replied, and drew the wand at her waist, and it began to glow with bright blue magic. "You shouldn't take your eyes off a mage's other hand."
"No indeed," the goblin said, and slowly lowered the grenade, and nodded to the tauren, who slowly lowered his shotgun. The dark-skinned man nodded to her, and lowered his weapons.
When they stood down, Jaina tucked the wand back into its sheath, and then lowered her hand, and the gun disappeared back into her sleeve.
"Hello, Sunfish, it's been a long time. Good to see you."
Jaina beamed. "It's good to see you too, Uncle Revilgaz." She strode forward and hugged him tightly, mindful of his pockets full of explosives. His hug in return was firm. "It's been a long time."
"I was thinking it'd be at your wedding the next time I saw you," he said, patting her hair. "I'm sorry about all of that. Hell of a mess."
"It was," Jaina said softly, sighing. "One hell of a mess." She withdrew a little. "How has business been?"
"Interesting," he said, and patted the chair beside him. Jaina sat obediently, and the dark-skinned man found a different seat, his expression tinged with amusement. "We're dealing with the Horde again. A new Horde. One that builds cities instead of burning them down."
"Gazlowe has done a fine job," Jaina agreed. "And Ratchet is prospering considerably. I remember Kalimdor was the sucker's bet originally."
"Considering more than half the world at the time would say 'Kala-what?' when they heard of it, yeah." Revilgaz grinned. "But now there's all kinds of trade there. Not just Orgrimmar, but also Theramore and even the elves have warmed up to us. Not to mention the tauren." He nodded to his companion, and she nodded back.
"Fleet Master Seahorn."
"Sunfish," the tauren replied, his voice deep and powerful. "I have heard you are sworn to the tribes now."
"Yes, Cairne Bloodhoof is my brother," Jaina replied, smiling warmly. "We stood at Hyjal together. He is kind and noble."
"Magatha thinks he's blaspheming against the will of the Earthmother by having the tauren settle. That we are stronger because of our adversity."
"People are strong despite adversity, not because of it," Jaina said, gently but firmly. "We are thankful that we survived a time of suffering, we do not invite it. Only those who are cruel revel in the suffering of others, and the masochistic in their own suffering. I'm certain the Earthmother didn't intend for tauren to be sailors, either."
Seahorn chuckled, and held up his hands. "I see why Revilgaz is so fond of you."
"The words of an idealist," said the dark-skinned man. "A dangerous occupation with orcs on your border."
"Someone less than an idealist wouldn't keep politely kicking your agents out of Theramore after they are found, Master Shaw," Jaina said, raising an eyebrow. "And what is the leader of SI:7 doing cozening up to one of the leaders of the Blackwater Raiders?"
"At least one is still in place," Shaw murmured, acknowledging her other points. "Not that--"
"Leona Whitecastle is married to the brother of my Chamberlain, and it would be rude to remove her from her family," Jaina said dryly, and Shaw's eyes widened.
"She didn't tell me she was married."
"Perhaps you should have better intelligence," Jaina said. "I believe I know why you're here, and I think our reasons align. Uncle Revilgaz, I've come to talk to you about something very serious and important."
Revilgaz sighed. "So do we all. We were waiting for drinks... you didn't knock out Richie, did you?"
"No, Uncle Revilgaz," Jaina replied, laughing. "I know better than to mess with a goblin's alcohol. Or his explosives."
"Good girl," Revilgaz said approvingly. "But that means Richie is slow. Richie--!!"
There was a knock on the door. Jaina shifted subtly, and Revilgaz called out to him. When the door opened, and was not kicked in, Jaina could see the tray poke in first, followed by a slender young man dressed in a low-cut buccaneer's shirt and a scandalously short pair of shorts. Superficially, he seemed wholly elven, but Jaina's experience told her how to look for a specific roundness of the young man's eyes, and the way his ears were an inch shorter than a full elf's. A pair of amber eyes met Jaina's, and he set his jaw, daring her to make something of it.
"My sister is Shano'dorei," Jaina said quietly, and gave him an encouraging smile. He smiled back, looking relieved.
"Me mam was Blackwater," he said, a Dwarven lilt to his voice, reminding her of the bartender. "Dropped me here and dinnae look back."
"My condolences, but this place is good to those who know it," Jaina said. "Two, please. Don't be stingy."
Richie grinned, and poured two shots of a steaming liquid into a pair of crystal-cut glasses. "It takes a brave soul ta double drop Kezan Fireball, miss."
"I usually think of myself as an ice person, but this is a kind of fire I appreciate." Once the drinks were poured -- Seahorn and Revilgaz had lowball tumblers instead of shot glasses -- Jaina toasted the others and threw back the first shot. It burned on the way down, making her feel sharp and alert. What was it I told Tandred? It’s like a slap in the face that you asked for, and thanked them for it afterwards. She took the second shot glass and drank it back with equal speed. Instead of burning, this one felt like warm hands running down the inside of her throat and cupping her stomach, and reminded her more than a little of Thrall.
“Your ears are smoking,” Shaw murmured, shaking his head a little as he set his sole shot glass down.
“Unlikely,” Jaina said. “Kezan Fireball is nothing... you should try my grandmother’s favourite drink. She says it’s like being hit in the head with a brick wrapped in lemon.” She stretched a little, and settled into her chair, watching as her ‘Uncle’ and his first officer took more time to savour their drinks. “I’ve come here to talk to you about Edwin VanCleef.”
Revilgaz sputtered and choked. “Don’t exactly beat around the bush, do you? They teach you that in Dalaran?”
“Let’s just say I’ve learned there are many different ways to start a negotiation,” Jaina said smoothly. There was a flicker of surprise on Shaw’s face, and Jaina made note of it. “I decided the straightforward approach suited us in this case. I have come across something of a conundrum.”
“Conundrum is a good word,” Seahorn rumbled. “Though not as good as defenestrate.”
“No indeed,” Jaina agreed. “The situation starts with the fact that there was very recently a prison riot in Stormwind. The prisoners, primarily Defias, managed to get ahold of weapons and started causing trouble. It’s been taken care of, but what we learned during it was troubling.”
“I’m not certain you should be discussing this with others,” Shaw pointed out. Jaina raised an eyebrow.
“I’m relatively certain that you were getting around to doing the same thing when I got here,” Jaina replied. “Two things of significance happened . The first, a man was accused of working for the Defias and detained. He was in the area on another task and his arrest prevented him from completing it. He’s been freed, but we both believe that someone ratted him out. The second is that while I was listening to a Warden interview one of the prisoners, she did not seem to know one of the other high profile prisoners. It wouldn’t be unusual if it weren’t for the fact that the Defias Brotherhood were once the Stonemason’s Guild, and were all personally acquainted with one another.”
“She could have simply been a new recruit,” Shaw pointed out. “But...”
“But the numbers don’t add up, do they?” Jaina pressed. “Especially not considering the Defias activity in Kalimdor, which only makes sense if you ignore their motivations.”
“Wha’ do they want?” Richie asked, curious.
“Revenge on Varian and Stormwind’s army,” Jaina said. “They’re angry that they weren’t paid for their work rebuilding Stormwind. Their goal is to take their pay from Varian one way or another, which is why it makes sense that they raid army shipments or a noble’s estate, but don’t attack farmers in Westfall.”
“...and anyone can put on a red mask,” Shaw murmured. “So what do we do about it?”
“That is a thing that I need to discuss with Edwin himself,” Jaina replied. “I need more information to fill in the puzzle. I have long suspected that he has goblin contacts... and that you’re one of them, Uncle.”
“Hrm,” Revilgaz said.
“Hrm?” Seahorn questioned. Jaina raised an eyebrow.
“Hrm,” Revilgaz agreed. “Sunfish, you’re askin’ me to go against policy. That kinda information is private. I’m not even supposed to confirm or deny if they exist.”
“I know that you can’t, but I also know that you value your neutrality heavily. That’s why you keep it quiet that the Steamwheedle are so active in Kalimdor and are helping the Horde on contract. You don’t want to anger the Alliance, who still recall that the Steamwheedle provided the Horde with munitions during the Second War.” Jaina sat forward a little, giving Revilgaz an earnest look. “If the Defias are being used by someone, this will help them and make your own contracts more secure.”
“Hrm,” Revilgaz said again. “Alright. VanCleef does have goblin contacts... he gets his building contracts through Booty Bay from clients who wish to remain nameless.” He looked between Jaina and Shaw. Shaw nodded slightly.
“That’s fine,” Jaina assured him. “Go on.”
Revilgaz sighed, and ran a hand over his bald head. “You know that town of Moonbrook? In the rougher part of Westfall, it’s pretty run-down from all the trouble. The drought and all. There’s a big ol’ barn, it leads into the Deadmines.”
“Ah, the Deadmines,” Shaw said. “Where the great Lothar found that tome for Archbishop Faol, the one that would become the cornerstone for the Silver Hand.”
“The same,” Revilgaz agreed. “It’s had ogres livin’ in it, slimes, orcs... and now the Defias Brotherhood. It’s a maze, though, a damned mess.”
“Then I’ll need a map, won’t I?” Jaina said. “Perhaps from someone who has an up to date one?”
“I’ll get it for ya, I’ll have it dug out of the vaults,” Revilgaz grumbled, and Jaina leaned forward, kissing the top of his head. “Ya done grown up, Sunfish. Give me a little time. In the meantime, feel free to enjoy a Janeiro special.”
“You’re too kind, Uncle,” Jaina said. “Thank you.”
The matter settled, Revilgaz and Seahorn left to retrieve the map, and Richie cleared away the glasses. Shaw watched him go, and shook his head.
“I can’t believe Camden lets him walk around in that outfit,” Shaw said. “It’s so...”
“Short?” Jaina suggested. “This is the kind of place where people get stabbed if they make the wrong move towards an employee. Probably by the employee in question.”
“Still,” Shaw groused. “Where does he keep those Janeiros? I feel the need for a smoke.”
“Left hand drawer of his desk, second one down,” Jaina said, watching him closely as he went to retrieve them.
“Care for one?” Shaw asked, and Jaina nodded. She watched as dextrous fingers picked up a pair of cigars, felt them lightly, and set them down to slice off the cap ends carefully. He handed Jaina one, and took the other for himself. He reached for a match, but Jaina held up her hand. Between the tips of two fingers, she conjured a small, intense flame, burning blue-hot.
“I didn’t think that you were a fire person,” Shaw remarked as Jaina spread the flame evenly along the cut edge of his cigar, then performed the same, careful ritual for herself.
“I’m not, fire has always been one of my weakest disciplines, but I considered this as incentive to learn... it would bring shame to my ancestors to ruin a fine cigar with careless magic.” Once the cigar was lit and the fire dismissed, Jaina put one end in her mouth and drew in slowly, letting the smoke roll around in her mouth like a delicacy. She moved out to the balcony of Revilgaz’ private office, and looked up at the sky as the stars winked in slowly.
“That’s what you think would shame your ancestors?” Shaw asked sharply, and followed her out. Jaina took a few moments to answer, exhaling slowly through her nose.
Like a dragon, she reflected, and it almost made her smile. She looked over at Shaw. “Go ahead and ask me, I suspect you want to.”
“Why did you do it?” he asked quietly but intensely, and Jaina could feel the emotion behind it, the accusation. It was not new to her. She inhaled again, appreciating the earthy taste of the cigar. “Why did you side with the Horde instead of your own kin? Your own flesh and blood.”
Jaina sighed out the smoke, and held her cigar carefully, examining the evenness of the burn. “The way I see it, I was doing what they’d always wanted me to do. My father told me that when you made promises, you have to keep them. He knew that I was going to be important. Archmage of the Kirin Tor, Queen of Lordaeron... Pirate-Queen of the South Seas... I wasn’t going to stay at home and be someone’s lighthouse. So he taught me about a sense of personal responsibility.”
Shaw exhaled, and frowned. “Surely he didn’t mean in the face of this...”
Jaina drew in another mouthful, and with her exhalation, said, “Isn’t this the most important time to keep one’s word? Thrall and I stood side by side against the Burning Legion. I’m not sure what was happening here, but in Kalimdor, the world was ending. Lordaeron, Dalaran, and Quel’thalas had fallen. The sky was on fire with the infernals called in by Archimonde and his host of demons. We had one chance and we took it.” She tapped the cigar gently against the rail of the balcony, letting the ash fall with the wind. “Don’t get me wrong, the first time I met the orcs in Kalimdor, they were doing their best to kill me. We were heading towards the same goal and we didn’t know it. We were even sent by the same person.”
“After--”
“After Hyjal it was even more important that we worked together. It wasn’t just necessity, it was bond. I’d always thought that business about building meaningful relationships on a battlefield to be nonsense, but it felt true in many ways. It might also have been that I couldn’t bear to fight people who’d been such important allies just days ago. We started building new lives in concert. Together, but independent. I was there when they broke ground in Durotar for Orgrimmar. Thrall was there when we stabilized the ground to start building my tower in Theramore. We had a connection.”
“Oh yes, I’ve heard rumours about your ‘connection’ with the orcs,” Shaw said. He drew sharply on his cigar and then winced.
“Don’t ruin a good cigar with bitterness,” Jaina said, and noted between mouthfuls of smoke that the taste had changed to something a bit more nutty. “Thrall and I are lovers now, but we weren’t when my father came to find me. We were allies, and under the foolish assumption that nothing bad could happen to us.”
“He came looking for you,” Shaw reminded her. “He was worried.”
“Funny how most of that worry evaporated when he spotted enough green skin,” Jaina said, and it was her turn to draw too hard. “I tried to convince him that Thrall’s Horde was not the Horde he fought. It was not the Horde that killed my brother, and Lothar, and so many others. He refused to believe me and called me naive. As if I’ve ever been naive in my life.”
“Haven’t you?”
“No,” Jaina said, watching eyes on the glowing red ring below the ash of her cigar. “I’ve been bitter, cynical, hopeful, and exhausted, but I have never been so naive that I walked into a trap. I know when to walk away.”
“But not from your agreement with the Horde.”
“No,” she said again, and took her time with the next mouthful of smoke. “I made a promise. We both did. I intended to keep it and so did he. It was incredibly painful to watch my father die, and more so because he was dying for his own stubbornness. For his refusal to see that the world was changing.”
“If Thrall betrays you? What will he have died for then?”
“Thrall will never betray me, and we both make sure that there are no misunderstandings, no chances that this will happen again. That was our promise, our vow. It is more valuable than our relationship.”
“You’re being sentimental,” Shaw said, flicking the tip of his cigar lightly. Jaina smiled.
“The way you are about VanCleef?”
Shaw choked. “What did you--”
“That’s why you’re here. For him. You want to know what’s going on. You want to know why it’s gotten this far. You’re loyal to Varian but you’re concerned about his sanity.” Jaina smiled, sadly and a little bitterly. “Trust me, I know the sentiment.”
Shaw was silent for a time, drawing in and exhaling smoke slowly, deeply. Finally, he nodded to himself. “Do you know how SI:7 was formed?”
“I know some of the rumours,” Jaina allowed. “One of them is obviously true.”
Shaw nodded again. “The Stormwind Assassins, code-named SI:7, was created by Stormwind’s crown two generations ago. Adamant Wrynn, Light keep him and God rest his soul, realized that to fight crime, you needed to think like a criminal.”
“It’s not entirely unreasonable,” Jaina agreed. “In Dalaran, the non-mage members of society were crucial in determining how we could better improve the quality of life for everyone that lived there. They love refrigerators.”
Shaw blinked, and then shook his head. “I think that non-sequitur hit me square in the jaw,” he muttered, and drew in again. “He sent one of his agents to retrieve someone he believed was not inherently corrupt or greedy -- and being that this is Azeroth, both of those qualities are in ample supply -- from Stormwind’s Stockade. The offer was simple: work for the crown in exchange for clemency. Of course, they needed to test her. She was tasked to assassinate a corrupt high elven mayor, and leave no trace of her passing. She succeeded and she became the tip of the thumb, the leadership organization of the Assassin’s Guild.”
“You’re leading me up to something,” Jaina said before drawing in another mouthful of smoke.
“The woman’s name was Pathonia Shaw and she was my grandmother,” Shaw replied. “Though good on you for noticing.”
Jaina nodded slowly. I don’t see a connection yet, but I won’t hurry him.
Shaw smoked in silence for a little longer. “My mother followed my grandmother into the Stormwind Assassins... she was the lover of the man who recruited her, though as I understand it Adamant was pleased. He cared for my grandmother a great deal, and she was utterly loyal to him. She had turned to crime because she was bored, and never acted outside of his orders once she was recruited.”
“A thrillseeker, I understand,” Jaina said. “I’ve done more than a few things for the fun of it, even if I knew they’d get me in trouble.”
Shaw half-turned, and raised an eyebrow, gesturing to her with the wave of one hand. “You? Really? I’d have never have guessed.”
“Ha. Ha,” Jaina replied tartly. “I won’t take you base jumping in Feralas, then.”
“I don’t want to know,” he said, shaking his head. “My mother died when I was four, she failed to kill her target. My grandmother recruited me when I was ten, she’d been testing me for a long time. Physically, mentally... morally.”
“Morally?” Jaina repeated, and Shaw nodded. He flicked the tip of his cigar, and then examined the burn. He frowned at the unevenness of it.
“An assassin can find their job to be exciting. They can run walls, hide in shadows, break in and out of a residence, leaving everyone dead or everyone alive. But killing shouldn’t be a thing they do because it’s convenient. Because they don’t want to actually deal with a problem. An assassin who works for the crown shouldn’t be doing it because they want to stamp out dissent, but because corruption must never rise. It hurts the common people. It hurts the crown. An assassin should be able to adapt to a situation but never kill for their own sake. For convenience.”
“A difficult line to walk, and one many might not understand,” Jaina said slowly, and then smiled. “Though I think I do.”
Shaw smiled briefly, and then the expression faded. “I thought you might. Edwin did too. He was a friend of mine, we knew each other in childhood. His father was a general contractor, but Edwin had his sights set higher. He wanted to be an architect. He worked and he worked... he was brilliant. He also wanted to be an assassin. My grandmother was eager to recruit him, because we could use his expertise to root out places where assassins could hide, and create places where we could slip in and out. I was responsible for training him.”
“That must have been hard,” Jaina said. “That kind of training is never easy.”
“No,” Shaw agreed. “It was hard on both of us for a number of reasons... one of which is that by that time we were lovers as well as friends. We were also young and foolish. It’s harder to say which quality we had in greater excess.”
“This must have been during the Wars too,” Jaina said. “Making it even more complicated.”
“It was, and my grandmother never got over the fact that she lost Llane to the Halforcen. Adamant was a blow, but he was out riding... Llane was in his own library, killed by a friend. It hurt her. She retired rather than be killed, and left me in charge. I’ve tried to improve on her organization but it doesn’t need improving on... until now, perhaps. Edwin knows how we operate. He was fully inducted into the Guild. He knows our agents and our tells... but if he’s instructed all of his people on those things, I can’t tell. Some of them seem to be so... stupid.”
“They don’t know each other,” Jaina noted. “You noticed it too.”
“Of course I did, and some of them don’t have the right tell.”
“Tell?” Jaina asked, focusing on him, her eyes bright with the anticipation of learning a new secret.
“Stormwind agents have a thread of red amongst a white piece of clothing. It looks like a little bit of dirt, only other agents know of it. The earliest Defias we captured had a similar tell, a thread of white on their red masks. I don’t know if Edwin was mocking me or if it was simply a... sign. A number of the people we captured had no such tell... common thugs, but all ‘Defias’. Is he recruiting more people? Is someone using his name. I need to know.”
“So do I,” Jaina replied. “Surely you knew where he was, though.”
“I had an idea, but... I will be caught. He knows me, just as I know him.” Shaw sighed out smoke. “I can’t afford to be found.”
“He won’t catch me,” Jaina murmured. “Unless he has an archmage on his side.”
“He only has dabblers, mages aren’t well thought of here, as you must know now,” Shaw said. “The ones that are more powerful are all controlled strictly by the crown. No living outside the city, no secret rooms... everything has to be in the open. With Dalaran fallen, people don’t have many choices left.”
“There’s Theramore.”
“There is, but people are reluctant because of your attachment to the orcs.” Jaina made a face, and Shaw held up a hand. “Patterns emerge if you look at history closely enough.”
“I don’t think that they will,” Jaina said, and smiled. “The only assassins the Horde employs are on our side, and that’s one mistake that won’t be made twice.”
“Don’t tell me--” Shaw snapped.
“I’m not telling you anything because I can’t be sure, but I have my suspicions,” Jaina said. “As someone who used to spy on people with the unspoken permission of my master, I can tell when people are trying to be sneaky.”
Shaw grumbled. “How can she still be alive?”
“I believe by living one day at a time,” Jaina replied. “There was one more thing I wanted to ask you about. You said you believed the Stormwind Assassins needed to change, and that you were all loyal to the crown. Correct?”
“Yes,” Shaw said. “Utterly.”
“What happens if your king becomes corrupt?”
Shaw closed his eyes, and threw his cigar towards the bay with force. As it hit the water, an ogre, swimming through the water, grabbed it, sniffed it, and then ate it. “I don’t know.”
“Logically, the answer is simple,” Jaina said. “If your job is to eliminate corruption, you must do it.”
“But we would never be ordered to kill our own king!” Shaw snapped. “Varian would never ask for his own death!”
“What is the purpose of the leader of a guild of assassins that will not lead and take his own initiative?” Jaina snapped back. “Do you think it’s supposed to be easy? Do you think it was easy to walk away from Arthas? From Dalaran? From my father? Do you think it was easy for Thrall to attack and subdue Grom knowing he’d have to kill him if our cleansing ritual failed? No, it’s never easy, but if Varian is hurting people then he must be stopped!”
“He’s not corrupt!” Shaw cried. “He’s sad, and he’s hurting, and he’s so infernally lonely that he needs all the help he can get! You have no right to judge him!”
“No more than he has the right to judge me,” Jaina said, her voice low with anger and menace. “Maybe VanCleef has a clearer vision of Varian’s behaviour than you do.”
Shaw stiffened, and then sighed again. “I don’t want Edwin to be right. I don’t want Varian to have been right about him. I want to know what the hell happened that day and neither of them will speak to me of it.”
Jaina inhaled slowly, and then exhaled. “I can get you an answer, one way or another.”
“Thank you, Lady Proudmoore,” Shaw said, nodding. “Though I have a question for you in return.”
“Very well,” Jaina said. “Ask it.”
“Do you think Varian is corrupt?”
“Not as such,” Jaina said. “I find Varian to be frustrating and narrow-minded, but I can also empathize that losing someone you’re close to can hurt you very badly... but he also has to lead, and running headlong into bad decisions is something that can lead to the fall of nations.”
“You’re thinking of--”
With a swift, deft motion, Jaina put the cigar in her hands into Shaw’s mouth, silencing him. “I need to go. If you’ll excuse me.” Not waiting for his response, she turned and left the balcony, the unspoken name echoing in her thoughts.
Please, Light, God, Sea and Sky, and anyone who is listening, let there never be another Arthas.
Part 3
Title: Unity: Defiance
Part: 2 of 5 + Epilogue
Word Count: 6015 (of this part)
Includes: Violence, drama, polymorphing, plot mangling, goblins pirates, ninja assassins, pirate-mages, pirate cows, alcohol and tobacco use (mild), booty shorts.
Pairings: Thrall/Jaina, mentioned Mathias/Edwin
Summary: Jaina fills Bolvar in, and goes to check in with a contact and an old friend.
Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 Sidestory: Linguistics
13 14 15 16 17 18
Sidestory: Defiance - 1
“This is embarrassing and unfortunate,” Bolvar said, looking decidedly sheepish. The Highlord of Stormwind was a large man, tall and broad, though he reminded Jaina more of Thrall than Arthas. Perhaps it was something in the way he smiled, and tried to make himself seem more unobtrusive.
Or perhaps it’s that lack of arrogance, Jaina thought idly, pushing away thoughts of black, green, and gold. “It is, but it gives us an opportunity. Consider, if you will, the possibility that there is more to the Defias Brotherhood than meets the eye. If there is, that could be the key to putting down unrest here. I just need to investigate.”
“I suppose telling you that you don’t need to do this for us, that we have our own sources to look into things won’t help, will it?” Bolvar asked, and Jaina smiled up at him.
“I do love a mystery,” Jaina said. “It’s gotten me into trouble before... but also netted me a great many valuable experiences, and this will help. I know it.”
“I’m grateful, then,” Bolvar said, and hesitated. “I know there are... other places you’d rather be right now.”
I shouldn’t be entirely surprised that he’s heard. I wonder if Varian knows? “I’ve always made it a personal goal to help as many people as possible and this is no different. Kalimdor will keep for now. Everyone’s an adult who can look after themselves.”
“Of course,” Bolvar agreed easily, and offered her a courtly bow. “If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”
“There is, actually,” Jaina said, and grinned mischievously. “I don’t suppose you can get me a change of clothes and a box of nice cigars?”
~ * ~
Jaina inhaled deeply. To many, one harbour smelled much like another: of fish, of ships, of salt. To Jaina, who had spent much of her life, one way or another, in port towns, each one had a unique smell. Theramore smelled primarily of fish, strongly dependent on its fishing fleets. It was small, yet, and so new that one could still smell the fresh paint and rope wax if they put their minds to it. Boralus Harbour, overlooked by Boralus Keep, in Kul Tiras smelled of gunpowder and the wax on a ship’s sails. It was busy constantly, the merchant fleets very old and well established, and the navy just as old and just as well trained. Orgrimmar’s harbour actually smelled more of oil as the goblin ships they used tended to be a great deal dirtier than Tiran warships or sleek Theran cruisers. Stormwind’s tended to smell of fruit, imported from Stranglethorn and the South Seas. This harbour, however, didn’t smell like any of those things.
Booty Bay’s harbour smelled of profit. Profit smelled like oil and tar. Profit smelled like large loads of cargo, questionably obtained, being offloaded in a hurry. Profit smelled like sailors, who worked hard, drank hard, and partied harder. Profit smelled like the people who made money from those sailors: the bartenders, the wenches, the gambling dens. Profit smelled like the Bruisers, goblins armed with truncheons and shotguns, prepared to deal with troublemakers and empty their pockets for their troubles.
Archmages of the Kirin Tor and Theramore League did not simply walk into Booty Bay. Neither did daughters of ancient and noble houses. Fortunately, Jaina knew how to be something other than those two things, as her identity fanned itself out, and she selected a particular card to play.
Jaina was clad in brown leather breeches, adorned with a handful of silver buckles and matching boots. Her shirt was long-sleeved and blue, and cut just low enough to fit in, though not enough to draw attention. She wore a blue vest on top of it, with two silver buttons that fastened it at her waist. With some amount of haste, an aqua anchor had been embroidered into the left breast pocket. With luck, that would be enough. Jaina had made adjustments to the shoulder harness she was wearing, and with a flick of her wrist and a touch of magic, her gun would be in her hand. At her waist, sitting in a sword sheath, was a wand. She missed her staff, but a wand in a sheath looked closer to a short sword or a dagger, which was the general idea.
I think I confused Bolvar just a bit with all of this, Jaina thought, checking the box of cigars that was tucked into her vest. It’s a Proudmoore thing. It’s also a Booty Bay thing--
Jaina’s gun was in her hand in a moment, and she pressed the muzzle against the back of the sailor that brushed against her. “Hands off that, if you please.”
“You startin’ somethin’, lady?” the sailor asked. He was head and shoulders taller than she was, nut-brown and broad. He gave her a dark-toothed grin.
Jaina cocked the hammer back, and jabbed him with it. “No, but I’ll end it. I’m here to see The Boss.”
The sailor’s eyes widened, and he backed away from her. “Didn’t know... you ain’t a goblin.”
“Not all goblins have green skin,” she said in Kezanite, and smirked before continuing on her way. “Pleasant day to you.”
It took confidence to walk the multi-tiered streets of Booty Bay. It was deliberately designed to be maze-like, with ramps leading from very top of the city to the lowest layers that threatened to dump passers-by into the harbour itself. If you hesitated, if you looked confused or lost, predators would come for you. They’d herd you into the darkest corners of the city and strip you for all you had. Only a fool would come here with no escort if they were inexperienced, and having an escort meant you knew someone in the city itself.
Jaina needed no such escort. She flicked her eyes along the ramps briefly, and strode right towards the Salty Sailor Tavern, and headed in the door. It was the middle of the afternoon, but the bar was well over half full. Sailors of virtually every race were sitting at tables, drinking, dicing, and hoping to catch the eye of a friendly bar wench. Few gave her more than a moment’s look even as she slid up to the bar.
“I want to go upstairs,” Jaina said simply to the bartender. The dwarf looked at her, plainly unbelieving.
“Plenty want to, why should ye?” he asked gruffly, polishing one of the mugs. Jaina tapped the embroidered symbol on her pocket and he snorted. “It’s an anchor, girlie. Anyone can put one there.”
“True, but not here.” She slid her gun across the bar to him, and pointed to the bottom of the handle. His eyes widened.
“Ain’t ye supposed to be in--”
“I go where I please,” Jaina interrupted smoothly, scooping her gun back up. “And where it pleases me to go is upstairs.”
“Go right on in,” the dwarf muttered. Jaina nodded to him, slid him a coin, and went upstairs. Several of the sailors watched her go, curious now. Jaina gave them a jaunty wave and went upstairs. This tavern had once been a ship and it showed: the structure was that of a vessel cut in half, and roughly constructed into an inn. Jaina could still smell the brine, the tar, and the wood. She smiled.
Almost as good as going home, she thought, though ‘home’ was mixed between her beloved Theramore and Thrall’s quarters in Grommash Hold. She smiled at the thought, even as she passed people moving between rooms. They snorted, and she ignored them.
‘Upstairs’ was not merely the second, or even third, floor of the tavern. It was a very specific area, once the observation deck of a fine ship. Now, it was the home of one Baron Revilgaz, ruler of Booty Bay, and high ranking affiliate of the Steamwheedle Cartel.
And blackmailer, and smuggler, and two steps shy of a pirate, Jaina reflected with fondness. Not to mention information broker. She knocked on the door.
“Richie?!” called a voice. It was pitched higher than a human male’s voice, but there was no mistaking the age behind it. "Are those the drinks?"
Jaina beamed. It's so good to hear his voice again. She drew back her foot and kicked the door open. Inside the room was a middle-aged goblin, dressed in blue cotton trousers, a wide-sleeved white shirt and a black vest with a double-row of gem-studded buttons that matched the larger, gaudier gems that adorned his wide belt. Standing next to him was a tall, broad tauren, Grimtotem-dark, wearing brown trousers and a loose cream shirt, a pirate hat balanced precariously between his wicked, sharp horns. Both looked startled, though Jaina could see a flicker of admiration on the goblin's face. The goblin, it seemed, had been speaking to a human man. He was dark-skinned, with caramel-brown hair and piercing black eyes. Jaina nodded briefly to him, and pointed her gun at the goblin.
Immediately, the goblin drew a grenade from his pocket, and Jaina noted the detonator had an automatic sparker. He'd only need one hand. Seahorn drew a musket, and pointed it squarely at Jaina, while the dark-skinned man drew long knives, one pointed at the goblin and the other pointed at Jaina. She smiled.
"You're one short, blondie," the goblin barked, extending his thumb. "End of the line."
"No, you're just not paying attention," Jaina replied, and drew the wand at her waist, and it began to glow with bright blue magic. "You shouldn't take your eyes off a mage's other hand."
"No indeed," the goblin said, and slowly lowered the grenade, and nodded to the tauren, who slowly lowered his shotgun. The dark-skinned man nodded to her, and lowered his weapons.
When they stood down, Jaina tucked the wand back into its sheath, and then lowered her hand, and the gun disappeared back into her sleeve.
"Hello, Sunfish, it's been a long time. Good to see you."
Jaina beamed. "It's good to see you too, Uncle Revilgaz." She strode forward and hugged him tightly, mindful of his pockets full of explosives. His hug in return was firm. "It's been a long time."
"I was thinking it'd be at your wedding the next time I saw you," he said, patting her hair. "I'm sorry about all of that. Hell of a mess."
"It was," Jaina said softly, sighing. "One hell of a mess." She withdrew a little. "How has business been?"
"Interesting," he said, and patted the chair beside him. Jaina sat obediently, and the dark-skinned man found a different seat, his expression tinged with amusement. "We're dealing with the Horde again. A new Horde. One that builds cities instead of burning them down."
"Gazlowe has done a fine job," Jaina agreed. "And Ratchet is prospering considerably. I remember Kalimdor was the sucker's bet originally."
"Considering more than half the world at the time would say 'Kala-what?' when they heard of it, yeah." Revilgaz grinned. "But now there's all kinds of trade there. Not just Orgrimmar, but also Theramore and even the elves have warmed up to us. Not to mention the tauren." He nodded to his companion, and she nodded back.
"Fleet Master Seahorn."
"Sunfish," the tauren replied, his voice deep and powerful. "I have heard you are sworn to the tribes now."
"Yes, Cairne Bloodhoof is my brother," Jaina replied, smiling warmly. "We stood at Hyjal together. He is kind and noble."
"Magatha thinks he's blaspheming against the will of the Earthmother by having the tauren settle. That we are stronger because of our adversity."
"People are strong despite adversity, not because of it," Jaina said, gently but firmly. "We are thankful that we survived a time of suffering, we do not invite it. Only those who are cruel revel in the suffering of others, and the masochistic in their own suffering. I'm certain the Earthmother didn't intend for tauren to be sailors, either."
Seahorn chuckled, and held up his hands. "I see why Revilgaz is so fond of you."
"The words of an idealist," said the dark-skinned man. "A dangerous occupation with orcs on your border."
"Someone less than an idealist wouldn't keep politely kicking your agents out of Theramore after they are found, Master Shaw," Jaina said, raising an eyebrow. "And what is the leader of SI:7 doing cozening up to one of the leaders of the Blackwater Raiders?"
"At least one is still in place," Shaw murmured, acknowledging her other points. "Not that--"
"Leona Whitecastle is married to the brother of my Chamberlain, and it would be rude to remove her from her family," Jaina said dryly, and Shaw's eyes widened.
"She didn't tell me she was married."
"Perhaps you should have better intelligence," Jaina said. "I believe I know why you're here, and I think our reasons align. Uncle Revilgaz, I've come to talk to you about something very serious and important."
Revilgaz sighed. "So do we all. We were waiting for drinks... you didn't knock out Richie, did you?"
"No, Uncle Revilgaz," Jaina replied, laughing. "I know better than to mess with a goblin's alcohol. Or his explosives."
"Good girl," Revilgaz said approvingly. "But that means Richie is slow. Richie--!!"
There was a knock on the door. Jaina shifted subtly, and Revilgaz called out to him. When the door opened, and was not kicked in, Jaina could see the tray poke in first, followed by a slender young man dressed in a low-cut buccaneer's shirt and a scandalously short pair of shorts. Superficially, he seemed wholly elven, but Jaina's experience told her how to look for a specific roundness of the young man's eyes, and the way his ears were an inch shorter than a full elf's. A pair of amber eyes met Jaina's, and he set his jaw, daring her to make something of it.
"My sister is Shano'dorei," Jaina said quietly, and gave him an encouraging smile. He smiled back, looking relieved.
"Me mam was Blackwater," he said, a Dwarven lilt to his voice, reminding her of the bartender. "Dropped me here and dinnae look back."
"My condolences, but this place is good to those who know it," Jaina said. "Two, please. Don't be stingy."
Richie grinned, and poured two shots of a steaming liquid into a pair of crystal-cut glasses. "It takes a brave soul ta double drop Kezan Fireball, miss."
"I usually think of myself as an ice person, but this is a kind of fire I appreciate." Once the drinks were poured -- Seahorn and Revilgaz had lowball tumblers instead of shot glasses -- Jaina toasted the others and threw back the first shot. It burned on the way down, making her feel sharp and alert. What was it I told Tandred? It’s like a slap in the face that you asked for, and thanked them for it afterwards. She took the second shot glass and drank it back with equal speed. Instead of burning, this one felt like warm hands running down the inside of her throat and cupping her stomach, and reminded her more than a little of Thrall.
“Your ears are smoking,” Shaw murmured, shaking his head a little as he set his sole shot glass down.
“Unlikely,” Jaina said. “Kezan Fireball is nothing... you should try my grandmother’s favourite drink. She says it’s like being hit in the head with a brick wrapped in lemon.” She stretched a little, and settled into her chair, watching as her ‘Uncle’ and his first officer took more time to savour their drinks. “I’ve come here to talk to you about Edwin VanCleef.”
Revilgaz sputtered and choked. “Don’t exactly beat around the bush, do you? They teach you that in Dalaran?”
“Let’s just say I’ve learned there are many different ways to start a negotiation,” Jaina said smoothly. There was a flicker of surprise on Shaw’s face, and Jaina made note of it. “I decided the straightforward approach suited us in this case. I have come across something of a conundrum.”
“Conundrum is a good word,” Seahorn rumbled. “Though not as good as defenestrate.”
“No indeed,” Jaina agreed. “The situation starts with the fact that there was very recently a prison riot in Stormwind. The prisoners, primarily Defias, managed to get ahold of weapons and started causing trouble. It’s been taken care of, but what we learned during it was troubling.”
“I’m not certain you should be discussing this with others,” Shaw pointed out. Jaina raised an eyebrow.
“I’m relatively certain that you were getting around to doing the same thing when I got here,” Jaina replied. “Two things of significance happened . The first, a man was accused of working for the Defias and detained. He was in the area on another task and his arrest prevented him from completing it. He’s been freed, but we both believe that someone ratted him out. The second is that while I was listening to a Warden interview one of the prisoners, she did not seem to know one of the other high profile prisoners. It wouldn’t be unusual if it weren’t for the fact that the Defias Brotherhood were once the Stonemason’s Guild, and were all personally acquainted with one another.”
“She could have simply been a new recruit,” Shaw pointed out. “But...”
“But the numbers don’t add up, do they?” Jaina pressed. “Especially not considering the Defias activity in Kalimdor, which only makes sense if you ignore their motivations.”
“Wha’ do they want?” Richie asked, curious.
“Revenge on Varian and Stormwind’s army,” Jaina said. “They’re angry that they weren’t paid for their work rebuilding Stormwind. Their goal is to take their pay from Varian one way or another, which is why it makes sense that they raid army shipments or a noble’s estate, but don’t attack farmers in Westfall.”
“...and anyone can put on a red mask,” Shaw murmured. “So what do we do about it?”
“That is a thing that I need to discuss with Edwin himself,” Jaina replied. “I need more information to fill in the puzzle. I have long suspected that he has goblin contacts... and that you’re one of them, Uncle.”
“Hrm,” Revilgaz said.
“Hrm?” Seahorn questioned. Jaina raised an eyebrow.
“Hrm,” Revilgaz agreed. “Sunfish, you’re askin’ me to go against policy. That kinda information is private. I’m not even supposed to confirm or deny if they exist.”
“I know that you can’t, but I also know that you value your neutrality heavily. That’s why you keep it quiet that the Steamwheedle are so active in Kalimdor and are helping the Horde on contract. You don’t want to anger the Alliance, who still recall that the Steamwheedle provided the Horde with munitions during the Second War.” Jaina sat forward a little, giving Revilgaz an earnest look. “If the Defias are being used by someone, this will help them and make your own contracts more secure.”
“Hrm,” Revilgaz said again. “Alright. VanCleef does have goblin contacts... he gets his building contracts through Booty Bay from clients who wish to remain nameless.” He looked between Jaina and Shaw. Shaw nodded slightly.
“That’s fine,” Jaina assured him. “Go on.”
Revilgaz sighed, and ran a hand over his bald head. “You know that town of Moonbrook? In the rougher part of Westfall, it’s pretty run-down from all the trouble. The drought and all. There’s a big ol’ barn, it leads into the Deadmines.”
“Ah, the Deadmines,” Shaw said. “Where the great Lothar found that tome for Archbishop Faol, the one that would become the cornerstone for the Silver Hand.”
“The same,” Revilgaz agreed. “It’s had ogres livin’ in it, slimes, orcs... and now the Defias Brotherhood. It’s a maze, though, a damned mess.”
“Then I’ll need a map, won’t I?” Jaina said. “Perhaps from someone who has an up to date one?”
“I’ll get it for ya, I’ll have it dug out of the vaults,” Revilgaz grumbled, and Jaina leaned forward, kissing the top of his head. “Ya done grown up, Sunfish. Give me a little time. In the meantime, feel free to enjoy a Janeiro special.”
“You’re too kind, Uncle,” Jaina said. “Thank you.”
The matter settled, Revilgaz and Seahorn left to retrieve the map, and Richie cleared away the glasses. Shaw watched him go, and shook his head.
“I can’t believe Camden lets him walk around in that outfit,” Shaw said. “It’s so...”
“Short?” Jaina suggested. “This is the kind of place where people get stabbed if they make the wrong move towards an employee. Probably by the employee in question.”
“Still,” Shaw groused. “Where does he keep those Janeiros? I feel the need for a smoke.”
“Left hand drawer of his desk, second one down,” Jaina said, watching him closely as he went to retrieve them.
“Care for one?” Shaw asked, and Jaina nodded. She watched as dextrous fingers picked up a pair of cigars, felt them lightly, and set them down to slice off the cap ends carefully. He handed Jaina one, and took the other for himself. He reached for a match, but Jaina held up her hand. Between the tips of two fingers, she conjured a small, intense flame, burning blue-hot.
“I didn’t think that you were a fire person,” Shaw remarked as Jaina spread the flame evenly along the cut edge of his cigar, then performed the same, careful ritual for herself.
“I’m not, fire has always been one of my weakest disciplines, but I considered this as incentive to learn... it would bring shame to my ancestors to ruin a fine cigar with careless magic.” Once the cigar was lit and the fire dismissed, Jaina put one end in her mouth and drew in slowly, letting the smoke roll around in her mouth like a delicacy. She moved out to the balcony of Revilgaz’ private office, and looked up at the sky as the stars winked in slowly.
“That’s what you think would shame your ancestors?” Shaw asked sharply, and followed her out. Jaina took a few moments to answer, exhaling slowly through her nose.
Like a dragon, she reflected, and it almost made her smile. She looked over at Shaw. “Go ahead and ask me, I suspect you want to.”
“Why did you do it?” he asked quietly but intensely, and Jaina could feel the emotion behind it, the accusation. It was not new to her. She inhaled again, appreciating the earthy taste of the cigar. “Why did you side with the Horde instead of your own kin? Your own flesh and blood.”
Jaina sighed out the smoke, and held her cigar carefully, examining the evenness of the burn. “The way I see it, I was doing what they’d always wanted me to do. My father told me that when you made promises, you have to keep them. He knew that I was going to be important. Archmage of the Kirin Tor, Queen of Lordaeron... Pirate-Queen of the South Seas... I wasn’t going to stay at home and be someone’s lighthouse. So he taught me about a sense of personal responsibility.”
Shaw exhaled, and frowned. “Surely he didn’t mean in the face of this...”
Jaina drew in another mouthful, and with her exhalation, said, “Isn’t this the most important time to keep one’s word? Thrall and I stood side by side against the Burning Legion. I’m not sure what was happening here, but in Kalimdor, the world was ending. Lordaeron, Dalaran, and Quel’thalas had fallen. The sky was on fire with the infernals called in by Archimonde and his host of demons. We had one chance and we took it.” She tapped the cigar gently against the rail of the balcony, letting the ash fall with the wind. “Don’t get me wrong, the first time I met the orcs in Kalimdor, they were doing their best to kill me. We were heading towards the same goal and we didn’t know it. We were even sent by the same person.”
“After--”
“After Hyjal it was even more important that we worked together. It wasn’t just necessity, it was bond. I’d always thought that business about building meaningful relationships on a battlefield to be nonsense, but it felt true in many ways. It might also have been that I couldn’t bear to fight people who’d been such important allies just days ago. We started building new lives in concert. Together, but independent. I was there when they broke ground in Durotar for Orgrimmar. Thrall was there when we stabilized the ground to start building my tower in Theramore. We had a connection.”
“Oh yes, I’ve heard rumours about your ‘connection’ with the orcs,” Shaw said. He drew sharply on his cigar and then winced.
“Don’t ruin a good cigar with bitterness,” Jaina said, and noted between mouthfuls of smoke that the taste had changed to something a bit more nutty. “Thrall and I are lovers now, but we weren’t when my father came to find me. We were allies, and under the foolish assumption that nothing bad could happen to us.”
“He came looking for you,” Shaw reminded her. “He was worried.”
“Funny how most of that worry evaporated when he spotted enough green skin,” Jaina said, and it was her turn to draw too hard. “I tried to convince him that Thrall’s Horde was not the Horde he fought. It was not the Horde that killed my brother, and Lothar, and so many others. He refused to believe me and called me naive. As if I’ve ever been naive in my life.”
“Haven’t you?”
“No,” Jaina said, watching eyes on the glowing red ring below the ash of her cigar. “I’ve been bitter, cynical, hopeful, and exhausted, but I have never been so naive that I walked into a trap. I know when to walk away.”
“But not from your agreement with the Horde.”
“No,” she said again, and took her time with the next mouthful of smoke. “I made a promise. We both did. I intended to keep it and so did he. It was incredibly painful to watch my father die, and more so because he was dying for his own stubbornness. For his refusal to see that the world was changing.”
“If Thrall betrays you? What will he have died for then?”
“Thrall will never betray me, and we both make sure that there are no misunderstandings, no chances that this will happen again. That was our promise, our vow. It is more valuable than our relationship.”
“You’re being sentimental,” Shaw said, flicking the tip of his cigar lightly. Jaina smiled.
“The way you are about VanCleef?”
Shaw choked. “What did you--”
“That’s why you’re here. For him. You want to know what’s going on. You want to know why it’s gotten this far. You’re loyal to Varian but you’re concerned about his sanity.” Jaina smiled, sadly and a little bitterly. “Trust me, I know the sentiment.”
Shaw was silent for a time, drawing in and exhaling smoke slowly, deeply. Finally, he nodded to himself. “Do you know how SI:7 was formed?”
“I know some of the rumours,” Jaina allowed. “One of them is obviously true.”
Shaw nodded again. “The Stormwind Assassins, code-named SI:7, was created by Stormwind’s crown two generations ago. Adamant Wrynn, Light keep him and God rest his soul, realized that to fight crime, you needed to think like a criminal.”
“It’s not entirely unreasonable,” Jaina agreed. “In Dalaran, the non-mage members of society were crucial in determining how we could better improve the quality of life for everyone that lived there. They love refrigerators.”
Shaw blinked, and then shook his head. “I think that non-sequitur hit me square in the jaw,” he muttered, and drew in again. “He sent one of his agents to retrieve someone he believed was not inherently corrupt or greedy -- and being that this is Azeroth, both of those qualities are in ample supply -- from Stormwind’s Stockade. The offer was simple: work for the crown in exchange for clemency. Of course, they needed to test her. She was tasked to assassinate a corrupt high elven mayor, and leave no trace of her passing. She succeeded and she became the tip of the thumb, the leadership organization of the Assassin’s Guild.”
“You’re leading me up to something,” Jaina said before drawing in another mouthful of smoke.
“The woman’s name was Pathonia Shaw and she was my grandmother,” Shaw replied. “Though good on you for noticing.”
Jaina nodded slowly. I don’t see a connection yet, but I won’t hurry him.
Shaw smoked in silence for a little longer. “My mother followed my grandmother into the Stormwind Assassins... she was the lover of the man who recruited her, though as I understand it Adamant was pleased. He cared for my grandmother a great deal, and she was utterly loyal to him. She had turned to crime because she was bored, and never acted outside of his orders once she was recruited.”
“A thrillseeker, I understand,” Jaina said. “I’ve done more than a few things for the fun of it, even if I knew they’d get me in trouble.”
Shaw half-turned, and raised an eyebrow, gesturing to her with the wave of one hand. “You? Really? I’d have never have guessed.”
“Ha. Ha,” Jaina replied tartly. “I won’t take you base jumping in Feralas, then.”
“I don’t want to know,” he said, shaking his head. “My mother died when I was four, she failed to kill her target. My grandmother recruited me when I was ten, she’d been testing me for a long time. Physically, mentally... morally.”
“Morally?” Jaina repeated, and Shaw nodded. He flicked the tip of his cigar, and then examined the burn. He frowned at the unevenness of it.
“An assassin can find their job to be exciting. They can run walls, hide in shadows, break in and out of a residence, leaving everyone dead or everyone alive. But killing shouldn’t be a thing they do because it’s convenient. Because they don’t want to actually deal with a problem. An assassin who works for the crown shouldn’t be doing it because they want to stamp out dissent, but because corruption must never rise. It hurts the common people. It hurts the crown. An assassin should be able to adapt to a situation but never kill for their own sake. For convenience.”
“A difficult line to walk, and one many might not understand,” Jaina said slowly, and then smiled. “Though I think I do.”
Shaw smiled briefly, and then the expression faded. “I thought you might. Edwin did too. He was a friend of mine, we knew each other in childhood. His father was a general contractor, but Edwin had his sights set higher. He wanted to be an architect. He worked and he worked... he was brilliant. He also wanted to be an assassin. My grandmother was eager to recruit him, because we could use his expertise to root out places where assassins could hide, and create places where we could slip in and out. I was responsible for training him.”
“That must have been hard,” Jaina said. “That kind of training is never easy.”
“No,” Shaw agreed. “It was hard on both of us for a number of reasons... one of which is that by that time we were lovers as well as friends. We were also young and foolish. It’s harder to say which quality we had in greater excess.”
“This must have been during the Wars too,” Jaina said. “Making it even more complicated.”
“It was, and my grandmother never got over the fact that she lost Llane to the Halforcen. Adamant was a blow, but he was out riding... Llane was in his own library, killed by a friend. It hurt her. She retired rather than be killed, and left me in charge. I’ve tried to improve on her organization but it doesn’t need improving on... until now, perhaps. Edwin knows how we operate. He was fully inducted into the Guild. He knows our agents and our tells... but if he’s instructed all of his people on those things, I can’t tell. Some of them seem to be so... stupid.”
“They don’t know each other,” Jaina noted. “You noticed it too.”
“Of course I did, and some of them don’t have the right tell.”
“Tell?” Jaina asked, focusing on him, her eyes bright with the anticipation of learning a new secret.
“Stormwind agents have a thread of red amongst a white piece of clothing. It looks like a little bit of dirt, only other agents know of it. The earliest Defias we captured had a similar tell, a thread of white on their red masks. I don’t know if Edwin was mocking me or if it was simply a... sign. A number of the people we captured had no such tell... common thugs, but all ‘Defias’. Is he recruiting more people? Is someone using his name. I need to know.”
“So do I,” Jaina replied. “Surely you knew where he was, though.”
“I had an idea, but... I will be caught. He knows me, just as I know him.” Shaw sighed out smoke. “I can’t afford to be found.”
“He won’t catch me,” Jaina murmured. “Unless he has an archmage on his side.”
“He only has dabblers, mages aren’t well thought of here, as you must know now,” Shaw said. “The ones that are more powerful are all controlled strictly by the crown. No living outside the city, no secret rooms... everything has to be in the open. With Dalaran fallen, people don’t have many choices left.”
“There’s Theramore.”
“There is, but people are reluctant because of your attachment to the orcs.” Jaina made a face, and Shaw held up a hand. “Patterns emerge if you look at history closely enough.”
“I don’t think that they will,” Jaina said, and smiled. “The only assassins the Horde employs are on our side, and that’s one mistake that won’t be made twice.”
“Don’t tell me--” Shaw snapped.
“I’m not telling you anything because I can’t be sure, but I have my suspicions,” Jaina said. “As someone who used to spy on people with the unspoken permission of my master, I can tell when people are trying to be sneaky.”
Shaw grumbled. “How can she still be alive?”
“I believe by living one day at a time,” Jaina replied. “There was one more thing I wanted to ask you about. You said you believed the Stormwind Assassins needed to change, and that you were all loyal to the crown. Correct?”
“Yes,” Shaw said. “Utterly.”
“What happens if your king becomes corrupt?”
Shaw closed his eyes, and threw his cigar towards the bay with force. As it hit the water, an ogre, swimming through the water, grabbed it, sniffed it, and then ate it. “I don’t know.”
“Logically, the answer is simple,” Jaina said. “If your job is to eliminate corruption, you must do it.”
“But we would never be ordered to kill our own king!” Shaw snapped. “Varian would never ask for his own death!”
“What is the purpose of the leader of a guild of assassins that will not lead and take his own initiative?” Jaina snapped back. “Do you think it’s supposed to be easy? Do you think it was easy to walk away from Arthas? From Dalaran? From my father? Do you think it was easy for Thrall to attack and subdue Grom knowing he’d have to kill him if our cleansing ritual failed? No, it’s never easy, but if Varian is hurting people then he must be stopped!”
“He’s not corrupt!” Shaw cried. “He’s sad, and he’s hurting, and he’s so infernally lonely that he needs all the help he can get! You have no right to judge him!”
“No more than he has the right to judge me,” Jaina said, her voice low with anger and menace. “Maybe VanCleef has a clearer vision of Varian’s behaviour than you do.”
Shaw stiffened, and then sighed again. “I don’t want Edwin to be right. I don’t want Varian to have been right about him. I want to know what the hell happened that day and neither of them will speak to me of it.”
Jaina inhaled slowly, and then exhaled. “I can get you an answer, one way or another.”
“Thank you, Lady Proudmoore,” Shaw said, nodding. “Though I have a question for you in return.”
“Very well,” Jaina said. “Ask it.”
“Do you think Varian is corrupt?”
“Not as such,” Jaina said. “I find Varian to be frustrating and narrow-minded, but I can also empathize that losing someone you’re close to can hurt you very badly... but he also has to lead, and running headlong into bad decisions is something that can lead to the fall of nations.”
“You’re thinking of--”
With a swift, deft motion, Jaina put the cigar in her hands into Shaw’s mouth, silencing him. “I need to go. If you’ll excuse me.” Not waiting for his response, she turned and left the balcony, the unspoken name echoing in her thoughts.
Please, Light, God, Sea and Sky, and anyone who is listening, let there never be another Arthas.
Part 3