Disclaimer: Warcraft and World of Warcraft are the intellectual property of Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. and are being used in this fanfiction for fan purposes only. No infringement or disrespect of the copyright holders of Warcraft, World of Warcraft, or their derivative works is intended by this fanfiction.

Chapter summary: As the attack on Selin Fireheart begins, Kael'thas reminisces about his early years in Dalaran as a new member of the Kirin Tor.

Author's note: The Dalaran which currently hovers over Crystalsong Forest in Northrend is the version of Dalaran built after being destroyed by Archimonde during the Third War. The original location of the city of Dalaran was on the shore of Lordamere Lake in Hillsbrad. Originally built 2800 years before the First War, it was damaged during the Second War (and subsequently repaired using an artifact called the Eye of Dalaran).

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Deceiver, Chapter 2: The Assembly Chamber (Selin Fireheart), Part II

by silverr

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~ : |2| : ~

"You only waste my time!"

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Surprised you, didn't he?

You thought Selin was helpless, didn't you? Thought his very life was being drained by those green crystals, and that he would thus be easily controlled and defeated?

I could say: Things are not always as they seem.

I could say: Jumping to conclusions too quickly can be dangerous.

I could say: The view ahead is always hazy: life rarely turns out the way you imagine it will when you are young.

Clearly, those are lessons that you self-styled heroes must learn first-hand...

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In retrospect, he had been wrong about Dalaran: almost every aspect of his years there was different than he had imagined it would be.

The first surprise came moments after he arrived. The Kirin Tor representative who met him, a stern bearded human named Gimnar, took him to an apartment in one of the city's towers. Luxuriously furnished, the sitting room, like the sleeping and ablution room, was empty.

"Am I to wait for her here?" Kael asked.

"Wait for who?" Gimnar was carefully polite.

"Magna Telestra. Is this not where she lives?"

"No." Gimnar looked shocked and disapproving.

"Forgive me," Kael said quickly. "In Silvermoon apprentices usually live with their masters, but of course this is not Silvermoon."

"No." Gimnar held out an envelope stamped with the symbol of the Kirin Tor. "Welcome to Dalaran, Prince Kael'thas. Come to the Violet Citadel once you have settled in. And call on any of us — or any Dalaran citizen — if there is anything you need."

"Of course. Thank you."

Once Gimnar had gone Kael opened the letter, which welcomed him as honored member of the Kirin Tor.

"How interesting," he murmured. "I've already been accepted before proving my expertise?"

In Dalaran less than a quarter of an hour, and he had already learned that the humans did things very differently.

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After putting away the few things he'd brought with him, he took off the heavy red and gold embroidered Sunstrider regalia and put on the drab, almost threadbare brown and purple Kirin Tor wizard's robe that Eldin had jokingly given him as a gift. Such a simple action, and yet it felt so marvelously symbolic!

Once he had descended to the street he just stood for a moment, looking and listening and breathing deep. The sunlight seemed different than Quel'Thalas', much more silver than gold, and the air had a bracing crispness that sharpened his senses. He'd traveled outside Quel'Thalas before, but somehow knowing that this was his home now made everything seem exciting and new. Even the familiar quel'dorei architecture was transformed by the proximity of so many non-elven faces. Best of all, when people walked around him — or even bumped into him — they did so as if he was simply a student of magic no different than any other in the city. It was exhilarating: for the first time in his life, he was free of the burden of being a Sunstrider prince.

There was a flower seller nearby, and as he bought a bouquet of ivy and Arathi amaryllis he asked — remembering to use Common rather than Thalassian — where Magna Telestra resided.

With a strange smile, the flower seller pointed to one of the city's taller towers, said that Telestra lived on the top floor, and wished him luck.

It seemed an odd thing to say, but Kael supposed it was just a quirk of the idiom.

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"Kael'thas!" Telestra said as she opened the door. "I had no idea you were arriving today!"

"And I had no idea that I wouldn't be living with you," he said, handing her the bouquet with a bow. "I gather that's not done here?"

Telestra laughed. "Oh no no, they're far too worried about master and apprentice falling into bed. Apparently they believe assigning separate living quarters makes that entirely impossible."

"Which makes humans either very advanced, or very naive."

Telestra laughed. "And they say your brother Eldin is the witty one."

As Telestra arranged the flowers in a vase Kael glanced around the room. No wonder the Kirin Tor had given him his own accommodations! Telestra's quarters were less than half the size of his own; with only a tiny alcove for ablutions and a narrow daybed that looked barely large enough for one, it seemed more a well-furnished prison cell than the living space of an honored magistrix. "How do you tolerate such a small living space?"

"It suits me," she said, turning to him with a smile. "I'm rarely bothered by city noises, and the view of the lake is spectacular. Now, sit down," she said. "I want to hear everything that's been happening."

"Of course," he said, "but first I must thank for you for this." He held up the letter from the Kirin Tor. "Though I am surprised they let you talk them into accepting me without a demonstration of what I've learned."

"What?" Puzzled, she took the letter; as she read, her face pulled briefly into a surprised scowl. "Those—!" She clenched a fist, then composed herself.

"Is something wrong?"

"I should have seen it coming." She handed the letter back to him. "They're going to try to prevent you from having contact with me."

"Where does it say that?" Kael asked, re-reading to see what subtlety he had missed. "Is this another inexplicable human custom?"

"I know how to read between the lines," Telestra said. "By rescinding your need for an apprenticeship, they are indirectly saying that you have no need to train with me." There was a snap of bitterness in her voice.

"They've simply made a mistake, then," Kael said. "Of course I do! I've just recently chosen my specializations, and I haven't yet completed my training in the other schools of magic. I don't understand why they would want to prevent it! Does someone in Kirin Tor bear me ill-will?"

"This is a strike at me, not you," she said matter-of-factly. "I have enemies. A few dislike me because I am an elf, a few because I am a woman, but most because I've always spoken up when when I don't agree with Kirin Tor policies and practices. Obviously they're worried that I'll turn you against them."

"But that's ridiculous!" he said, half laughing. "Dalaran is a center of learning and research — you make it sound as bad as the royal court."

"And you expected it to be different?"

He sat on Telestra's couch, crestfallen. "Yes. I did."

She sat next to him and patted his shoulder. "Come now, there's no need to be so disappointed: I assure you, most of the Kirin Tor are simply harmless scholars. But you're not naive, Kael'thas: you know that wherever there is a concentration of power, there is maneuvering and intrigue. Your father has been cooling toward the humans since the day Thoradin died, and they know it. The Kirin Tor see you as their opportunity to remedy that; if they can nurture your goodwill, they hope you'll convince your father — or whoever succeeds him — to shore up the alliance."

"I suppose that's understandable," Kael said, "and I admit I did look forward to being an informal ambassador. However, I don't see what is accomplished by interfering with my training." He was angry, not just because of what Telestra was telling him, but also because of Anasterian's request to send back reports on the humans. So ironic: he'd left Silvermoon because he'd wanted to be on his own somewhere quiet, far from turmoil and scrutiny, and it seemed that Dalaran was going to put him front and center. He folded his arms. "In fact, I'm thinking I ought to be insulted that that they think they can flatter and bribe me into doing their bidding."

"I know you don't want to hear this, but the human world, human society, is fundamentally no different than our own." Telestra said as she went to her sideboard and opened a bottle of wine. "Whether you like it or not," she said, "being a Sunstrider means you will always be treated differently, no matter where you go. There is no way you'll ever be allowed to blend unnoticed into the crowd." She came back to the couch with two glasses. "Now, let's stop this gloomy discussion so that we can toast the newest member of the Kirin Tor."

He took the glass Telestra held out. "You're right. It's just that ... I wanted to earn my place in the Kirin Tor. Earn their respect through my skill. It's disappointing to have it handed to me. It cheapens it."

"Your idealism is admirable," she said, "but don't let it blind you to possibilities. In this case, it's more important what you do with the position you've been given than how you came by it."

"I respectfully disagree, Magna," he said, drinking the wine off in a gulp. It was strong, instantly warming his blood. "What good is power if the acquisition requires a compromise of principles?"

"Wisdom is knowing which principles apply to a situation, and which do not," she said, bringing the bottle to refill his glass.

"And which apply here?" he asked.

"I know you came here to learn about magic and not to engage in byzantine maneuverings, but in a city ruled by mages, you must do both. Do both well, and you'll be one of the Six in no time."

"The Six?"

"They're the real power in this city," Telestra said as she sat down. "But one step at a time. For now, let me tell you how I see the situation, and what I think your options are."

"Fair enough."

"The Kirin Tor are in a delicate position," she said. "They want to be able to take advantage of your royal connections and nudge you in the direction they wish, but this will require a light hand in order not to antagonize you." She sipped her wine. "They will know soon — if they don't already — that you have talked to me. Don't volunteer the information — but if they ask, don't lie to them."

Kael nodded.

"As I see it, there are two approaches you can take. The first is to remind them that you might one day be High King of Quel'Thalas. Tell them that you know what they were attempting to do, assure them that you are sympathetic to their cause, but state firmly that you will not tolerate being manipulated. Finally, tell them that you intend to become my apprentice." She added, "Make it clear that I am under your protection."

"That would be a reasonable course of action," Kael said, "except that surely they must know that I, along with most of the kingdom, support Eldin as my father's successor?"

"That is irrelevant," she said. "An assertive show of strength will let them know that they have seriously underestimated you. Unfortunately, it will also put them on their guard, and make them much more devious."

"And the alternative?"

"The alternative is more subtle. Rather than potential king, be the scholar-prince. Show them that you're pleased that they have accepted you into their brotherhood, accept any reasonable restrictions they impose, and give them just enough of what they ask for to keep them happy."

"And my training?"

"We'll forgo it for a few decades until they've been lulled into thinking of you as their loyal, obedient pet."

"Why would I use such trickery?"

"Because it's sometimes possible for a pawn to take out the most powerful piece on the board."

"I refuse to be anyone's pawn." Even yours, Magna, he thought.

"Well, let's put such discussions aside and have dinner, shall we?"

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Telestra was a good as her word: after bringing back a small feast from a nearby inn — "It's nice to eat something non-conjured now and again" — they discussed elven art and architecture, magical theory, how reluctant Anasterian seemed to be to relinquish the crown, the competition of various families to join the Silvermoon rolls, the personalities of the current members of the Convocation, and the various romances among his friends at court. That Telestra was so eager for even the most trivial news suggested that she had little regular contact with anyone in Silvermoon; if it was also true that she was ostracized by the Kirin Tor — which didn't make sense, she had been in Dalaran since its founding, teaching magic to human and elf alike — then her life must be a lonely one.

"Magna," he asked. "Are you happy here?" It was late: evening had turned to night, the faint city noises had given way to the occasional hooting of owls, and the breeze that came through the open window was chill.

She shrugged.

"Why don't you return to Quel'Thalas?"

"I cannot."

"Why not?"

"It is not something I will discuss with you." It was like a heavy door slamming shut.

"My apologies," he said quickly, and then, wanting to move past the painful silence, asked, "What if I took a middle ground between aggression and meekness? If I don't tell the Kirin Tor that I'm meeting with you, won't they look the other way if they find out?"

"Perhaps," Telestra said thoughtfully. She went to the window and began closing the shutters. "If you're careful not to visit too often, I suppose there's a chance that the more reasonable archmages will convince the others it's an acceptable transgression for someone accustomed to the freedoms of royal privilege."

"So it's settled then!" Kael chuckled as he poured out the last of the wine. "I don't mean to sound disrespectful, Magna, but you made it sound as though they'd send assassins after me!"

"Don't underestimate them," she warned. "More than one person who has gone against them has mysteriously disappeared ... still, I doubt you're in danger. You're far too valuable." She finished latching the shutters and turned from the window. "Teleporting here and back will be good transmutation practice for you."

"Teleporting? That seems excessive."

"Take my word for it, you will be watched," she said. "Visiting me openly won't go unnoticed."

"I'll say that you're an old friend of the family."

Telestra laughed. "Well, that at least is true." She clicked her fingers to light the room's lamps, then came to sit next to him. "You do know what the gossips will say, don't you?"

"No," he said. "Say about what?"

"I have quite a reputation as a lecherous old magistrix," she said. "If no one knows you're my apprentice, they'll assume I've taken you as my new lover." She reached out and playfully tugged a strand of his hair.

"A new — they'll think I'm ...?" Part of him was shocked: another part coolly admitted that it was entirely believable, for although Telestra had to be nearly as old as his father, she certainly didn't look it. Probably was using subtle glamors to mask her age.

"I assure you," she said, playfulness gone, "although everyone in Dalaran will pretend not to know about your 'liaison' with me, it won't take long before Silvermoon is abuzz."

"My brother knew I planned to study with you, so he'll thwart any rumors. As to what anyone else thinks," Kael'thas said, feeling rebellious, "why should I care? Where I take comfort is no one's concern. "

Telestra regarded him fondly. "You certainly are a Sunstrider through and through. Soul of fire and silver-tongued and stubborn to the core. Just like your father."

He had never felt so honored.

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Telestra had assured him that, other than necromancy, the Kirin Tor were likely to encourage him to pursue anything he liked. Curious to see how much truth was in this claim, when he presented himself at the Violet Citadel the next morning and was asked by the dark-haired human female who met him — she had introduced herself in surprisingly passable Thalassian as Magus Ramalket — what sort of work he wanted to do, he had replied, "I'll do anything that needs doing." As this seemed to be an answer for which Ramalket was not quite prepared, he then said, "Abjuration and enchantment."

"Oh?" Ramalket looked surprised. "Enchantment? Any weapon class in particular you prefer to work with?"

"No," he said. "I've had the most experience with swords and staves, but I've worked with bows and daggers as well." Despite all Telestra's warnings about the Kirin Tor's secret agenda he couldn't help but warm to the topic. "I've done some swordsmithing as well, if that's useful."

"Oh, yes, absolutely," Ramalket said. "As you can imagine, most of the time the items we receive are too badly battle-damaged to warrant repair, but we're chronically short of enchanters experienced enough to salvage anything useful from them."

Kael nodded. "I've been developing some new techniques for that."

"Oh, don't say that," Ramalket said with a wink. "I might have to chain you to the table in the weapons vault and never let you go."

"Threats already? It's my first day!"

"I can't help it," she countered, laughing. "Make threat is on the checklist for new members."

An elderly gnome perusing the contents of a nearby bookcase turned and glared at her, and she said more quietly, "Would you be willing to work with shields? Or maces? Or axes?"

"Of course."

"Excellent," Ramalket said. "Follow me."

As they descended a spiraling staircase Ramalket said, "I should warn you, we have three vaults packed with items awaiting salvage. The archeologists have been busy with new sites in Tanaris and Northrend, and the number of axes and maces they're unearthing ... well, I'm not exaggerating when I say we could probably use them to build a bulwark around the entire city." She unlocked a door in the narrow corridor at the bottom of the stairs, opened it, then conjured a handful of small floating light-spheres.

The vault was indeed "packed" with weapons: piled waist high, with only four narrow paths dividing the room into quadrants. Kael stooped to pick up a broken sword, cast a quick warding spell on himself and Ramalket, and then ran his fingertips along the flat of the blade: residual blood magic, most likely a life-draining enchantment.

"Now, I won't blame you if you want to re-think your offer after a few days and do something else," she said, distributing the light-spheres throughout the vault. "Most initiates find salvage boring."

"Nothing is boring if you look at it from the proper perspective."

"True."

He set the axe down and took up a mace. A tenth as heavy as it should have been for its size, in that peculiar way that the weapons of Light-wielders tended to be. The head was cracked and burnt, as if whoever had used it had taken down many many demons and infernal beings before they dropped it at last.

Ramalket eyed him. "You're certainly not what I expected."

"Oh? Why not?" A curved edge caught his eye, polished and dark and filigreed with glinting silver-gray like lightning against a night sky. Pulling one of the light-spheres closer, he bent to retrieve it. He'd never before seen anything made of such material; the shard hummed against his palm as if alive. "This must have been an extraordinary weapon," he said. "How unfortunate that it's not intact."

Ramalket laughed; when he looked at her she said, "Sorry, I just can't imagine any of the human princes ..." She waved a hand, as if unsure of how to word her thoughts.

"Salvaging weapons?" Kael said. "I assume not many train as mages." He slipped the dark fragment into his pocket for further study.

"I don't think we've had any," Ramalket said. "Our kings and princes usually train as warriors. They don't like to stand at the back: they'd rather be up front where the action is."

Kael wondered if she'd meant this as a disparagement. "So do ours," he said carefully. "Which is why we train in physical combat as well as magical. My father wields both sword and staff."

"Yes, I've heard that," Ramalket said. "He must have been a formidable battle-mage."

"Yes," Kael said, "he is."

Ramalket bit her lip. "Oh, I didn't mean —"

"I took no offense," Kael said, easing another dark fragment from the pile.

"We have a few war-mages, but they don't usually lead the charge into battle," Ramalket said. "Sometimes paladins do, though usually only when —"

"When there is a crisis," Kael said, saving her from having to say when the king has been slain. "Well, I'd like to get started," he said. "Should I set up in here, or do you have a special place you'd like me to work?"

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