War Crimes

16

Baine’s mind was scrambling, frantic, desperately trying to come up with something that had even the faintest chance of undoing the damage Tyrande had just done to his case.

Vol’jin was Baine’s friend. He had always respected the troll, and they had grown closer since Cairne’s death. He had no desire to interrogate Vol’jin, question his interpretation of events, or try to discredit him to the jury. But it had been Vol’jin who had urged him to defend Garrosh in the first place.

“Warchief Vol’jin . . . you are a troll of honor, and both Horde and Alliance realize that. No one is disputing that this attempt on your life happened, or that the trolls were exiled to one of the less savory parts of Orgrimmar.”

Vol’jin waited, expectant. “You are now the one bearing the responsibilities of warchief,” Baine continued. “You have already been forced to make some extremely challenging decisions. Might I ask what your policy on traitors will be?”

“With respect, I protest!” Tyrande shot to her feet. “As you just ruled, Fa’shua, the witness’s ability to lead the Horde is not a subject for debate in this courtroom!”

“Fa’shua,” Baine said, “I am not questioning his ability. I am merely asking for his stand on policy.”

Taran Zhu cocked his head. “I trust it is relevant to the case, Chu’shao?”

“It is.”

“It had best be. I agree with the Defender.”

“I’ve not had the opportunity to be dealing with anyone turning traitor on me,” Vol’jin answered, adding, “yet.” The subtly friendly expression was gone from his face, to be replaced by a look of wariness.

“I hope you never do,” Baine said. “But you were willing to put Garrosh to death, for what he did to the Horde.”

“I was.”

“So you would be willing to put to death anyone who—in your opinion as warchief—betrayed the Horde?”

The tension in the room was thick, and for the first time since the trial began, it was not directed at Garrosh. Baine felt it, prickling at the nape of his neck, but knew he could not back down now.

“Yes, provided—”

“Just answer the question, Warchief. Please.”

Vol’jin watched him searchingly, then said, biting off the word, “Yes.”

Baine turned, relieved to not have to look at Vol’jin anymore, and nodded to Kairoz. He had been sitting quietly, his expression growing darker, clearly itching to use his abilities, and now he practically leaped up to operate the Vision of Time.

Baine blew air through his nostrils, resisting the urge to stamp restlessly as the scene manifested. It was Garrosh and Vol’jin in conversation, the same one that Tyrande had shown, but the night elf Accuser had ended the encounter prematurely. Baine wanted the jury to see how it played out. His tail switched anxiously as he watched.

“Ya be no warchief of mine,” the image of Vol’jin said in his controlled voice. “Ya not earned my respect, and I’ll not be seein’ tha Horde destroyed by ya foolish thirst for war.”

“Stop here,” said Baine. He turned to face the August Celestials, regarding them intensely. “This is important, so I’m going to emphasize this. What you see right now, with evidence that we all know to be pure fact, is the following: a subject of the Horde has just told the orc who was properly appointed by the sitting warchief, and I quote, ‘You be no warchief of mine.’ ”

With perfect timing, Kairoz delayed a moment to let the import of what Baine had said sink in, then resumed the scene.

“And what exactly do you think that you are going to do about it?” Garrosh shouted. “Your threats are hollow. Go slink away with the rest of your kind to the slums. I will endure your filth in my throne room no longer.”

“I know exactly what I’ll be doin’ about it, son of Hellscream. I’ll watch and wait as ya people slowly become aware of ya ineptitude. I’ll laugh as dey grow ta despise ya as I do. And when tha time comes dat ya failure is complete and ya ‘power’ is meaningless, I will be dere to end ya rule swiftly and silently.”

The scene paused. People shifted in their seats. “Vol’jin has called the duly appointed warchief ‘inept.’ He has said he ‘despises’ Garrosh. He threatens to ‘end his rule.’ What else can these words possibly be construed as other than treason? And what fate awaits traitors to the Horde, according to Vol’jin, its current leader?”

“With respect, I protest!” For the first time since the trial began, Tyrande seemed truly on edge. Baine had unsettled the perennially poised night elf. “The Defender is harassing the witness!”

“He is not addressing the witness at all,” Taran Zhu said.

“What Vol’jin did or did not do, or said or did not say, is not pertinent!” shouted Tyrande.

“With all due respect, Fa’shua, I believe that it is,” said Baine. “I believe that Garrosh felt threatened by Vol’jin and considered him a traitor. I believe it is possible that Garrosh felt his own life was in danger.”

“I have heard discontent expressed, and annoyance and disrespect so far, Chu’shao,” said Taran Zhu. “And a possible threat that Garrosh might not be leading the Horde. But Go’el stepped down peacefully. While Vol’jin is clearly an unhappy and disrespectful subject, I see no physical threat.”

He could stop. He had made his point—that Garrosh could well have been acting within the law, and his right, to kill Vol’jin if he perceived the troll to be attempting to depose him. But Baine knew that wouldn’t be enough. The August Celestials had seen Garrosh perpetrate violence against Vol’jin. They needed to see the other side.

Hating that it had come to this, yet doggedly determined to do his duty, Baine said, “I request permission to finish this conversation. I believe it is extremely pertinent.”

Taran Zhu eyed them all, then nodded. “Proceed.”

Baine could look at neither the real Vol’jin nor his image. He kept his gaze on the celestials as the Vision of the new leader of the Horde spoke.

“Ya will spend ya reign glancin’ over ya shoulda and fearin’ tha shadows.”

Baine closed his eyes briefly.

“For when tha time comes and ya blood be slowly drainin’ out, ya will know exactly who fired tha arrow dat pierced ya black heart.”

“You have sealed your fate, troll,” snarled then-Garrosh. He spat at Vol’jin’s two-toed feet.

“And you yours, ‘Warchief.’ ”

The image faded.

Silence. Baine still couldn’t look at Vol’jin, and instead directed his attention to Taran Zhu. “I have no further questions for this witness, Fa’shua.” And the pandaren nodded, regarding Baine with what seemed to the tauren like a hint of pity.