went through.”
“I thought I did.”
She found the comment amusing. “You barely got a scratch.”
There was pride in her tone, Jarod realized, pride in his stamina.
“Neva informs me that you were coming to see me,” Maiev prompted.
He told her his part in the grisly discovery and the request by Tyrande and Malfurion that he assist his sibling in her investigation. Maiev grunted her agreement with the suggestion.
“Looked over the body you stumbled upon,” she responded, her tone turning briefly to amusement again when saying the last. “Just like the first. Someone is very dedicated. Cannot say I blame them. Who would want the Highborne a part of us again? You?”
“The high priestess and archdruid want it to happen.”
Maiev chuckled. “And you? Have you found forgiveness for the Highborne? Truthfully?”
He could not lie to her. “I think that they have much for which to make amends, but I argued for tolerance at the end of the War of the Ancients and I still do now. I will trust in Tyrande and Malfurion on this. They have our best interests at heart.”
“Naturally.” Maiev rose, then extended a hand. “Done with that?”
Jarod had not noticed that he had finished his drink. He handed the mug to her, then tried to push himself to his feet.
“Take it easy, Brother.”
That only served to make him more determined to stand. Taking a deep breath, the former officer straightened.
“Very good,” his sister remarked. “If you are so recovered, I guess we will get back to the task, hmm?”
He thought of the body. “Did you inspect the victim?”
“For what little time they let me. That one Highborne, Var’dyn—you know him?—he had his people spirit their dead comrade away even quicker than they did the last. I suppose that they were not happy with some of the inspecting we did of that corpse.”
“Maiev . . .”
“Ha! We did not cut it up any more than the assassin did, so do not fret! I think they were afraid I might find some sorcerous trinket of theirs and keep it.” She sneered. “As if I would want anything to do with their powers. No, we are going back to the scene of your little incident. Come on. . . .”
He did not argue with her logic. The trek brought them back through the training area, where Neva again happened to be. She immediately joined them, taking up a place on Jarod’s other side and occasionally brushing up against him in a manner that made him nervous.
“You were chasing something, so Neva said. Did you see it?”
“No. Whoever it was proved too quick at every turn.”
“Whoever? A person? Definitely not an animal by accident?”
Jarod hesitated for a moment, then answered, “No. A person. He talked to me, even helped me.”
The two females halted. Maiev leaned close. “Tell me.”
Jarod described the interaction and how very apologetic his quarry had been throughout it all.
“So he saves you, then rushes off. Probably realized that you were not his desired prey, one of the Highborne.”
“He said he had not known that the trap was there. . . . And why was it? What would a Highborne be doing near this spot?” Jarod indicated the area just before them, which they had finally reached.
Neva immediately knelt by the spot he assumed was where he had been lying. She inspected the nearest tree trunk. “Here is something we did not notice before. Bits of fur.”
“Interesting.” Maiev examined them. “Well . . . it is fur. And you were helped here by someone . . . someone furred?”
He could easily see where she was heading with her comment. “You think it was a worgen?”
“Very likely. The worgen have been snooping around the edges of the city quite a bit,” his sister offered. “They have been given permission to enter and they do, now and then, but they seem to have developed an interest in skulking around too.”
The former guard captain bluntly asked, “Do you think that they are the ones who killed the Highborne?”
“I do not know what reason they could have—not yet—but they could also be acting as the dupes of some other party. I am eliminating no one. The notes were written in the same archaic style.”
“Then it must be a night elf at the heart of this,” he decided. “Someone who lost a loved one during the war.”
“Well, that narrows it down,” his sibling cut in sarcastically.
“I would like to talk with that worgen again.” Jarod tried to recall any detail he could, the voice his most