Jasnah, More than Meets the Eye

[Pathfinder]

I have seen various character studies on various characters but none really on Jasnah by herself. I have also seen what I feel is misunderstandings regarding the character. So I decided to take every instance of Jasnah in all three books, in chronological order, in an effort to share with you all what I see in this character and perhaps show you all the humanity within her.

 

I will go quote by quote showing how she is viewed at face value in a scene, and then I will provide context based on in book information and/or Words of Brandon. I hope by providing context to the scenes she is seen as emotionless as well as calling attention to the scenes where we do see Jasnah’s emotions and how many times we see them will demonstrate a deeper understanding of the character. This will allow people to hear my reading of her, but at the same time have the scenes referenced readily available for people to read and form their own thoughts. Some quotes will be trimmed at places due to descriptions of the surroundings (such as buildings, and etc) that have no content relevant to this thread. Where I skip will be denoted by “....”. I will spoil tag each quote for length and reading sanity. I am unsure if anyone will go through the effort of reading all of this all the way through, but if you do, I look forward to your thoughts. If you disagree, I also look forward to your thoughts though I ask you to read the scene, and reference the scene when explaining why you disagreed. I went through the trouble of including the scene for ease of access so I would appreciate if that extra work was employed in response.

 

After typing all this up, going through all of Way of Kings and all of Words of Radiance, I have come to two conclusions. First, this took waaaaaay longer than I expected, and second, there are waaaaay more scenes of Jasnah than I thought lol. Because of this, I decided to post what I had so far (all of Way of Kings and all of Words of Radiance). If there is any interest in this, I will finish up with Oathbringer. If this however gets viewed and then is quickly lost among forum uncommented on, then ah well I did my best.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 62

After chasing Jasnah Kholin from town to town for the better part of six months, Shallan was beginning to to think she’d never catch the woman. Was the princess avoiding her? No, that didn’t seem likely - Shallan just wasn’t important enough to wait for. Brightness Jasnah Kholin was one of the most powerful women in the world. And one of the most infamous. She was the only member of a faithful royal house who was a professed heretic

 

 

So this is our first introduction to Jasnah. From the perspective of Shallan, who never met her, never saw her, and bases her impression on some of the books she read in the library and rumors about the princess of the strongest kingdom on the planet. To her, this Jasnah is the most powerful and intimidating woman in the world. Shallan thinks she is nothing before such a woman. That Jasnah is the only member of a faithful house that is a vocal heretic

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 65

“Young miss” the captain said to her after conferring with his men, “Your Brightness Jasnah, she’ll undoubtedly be at the Conclave, you see”

“Oh, where the Palanaeum is?”

“Yes, yes. And the king lives there too. It’s the center of the city, so to speak. Except it’s on top.” He scratched his chin “Well, anyway, Brightness Jasnah Kholin is sister to a king, she will stay nowhere else, not in Kharbranth.”

 

 

Now Shallan is having her world view of Jasnah supported. Jasnah is sister to the king. Of course she would stay where a king lives. However we find out later that the reason is she is researching the end of the world and doing all she can to stop it. Whereas public opinion assumes she is royalty and expects to go where royalty goes, the reality is she is staying there to pursue knowledge to save the world. Same could be said about Shallan chasing her. Jasnah is being dismissive and flippant towards Shallan by not waiting for her. The reality is Jasnah is deeply fearful of the impending end of the world, and cannot spare any time from pursuing her research. The outside view shows her to be a selfish and self important princess, the inside view shows her to be a altruistic and self sacrificing scientist trying to avert disaster.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 71

She went over to present herself to Jasnah. The woman was a legend. Even Shallan - living in the remote estates of Jah Keved - had heard of the Alethi king’s brilliant, heretic sister. Jasnah was only thirty-four years old, yet many felt she would already have obtained the cap of a master scholar if it weren’t for her vocal denunciations of religion. Most specifically, she denounced the devotaries, the various religious congregations that proper Vorin people joined

Improper quips would not serve Shallan well here. She would have to be proper. Wardship to a woman of great renown was the best way to be schooled in the feminine arts: music, painting, writing, logic and science. It was much like how a young man would train in the honor guard of a brightlord he respected.

Shallan had originally written to Jasnah requesting a wardship in desperation; she hadn’t actually expected the woman to reply in the affirmative. When she had - via a letter commanding Shallan to attend her in Dumadari in two weeks - Shallan had been shocked. She’d been chasing the woman ever since.

Jasnah was a heretic. Would she demand that Shallan renounce her faith? She doubted she could do such a thing. Worin teachings regarding one’s Glory and Calling had been one of her few refuges during the difficult days, when her father had been at his worst

 

 

Again from Shallan’s perspective, Jasnah is beyond any “normal” human beings. She is a scholary juggernaut that is a vocal heretic. A heretic that could try to corrupt Shallan from her religion, the only thing that gave her solace during her dark days with her father. A later scene with Taravangian that I will cover will show that Jasnah actually does not seek to convert anyone to her “heretical ways”. The reality is people frequently confront and attempt to convert her. She just defends her own rationale.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 83

Shallan had not expected Jasnah Kholin to be so beautiful. It was a stately, mature beauty—as one might find in the portrait of some historical scholar. Shallan realized that she’d naively been expecting Jasnah to be an ugly spinster, like the stern matrons who had tutored her years ago. How else could one picture a heretic well into her mid-thirties and still unmarried? Jasnah was nothing like that. She was tall and slender, with clear skin, narrow black eyebrows, and thick, deep onyx hair. She wore part of it up, wrapped around a small, scroll-shaped golden ornament with two long hairpins holding it in place. The rest tumbled down behind her neck in small, tight curls. Even twisted and curled as it was, it came down to Jasnah’s shoulders—if left unbound, it would be as long as Shallan’s hair, reaching past the middle of her back. She had a squarish face and discriminating pale violet eyes.

She was listening to a man dressed in robes of burnt orange and white, the Kharbranthian royal colors. Brightness Kholin was several fingers taller than the man—apparently, the Alethi reputation for height was no exaggeration. Jasnah glanced at Shallan, noting her, then returned to her conversation. Stormfather! This woman was the sister of a king. Reserved, statuesque, dressed immaculately in blue and silver. Like Shallan’s dress, Jasnah’s buttoned up the sides and had a high collar, though Jasnah had a much fuller chest than Shallan. The skirts were loose below the waist, falling generously to the floor. Her sleeves were long and stately, and the left one was buttoned up to hide her safehand. On her freehand was a distinctive piece of jewelry: two rings and a bracelet connected by several chains, holding a triangular group of gemstones across the back of the hand. A Soulcaster—the word was used for both the people who performed the process and the fabrial that made it possible. Shallan edged into the room, trying to get a better look at the large, glowing gemstones. Her heart began to beat a little faster. The Soulcaster looked identical to the one she and her brothers had found in the inside pocket of her father’s coat. Jasnah and the man in robes began walking in Shallan’s direction, still talking. How would Jasnah react, now that her ward had finally caught up to her? Would she be angry because of Shallan’s tardiness? Shallan couldn’t be blamed for that, but people often expect irrational things from their inferiors….

As Jasnah grew near, Shallan could hear some of what she was saying. “… realize that this action might prompt an unfavorable reaction from the devotaries?” the woman said, speaking in Alethi. It was very near to Shallan’s native Veden, and she’d been taught to speak it well during her childhood. “Yes, Brightness,” said the robed man. He was elderly, with a wispy white beard, and had pale grey eyes. His open, kindly face seemed very concerned, and he wore a squat, cylindrical hat that matched the orange and white of his robes. Rich robes. Was this some kind of royal steward, perhaps? No. Those gemstones on his fingers, the way he carried himself, the way other lighteyed attendants deferred to him … Stormfather! Shallan thought. This has to be the king himself! Not Jasnah’s brother, Elhokar, but the king of Kharbranth. Taravangian. Shallan hastily performed an appropriate curtsy, which Jasnah noted. “The ardents have much sway here, Your Majesty,” Jasnah said with a smooth voice. “As do I,” the king said. “You needn’t worry about me.” “Very well,” Jasnah said. “Your terms are agreeable. Lead me to the location, and I shall see what can be done. If you will excuse me as we walk, however, I have someone to attend to.” Jasnah made a curt motion toward Shallan, waving her to join them. “Of course, Brightness,” the king said. He seemed to defer to Jasnah. Kharbranth was a very small kingdom—just a single city—while Alethkar was one of the world’s most powerful. An Alethi princess might well outrank a Kharbranthian king in real terms, however protocol would have it. Shallan hurried to catch up to Jasnah, who walked a little behind the king as he began to speak to his attendants.

“Brightness,” Shallan said. “I am Shallan Davar, whom you asked to meet you. I deeply regret not being able to get to you in Dumadari.” “The fault was not yours,” Jasnah said with a wave of the fingers. “I didn’t expect that you would make it in time. I wasn’t certain where I would be going after Dumadari when I sent you that note, however.” Jasnah wasn’t angry; that was a good sign. Shallan felt some of her anxiety recede. “I am impressed by your tenacity, child,” Jasnah continued. “I honestly didn’t expect you to follow me this far. After Kharbranth, I was going to forgo leaving you notes, as I’d presumed that you’d have given up. Most do so after the first few stops.” Most? Then it was a test of some sort? And Shallan had passed? “Yes indeed,” Jasnah continued, voice musing. “Perhaps I will actually allow you to petition me for a place as my ward.” Shallan almost stumbled in shock. Petition her? Wasn’t that what she’d already done? “Brightness,” Shallan said, “I thought that … Well, your letter …” Jasnah eyed her. “I gave you leave to meet me, Miss Davar. I did not promise to take you on. The training and care of a ward is a distraction for which I have little tolerance or time at the present. But you have traveled far. I will entertain your request, though understand that my requirements are strict.” Shallan covered a grimace. “No tantrum,” Jasnah noted. “That is a good sign.” “Tantrum, Brightness? From a lighteyed woman?” “You’d be surprised,” Jasnah said dryly. “But attitude alone will not earn your place. Tell me, how extensive is your education?” “Extensive in some areas,” Shallan said. Then she hesitantly added, “Extensively lacking in others.” “Very well,” Jasnah said. Ahead, the king seemed to be in a hurry, but he was old enough that even an urgent walk was still slow. “Then we shall do an evaluation. Answer truthfully and do not exaggerate, as I will soon discover your lies. Feign no false modesty, either. I haven’t the patience for a simperer.” “Yes, Brightness.” “We shall begin with music. How would you judge your skill?” “I have a good ear, Brightness,” Shallan said honestly. “I’m best with voice, though I have been trained on the zither and the pipes. I would be far from the best you’d heard, but I’d also be far from the worst. I know most historical ballads by heart.” “Give me the refrain from ‘Lilting Adrene.’ ” “Here?” “I’m not fond of repeating myself, child.” Shallan blushed, but began to sing. It wasn’t her finest performance, but her tone was pure and she didn’t stumble over any of the words.

“Good,” Jasnah said as Shallan paused for a breath. “Languages?” Shallan fumbled for a moment, bringing her attention away from frantically trying to remember the next verse. Languages? “I can speak your native Alethi, obviously,” Shallan said. “I have a passable reading knowledge of Thaylen and good spoken Azish. I can make myself understood in Selay, but not read it.” Jasnah made no comment either way. Shallan began to grow nervous. “Writing?” Jasnah asked. “I know all of the major, minor, and topical glyphs and can paint them calligraphically.” “So can most children.” “The glyphwards that I paint are regarded by those who know me as quite impressive.” “Glyphwards?” Jasnah said. “I had reason to believe you wanted to be a scholar, not a purveyor of superstitious nonsense.” “I have kept a journal since I was a child,” Shallan continued, “in order to practice my writing skills.” “Congratulations,” Jasnah said. “Should I need someone to write a treatise on their stuffed pony or give an account of an interesting pebble they discovered, I shall send for you. Is there nothing you can offer that shows you have true skill?” Shallan blushed. “With all due respect, Brightness, you have a letter from me yourself, and it was persuasive enough to make you grant me this audience.” “A valid point,” Jasnah said, nodding. “It took you long enough to make it. How is your training in logic and its related arts?” “I am accomplished in basic mathematics,” Shallan said, still flustered, “and I often helped with minor accounts for my father. I have read through the complete works of Tormas, Nashan, Niali the Just, and—of course—Nohadon.” “Placini?” Who? “No.” “Gabrathin, Yustara, Manaline, Syasikk, Shauka-daughter-Hasweth?” Shallan cringed and shook her head again. That last name was obviously Shin. Did the Shin people even have logicmasters? Did Jasnah really expect her wards to have studied such obscure texts? “I see,” Jasnah said.

“Well, what of history?” History. Shallan shrank down even further. “I … This is one of the areas where I’m obviously deficient, Brightness. My father was never able to find a suitable tutor for me. I read the history books he owned. …” “Which were?” “The entire set of Barlesha Lhan’s Topics, mostly.” Jasnah waved her freehand dismissively. “Barely worth the time spent scribing them. A popular survey of historical events at best.” “I apologize, Brightness.” “This is an embarrassing hole. History is the most important of the literary subarts. One would think that your parents would have taken specific care in this area, if they’d hoped to submit you to study under a historian like myself.” “My circumstances are unusual, Brightness.” “Ignorance is hardly unusual, Miss Davar. The longer I live, the more I come to realize that it is the natural state of the human mind. There are many who will strive to defend its sanctity and then expect you to be impressed with their efforts.” Shallan blushed again. She’d realized she had some deficiencies, but Jasnah had unreasonable expectations. She said nothing, continuing to walk beside the taller woman. How long was this hallway, anyway? She was so flustered she didn’t even look at the paintings they passed. They turned a corner, walking deeper into the mountainside. “Well, let us move on to science, then,” Jasnah said, tone displeased. “What can you say of yourself there?” “I have the reasonable foundation in the sciences you might expect of a young woman my age,” Shallan said, more stiffly than she would have liked. “Which means?” “I can speak with skill about geography, geology, physics, and chemistry. I’ve made particular study of biology and botany, as I was able to pursue them with a reasonable level of independence on my father’s estates. But if you expect me to be able to solve Fabrisan’s Conundrum with a wave of my hand, I suspect you shall be disappointed.” “Have I not a right to make reasonable demands of my potential students, Miss Davar?” “Reasonable? Your demands are about as reasonable as the ones made of the Ten Heralds on Proving Day! With all due respect, Brightness, you seem to want potential wards to be master scholars already. I may be able to find a pair of eighty-year-old ardents in the city who might fit your requirements. They could interview for the position, though they may have trouble hearing well enough to answer your questions.”

“I see,” Jasnah replied. “And do you speak with such pique to your parents as well?” Shallan winced. Her time spent with the sailors had loosened her tongue far too much. Had she traveled all this way only to offend Jasnah? She thought of her brothers, destitute, keeping up a tenuous façade back home. Would she have to return to them in defeat, having squandered this opportunity? “I did not speak to them this way, Brightness. Nor should I to you. I apologize.” “Well, at least you are humble enough to admit fault. Still, I am disappointed. How is it that your mother considered you ready for a wardship?” “My mother passed away when I was just a child, Brightness.” “And your father soon remarried. Malise Gevelmar, I believe.” Shallan started at her knowledge. House Davar was ancient, but only of middling power and importance. The fact that Jasnah knew the name of Shallan’s stepmother said a lot about her. “My stepmother passed away recently. She didn’t send me to be your ward. I took this initiative upon myself.” “My condolences,” Jasnah said. “Perhaps you should be with your father, seeing to his estates and comforting him, rather than wasting my time.” The men walking ahead turned down another side passage. Jasnah and Shallan followed, entering a smaller corridor with an ornate red and yellow rug, mirrors hanging on the walls. Shallan turned to Jasnah. “My father has no need of me.” Well, that was true. “But I have great need of you, as this interview itself has proven. If ignorance galls you so much, can you in good conscience pass up the opportunity to rid me of mine?” “I’ve done so before, Miss Davar. You are the twelfth young woman to ask me for a wardship this year.” Twelve? Shallan thought. In one year? And she’d assumed that women would stay away from Jasnah because of her antagonism toward the devotaries....

“The dangers of living in a building cut directly into the rock,” Jasnah said, striding forward. “When did this happen?” Apparently she hadn’t been summoned to the city specifically for this purpose; the king was simply taking advantage of her presence. “During the recent highstorm, Brightness,” the king said. He shook his head, making his drooping, thin white mustache tremble. “The palace architects might be able to cut a way into the room, but it would take time, and the next highstorm is scheduled to hit in just a few days. Beyond that, breaking in might bring down more of the ceiling.” “I thought Kharbranth was protected from the highstorms, Your Majesty,” Shallan said, causing Jasnah to shoot her a glance. “The city is sheltered, young woman,” the king said. “But the stone mountain behind us is buffeted quite strongly. Sometimes it causes avalanches on that side, and that can cause the entire mountainside to shake.” He glanced at the ceiling. “Cave-ins are very rare, and we thought this area was quite safe, but …” “But it is rock,” Jasnah said, “and there is no telling if a weak vein lurks just beyond the surface.” She inspected the monolith that had fallen from the ceiling. “This will be difficult. I will probably lose a very valuable focal stone.” “I—” the king began, wiping his brow again. “If only we had a Shardblade—” Jasnah cut him off with a wave of the hand. “I was not seeking to renegotiate our bargain, Your Majesty. Access to the Palanaeum is worth the cost. You will want to send someone for wet rags. Have the majority of the servants move down to the other end of the hallway. You may wish to wait there yourself.” “I will stay here,” the king said, causing his attendants to object, including a large man wearing a black leather cuirass, probably his bodyguard. The king silenced them by raising his wrinkled hand. “I will not hide like a coward when my granddaughter is trapped.” No wonder he was so anxious. Jasnah didn’t argue further, and Shallan could see from her eyes that it was of no consequence to her if the king risked his life. The same apparently went for Shallan, for Jasnah didn’t order her away….

“Miss Davar,” she said, “what method would you use to ascertain the mass of this stone?” Shallan blinked. “Well, I suppose I’d ask His Majesty. His architects probably calculated it.” Jasnah cocked her head. “An elegant response. Did they do that, Your Majesty?” “Yes, Brightness Kholin,” the king said. “It’s roughly fifteen thousand kavals.” Jasnah eyed Shallan. “A point in your favor, Miss Davar. A scholar knows not to waste time rediscovering information already known. It’s a lesson I sometimes forget.” Shallan felt herself swell at the words. She already had an inkling that Jasnah did not give such praise lightly. Did this mean that the woman was still considering her as a ward?...

Literally turn any substance into any other one. How it must grate on the ardents that such a powerful, holy relic was in the hands of someone outside the ardentia. And a heretic no less!...

Jasnah opened her eyes, blinking, as if momentarily confused by her location. She took a deep breath, and didn’t cough. Indeed, she actually smiled, as if enjoying the scent of the smoke. Jasnah turned to Shallan, focusing on her. “You are still waiting for a response. I’m afraid you will not like what I say.” “But you haven’t finished your testing of me yet,” Shallan said, forcing herself to be bold. “Surely you won’t give judgment until you have.” “I haven’t finished?” Jasnah asked, frowning. “You didn’t ask me about all of the feminine arts. You left out painting and drawing.” “I have never had much use for them.” “But they are of the arts,” Shallan said, feeling desperate. This was where she was most accomplished! “Many consider the visual arts the most refined of them all. I brought my portfolio. I would show you what I can do.” Jasnah pursed her lips. “The visual arts are frivolity. I have weighed the facts, child, and I cannot accept you. I’m sorry.” Shallan’s heart sank. “Your Majesty,” Jasnah said to the king, “I would like to go to the Palanaeum.” “Now?” the king said, cradling his granddaughter. “But we are going to have a feast—” “I appreciate the offer,” Jasnah said, “but I find myself with an abundance of everything but time.” “Of course,” the king said. “I will take you personally. Thank you for what you’ve done. When I heard that you had requested entrance …” He continued to babble at Jasnah, who followed him wordlessly down the hallway, leaving Shallan behind...

 

 

We begin this lengthy scene with Shallan’s overawed first impression of Jasnah. She expected a withered, ugly, old spinster because she is a “heretic well into her mid-thirties and still unmarried”. I think this commentary is to help us see the levels of opposition Jasnah has to deal with just to exist. She does not believe in the Vorin religion, and she (for whatever reason which there are many theories) chooses to be unmarried. Those two simple facts are enough to create an image of a crotchety, and bitter woman for Shallan. The revelation that Jasnah looks nothing of the sort is enough to stop Shallan in her tracks. She doesn’t fit the stereotype that only “unattractive women” remain single. The reality is she is quite attractive, and shows that her value is not only in her looks. She can be single and that be ok despite outside pressure pushing her to do otherwise.

Shallan then expresses her concern that Jasnah will scold her for being late despite it being Jasnah’s continual travel that caused it. Shallan rationalizes this as “ah well, she is so high above me, people like that always expect irrational things from their inferiors. This point is later disproven, but also slightly validated later on. If we skip a head a bit Jasnah confirms she does not hold Shallan’s arrival against her at all. In fact she is impressed. Now admittedly Jasnah grills Shallan and has very high expectations, but again there is context to this. First, Jasnah has been repeatedly pursued by multiple wards. A good chunk of those wards either wanted to steal the soulcaster for the Ardentia, gain notoriety for having a wardship with a famed heretic thereby increasing their chance of marriage, or manipulate Jasnah into giving them connections into the Alethi royalty. These are all types of individuals Jasnah has no time for given the pressing nature and importance of her research. So all the paces she puts Shallan through are ultimately warranted. I also think it says something of Jasnah’s character that when an individual does accomplish something noteworthy, she gives that accomplish its due, like when Shallan reasons that Taravangian’s own people already determined the mass of the stone.

Now going back a bit, Shallan overhears Jasnah speaking to Taravangian. We find out they are discussing Jasnah using her soulcaster to turn the boulder to smoke to free Taravangian’s granddaughter from a cave in. Jasnah cautions Taravangian that her helping him, and him providing her access to the Palananeum in exchange could raise the ire of the Vorin church. She knows Taravangian is a practicing Vorin. She also could easily provide the money necessary to have free use of the Palaneum without any bargain of helping the king being necessary. She is desperate to research the coming end of the world yet she warns the king of the possible fall out with the church so he won’t suffer on her account, and takes the time to save the kings granddaughter when she has no need to accomplish her goals. So while from the outside it could seem that Jasnah merely saved the granddaughter as an exchange of services to get what she wants that lies in the Palanaeum, the inside view shows she could have gotten it regardless without any concern for Taravangian nor saving his granddaughter, yet she does so anyway. In my opinion that is Jasnah lowkey helping others with no expectation of gratitude.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 119

Who was Jasnah Kholin? Not one to be cowed, certainly. She was a woman to the bone, master of the feminine arts, but not by any means delicate. Such a woman would appreciate Shallan’s determination. She would listen to another request for wardship, assuming it was presented properly. Jasnah was also a rationalist, a woman with the audacity to deny the existence of the Almighty himself based on her own reasoning. Jasnah would appreciate strength, but only if it was shaped by logic.

 

 

Pretty clear and upfront. Jasnah Kholin has had to fight in order to exist as the woman she is in the time period and culture she grew up in. As result, and as Shallan is realizing, Jasnah respects determination, intelligence, and strength.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 125

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he replied. “I’d hope she’s heard my name, though, since I’ve requested an audience with her several times.” Shallan nodded, rising. “You want to try to convert her, I presume?” “She presents a unique challenge. I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t at least try to persuade her.”

 

 

Our first hint at Jasnah’s regular interactions with the Vorin Church. They either want to steal the soulcaster from her, or will use her as a trophy to say “hey! I converted the heretic!”. No respect for her beliefs. No understanding. Yet she is painted as the heretic that will corrupt good Vorin worshippers. This is shown again and elaborated on later in the book.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings Page 127

Shallan’s fears were confirmed as Jasnah looked straight at her, then lowered her safehand to her side in a mark of frustration. “So you are here.” Shallan cringed. “The servants told you, then?” “You didn’t think that they would leave someone in my alcove and not warn me?” Behind Jasnah, a small group of parshmen hesitated in the hallway, each carrying an armload of books. “Brightness Kholin,” Shallan said. “I just—” “I have wasted enough time on you already,” Jasnah said, eyes furious. “You will withdraw, Miss Davar. And I will not see you again during my time here. Am I understood?” Shallan’s hopes crumbled. She shrank back. There was a gravity to Jasnah Kholin. One did not disobey her. One need only look into those eyes to understand. “I’m sorry to have bothered you,”...

“Brightness Davar?” asked a hesitant voice. Shallan looked up, realizing she’d been so wrapped in her misery that she hadn’t seen the servant approach. He was a younger man, wearing an all black uniform, no emblem on the breast. Not a master-servant, but perhaps one in training. “Brightness Kholin would like to speak with you.” The young man gestured back down the hallway. To berate me further? Shallan thought with a grimace. But a highlady like Jasnah got what she wanted. Shallan forced herself to stop shaking, then stood. At least she’d been able to keep the tears away; she hadn’t ruined her makeup. She followed the servant back to the lit alcove, satchel clutched before her like a shield on the battlefield. Jasnah Kholin sat in the chair Shallan had been using, stacks of books on the table. Jasnah was rubbing her forehead with her freehand. The Soulcaster rested against the back of her skin, the smokestone dark and cracked. Though Jasnah looked fatigued, she sat with perfect posture, her fine silk dress covering her feet, her safehand held across her lap. Jasnah focused on Shallan, lowering her freehand. “I should not have treated you with such anger, Miss Davar,” she said in a tired voice. “You were simply showing persistence, a trait I normally encourage. Storms alight, I’ve oft been guilty of stubbornness myself. Sometimes we find it hardest to accept in others that which we cling to in ourselves. My only excuse can be that I have put myself under an unusual amount of strain lately.” Shallan nodded in gratitude, though she felt terribly awkward.

Jasnah turned to look out of the balcony into the dark space of the Veil. “I know what people say of me. I should hope that I am not as harsh as some say, though a woman could have far worse than a reputation for sternness. It can serve one well.” Shallan had to forcibly keep herself from fidgeting. Should she withdraw? Jasnah shook her head to herself, though Shallan could not guess what thoughts had caused the unconscious gesture. Finally, she turned back to Shallan and waved toward the large, gobletlike bowl on the desk. It held a dozen of Shallan’s spheres. Shallan raised her freehand to her lips in shock. She’d completely forgotten the money. She bowed to Jasnah in thanks, then hurriedly collected the spheres. “Brightness, lest I forget, I should mention that an ardent—Brother Kabsal—came to see you while I waited here. He wished me to pass on his desire to speak with you.” “Not surprising,” Jasnah said. “You seem surprised about the spheres, Miss Davar. I assumed that you were waiting outside to recover them. Is that not why you were so close?” “No, Brightness. I was just settling my nerves.” “Ah.” Shallan bit her lip. The princess appeared to have gotten past her initial tirade. Perhaps … “Brightness,” Shallan said, cringing at her brashness, “what did you think of my letter?” “Letter?” “I …” Shallan glanced at the desk. “Beneath that stack of books, Brightness.” A servant quickly moved aside the stack of books; the parshman must have set it on the paper without noticing. Jasnah picked up the letter, raising an eyebrow, and Shallan hurriedly undid her satchel and placed the spheres in her money pouch. Then she cursed herself for being so quick, as now she had nothing to do but stand and wait for Jasnah to finish reading.

“This is true?” Jasnah said, looking up from the paper. “You are self-trained?” “Yes, Brightness.” “That is remarkable.” “Thank you, Brightness.” “And this letter was a clever maneuver. You correctly assumed that I would respond to a written plea. This shows me your skill with words, and the rhetoric of the letter gives proof that you can think logically and make a good argument.” “Thank you, Brightness,” Shallan said, feeling another surge of hope, mixed with fatigue. Her emotions had been jerked back and forth like a rope being used for a tugging contest. “You should have left the note for me, and withdrawn before I returned.” “But then the note would have been lost beneath that stack of books.” Jasnah raised an eyebrow at her, as if to show that she did not appreciate being corrected. “Very well. The context of a person’s life is important. Your circumstances do not excuse your lack of education in history and philosophy, but leniency is in order. I will allow you to petition me again at a later date, a privilege I have never given any aspiring ward. Once you have a sufficient groundwork in those two subjects, come to me again. If you have improved suitably, I will accept you.” Shallan’s emotions sank. Jasnah’s offer was kindly, but it would take years of study to accomplish what she asked. House Davar would have fallen by then, her family’s lands divided among its creditors, her brothers and herself stripped of title and perhaps enslaved. “Thank you, Brightness,” Shallan said, bowing her head. Jasnah nodded, as if considering the matter closed. Shallan withdrew, walking quietly down the hallway and pulling the cord to ring for the porters. Jasnah had all but promised to accept her at a later date. For most, that would be a great victory. Being trained by Jasnah Kholin—thought by some to be the finest living scholar—would have ensured a bright future. Shallan would have married extremely well, likely to the son of a highprince, and would have found new social circles open to her. Indeed, if Shallan had possessed the time to train under Jasnah, the sheer prestige of a Kholin affiliation might have been enough to save her house. If only.

 

 

Now we get to see the first mistake Jasnah makes in the books. Earlier Jasnah has made it clear that she had dismissed Shallan, yet Shallan persists and writes an argument for being taken on as a ward. Jasnah finds her still there and enraged tells her to get out. Despite this, minutes later a servant calls Shallan back. Was it to return Shallan’s money left in the goblet? No, though she does do that as well after. Was it because of the wonderful argument Shallan wrote? No again, yet that does come up after. It is because Jasnah, by herself, realized she had acted unfairly towards Shallan. A “typical” highlady would have just left things as is. Instead Jasnah has a servant search for Shallan, request she come back, and apologizes. The scene shows that Jasnah is exhausted from overworking herself researching (to prevent the end of the world as we later know). She is tired, frustrated and short tempered, but admits that is no excuse for her poor treatment of Shallan. It is then Shallan calls Jasnah’s attention to the argument she wrote. Jasnah then reads it and gives it the credit it is due. She respects well thought out reasoning, determination and tenacity. She gives Shallan the chance to petition again when she is ready. Something Shallan knows is a huge gesture, though given her situation it is not enough.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 140

Jasnah sat studying, heedless of the hour, her goblet filled to the brim with pure diamond broams. They were best for light, but less useful in Soulcasting, so weren’t as valuable. Shallan ducked back around. There was a place at the very edge of the alcove’s table where she could sit, hidden by the wall from Jasnah, so she sat there. Perhaps she should have chosen an alcove on another level, but she wanted to keep an eye on the woman. Hopefully Jasnah would spend weeks here studying. Enough time for Shallan to dedicate herself to some fierce cramming. Her ability to memorize pictures and scenes didn’t work as well on text, but she could learn lists and facts at a rate that her tutors had found remarkable. She settled herself in the chair, pulling out the books and arranging them. She rubbed her eyes. It was really quite late, but there wasn’t time to waste. Jasnah had said that Shallan could make another petition when the gaps in her knowledge were filled. Well, Shallan intended to fill those gaps in record time, then present herself again. She’d do it when Jasnah was ready to leave Kharbranth. It was a last, desperate hope, so frail that a strong gust of circumstance seemed likely to topple it. Taking a deep breath, Shallan opened the first of the history books. “I’m never going to be rid of you, am I?” a soft, feminine voice asked. Shallan jumped up, nearly knocking over her books as she spun toward the doorway. Jasnah Kholin stood there, deep blue dress embroidered in silver, its silken sheen reflecting the light of Shallan’s spheres. The Soulcaster was covered by a fingerless black glove to block the bright gemstones. “Brightness,” Shallan said, rising and curtsying in an awkward rush. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I—” Jasnah quieted her with a wave of the hand. She stepped aside as a parshman entered Shallan’s alcove, carrying a chair. He placed it beside Shallan’s desk, and Jasnah glided over and sat. Shallan tried to judge Jasnah’s mood, but the older woman’s emotions were impossible to read.

“I honestly didn’t want to disturb you.” “I bribed the servants to tell me if you returned to the Veil,” Jasnah said idly, picking up one of Shallan’s tomes, reading the title. “I didn’t want to be interrupted again.” “I—” Shallan looked down, blushing furiously. “Don’t bother apologizing,” Jasnah said. She looked tired; more tired than Shallan felt. Jasnah picked through the books. “A fine selection. You chose well.” “It wasn’t really much of a choice,” Shallan said. “It was just about all the merchant had.” “You intended to study their contents quickly, I assume?” Jasnah said musingly. “Try to impress me one last time before I left Kharbranth?” Shallan hesitated, then nodded. “A clever ploy. I should have put a time restriction on your reapplication.” She looked at Shallan, glancing her over. “You are very determined. That is good. And I know why you wish so desperately to be my ward.” Shallan started. She knew? “Your house has many enemies,” Jasnah continued, “and your father is reclusive. It will be difficult for you to marry well without a tactically sound alliance.” Shallan relaxed, though she tried to keep it from showing. “Let me see your satchel,” Jasnah said. Shallan frowned, resisting the urge to pull it close. “Brightness?” Jasnah held out her hand. “You recall what I said about repeating myself?” Reluctantly, Shallan handed it over. Jasnah carefully removed its contents, neatly lining up the brushes, pencils, pens, jar of lacquer, ink, and solvent. She placed the stacks of paper, the notebooks, and the finished pictures in a line. Then she got out Shallan’s money pouches, noting their emptiness. She glanced at the goblet lamp, counting its contents. She raised an eyebrow. Next, she began to look through Shallan’s pictures. First the loose-leaf ones, where she lingered on Shallan’s picture of Jasnah herself. Shallan watched the woman’s face. Was she pleased? Surprised? Displeased at how much time Shallan spent sketching sailors and serving women? Finally, Jasnah moved on to the sketchbook filled with drawings of plants and animals Shallan had observed during her trip. Jasnah spent the longest on this, reading through each notation.

“Why have you made these sketches?” Jasnah asked at the end. “Why, Brightness? Well, because I wanted to.” She grimaced. Should she have said something profound instead? Jasnah nodded slowly. Then she rose. “I have rooms in the Conclave, granted to me by the king. Gather your things and go there. You look exhausted.” “Brightness?” Shallan asked, rising, a thrill of excitement running through her. Jasnah hesitated at the doorway. “At first meeting, I took you for a rural opportunist, seeking only to ride my name to greater wealth.” “You’ve changed your mind?” “No,” Jasnah said, “there is undoubtedly some of that in you. But we are each many different people, and you can tell much about a person by what they carry with them. If that notebook is any indication, you pursue scholarship in your free time for its own sake. That is encouraging. It is, perhaps, the best argument you could make on your own behalf. “If I cannot be rid of you, then I might as well make use of you. Go and sleep. Tomorrow we will begin early, and you will divide your time between your education and helping me with my studies.” With that, Jasnah withdrew.

 

 

It seems the biggest hallmark of Jasnah in Way of Kings is how hard she pushes herself researching the Desolations. This is again another comment on how she is researching nonstop well past exhaustion. She is terrified of what is coming (which is shown much later on as a very emotional scene). It is why she reacts to everyone as she does when we see her. She very much feels she is out of time and is trying to stop a storm by blowing hard. I think it is understandable that she would be testy around people. Yet despite all this, she sees in Shallan a kindred spirit. She knows Shallan’s family is falling apart, and that Shallan is seeking an alliance with her through wardship. That is why she rejected her so quickly. Because the Shallan she just met is like every other enterprising individual seeking to use Jasnah. But once Jasnah realizes there is a genuine love of learning within Shallan, she feels that it is worth nurturing and takes her on as a ward. This to me is a pretty clear sign of compassion.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 333

She eyed him. Was she testing his loyalty? Much like her daughter, Navani was a political creature. Intrigue made her blossom like a rockbud in calm wet air. However, unlike Jasnah, Navani was hard to trust. At least with Jasnah one knew where one stood—once again, Dalinar found himself wishing she’d put aside her projects and return to the Shattered Plains.

 

 

This is pretty open and shut. Dalinar trusts Jasnah. You know where you stand with her.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 456

Shallan hesitated, then wrote, Are we certain this is the best way? Perhaps we should simply ask Jasnah for help. You think she would respond to that? they wrote back. She would help an unknown and disliked Veden house? She would keep our secrets? Probably not. Though Shallan was increasingly certain that Jasnah’s reputation was exaggerated, the woman did have a ruthless side to her. She would not leave her important studies to go help Shallan’s family.

 

 

Shallan is starting to bit by bit get to know a deeper Jasnah. One that is not matching up with what everyone assumes.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 458

Shallan still found Jasnah an enigma. At times, she seemed a stern scholar annoyed by Shallan’s interruptions. At other times, there seemed to be a hint of wry humor hiding behind the stern facade. Either way, Shallan was finding that she felt remarkably comfortable around the woman. Jasnah encouraged her to speak her mind, something Shallan had taken to gladly. “I assume from your outburst that this topic is wearing on you,” Jasnah said, sorting through her volumes as the parshman withdrew. “You expressed interest in being a scholar. Well, you must learn that this is scholarship.” “Reading argument after argument from people who refuse to see any other point of view?” “They’re confident.” “I’m not an expert on confidence, Brightness,” Shallan said, holding up a book and inspecting it critically. “But I’d like to think that I could recognize it if it were before me. I don’t think that’s the right word for books like this one from Mederia. They feel more arrogant than confident to me.” She sighed, setting the book aside. “To be honest, ‘arrogant’ doesn’t feel like quite the right word. It’s not specific enough.” “And what would be the right word, then?” “I don’t know. ‘Errorgant,’ perhaps.” Jasnah raised a skeptical eyebrow. “It means to be twice as certain as someone who is merely arrogant,” Shallan said, “while possessing only one-tenth the requisite facts.” Her words drew a hint of a smile from Jasnah. “What you are reacting against is known as the Assuredness Movement, Shallan. This errorgance is a literary device. The scholars are intentionally overstating their case.” “The Assuredness Movement?” Shallan asked, holding up one of her books. “I guess I could get behind that.” “Oh?” “Yes. Much easier to stab it in the back from that position.” That got only an eyebrow raise.

So, more seriously, Shallan continued. “I suppose I can understand the device, Brightness, but these books you’ve given me on King Gavilar’s death are more and more irrational in defending their points. What began as a rhetorical conceit seems to have descended into name-calling and squabbling.” “They are trying to provoke discussion. Would you rather that the scholars hide from the truth, like so many? You would have men prefer ignorance?” “When reading these books, scholarship and ignorance feel much alike to me,” Shallan said. “Ignorance may reside in a man hiding from intelligence, but scholarship can seem ignorance hidden behind intelligence.” “And what of intelligence without ignorance? Finding truth while not dismissing the possibility of being wrong?” “A mythological treasure, Brightness, much like the Dawnshards or the Honorblades. Certainly worth seeking, but only with great caution.” “Caution?” Jasnah said, frowning. “It would make you famous, but actually finding it would destroy us all. Proof that one can be both intelligent and accept the intelligence of those who disagree with you? Why, I should think it would undermine the scholarly world in its entirety.” Jasnah sniffed. “You go too far, child. If you took half the energy you devote to being witty and channeled it into your work, I daresay you could be one of the greatest scholars of our age.” “I’m sorry, Brightness,” Shallan said. “I … well, I’m confused. Considering the gaps in my education, I assumed you would have me studying things deeper in the past than a few years ago.” Jasnah opened one of her books. “I have found that youths like you have a relative lack of appreciation for the distant past. Therefore, I selected an area of study that is both more recent and sensational, to ease you into true scholarship. Is the murder of a king not of interest to you?” “Yes, Brightness,” Shallan said. “We children love things that are shiny and loud.” “You have quite the mouth on you at times.” “At times? You mean it’s not there at others? I’ll have to …” Shallan trailed off, then bit her lip, realizing she’d gone too far. “Sorry.” “Never apologize for being clever, Shallan. It sets a bad precedent. However, one must apply one’s wit with care. You often seem to say the first passably clever thing that enters your mind.” “I know,” Shallan said. “It’s long been a foible of mine, Brightness. One my nurses and tutors tried very hard to discourage.” “Likely through strict punishments.” “Yes. Making me sit in the corner holding books over my head was the preferred method.” “Which, in turn,” Jasnah said with a sigh, “only trained you to make your quips more quickly, for you knew you had to get them out before you could reconsider and suppress them.” Shallan cocked her head. “The punishments were incompetent,” Jasnah said. “Used upon one such as yourself, they were actually encouragement. A game. How much would you have to say to earn a punishment? Could you say something so clever that your tutors missed the joke? Sitting in the corner just gave you more time to compose retorts.” “But it’s unseemly for a young woman to speak as I so often do.”

“The only ‘unseemly’ thing is to not channel your intelligence usefully. Consider. You have trained yourself to do something very similar to what annoys you in the scholars: cleverness without thought behind it—intelligence, one might say, without a foundation of proper consideration.” Jasnah turned a page. “Errorgant, wouldn’t you say?” Shallan blushed. “I prefer my wards to be clever,” Jasnah said. “It gives me more to work with. I should bring you to court with me. I suspect that Wit, at least, would find you amusing—if only because your apparent natural timidity and your clever tongue make such an intriguing combination.” “Yes, Brightness.” “Please, just remember that a woman’s mind is her most precious weapon. It must not be employed clumsily or prematurely. Much like the aforementioned knife to the back, a clever gibe is most effective when it is unanticipated.” “I’m sorry, Brightness.” “It wasn’t an admonition,” Jasnah said, turning a page. “Simply an observation. I make them on occasion: Those books are musty. The sky is blue today. My ward is a smart-lipped reprobate.” Shallan smiled. “Now, tell me what you’ve discovered.” …

“And your thoughts?” “I feel inadequate to draw conclusions, Brightness.” “What is the point of research if not to draw conclusions?” “My tutors told me that supposition was only for the very experienced,” Shallan explained. Jasnah sniffed. “Your tutors were idiots. Youthful immaturity is one of the cosmere’s great catalysts for change, Shallan. Do you realize that the Sunmaker was only seventeen when he began his conquest? Gavarah hadn’t reached her twentieth Weeping when she proposed the theory of the three realms.” “But for every Sunmaker or Gavarah, are there not a hundred Gregorhs?” He had been a youthful king notorious for beginning a pointless war with kingdoms that had been his father’s allies. “There was only one Gregorh,” Jasnah said with a grimace, “thankfully. Your point is a valid one. Hence the purpose of education. To be young is about action. To be a scholar is about informed action.” “Or about sitting in an alcove reading about a six-year-old murder.” “I would not have you studying this if there were no point to it,” Jasnah said, opening up another of her own books. “Too many scholars think of research as purely a cerebral pursuit. If we do nothing with the knowledge we gain, then we have wasted our study. Books can store information better than we can—what we do that books cannot is interpret. So if one is not going to draw conclusions, then one might as well just leave the information in the texts.” Shallan sat back, thoughtful. Presented that way, it somehow made her want to dig back into the studies. What was it that Jasnah wanted her to do with the information? Once again, she felt a stab of guilt. Jasnah was taking great pains to instruct her in scholarship, and she was going to reward the woman by stealing her most valuable possession and leaving a broken replacement. It made Shallan feel sick. She had expected study beneath Jasnah to involve meaningless memorization and busywork, accompanied by chastisement for not being smart enough. That was how her tutors had approached her instruction. Jasnah was different. She gave Shallan a topic and the freedom to pursue it as she wished. Jasnah offered encouragement and speculation, but nearly all of their conversations turned to topics like the true nature of scholarship, the purpose of studying, the beauty of knowledge and its application. Jasnah Kholin truly loved learning, and she wanted others to as well. Behind the stern gaze, intense eyes, and rarely smiling lips, Jasnah Kholin truly believed in what she was doing. Whatever that was…

Jasnah liked to speak of the great women of the past, ones who had not just recorded history, but shaped it. Whatever it was she studied, she felt that it was important. Worldchanging...

And what did it say about Jasnah’s own intentions for marriage that she herself never bothered with the more becoming feminine arts like music or drawing? “Your Majesty,” Jasnah said, rising smoothly. Shallan started and looked hastily over her shoulder. The elderly king of Kharbranth was standing in the doorway, wearing magnificent orange and white robes with detailed embroidery. Shallan scrambled to her feet. “Brightness Jasnah,” the king said. “Am I interrupting?” “Your company is never an interruption, Your Majesty,” Jasnah said. She had to be as surprised as Shallan was, yet didn’t display a moment of discomfort or anxiety. “We were soon to take lunch, anyway.” “I know, Brightness,” Taravangian said. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you.” A group of servants began bringing in food and a table. “Not at all,” Jasnah said...

However, the lighteyes considered him less than bright. He was not an idiot. In lighteyed politics, unfortunately, being only average was a disadvantage. As they ate, the silence drew out, becoming awkward. Several times, the king looked as if he wanted to say something, but then turned back to his soup. He seemed intimidated by Jasnah. “And how is your granddaughter, Your Majesty?” Jasnah eventually asked. “She is recovering well?” “Quite well, thank you,” Taravangian said, as if relieved to begin conversing. “Though she now avoids the narrower corridors of the Conclave. I do want to thank you for your aid.” “It is always fulfilling to be of service, Your Majesty.” “If you will forgive my saying so, the ardents do not think much of your service,” Taravangian said. “I realize it is likely a sensitive topic. Perhaps I shouldn’t mention it, but—” “No, feel free,” Jasnah said, eating a small green lurnip from the end of her skewer. “I am not ashamed of my choices.” “Then you’ll forgive an old man’s curiosity?” “I always forgive curiosity, Your Majesty,” Jasnah said. “It strikes me as one of the most genuine of emotions.” “Then where did you find it?” Taravangian asked, nodding toward the Soulcaster, which Jasnah wore covered by a black glove. “How did you keep it from the devotaries?” “One might find those questions dangerous, Your Majesty.” “I’ve already acquired some new enemies by welcoming you.” “You will be forgiven,” Jasnah said. “Depending on the devotary you have chosen.” “Forgiven? Me?” The elderly man seemed to find that amusing, and for a moment, Shallan thought she saw deep regret in his expression. “Unlikely. But that is something else entirely. Please. I stand by my questions.” “And I stand by my evasiveness, Your Majesty. I’m sorry. I do forgive your curiosity, but I cannot reward it. These secrets are mine.” “Of course, of course.” The king sat back, looking embarrassed. “Now you probably assume I brought this meal simply to ambush you about the fabrial.” “You had another purpose, then?” “Well, you see, I’ve heard the most wonderful things about your ward’s artistic skill. I thought that maybe …” He smiled at Shallan. “Of course, Your Majesty,” Shallan said. “I’d be happy to draw your likeness.” He beamed as she stood, leaving her meal half eaten and gathering her things.

She glanced at Jasnah, but the older woman’s face was unreadable. “Would you prefer a simple portrait against a white background?” Shallan asked. “Or would you prefer a broader perspective, including surroundings?” “Perhaps,” Jasnah said pointedly, “you should wait until the meal is finished, Shallan?” Shallan blushed, feeling a fool for her enthusiasm. “Of course.” “No, no,” the king said. “I’m quite finished. A wider sketch would be perfect, child. How would you like me to sit?” He slid his chair back, posing and smiling in a grandfatherly way. She blinked, fixing the image in her mind. “That is perfect, Your Majesty. You can return to your meal.” “Don’t you need me to sit still? I’ve posed for portraits before.” “It’s all right,” Shallan assured him, sitting down. “Very well,” he said, pulling back to the table. “I do apologize for making you use me, of all people, as a subject for your art. This face of mine isn’t the most impressive one you’ve depicted, I’m sure.” “Nonsense,” Shallan said. “A face like yours is just what an artist needs.” “It is?” “Yes, the—” She cut herself off. She’d been about to quip, Yes, the skin is enough like parchment to make an ideal canvas. “… that handsome nose of yours, and wise furrowed brow. It will be quite striking in the black charcoal.” “Oh, well then. Proceed. Though I still can’t see how you’ll work without me holding a pose.” “Brightness Shallan has some unique talents,” Jasnah said. Shallan began her sketch. “I suppose that she must!” the king said. “I’ve seen the drawing she did for Varas.” “Varas?” Jasnah asked. “The Palanaeum’s assistant chief of collections,” the king said. “A distant cousin of mine. He says the staff is quite taken with your young ward. How did you find her?” “Unexpectedly,” Jasnah said, “and in need of an education.” The king cocked his head. “The artistic skill, I cannot claim,” Jasnah said. “It was a preexisting condition.” “Ah, a blessing of the Almighty.” “You might say that.” “But you would not, I assume?” Taravangian chuckled awkwardly. Shallan drew quickly, establishing the shape of his head. He shuffled uncomfortably. “Is it hard for you, Jasnah? Painful, I mean?” “Atheism is not a disease, Your Majesty,” Jasnah said dryly. “It’s not as if I’ve caught a foot rash.” “Of course not, of course not. But … er, isn’t it difficult, having nothing in which to believe?” Shallan leaned forward, still sketching, but keeping her attention on the conversation.

Shallan had assumed that training under a heretic would be a little more exciting. She and Kabsal—the witty ardent whom she’d met on her first day in Kharbranth—had chatted several times now about Jasnah’s faith. However, around Jasnah herself, the topic almost never came up. When it did, Jasnah usually changed it. Today, however, she did not. Perhaps she sensed the sincerity in the king’s question. “I wouldn’t say that I have nothing to believe in, Your Majesty. Actually, I have much to believe in. My brother and my uncle, my own abilities. The things I was taught by my parents.” “But, what is right and wrong, you’ve … Well, you’ve discarded that.” “Just because I do not accept the teachings of the devotaries does not mean I’ve discarded a belief in right and wrong.” “But the Almighty determines what is right!” “Must someone, some unseen thing, declare what is right for it to be right? I believe that my own morality—which answers only to my heart—is more sure and true than the morality of those who do right only because they fear retribution.” “But that is the soul of law,” the king said, sounding confused. “If there is no punishment, there can be only chaos.” “If there were no law, some men would do as they wish, yes,” Jasnah said. “But isn’t it remarkable that, given the chance for personal gain at the cost of others, so many people choose what is right?” “Because they fear the Almighty.” “No,” Jasnah said. “I think something innate in us understands that seeking the good of society is usually best for the individual as well. Humankind is noble, when we give it the chance to be. That nobility is something that exists independent of any god’s decree.” “I just don’t see how anything could be outside God’s decrees.” The king shook his head, bemused. “Brightness Jasnah, I don’t mean to argue, but isn’t the very definition of the Almighty that all things exist because of him?” “If you add one and one, that makes two, does it not?” “Well, yes.” “No god needs declare it so for it to be true,” Jasnah said. “So, could we not say that mathematics exists outside the Almighty, independent of him?” “Perhaps.” “Well,” Jasnah said, “I simply claim that morality and human will are independent of him too.” “If you say that,” the king said, chuckling, “then you’ve removed all purpose for the Almighty’s existence!” “Indeed.” The balcony fell silent. Jasnah’s sphere lamps cast a cool, even white light across them. For an uncomfortable moment, the only sound was the scratching of Shallan’s charcoal on her drawing pad. She worked with quick, scraping motions, disturbed by the things that Jasnah had said. They made her feel hollow inside. That was partly because the king, for all his affability, was not good at arguing. He was a dear man, but no match for Jasnah in a conversation. “Well,” Taravangian said, “I must say that you make your points quite effectively. I don’t accept them, though.” “My intention is not to convert, Your Majesty,” Jasnah said. “I am content keeping my beliefs to myself, something most of my colleagues in the devotaries have difficulty doing. Shallan, have you finished yet?” “Quite nearly, Brightness.” “But it’s been barely a few minutes!” the king said. “She has remarkable skill, Your Majesty,” Jasnah said. “As I believe I mentioned.”...

“I noticed that at one point when you were speaking to the king, you hesitated,” Jasnah said. “What didn’t you say?” “Something inappropriate.” “But clever?” “Cleverness never seems quite so impressive when regarded outside the moment, Brightness. It was just a silly thought.” “And you replaced it with an empty compliment. I think you misunderstood what I was trying to explain, child. I do not wish for you to remain silent. It is good to be clever.” “But if I’d spoken,” Shallan said, “I’d have insulted the king, perhaps confused him as well, which would have caused him embarrassment. I am certain he knows what people say about his slowness of thought.” Jasnah sniffed. “Idle words. From foolish people. But perhaps it was wise not to speak, though keep in mind that channeling your capacities and stifling them are two separate things. I’d much prefer you to think of something both clever and appropriate.” “Yes, Brightness.” “Besides,” Jasnah said, “I believe you might have made Taravangian laugh. He seems haunted by something lately.” “You don’t find him dull, then?” Shallan asked, curious. She herself didn’t think the king dull or a fool, but she’d thought someone as intelligent and learned as Jasnah might not have patience for a man like him. “Taravangian is a wonderful man,” Jasnah said, “and worth a hundred self-proclaimed experts on courtly ways. He reminds me of my uncle Dalinar. Earnest, sincere, concerned.” “The lighteyes here say he’s weak,” Shallan said. “Because he panders to so many other monarchs, because he fears war, because he doesn’t have a Shardblade.” Jasnah didn’t reply, though she looked disturbed. “Brightness?” Shallan prodded, walking to her own seat and arranging her charcoals. “In ancient days,” Jasnah said, “a man who brought peace to his kingdom was considered to be of great worth. Now that same man would be derided as a coward.” She shook her head. “It has been centuries coming, this change. It should terrify us. We could do with more men like Taravangian, and I shall require you to never call him dull again, not even in passing.” “Yes, Brightness,” Shallan said, bowing her head.

“Did you really believe the things you said? About the Almighty?” Jasnah was quiet for a moment. “I do. Though perhaps I overstated my conviction.” “The Assuredness Movement of rhetorical theory?” “Yes,” Jasnah said. “I suppose that it was. I must be careful not to put my back toward you as I read today.” Shallan smiled. “A true scholar must not close her mind on any topic,” Jasnah said, “no matter how certain she may feel. Just because I have not yet found a convincing reason to join one of the devotaries does not mean I never will. Though each time I have a discussion like the one today, my convictions grow firmer.” Shallan bit her lip. Jasnah noticed the expression. “You will need to learn to control that, Shallan. It makes your feelings obvious.” “Yes, Brightness.” “Well, out with it.” “Just that your conversation with the king was not entirely fair.” “Oh?” “Because of his, well, you know. His limited capacity. He did quite remarkably, but didn’t make the arguments that someone more versed in Vorin theology might have.” “And what arguments might such a one have made?” “Well, I’m not very well trained in that area myself. But I do think that you ignored, or at least minimized, one vital part of the discussion.” “Which is?” Shallan tapped at her breast. “Our hearts, Brightness. I believe because I feel something, a closeness to the Almighty, a peace that comes when I live my faith.” “The mind is capable of projecting expected emotional responses.” “But didn’t you yourself argue that the way we act—the way we feel about right and wrong—was a defining attribute of our humanity? You used our innate morality to prove your point. So how can you discard my feelings?” “Discard them? No. Regard them with skepticism? Perhaps. Your feelings, Shallan—however powerful—are your own. Not mine. And what I feel is that spending my life trying to earn the favor of an unseen, unknown, and unknowable being who watches me from the sky is an exercise in sheer futility.” She pointed at Shallan with her pen. “But your rhetorical method is improving. We’ll make a scholar of you yet.” Shallan smiled, feeling a surge of pleasure. Praise from Jasnah was more precious than an emerald broam.

 

 

This is our first, and one of the great examples (there are two to three more over the course of the three books) of how Jasnah talks with individuals with beliefs different than her own, and her views on her own “heresy”. We first start with her method of teaching which to Shallan’s surprise is very Socratic (though Socrates obviously is not a thing in their world). Jasnah believes in encouraging curiosity, and asking questions to gain greater knowledge and insight. It is hard to see, but I believe this is the starting signs of a bond Jasnah is building with Shallan, and shows Jasnah beginning to care and respect Shallan. This is not just a lesson of memorization. She is trying to see and appreciate Shallan for the person she is, and help her grow as a person. If there is one way to instigate Jasnah’s ire, it is crushing another person’s creativity and ingenuity with personal ignorance. She calls out Shallan’s tutors as being idiots for doing exactly that. As per Shallan’s own thoughts, Jasnah genuinely loves learning and wants others to do so as well.

Taravangian then arrives to eat with them. It is Taravangian, not Jasnah that brings up her beliefs. Shallan comments to herself how often Jasnah will not bring up her beliefs at all, and when asked typically changes the subject. This was only different because she felt Taravangian’s inquiry was genuine and not malicious or seeking to convert her. Every assertion Jasnah made was in response to an argument Taravangian made. At no point did she belittle his views. At no point did she deride him for believing as he wished. In fact it was Taravangian that stated “then you’ve removed all purpose for the Almighty’s existence!”, to which Jasnah simply responds “indeed”. Jasnah does not believe in the need of a deity. That does not mean she has any problem with anyone else believing such, and she states exactly that in this scene. “My intention is not to convert Your Majesty. I am content keeping my beliefs to myself, something most of my colleagues in the devotaries have difficulty doing”. She even pays the devoteries the respect of referring to them as her colleagues. Jasnah then inquires what Shallan was going to say to the king. Shallan admits it would have been derogatory, to which Jasnah in a calm and understanding manner instructs Shallan to never speak of Taravangian in that manner. That he is “earnest, sincere, concerned” and reminds her of Dalinar. She respects him, and wishes there were more men like him. She misses the ancient days where a man who brought peace to his kingdom was considered with great worth. This shows what kind of person she holds in high esteem. This is rather different than the cold, heartless killer an outside view of the other scenes lead us to believe. This Jasnah desires peace, and genuinely respects and is fond of individuals who feel the same.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 502

Shallan felt her heart flutter as she regarded the broken Soulcaster. Stealing from Jasnah had seemed acceptable when the princess had been a distant, unknown figure. A heretic, presumably ill-tempered and demanding. But what of the real Jasnah? A careful scholar, stern but fair, with a surprising level of wisdom and insight? Could Shallan really steal from her?

 

 

Again, the outside view Shallan started with of Jasnah is beginning to conflict with the Jasnah she is truly getting to know.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 507

“Well, Brightness Jasnah isn’t a harsh mistress. She’s actually everything she’s said to be. Brilliant, beautiful, mysterious. I’m fortunate to be her ward.” Kabsal nodded. “She is said to be a sterling woman, save for one thing.” “You mean the heresy?” He nodded. “It’s not as bad for me as you think,” she said. “She’s rarely vocal about her beliefs unless provoked.” “She’s ashamed, then.” “I doubt that. Merely considerate.” He eyed her. “You needn’t worry about me,” Shallan said. “Jasnah doesn’t try to persuade me to abandon the devotaries.” Kabsal leaned forward, growing more somber. He was older than she—a man in his mid-twenties, confident, self-assured, and earnest. He was practically the only man near her age that she’d ever talked to outside of her father’s careful supervision. But he was also an ardent. So, of course, nothing could come of it. Could it? “Shallan,” Kabsal said gently, “can you not see how we—how I—would be concerned? Brightness Jasnah is a very powerful and intriguing woman. We would expect her ideas to be infectious.” “Infectious? I thought you said I was the disease.” “I never said that!” “Yes, but I pretended you did. Which is virtually the same thing.” He frowned. “Brightness Shallan, the ardents are worried about you. The souls of the Almighty’s children are our responsibility. Jasnah has a history of corrupting those with whom she comes in contact.” “Really?” Shallan asked, genuinely interested. “Other wards?” “It is not my place to say.” “We can move to another place.” “I’m firm on this point, Brightness. I will not speak of it.”

 

 

This is the second scene that shows how Jasnah deals with religion, vs how religion deals with her. Despite Shallan defending Jasnah, and showing that Jasnah is “not vocal unless provoked” Kabsal jumps to the conclusion that she must be ashamed then. This is also the second time we see people view Jasnah’s beliefs as “infectious”. As it disagreeing with the church is tantamount to being a disease. Makes you wonder what the church did to those Jasnah “corrupted”.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 509

Kabsal shook his head. “The Almighty gives everyone talents—and when we pick a Calling that capitalizes on them, we are worshipping him in the most fundamental way. A devotary—and its ardents—should help nurture that, encouraging you to set and achieve goals of excellence.” He waved to the books stacked on the desk. “This is what your devotary should be helping you with, Shallan. History, logic, science, art. Being honest and good is important, but we should be working harder to encourage the natural talents of people, rather than forcing them to adapt to the Glories and Callings we feel are most important.” “That is a reasonable argument, I guess.” Kabsal nodded, looking thoughtful. “Is it any wonder a woman like Jasnah Kholin turned away from that? Many devotaries encourage women to leave difficult studies of theology to the ardents. If only Jasnah had been able to see the true beauty of our doctrine.” He smiled, digging a thick book out of his bread basket. “I really had hoped, originally, to be able to show her what I mean.” “I doubt she’d react well to that.” “Perhaps,” he said idly, hefting the tome. “But to be the one who finally convinced her!” “Brother Kabsal, that sounds almost like you’re seeking distinction.” He blushed, and she realized she’d said something that genuinely embarrassed him. She winced, cursing her tongue. “Yes,” he said. “I do seek distinction. I shouldn’t wish so badly to be the one who converts her. But I do. If she would just listen to my proof.”...

“I hear footsteps.” He stood, and Shallan turned as Jasnah walked into the alcove, followed by a parshman carrying a basket of books. Jasnah showed no surprise at the presence of the ardent. “I’m sorry, Brightness Jasnah,” Shallan said, standing. “He—” “You are not a captive, child,” Jasnah interrupted brusquely. “You are allowed visitors. Just be careful to check your skin for tooth marks. These types have a habit of dragging their prey out to sea with them.” Kabsal flushed. He moved to gather up his things. Jasnah waved for the parshman to place her books on the table. “Can that plate reproduce a cymatic pattern corresponding to Urithiru, priest? Or do you only have patterns for the standard four cities?” Kabsal looked at her, obviously shocked to realize that she knew exactly what the plate was for. He picked up his book. “Urithiru is just a fable.” “Odd. One would think that your type would be used to believing in fables.” His face grew redder. He finished packing his things, then nodded curtly to Shallan and walked hastily from the room. “If I may say so, Brightness,” Shallan said, “that was exceptionally rude of you.” “I’m prone to such bouts of incivility,” Jasnah said. “I’m certain he has heard what I’m like. I simply wanted to make sure he got what he expected.” “You haven’t acted that way toward other ardents in the Palanaeum.” “The other ardents in the Palanaeum haven’t been working to turn my ward against me.” “He wasn’t …” Shallan trailed off. “He was simply worried about my soul.” “Has he asked you to try to steal my Soulcaster yet?” Shallan felt a sudden spike of shock. Her hand went to the safepouch in her sleeve. Did Jasnah know? No, Shallan told herself. No, listen to the question. “He didn’t.” “Watch,” Jasnah said, opening a book. “He will eventually. I’ve experience with his type.” She looked at Shallan, and her expression softened. “He’s not interested in you. Not in any of the ways you think. In particular, this isn’t about your soul. It’s about me.” “That is somewhat arrogant of you,” Shallan said, “don’t you think?” “Only if I’m wrong, child,” Jasnah said, turning back to her book. “And I rarely am.”

 

 

Kabsal admits that the devoteries tend to force people to adopt certain glories and callings, while pushing them away from others. Women are urged to stay away from theology. Shallan then catches him and makes him admit that the reason he is pursuing Jasnah so much is for the distinction of being the one to convert her. He is not trying to understand her. Not trying to see her as a person. She is something to conquer. She is a trophy to be attained. When Jasnah arrives she shows she has no problem with Shallan speaking to whomsoever she wishes, even if the person is diametrically opposed to her. She just cautions Shallan because she is concerned he is using Shallan to get at her. Considering as we have learned how often this has been done to Jasnah in the past (and we even learn it is true of Kabsal), such a response makes sense. Jasnah is angry. Yet again is another person coming to belittle her beliefs and get her to “see the light”. Whereas with Taravangian Jasnah was respectful and considerate, with Kabsal she is hostile and picks him a part. This shows Jasnah does treat others in accordance with the way she is treated, and in Kabsal’s case she was right.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 528

“You are progressing more quickly than I had assumed you would,” Jasnah said suddenly. Shallan spun, but Jasnah’s eyes were still closed. “I was wrong to judge you so harshly because of your prior education. I myself have often said that passion outperforms upbringing. You have the determination and the capacity to become a respected scholar, Shallan. I realize that the answers seem slow in coming, but continue your research. You will have them eventually.”

 

 

Another example of Jasnah making a mistake, admitting it, and seeking to do better. She admits she unfairly judged Shallan. She encourages Shallan, and explains her process. She understands Shallan and is considerate of her as an individual.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 529

Shallan sat back on her heels, still kneeling on the towel. “How do you know what is right, Jasnah? If you don’t listen to the devotaries, how do you decide?” “That depends upon one’s philosophy. What is most important to you?” “I don’t know. Can’t you tell me?” “No,” Jasnah replied. “If I gave you the answers, I’d be no better than the devotaries, prescribing beliefs.” “They aren’t evil, Jasnah.” “Except when they try to rule the world.” Shallan drew her lips into a thin line. The War of Loss had destroyed the Hierocracy, shattering Vorinism into the devotaries. That was the inevitable result of a religion trying to rule. The devotaries were to teach morals, not enforce them. Enforcement was for the lighteyes. “You say you can’t give me answers,” Shallan said. “But can’t I ask for the advice of someone wise? Someone who’s gone before? Why write our philosophies, draw our conclusions, if not to influence others? You yourself told me that information is worthless unless we use it to make judgments.” Jasnah smiled, dunking her arms and washing off the soap. Shallan caught a victorious glimmer in her eye. She wasn’t necessarily advocating ideas because she believed them; she just wanted to push Shallan. It was infuriating. How was Shallan to know what Jasnah really thought if she adopted conflicting points of view like this? “You act as if there were one answer,” Jasnah said, gesturing to Shallan to fetch a towel and climbing from the pool. “A single, eternally perfect response.”

 

 

Another instance of proof of how Jasnah handles religion. She does not force Shallan to see things her way. She is not trying to corrupt Shallan to athiesm. Shallan is more than welcome to be as pious as she wishes around Jasnah. The only thing Jasnah requires, is questioning. Question yourself, question your superiors, question your world and always learn.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 530

Jasnah stopped, looking off the Ralinsa and toward a darker side street. “What do you think of that roadway, Shallan?” “It doesn’t look particularly appealing to me.” “And yet,” Jasnah said, “it is the most direct route from the Ralinsa to the theater district.” “Is that where we’re going?” “We aren’t ‘going’ anywhere,” Jasnah said, taking off down the side street. “We are acting, pondering, and learning.” Shallan followed nervously. The night swallowed them; only the occasional light from late-night taverns and shops offered illumination. Jasnah wore her black, fingerless glove over her Soulcaster, hiding the light of its gemstones. Shallan found herself creeping. Her slippered feet could feel every change in the ground underfoot, each pebble and crack. She looked about nervously as they passed a group of workers gathered around a tavern doorway. They were darkeyes, of course. In the night, that distinction seemed more profound. “Brightness?” Shallan asked in a hushed tone. “When we are young,” Jasnah said, “we want simple answers. There is no greater indication of youth, perhaps, than the desire for everything to be as it should. As it has ever been.” Shallan frowned, still watching the men by the tavern over her shoulder. “The older we grow,” Jasnah said, “the more we question. We begin to ask why. And yet, we still want the answers to be simple. We assume that the people around us—adults, leaders—will have those answers. Whatever they give often satisfies us.” “I was never satisfied,” Shallan said softly. “I wanted more.” “You were mature,” Jasnah said. “What you describe happens to most of us, as we age. Indeed, it seems to me that aging, wisdom, and wondering are synonymous. The older we grow, the more likely we are to reject the simple answers. Unless someone gets in our way and demands they be accepted regardless.” Jasnah’s eyes narrowed. “You wonder why I reject the devotaries.” “I do.” “Most of them seek to stop the questions.” Jasnah halted. Then she briefly pulled back her glove, using the light beneath to reveal the street around her. The gemstones on her hand—larger than broams—blazed like torches, red, white, and grey. “Is it wise to be showing your wealth like that, Brightness?” Shallan said, speaking very softly and glancing about her. “No,” Jasnah said. “It is most certainly not. Particularly not here. You see, this street has gained a particular reputation lately. On three separate occasions during the last two months, theatergoers who chose this route to the main road were accosted by footpads. In each case, the people were murdered.” Shallan felt herself grow pale.

“The city watch,” Jasnah said, “has done nothing. Taravangian has sent them several pointed reprimands, but the captain of the watch is cousin to a very influential lighteyes in the city, and Taravangian is not a terribly powerful king. Some suspect that there is more going on, that the footpads might be bribing the watch. The politics of it are irrelevant at the moment for, as you can see, no members of the watch are guarding the place, despite its reputation.” Jasnah pulled her glove back on, plunging the roadway back into darkness. Shallan blinked, her eyes adjusting. “How foolish,” Jasnah said, “would you say it is for us to come here, two undefended women wearing costly clothing and bearing riches?” “Very foolish. Jasnah, can we go? Please. Whatever lesson you have in mind isn’t worth this.” Jasnah drew her lips into a line, then looked toward a narrow, darker alleyway off the road they were on. It was almost completely black now that Jasnah had replaced her glove. “You’re at an interesting place in your life, Shallan,” Jasnah said, flexing her hand. “You are old enough to wonder, to ask, to reject what is presented to you simply because it was presented to you. But you also cling to the idealism of youth. You feel there must be some single, all-defining Truth—and you think that once you find it, all that once confused you will suddenly make sense.” “I …” Shallan wanted to argue, but Jasnah’s words were tellingly accurate. The terrible things Shallan had done, the terrible thing she had planned to do, haunted her. Was it possible to do something horrible in the name of accomplishing something wonderful? Jasnah walked into the narrow alleyway. “Jasnah!” Shallan said. “What are you doing?” “This is philosophy in action, child,” Jasnah said. “Come with me.” Shallan hesitated at the mouth of the alleyway, her heart thumping, her thoughts muddled. The wind blew and bells rang, like frozen raindrops shattering against the stones. In a moment of decision, she rushed after Jasnah, preferring company, even in the dark, to being alone. The shrouded glimmer of the Soulcaster was barely enough to light their way, and Shallan followed in Jasnah’s shadow. Noise from behind. Shallan turned with a start to see several dark forms crowding into the alley. “Oh, Stormfather,” she whispered. Why? Why was Jasnah doing this? Shaking, Shallan grabbed at Jasnah’s dress with her freehand. Other shadows were moving in front of them, from the far side of the alley. They grew closer, grunting, splashing through foul, stagnant puddles. Chill water had already soaked Shallan’s slippers. Jasnah stopped moving.

The frail light of her cloaked Soulcaster reflected off metal in the hands of their stalkers. Swords or knives. These men meant murder. You didn’t rob women like Shallan and Jasnah, women with powerful connections, then leave them alive as witnesses. Men like these were not the gentlemen bandits of romantic stories. They lived each day knowing that if they were caught, they would be hanged. Paralyzed by fear, Shallan couldn’t even scream. Stormfather, Stormfather, Stormfather! “And now,” Jasnah said, voice hard and grim, “the lesson.” She whipped off her glove. The sudden light was nearly blinding. Shallan raised a hand against it, stumbling back against the alley wall. There were four men around them. Not the men from the tavern entrance, but others. Men she hadn’t noticed watching them. She could see the knives now, and she could also see the murder in their eyes. Her scream finally broke free. The men grunted at the glare, but shoved their way forward. A thickchested man with a dark beard came up to Jasnah, weapon raised. She calmly reached her hand out—fingers splayed—and pressed it against his chest as he swung a knife. Shallan’s breath caught in her throat. Jasnah’s hand sank into the man’s skin, and he froze. A second later he burned. No, he became fire. Transformed into flames in an eyeblink. Rising around Jasnah’s hand, they formed the outline of a man with head thrown back and mouth open. For just a moment, the blaze of the man’s death outshone Jasnah’s gemstones. Shallan’s scream trailed off. The figure of flames was strangely beautiful. It was gone in a moment, the fire dissipating into the night air, leaving an orange afterimage in Shallan’s eyes. The other three men began to curse, scrambling away, tripping over one another in their panic. One fell. Jasnah turned casually, brushing his shoulder with her fingers as he struggled to his knees. He became crystal, a figure of pure, flawless quartz—his clothing transformed along with him. The diamond in Jasnah’s Soulcaster faded, but there was still plenty of Stormlight left to send rainbow sparkles through the transformed corpse. The other two men fled in opposite directions. Jasnah took a deep breath, closing her eyes, lifting her hand above her head. Shallan held her safehand to her breast, stunned, confused. Terrified. Stormlight shot from Jasnah’s hand like twin bolts of lightning, symmetrical. One struck each of the footpads and they popped, puffing into smoke. Their empty clothing dropped to the ground. With a sharp snap, the smokestone crystal on Jasnah’s Soulcaster cracked, its light vanishing, leaving her with just the diamond and the ruby. The remains of the two footpads rose into the air, small billows of greasy vapor. Jasnah opened her eyes, looking eerily calm.

She tugged her glove back on—using her safehand to hold it against her stomach and sliding her freehand fingers in. Then she calmly walked back the way they had come. She left the crystal corpse kneeling with hand upraised. Frozen forever. Shallan pried herself off the wall and hastened after Jasnah, sickened and amazed. Ardents were forbidden to use their Soulcasters on people. They rarely even used them in front of others. And how had Jasnah struck down two men at a distance? From everything Shallan had read—what little there was to find—Soulcasting required physical contact. Too overwhelmed to demand answers, she stood silent—freehand held to the side of her head, trying to control her trembling and her gasping breaths—as Jasnah called for a palanquin. One came eventually, and the two women climbed in. The bearers carried them toward the Ralinsa, their steps jostling Shallan and Jasnah, who sat across from one another in the palanquin. Jasnah idly popped the broken smokestone from her Soulcaster, then tucked it into a pocket. It could be sold to a gemsmith, who could cut smaller gemstones from the salvaged pieces. “That was horrible,” Shallan finally said, hand still held to her breast. “It was one of the most awful things I’ve ever experienced. You killed four men.” “Four men who were planning to beat, rob, kill, and possibly rape us.” “You tempted them into coming for us!” “Did I force them to commit any crimes?” “You showed off your gemstones.” “Can a woman not walk with her possessions down the street of a city?” “At night?” Shallan asked. “Through a rough area? Displaying wealth? You all but asked for what happened!” “Does that make it right?” Jasnah said, leaning forward. “Do you condone what the men were planning to do?” “Of course not. But that doesn’t make what you did right either!” “And yet, those men are off the street. The people of this city are that much safer. The issue that Taravangian has been so worried about has been solved, and no more theatergoers will fall to those thugs. How many lives did I just save?” “I know how many you just took,” Shallan said. “And through the power of something that should be holy!” “Philosophy in action. An important lesson for you.” “You did all this just to prove a point,” Shallan said softly. “You did this to prove to me that you could. Damnation, Jasnah, how could you do something like that?” Jasnah didn’t reply. Shallan stared at the woman, searching for emotion in those expressionless eyes. Stormfather. Did I ever really know this woman? Who is she, really?

Jasnah leaned back, watching the city pass. “I did not do this just to prove a point, child. I have been feeling for some time that I took advantage of His Majesty’s hospitality. He doesn’t realize how much trouble he could face for allying himself with me. Besides, men like those …” There was something in her voice, an edge Shallan had never heard before. What was done to you? Shallan wondered with horror. And who did it? “Regardless,” Jasnah continued, “tonight’s actions came about because I chose this path, not because of anything I felt you needed to see. However, the opportunity also presented a chance for instruction, for questions. Am I a monster or am I a hero? Did I just slaughter four men, or did I stop four murderers from walking the streets? Does one deserve to have evil done to her by consequence of putting herself where evil can reach her? Did I have a right to defend myself? Or was I just looking for an excuse to end lives?” “I don’t know,” Shallan whispered. “You will spend the next week researching it and thinking on it. If you wish to be a scholar—a true scholar who changes the world—then you will need to face questions like this. There will be times when you must make decisions that churn your stomach, Shallan Davar. I’ll have you ready to make those decisions.” Jasnah fell silent, looking out the side as the palanquin bearers marched them up to the Conclave. Too troubled to say more, Shallan suffered the rest of the trip in silence. She followed Jasnah through the hushed hallways to their rooms, passing scholars on their way to the Palanaeum for some midnight study. Inside their rooms, Shallan helped Jasnah undress, though she hated touching the woman. She shouldn’t have felt that way. The men Jasnah had killed were terrible creatures, and she had little doubt that they would have killed her. But it wasn’t the act itself so much as the cold callousness of it that bothered her. Still feeling numb, Shallan fetched Jasnah a sleeping robe as the woman removed her jewelry and set it on the dressing table. “You could have let the other three get away,” Shallan said, walking back toward Jasnah, who had sat down to brush her hair. “You only needed to kill one of them.” “No, I didn’t,” Jasnah said. “Why? They would have been too frightened to do something like that again.” “You don’t know that. I sincerely wanted those men gone. A careless barmaid walking home the wrong way cannot protect herself, but I can. And I will.” “You have no authority to do so, not in someone else’s city.” “True,” Jasnah said. “Another point to consider, I suppose.”

 

 

We have now reached one of the big scenes for a lot of people regarding Jasnah. As the point of this post is to get to know Jasnah “the person”, I will not be commenting on the morality of what happened. I will focus on what specifically happened, and the why she did what she did. Having said that, lets begin. Jasnah leads Shallan on foot to a less reputable location in Kharbranth. During their walking, Jasnah takes off the glove covering her soulcaster to see better by. Shallan notices men watching them. Jasnah goes on a philosophical lecture on the nature of what it means to question versus accepting what one is told at face value. Youth versus experience. Jasnah then explains that the street they walk currently has on three separate occasions over the course of two months had theatergoers murdered. All three cases led to death, not “mere” robbery. Taravangian, the king himself has attempted to get the city watch in order to protect the street but with no success. The captain is connected to an influential light eyes. There is suspected bribery, but the fact of the matter is the street results in deaths, and there is no sign that the situation will change anytime soon if at all. So we have a clear statement that all attempts to reform the city guard, fix up the street, and or apprehend the murders have led to naught. That is the scenario Jasnah and Shallan walk into. Shallan notices dark shapes at the entrance of the alley where they came in, and at the other end. Jasnah and Shallan are now boxed in, with no escape in an alley know for murders. The individuals reveal themselves to be holding swords and knives. More support of their lethal intent. Finally by Shallan’s own thoughts, these men were out for their blood. These are men that clearly have lived each day knowing the noose is the only end they will see. Jasnah remains standing, and waits for the first guy to approach her. He swings his knife at her initiating the attack. Jasnah lifts her hand, touches him and changes him to fire. The other three are close enough that in their panic they trip over each other, and Jasnah (not needing to move other than to turn) reaches out and touches another man changing him to quartz. The last two men flee in opposite directions. Jasnah raises her hand and twin bolts of lightning shoot out and hit them at the same time turning them to smoke. Jasnah remains looking calm.

They call a palanquin and ride it heading back to Jasnah’s rooms. During the ride they discuss what just happened. Again they discuss the ethics of it, but at the core here are some definiable pieces of information. The men were planning to beat, rob, and kill both Jasnah and Shallan. Jasnah and Shallan walked through an alley displaying wealth knowing the alley’s reputation for murder. The men are now dead and can no longer continue their practices. Shallan states Jasnah did it to prove a point, did it to prove she could. Jasnah responds that she did not do it to prove a point. She explains that she did it to help Taravangian with a problem he could not fix. She recognizes him associating with a known heretic can cost him a lot, so sought to balance the scales as it were and do him a good turn. Jasnah then comments about “men like those”, which does imply there is something personal for Jasnah in wanting to see murderers off the street. She then confirms that the actions in the alley way were actions she chose to do for herself, nothing to due with Shallan’s lesson. However she used her actions as an opportunity to ask further questions. So the men’s deaths was not for the lesson. It was a separate action Jasnah had intended to take unrelated to Shallan in an effort to help a man she respects accomplish defending the city he loves, with a hint of personal vendetta against murderers. Finally Jasnah does not try to paint her actions in a favorable light, nor try to convince Shallan to see things her way. She presents Shallan with questions for Shallan to find the answers to on her own, fully knowing the result could be turning Shallan against her or losing her ward. The scene closes (for the purpose of this post) with Shallan pointing out that Jasnah did not have to kill them all. Jasnah replies that Shallan doesn’t know that they would have stopped after that, and where as a careless barmaid walking home the wrong way cannot protect herself, Jasnah can and will. Shallan points out that Jasnah lacks the authority to take such action in this city, to which Jasnah concedes the point. However as brought up earlier in the scene, going based on the city, not even the king was able to stop the murders. So it appears not even the king had the “authority” to do anything about it.

 

Spoiler

Way of Kings page 559

I did not include this scene because it is Shallan going over various in world philosophical thought on whether or not Jasnah’s actions were ethical. For myself, this post is to get to know Jasnah better as a person, both with favorable attributes and failings. I am not here to argue whether or not her actions were ethical. I am here to understand why she took the actions she did. So I have chosen to skip this scene.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 588

Finally, Jasnah nodded, then returned to her research. “You have nothing to say?” Shallan said. “I just accused you of murder.” “No,” Jasnah said, “murder is a legal definition. You said I killed unethically.” “You think I’m wrong, I assume?” “You are,” Jasnah said. “But I accept that you believe what you are saying and have put rational thought behind it. I have looked over your notes, and I believe you understand the various philosophies. In some cases, I think that you were quite insightful in your interpretation of them. The lesson was instructive.” She opened her book. “Then that’s it?” “Of course not,” Jasnah said. “We will study philosophy further in the future; for now, I’m satisfied that you have established a solid foundation in the topic.” “But I still decided you were wrong. I still think there’s an absolute Truth out there.” “Yes,” Jasnah said, “and it took you two weeks of struggling to come to that conclusion.” Jasnah looked up, meeting Shallan’s eyes. “It wasn’t easy, was it?” “No.” “And you still wonder, don’t you?” “Yes.” “That is enough.” Jasnah narrowed her eyes slightly, a consoling smile appearing on her lips. “If it helps you wrestle with your feelings, child, understand that I was trying to do good. I sometimes wonder if I should accomplish more with my Soulcaster.” She turned back to her reading. “You are free for the rest of the day.” Shallan blinked. “What?” “Free,” Jasnah said. “You may go. Do as you please. You’ll spend it drawing beggars and barmaids, I suspect, but you may choose. Be off with you.”

 

 

After two weeks of struggling with the morality and ethics of what happened with Jasnah, Shallan presents her findings. Despite Shallan disagreeing with Jasnah, Jasnah respects the process she went through to come to her conclusions. What is especially telling about this scene is when Jasnah muses on her use of the soulcasting. She says that she was “trying to do good” and that she “sometimes wonder if I should accomplish more with my soulcaster”. From Jasnah’s own mouth, she did not kill the men for cold, dispassionate reasons. She genuinely feels she was trying to make the world a better place and help Taravangian.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 634

“If you think to distract me with this conversation,” Kabsal noted, folding his arms and leaning back against the railing, “you won’t be successful. I sat up there with your disapproving mistress for well over an hour, and let me say that it was not a pleasant experience. I think she knows I still intend to try and convert her.”

 

 

This scene is telling for me, because Kabsal is admitting that even though Jasnah is well aware of what he is trying to accomplish (convert her) and why (for his own prestige), she still gives him well over an hour of her time (of which she barely can spare researching the end of the world) for him to make his case. Again, open to others beliefs.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 635

“Don’t you see?” he said. “She’s trying to prove that the Voidbringers weren’t real. She wants to demonstrate that this was all a fabrication of the Radiants.” He stepped forward and turned to face her, the lantern light rebounding from the books to either side, making his face pale. “She wants to prove once and for all that the devotaries—and Vorinism—are a gigantic fraud. That’s what this is all about.” “Maybe,” Shallan said thoughtfully. It did seem to fit. What better goal for an avowed heretic? Undermining foolish beliefs and disproving religion? It explained why Jasnah would study something as seemingly inconsequential as the Voidbringers. Find the right evidence in the historical records, and Jasnah might well be able to prove herself right. “Haven’t we been scourged enough?” Kabsal said, eyes angry. “The ardents are no threat to her. We’re not a threat to anyone these days. We can’t own property … Damnation, we’re property ourselves. We dance to the whims of the citylords and warlords, afraid to tell them the truths of their sins for fear of retribution. We’re whitespines without tusks or claws, expected to sit at our master’s feet and offer praise. Yet this is real. It’s all real, and they ignore us and—” He cut off suddenly, glancing at her, lips tight, jaw clenched. She’d never seen such fervor, such fury from the pleasant ardent. She wouldn’t have thought him capable of it. “I’m sorry,” he said, turning from her, leading the way back down the aisle. “It’s all right,” she said, hurrying after him, suddenly feeling depressed. Shallan had expected to find something grander, something more mysterious, behind Jasnah’s secretive research. Could it all really just be about proving Vorinism false?

 

 

This scene I find very poignant and ironic at the same time. Here Kabsal is assuming Jasnah is seeking to disprove the existence of the voidbringers in an effort to disprove the existence of the Almighty to ultimately destroy the institution that is Vorinism. Why I find this ironic is because as we have seen on numerous occasions, Jasnah has take no action nor shown any inclination to “destroy” Vorinism. It has been Vorinism that has continually misrepresented her, harassed her, attempted to steal from her, and attempted to assassinate her. Yet Kabsal says “Haven’t we been scourged enough? The ardents are no threat to her”. His words seem to say one thing, but his, as well as his religion’s actions seem to say something quite different. Vorinism has made it very clear that Jasnah cannot just exist with her own beliefs. Her very existence is an afront worthy of harassment and death. Yet Jasnah is treated as if she is the actively antagonistic one.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 645

Jasnah gasped, immediately calling for help. She rushed to Shallan’s side, grabbing her arm and putting pressure on the wound. Shallan mumbled, as if she were barely conscious, gripping her safepouch—and the Soulcaster inside—with her safehand. They wouldn’t open it, would they? She pulled her arm closer to her chest, cowering silently as more footsteps and calls sounded, servants and parshmen running into the room, Jasnah shouting for more help. This, Shallan thought, will not end well.

 

 

Naturally any person who is not a complete emotionless sociopath, when seeing someone close to them bleeding out on the ground would cry for help and do all they can to stop that person from dying.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 679

The king moved away, visiting other patients, then speaking quietly with the ardents. Not five minutes passed before Jasnah walked through the doorway with her characteristic straight-backed stride. She wore a beautiful dress, deep blue with golden embroidery. Her sleek black hair was done in braids and pierced by six thin golden spikes; her cheeks glowed with blush, her lips bloodred with lip paint. She stood out in the white room like a flower upon a field of barren stone. She glided toward Shallan on feet hidden beneath the loose folds of her silk skirt, carrying a thick book under her arm. An ardent brought her a stool, and she sat down where the king had just stood. Jasnah regarded Shallan, face stiff, impassive. “I have been told that my tutelage is demanding, perhaps harsh. This is one reason why I often refuse to take wards.” “I apologize for my weakness, Brightness,” Shallan said, looking down. Jasnah seemed displeased. “I did not mean to suggest fault in you, child. I was attempting the opposite. Unfortunately I’m … unaccustomed to such behavior.” “Apologizing?” “Yes.” “Well, you see,” Shallan said, “in order to grow proficient at apologizing, you must first make mistakes. That’s your problem, Jasnah. You’re absolutely terrible at making them.” The woman’s expression softened. “The king mentioned to me that you would be returning to your family.” “What? When?” “When he met me in the hallway outside,” she said, “and finally gave me permission to visit you.” “You make it sound as if you were waiting out there.” Jasnah didn’t reply. “But your research!” “Can be done in the hospital waiting chamber.” She hesitated. “It has been somewhat difficult for me to focus these last few days.” “Jasnah! That’s quite nearly human of you!” Jasnah regarded her reprovingly, and Shallan winced, immediately regretting the words. “I’m sorry. I’ve learned poorly, haven’t I?” “Or perhaps you are just practicing the art of the apology. So that you will not be unsettled when the need arises, as I am.” “How very clever of me.” “Indeed.” “Can I stop now, then?” Shallan asked. “I think I’ve had quite enough practice.” “I should think,” Jasnah said, “that apology is an art of which we could use a few more masters. Do not use me as a model in this. Pride is often mistaken for faultlessness.” She leaned forward. “I am sorry, Shallan Davar. In overworking you, I may have done the world a disservice and stolen from it one of the great scholars of the rising generation.” Shallan blushed, feeling more foolish and guilty.

Shallan’s eyes flickered to her mistress’s hand. Jasnah wore the black glove that hid the fake. In the fingers of her safehand, Shallan grasped the pouch holding the Soulcaster. If Jasnah only knew. Jasnah took the book from beneath her arm and set it on the bed beside Shallan. “This is for you.” Shallan picked it up. She opened to the front page, but it was blank. The next one was as well, as were all inside of it. Her frown deepened, and she looked up at Jasnah. “It’s called the Book of Endless Pages,” Jasnah said. “Er, I’m pretty sure it’s not endless, Brightness.” She flipped to the last page and held it up. Jasnah smiled. “It’s a metaphor, Shallan. Many years ago, someone dear to me made a very good attempt at converting me to Vorinism. This was the method he used.” Shallan cocked her head. “You search for truth,” Jasnah said, “but you also hold to your faith. There is much to admire in that. Seek out the Devotary of Sincerity. They are one of the very smallest of the devotaries, but this book is their guide.” “One with blank pages?” “Indeed. They worship the Almighty, but are guided by the belief that there are always more answers to be found. The book cannot be filled, as there is always something to learn. This devotary is a place where one is never penalized for questions, even those challenging Vorinism’s own tenets.” She shook her head. “I cannot explain their ways. You should be able to find them in Vedenar, though there are none in Kharbranth.” “I …” Shallan trailed off, noticing how Jasnah’s hand rested fondly on the book. It was precious to her. “I hadn’t thought to find ardents who were willing to question their own beliefs.” Jasnah raised an eyebrow. “You will find wise men in any religion, Shallan, and good men in every nation. Those who truly seek wisdom are those who will acknowledge the virtue in their adversaries and who will learn from those who disabuse them of error. All others—heretic, Vorin, Ysperist, or Maakian—are equally closed-minded.” She took her hand from the book, moving as if to stand up. “He’s wrong,” Shallan said suddenly, realizing something. Jasnah turned to her.

“Kabsal,” Shallan said, blushing. “He says you’re researching the Voidbringers because you want to prove that Vorinism is false.” Jasnah sniffed in derision. “I would not dedicate four years of my life to such an empty pursuit. It’s idiocy to try to prove a negative. Let the Vorin believe as they wish—the wise among them will find goodness and solace in their faith; the fools would be fools no matter what they believed.” Shallan frowned. So why was Jasnah studying the Voidbringers? “Ah. Speak of the storm and it begins to bluster,” Jasnah said, turning toward the room’s entrance. With a start, Shallan realized that Kabsal had just arrived, wearing his usual grey robes. He was arguing softly with a nurse, who pointed at the basket he carried. Finally, the nurse threw up her hands and walked away, leaving Kabsal to approach, triumphant. “Finally!” he said to Shallan. “Old Mungam can be a real tyrant.” “Mungam?” Shallan asked. “The ardent who runs this place,” Kabsal said. “I should have been allowed in immediately. After all, I know what you need to make you better!” He pulled out a jar of jam, smiling broadly. Jasnah remained on her stool, regarding Kabsal across the bed. “I would have thought,” she said dryly, “that you would allow Shallan a respite, considering how your attentions drove her to despair.” Kabsal flushed. He looked at Shallan, and she could see the pleading in his eyes. “It wasn’t you, Kabsal,” Shallan said. “I just … I wasn’t ready for life away from my family estate. I still don’t know what came over me. I’ve never done anything like that before.” He smiled, pulling a stool over for himself. “I think,” he said, “that the lack of color in these places is what keeps people sick so long. That and the lack of proper food.” He winked, turning the jar toward Shallan. It was deep, dark red. “Strawberry.” “Never heard of it,” Shallan said. “It’s exceedingly rare,” Jasnah said, reaching for the jar. “Like most plants from Shinovar, it can’t grow other places.” Kabsal looked surprised as Jasnah removed the lid and dipped a finger into the jar. She hesitated, then raised a bit of the jam to her nose to sniff at it. “I was under the impression that you disliked jam, Brightness Jasnah,” Kabsal said. “I do,” she said. “I was simply curious about the scent. I’ve heard that strawberries are very distinctive.”

She screwed the lid back on, then wiped her finger on her cloth handkerchief. “I brought bread as well,” Kabsal said. He pulled out a small loaf of the fluffy bread. “It’s nice of you not to blame me, Shallan, but I can see that my attentions were too forward. I thought, maybe, I could bring this and …” “And what?” Jasnah asked. “Absolve yourself? ‘I’m sorry I drove you to suicide. Here’s some bread.’ ” He blushed, looking down. “Of course I’ll have some,” Shallan said, glaring at Jasnah. “And she will too. It was very kind of you, Kabsal.” She took the bread, breaking off a chunk for Kabsal, one for herself, then one for Jasnah. “No,” Jasnah said. “Thank you.” “Jasnah,” Shallan said. “Would you please at least try some?” It bothered her that the two of them got on so poorly. The older woman sighed. “Oh, very well.” She took the bread, holding it as Shallan and Kabsal ate. The bread was moist and delicious, though Jasnah grimaced as she put hers in her mouth and chewed it. “You should really try the jam,” Kabsal said to Shallan. “Strawberry is hard to find. I had to make quite a number of inquiries.” “No doubt bribing merchants with the king’s money,” Jasnah noted. Kabsal sighed. “Brightness Jasnah, I realize that you are not fond of me. But I’m working very hard to be pleasant. Could you at least pretend to do likewise?” Jasnah eyed Shallan, probably recalling Kabsal’s guess that undermining Vorinism was the goal of her research. She didn’t apologize, but also made no retort. Good enough, Shallan thought. “The jam, Shallan,” Kabsal said, handing her a slice of bread for it. “Oh, right.” She removed the lid of the jar, holding it between her knees and using her freehand. “You missed your ship out, I assume,” Kabsal said. “Yes.” “What’s this?” Jasnah asked. Shallan cringed. “I was planning to leave, Brightness. I’m sorry. I should have told you.” Jasnah settled back. “I suppose it was to be expected, all things considered.” “The jam?” Kabsal prodded again. Shallan frowned. He was particularly insistent about that jam. She raised the jar and sniffed at it, then pulled back. “It smells terrible! This is jam?” It smelled like vinegar and slime. “What?” Kabsal said, alarmed. He took the jar, sniffing at it, then pulled away, looking nauseated. “It appears you got a bad jar,” Jasnah said. “That’s not how it’s supposed to smell?” “Not at all,” Kabsal said. He hesitated, then stuck his finger into the jam anyway, shoving a large glob into his mouth.

“Kabsal!” Shallan said. “That’s revolting!” He coughed, but forced it down. “Not so bad, really. You should try it.” “What?” “Really,” he said, forcing it toward her. “I mean, I wanted this to be special, for you. And it turned out so horribly.” “I’m not tasting that, Kabsal.” He hesitated, as if considering forcing it upon her. Why was he acting so strangely? He raised a hand to his head, stood up, and stumbled away from the bed. Then he began to rush from the room. He made it only halfway before crashing to the floor, his body sliding a little way across the spotless stone. “Kabsal!” Shallan said, leaping out of the bed, hurrying to his side, wearing only the white robe. He was shaking. And … and … And so was she. The room was spinning. Suddenly she felt very, very tired. She tried to stand, but slipped, dizzy. She barely felt herself hit the floor. Someone was kneeling above her, cursing. Jasnah. Her voice was distant. “She’s been poisoned. I need a garnet. Bring me a garnet!” There’s one in my pouch, Shallan thought. She fumbled with it, managing to undo the tie of her safehand’s sleeve. Why … why does she want … But no, I can’t show her that. The Soulcaster! Her mind was so fuzzy. “Shallan,” Jasnah’s voice said, anxious, very soft. “I’m going to have to Soulcast your blood to purify it. It will be dangerous. Extremely dangerous. I’m not good with flesh or blood. It’s not where my talent lies.” She needs it. To save me. Weakly, she reached in and pulled out her safepouch with her right hand. “You … can’t …” “Hush, child. Where is that garnet!” “You can’t Soulcast,” Shallan said weakly, pulling the ties of her pouch open. She upended it, vaguely seeing a fuzzy golden object slip out onto the floor, alongside the garnet that Kabsal had given her. Stormfather! Why was the room spinning so much? Jasnah gasped. Distantly. Fading … Something happened. A flash of warmth burned through Shallan, something inside her skin, as if she had been dumped into a steaming hot cauldron. She screamed, arching her back, her muscles spasming. All went black.

 

 

This is a great scene for showing Jasnah’s emotions and humanity. The moment the king allowed visitors to see Shallan, Jasnah was the first by her side. It is in fact revealed that Jasnah had postponed her research that she has pursued to the point of obsession to save the world, to be right outside where Shallan was recovering and be by her side the moment she could. After seeing Shallan was recovering, the first thing Jasnah does is apologize. She admits to being prideful, and worries she worked Shallan too hard. She then gives Shallan a wonderful compliment that Shallan could be one of the great scholars of her generation. Jasnah reproves herself for treating Shallan as she has (despite us knowing Shallan did in fact enjoy every bit of it, and said herself that Jasnah thinks she works her harder than she does) and understands Shallan’s seeming desire to return to her family. Jasnah then gifts Shallan the Book of Endless Pages. We see clearly how much this book means to Jasnah. Not only the book, but what it represents to her. This book is associated with a Vorin devotery. One she respects enough to cherish a book that represents one of their belief structures. She goes on to say that “you will find wise men in any religion, Shallan, and good men in every nation. Those who truly seek wisdom are those who will acknowledge the virtue of their adversaries and who will learn from those who disabuse them of error. All others - heretic, Vorin, Ysperist, or Maakian - are equally close-minded.” Jasnah respects any, regardless of religious affiliation, so long as that person truly seeks wisdom, is open to knowledge regardless the source, and will admit when they have made errors. As we have seen so far, all three that Jasnah herself holds to.

Shallan then comes to the conclusion that Jasnah is not trying to disprove Vorinism based on how she hears Jasnah speak on religion. Then Kabsal arrives and we see another bout of humanity from Jasnah! She just got through thinking her student, who she cares deeply for nearly committed suicide from stress. Protective of Shallan (and dare I say in this case irrational?), Jasnah immediately tries to turn Kabsal away. Not because he is an ardent. Not because of their past problems, but because Jasnah is worried about Shallan. When Shallan then asserts it was not Kabsal’s fault, Jasnah stops and accepts Shallan’s overture to enjoy food together. Keep in mind Jasnah also does this despite the danger as she believes Kabsal to be a spy/assassin enough to suspect the jam is poisoned. She didn’t stop Shallan from eating the bread because she suspected it was safe. Unfortunately turns out Jasnah made a mistake, and it was the reverse. Again Jasnah is freaking out that Shallan is dying and is doing all she can to save her. Shallan then reveals she stole the soulcaster from Jasnah. Had Jasnah not cared about Shallan. Had Jasnah been cold and emotionless, she could have easily claimed she tried to save Shallan but the poison was too fast and let her die. Jasnah’s secret would have been safe from a thief pretending to be a ward and an assassin pretending to be an ardent. Yet Jasnah saved Shallan’s life.  

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 698

Finally, Jasnah appeared at the other end of the hallway. She was wearing a different dress, black with light grey piping. She strode toward the room like an arrow and dismissed the guard with a single word as she passed. The man hurried away, his boots louder on the stone floor than Jasnah’s slippers. Jasnah came in, and though she made no accusations, her glare was so hostile that Shallan wanted to crawl under her covers and hide. No. She wanted to crawl under the bed, dig down into the floor itself, and put stone between herself and those eyes. She settled for looking downward in shame. “You were wise to return the Soulcaster,” Jasnah said, voice like ice. “It saved your life. I saved your life.” “Thank you,” Shallan whispered. “Who are you working with? Which devotary bribed you to steal the fabrial?” “None of them, Brightness. I stole it of my own volition.” “Protecting them does you no good. Eventually you will tell me the truth.” “It is the truth,” Shallan said, looking up, feeling a hint of defiance. “It’s why I became your ward in the first place. To steal that Soulcaster.” “Yes, but for whom?” “For me,” Shallan said. “Is it so hard to believe that I could act for myself? Am I such a miserable failure that the only rational answer is to assume I was duped or manipulated?” “You have no grounds to raise your voice to me, child,” Jasnah said evenly. “And you have every reason to remember your place.” Shallan looked down again. Jasnah was silent for a time. Finally, she sighed. “What were you thinking, child?” “My father is dead.” “So?” “He was not well liked, Brightness. Actually, he was hated, and our family is bankrupt. My brothers are trying to put up a strong front by pretending he still lives. But …” Dared she tell Jasnah that her father had possessed a Soulcaster? Doing so wouldn’t help excuse what Shallan had done, and might get her family more deeply into trouble. “We needed something. An edge. A way to earn money quickly, or create money.” Jasnah was silent again. When she finally spoke, she sounded faintly amused. “You thought your salvation lay in enraging not only the entire ardentia, but Alethkar? Do you realize what my brother would have done if he’d learned of this?” Shallan looked away, feeling both foolish and ashamed.

Jasnah sighed. “Sometimes I forget how young you are. I can see how the theft might have looked tempting to you. It was stupid nonetheless. I’ve arranged passage back to Jah Keved. You will leave in the morning.” “I—” It was more than she deserved. “Thank you.” “Your friend, the ardent, is dead.” Shallan looked up, dismayed. “What happened?” “The bread was poisoned. Backbreaker powder. Very lethal, dusted over the bread to look like flour. I suspect the bread was similarly treated every time he visited. His goal was to get me to eat a piece.” “But I ate a lot of that bread!” “The jam had the antidote,” Jasnah said. “We found it in several empty jars he’d used.” “It can’t be!” “I’ve begun investigating,” Jasnah said. “I should have done so immediately. Nobody quite remembers where this ‘Kabsal’ came from. Though he spoke familiarly of the other ardents to you and me, they knew him only vaguely.” “Then he …” “He was playing you, child. The whole time, he was using you to get to me. To spy on what I was doing, to kill me if he could.” She spoke of it so evenly, so emotionlessly. “I believe he used much more of the powder during this last attempt, more than he’d ever used before, perhaps hoping to get me to breathe it in. He realized this would be his last opportunity. It turned against him, however, working more quickly than he’d anticipated.” Someone had almost killed her. Not someone, Kabsal. No wonder he’d been so eager to get her to taste the jam! “I’m very disappointed in you, Shallan,” Jasnah said. “I can see now why you tried to end your own life. It was the guilt.” She hadn’t tried to kill herself. But what good would it do to admit that? Jasnah was taking pity on her; best not to give her reason not to. But what of the strange things Shallan had seen and experienced? Might Jasnah have an explanation for them? Looking at Jasnah, seeing the cold rage hidden behind her calm exterior, frightened Shallan enough that her questions about the symbolheads and the strange place she’d visited died on her lips. How had Shallan ever thought of herself as brave? She wasn’t brave. She was a fool. She remembered the times her father’s rage had echoed through the house. Jasnah’s quieter, more justified anger was no less daunting. “Well, you will need to learn to live with your guilt,” Jasnah said. “You might not have escaped with my fabrial, but you have thrown away a very promising career. This foolish scheme will stain your life for decades. No woman will take you as a ward now. You threw it away.” She shook her head in distaste. “I hate being wrong.” With that, she turned to leave.

 

 

Let’s review from Jasnah’s perspective what she just found out. The ardent that she suspected was out to kill her, despite Shallan’s urging to give him a chance, was in fact out to kill her. The ward that Jasnah has begun to care and trust against her better judgement (due to being busy researching the end of the world) seemingly attempted suicide after stealing Jasnah’s soulcaster and betraying her. Quite the rollercoaster ride of emotions wouldn’t you say? So saying Jasnah is feeling angry, betrayed and emotionally hurt would be an understatement. Jasnah saved Shallan’s life. Despite the betrayal and all that means, Jasnah still saved her when it would have been far easier, and accomplish so much more to just let her die. Why? Because Jasnah cares for Shallan. Even when scolding Shallan for her betrayal, Jasnah laments the future Shallan could have had. I also find it interesting that when Jasnah explains to Shallan how stealing the soulcaster would upset the Ardentia as well as Alethkar, she says “do you realize what my brother would have done if he’d learned of this?”. Not Jasnah. Her brother. He is the one that would have taken it as a personal offense and pursued her. Despite all of this, Jasnah still sympathizes with Shallan’s youth, and arranges her passage home. Jasnah had every right to have Shallan locked up or even potentially executed for the theft. Instead she opts to let Shallan go, while expressing how regretful she is that Shallan destroyed her own future on a mad scheme. She expected better of Shallan, and was disappointed.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 967

“Don’t make me call the soldiers to get rid of you,” Jasnah said. “I could have you thrown in prison for a hundred years for what you did. Do you have any idea what—” “The Soulcaster you wear is a fake,” Shallan said quietly. “It was a fake the whole time, even before I made the swap.” Jasnah froze. “I wondered why you didn’t notice the switch,” Shallan said, sitting in the room’s other chair. “I spent weeks confused. Had you noticed, but decided to keep quiet in order to catch the thief? Hadn’t you Soulcast in all that time? It didn’t make any sense. Unless the Soulcaster I stole was a decoy.” Jasnah relaxed. “Yes. Very clever of you to realize that. I keep several decoys. You’re not the first to try to steal the fabrial, you see. I keep the real one carefully hidden, of course.” Shallan took out her sketchpad and searched through for a specific picture. It was the image she’d drawn of the strange place with the sea of beads, the floating flames, the distant sun in a black, black sky. Shallan regarded it for a moment. Then she turned it and held it up for Jasnah. The look of utter shock Jasnah displayed was nearly worth the night spent feeling sick and guilty. Jasnah’s eyes bulged and she sputtered for a moment, trying to find words. Shallan blinked, taking a Memory of that. She couldn’t help herself. “Where did you find that?” Jasnah demanded. “What book described that scene to you?” “No book, Jasnah,” Shallan said, lowering the picture. “I visited that place. The night when I accidentally Soulcast the goblet in my room to blood, then covered it up by faking a suicide attempt.” “Impossible. You think I’d believe—”

“There is no fabrial, is there, Jasnah? There’s no Soulcaster. There never has been. You use the fake ‘fabrial’ to distract people from the fact that you have the power to Soulcast on your own.” Jasnah fell silent. “I did it too,” Shallan said. “The Soulcaster was tucked away in my safepouch. I wasn’t touching it—but that didn’t matter. It was a fake. What I did, I did without it. Perhaps being near you has changed me, somehow. It has something to do with that place and those creatures.” Again, no reply. “You suspected Kabsal of being an assassin,” Shallan said. “You knew immediately what had happened when I fell; you were expecting poison, or at least were aware that it was possible. But you thought the poison was in the jam. You Soulcast it when you opened the lid and pretended to smell it. You didn’t know how to re-create strawberry jam, and when you tried, you made that vile concoction. You thought to get rid of poison. But you inadvertently Soulcast away the antidote. “You didn’t want to eat the bread either, just in case there was something in it. You always refused it. When I convinced you to take a bite, you Soulcast it into something else as you put it in your mouth. You said you’re terrible at making organic things, and what you created was revolting. But you got rid of the poison, which is why you didn’t succumb to it.” Shallan met her former mistress’s eyes. Was it the fatigue that made her so indifferent to the consequences of confronting this woman? Or was it her knowledge of the truth? “You did all that, Jasnah,” Shallan finished, “with a fake Soulcaster. You hadn’t spotted my swap yet. Don’t try to tell me otherwise. I took it on the night when you killed those four thugs.” Jasnah’s violet eyes showed a glimmer of surprise. “Yes,” Shallan said, “that long ago. You didn’t replace it with a decoy. You didn’t know you’d been tricked until I got out the fabrial and let you save me with it. It’s all a lie, Jasnah.” “No,” Jasnah said. “You’re just delusional from your fatigue and the stress.” “Very well,” Shallan said. She stood up, clutching the dim sphere. “I guess I’ll have to show you. If I can.”...

She managed it for a moment. Then something tugged on her leg, pulling her down. She screamed, slipping beneath the surface, tiny beads of glass filling her mouth. She panicked. She was going to— The beads above her parted. Those beneath her surged, bearing her upward, out to where someone stood, hand outstretched. Jasnah, back to the black sky, face lit by nearby hovering flames. Jasnah grasped Shallan’s hand, pulling her upward, onto something. A raft. Made from the beads of glass. They seemed to obey Jasnah’s will. “Idiot girl,” Jasnah said, waving. The sea of beads to the left split, and the raft lurched, bearing them sideways toward a few flames of light. Jasnah shoved Shallan into one of the small flames, and she fell backward off the raft. And hit the floor of the alcove. Jasnah sat where she had been, eyes closed. A moment later, she opened them, giving Shallan an angry look. “Idiot girl!” Jasnah repeated. “You have no idea how dangerous that was. Visiting Shadesmar with only a single dim sphere? Idiot!” Shallan coughed, feeling as if she still had beads in her throat. She stumbled to her feet, meeting Jasnah’s gaze. The other woman still looked angry, but said nothing. She knows that I have her, Shallan realized. If I spread the truth … What would it mean? She had strange powers. Did that make Jasnah some kind of Voidbringer? What would people say? No wonder she’d created the decoy. “I want to be part of it,” Shallan found herself saying. “Excuse me?” “Whatever you’re doing. Whatever it is you’re researching. I want to be part of it.” “You have no idea what you’re saying.” “I know,” Shallan said. “I’m ignorant. There’s a simple cure for that.” She stepped forward. “I want to know, Jasnah. I want to be your ward in truth. Whatever the source of this thing you can do, I can do it too. I want you to train me and let me be part of your work.”

“You stole from me.” “I know,” Shallan said. “And I’m sorry.” Jasnah raised an eyebrow. “I won’t excuse myself,” Shallan said. “But Jasnah, I came here intending to steal from you. I was planning it from the beginning.” “That’s supposed to make me feel better?” “I planned to steal from Jasnah the bitter heretic,” Shallan said. “I didn’t realize I’d come to regret the need for that theft. Not just because of you, but because it meant leaving this. What I’ve come to love. Please. I made a mistake.” “A large one. Insurmountable.” “Don’t make a larger one by sending me away. I can be someone you don’t have to lie to. Someone who knows.” Jasnah sat back. “I stole the fabrial on the night you killed those men, Jasnah,” Shallan said. “I’d decided I couldn’t do it, but you convinced me that truth was not as simple as I thought it. You’ve opened a box full of storms in me. I made a mistake. I’ll make more. I need you.” Jasnah took a deep breath. “Sit down.” Shallan sat. “You will never lie to me again,” Jasnah said, raising a finger. “And you will never steal from me, or anyone, again.” “I promise.” Jasnah sat for a moment, then sighed. “Scoot over here,” she said, pulling open a book. Shallan obeyed as Jasnah took out several sheets filled with notes. “What is this?” Shallan asked. “You wanted to be part of what I’m doing? Well, you’ll need to read this.” Jasnah looked down at the notes. “It’s about the Voidbringers.”

 

 

Talking about next scene. The first line shows what Jasnah could have done to Shallan if she so chose to. Jasnah could lock her up in prison for the rest of her young life. Yet Jasnah arranged passage for Shallan to return home. She….let….her....go. That to me is the action of a caring individual towards someone who hurt and disappointed them. Not cold and emotionless. Shallan then explains what happened during the assassination. Jasnah first thought the jame was poisoned, so soulcasted it. Then she thought her bread in particular was poisoned so soulcasted it as well. Shallan had eaten the bread in the past on numerous occasions with no ill effects, so Jasnah had no reason to think Shallan’s life was in danger. She only changed the portions she was specifically offered, believing that Kabsal would have arranged it that way. Almost unfortunately for Shallan, she was wrong. Thankfully despite the betrayal, and every sign that Shallan was in league with Kabsal the assassin, Jasnah still saved Shallan’s life.

Now let’s rehash what Shallan just revealed to Jasnah before she soulcasts. She admitted she stole from Jasnah. She admitted she lied about her suicide attempt. Finally she admitted she knows Jasnah’s secret. A cold, calculating, and emotionless person would be thinking of all the ways she could remove Shallan before word gets out, or be manipulated by her. Shallan however, obliges without being asked, and soulcasts resulting in her drowning in beads. All Jasnah would have had to do was stand by and Shallan would have died. She could have then arranged it to look like she committed suicide in front of Jasnah after being emotionally distraught from being discovered, and then Jasnah’s secret is safe. What does Jasnah do? She saves Shallan again. After returning her to her body, Jasnah angrily admonishes her as an idiot.  Why? Because soulcasting is incredibly dangerous (as Jasnah herself discovered in the flash back in Words of Radiance, which I get to later in this post) to begin with and on top of that Shallan used a dim sphere, increasing the danger. Which says to me that Jasnah was worried about Shallan’s well-being. She was worried Shallan could have gotten hurt. Shallan believes it is because she has Jasnah trapped due to the information she has, but as I explained, if that was the case Jasnah could have easily “removed” her on multiple occasions. Shallan then begs Jasnah to let her be a part of her research, and Jasnah lets her.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 979

Jasnah looked over her sheets of paper. “Do you know the real difference between me and a believer, Shallan?” Shallan shook her head. “It strikes me that religion—in its essence—seeks to take natural events and ascribe supernatural causes to them. I, however, seek to take supernatural events and find the natural meanings behind them. Perhaps that is the final dividing line between science and religion. Opposite sides of a card.” “So … you think …” “The Voidbringers had a natural, real-world correlate,” Jasnah said firmly. “I’m certain of it. Something caused the legends.” “What was it?” Jasnah handed Shallan a page of notes. “These are the best I’ve been able to find. Read them. Tell me what you think.” Shallan scanned the page. Some of the quotes—or at least the concepts—were familiar to her from what she’d read already. Suddenly dangerous. Like a calm day that became a tempest. “They were real,” Jasnah repeated. Beings of ash and fire. “We fought with them,” Jasnah said. “We fought so often that men began to speak of the creatures in metaphor. A hundred battles—ten tenfolds …” Flame and char. Skin so terrible. Eyes like pits of blackness. Music when they kill. “We defeated them …” Jasnah said. Shallan felt a chill. “… but the legends lie about one thing,” Jasnah continued. “They claim we chased the Voidbringers off the face of Roshar or destroyed them. But that’s not how humans work. We don’t throw away something we can use.” Shallan rose, walking to the edge of the balcony, looking out at the lift, which was slowly being lowered by its two porters. Parshmen. With skin of black and red. Ash and fire. “Stormfather …” Shallan whispered, horrified. “We didn’t destroy the Voidbringers,” Jasnah said from behind, her voice haunted. “We enslaved them.”

 

 

Still when speaking of religion, there is not a hint of personal vendetta, nor enmity. It is calm reflection. Religion takes natural phenomena and ascribes supernatural causes such as a deity. Science, and by extension Jasnah, seeks to take supernatural events and find a natural cause. It is through this that she was able to reason the connection between the voidbringers and the parshmen. This is the research she has been obsessing over due to fear of everyone she loves being killed. It is like discovering your house pet (cat, dog, bird, etc) can at a moments notice change into a monster bent on the death of you and everyone you love. On top of that, feeling utterly powerless to stop it. Later scenes I cover delve into this further.

 

Spoiler

 

Way of Kings page 990

“It’s true,” she said. “You’re right. The Voidbringers are the parshmen. I can see no other conclusion.” Jasnah smiled, looking oddly pleased with herself, considering that she’d only convinced one person. “So what next?” Shallan asked. “That has to do with your previous studies.” “My studies? You mean your father’s death?” “Indeed.” “The Parshendi attacked him,” Shallan said. “Killed him suddenly, without warning.” She focused on the other woman. “That’s what made you begin studying all of this, isn’t it?” Jasnah nodded. “Those wild parshmen—the Parshendi of the Shattered Plains—are the key.” She leaned forward. “Shallan. The disaster awaiting us is all too real, all too terrible. I don’t need mystical warnings or theological sermons to frighten me. I’m downright terrified in my own right.” “But we have the parshmen tamed.” “Do we? Shallan, think of what they do, how they’re regarded, how often they’re used.” Shallan hesitated. The parshmen were pervasive. “They serve our food,” Jasnah continued. “They work our storehouses. They tend our children. There isn’t a village in Roshar that doesn’t have some parshmen. We ignore them; we just expect them to be there, doing as they do. Working without complaint. “Yet one group turned suddenly from peaceful friends to ferocious warriors. Something set them off. Just as it did hundreds of years ago, during the days known as the Heraldic Epochs. There would be a period of peace, followed by an invasion of parshmen who—for reasons nobody understood—had suddenly gone mad with rage. This was what was behind mankind’s fight to keep from being ‘banished to Damnation.’ This was what nearly ended our civilization. These were the terrible, repeated cataclysms that were so frightening men began to speak of them as Desolations. “We’ve nurtured the parshmen. We’ve integrated them into every part of our society. We depend on them, never realizing that we’ve harnessed a highstorm waiting to explode. The accounts from the Shattered Plains speak of these Parshendi’s ability to communicate among themselves, allowing them to sing their songs in unison when far apart. Their minds are connected, like spanreeds. Do you realize what that means?” Shallan nodded. What would happen if every parshman on Roshar suddenly turned against his masters? Seeking freedom, or worse—vengeance? “We’d be devastated. Civilization as we know it could collapse. We have to do something!”

“We are,” Jasnah said. “We’re gathering facts, making certain we know what we think we know.” “And how many facts do we need?” “More. Many more.” Jasnah glanced at the books. “There are some things about the histories I don’t yet understand. Tales of creatures fighting alongside the parshmen, beasts of stone that might be some kind of greatshell, and other oddities that I think may have truth to them. But we’ve exhausted what Kharbranth can offer. Are you still certain you want to delve into this? It is a heavy burden we will bear. You won’t be returning to your estates for some time.” Shallan bit her lip, thinking of her brothers. “You’d let me go now, after what I know?” “I won’t have you serving me while thinking of ways to escape.” Jasnah sounded exhausted. “I can’t just abandon my brothers.” Shallan’s insides twisted again. “But this is bigger than them. Damnation—it’s bigger than me or you or any of us. I have to help, Jasnah. I can’t walk out on this. I’ll find some other way to help my family.” “Good. Then go pack our things. We’re leaving tomorrow on that ship I chartered for you.” “We’re going to Jah Keved?” “No. We need to get to the center of it all.” She looked at Shallan. “We’re going to the Shattered Plains. We need to find out if the Parshendi were ever ordinary parshmen, and if so, what set them off. Perhaps I am wrong about this, but if I am right, then the Parshendi could hold the key to turning ordinary parshmen into soldiers.” Then, grimly, she continued. “And we need to do it before someone else does, then uses it against us.” “Someone else?” Shallan asked, feeling a sharp stab of panic. “There are others looking for this?” “Of course there are. Who do you think went to so much trouble trying to have me assassinated?” She reached into a stack of papers on her desk. “I don’t know much about them. For all I know, there are many groups searching for these secrets. I know of one for certain, however. They call themselves the Ghostbloods.” She pulled out a sheet. “Your friend Kabsal was one. We found their symbol tattooed on the inside of his arm.” She set the sheet down. On it was a symbol of three diamonds in a pattern, overlapping one another. It was the same symbol that Nan Balat had shown her weeks ago. The symbol worn by Luesh, her father’s steward, the man who had known how to use the Soulcaster. The symbol worn by the men who had come, pressuring her family to return it. The men who had been financing Shallan’s father in his bid to become highprince. “Almighty above,” Shallan whispered. She looked up. “Jasnah, I think … I think my father might have been a member of this group.”

 

 

By Jasnah’s own words, she is terrified. She essentially found out all across Roshar are mini nukes just waiting to be activated to go off. The past desolations were literal apocalypse level events. Despite this, she does not call for their extinction. She calls for more information. They need to understand more. They need to learn more. Realizing the parshmen are the voidbringers are not enough. She wants to learn how and why they change to hopefully prevent it. She is also afraid that other groups will want this information to take control of the parshmen and use them against them. We later learn in Oathbringer the validity of this theory. The ghostbloods want to keep both sides balanced, so they can gain greater power. Jasnah is trying to stop it. Amaram is trying to cause it so the Heralds return and the church returns to its dominance. I think that speaks volumes for Jasnah. She is not using it for personal gain. She is trying to protect the ones she loves.

 

Spoiler

 

Words of Radiance page 17

Jasnah Kholin pretended to enjoy the party, giving no indication that she intended to have one of the guests killed. She wandered through the crowded feast hall, listening as wine greased tongues and dimmed minds. Her uncle Dalinar was in the full swing of it, rising from the high table to shout for the Parshendi to bring out their drummers. Jasnah’s brother, Elhokar, hurried to shush their uncle—though the Alethi politely ignored Dalinar’s outburst. All save Elhokar’s wife, Aesudan, who snickered primly behind a handkerchief. Jasnah turned away from the high table and continued through the room. She had an appointment with an assassin, and she was all too glad to be leaving the stuffy room, which stank of too many perfumes mingling. A quartet of women played flutes on a raised platform across from the lively hearth, but the music had long since grown tedious. Unlike Dalinar, Jasnah drew stares. Like flies to rotten meat those eyes were, constantly following her. Whispers like buzzing wings. If there was one thing the Alethi court enjoyed more than wine, it was gossip. Everyone expected Dalinar to lose himself to wine during a feast—but the king’s daughter, admitting to heresy? That was unprecedented. Jasnah had spoken of her feelings for precisely that reason. She passed the Parshendi delegation, which clustered near the high table, talking in their rhythmic language. Though this celebration honored them and the treaty they’d signed with Jasnah’s father, they didn’t look festive or even happy. They looked nervous. Of course, they weren’t human, and the way they reacted was sometimes odd. Jasnah wanted to speak with them, but her appointment would not wait. She’d intentionally scheduled the meeting for the middle of the feast, as so many would be distracted and drunken.

Jasnah headed toward the doors but then stopped in place. Her shadow was pointing in the wrong direction. The stuffy, shuffling, chattering room seemed to grow distant. Highprince Sadeas walked right through the shadow, which quite distinctly pointed toward the sphere lamp on the wall nearby. Engaged in conversation with his companion, Sadeas didn’t notice. Jasnah stared at that shadow—skin growing clammy, stomach clenched, the way she felt when she was about to vomit. Not again. She searched for another light source. A reason. Could she find a reason? No. The shadow languidly melted back toward her, oozing to her feet and then stretching out the other way. Her tension eased. But had anyone else seen? Blessedly, as she searched the room, she didn’t find any aghast stares. People’s attention had been drawn by the Parshendi drummers, who were clattering through the doorway to set up. Jasnah frowned as she noticed a non-Parshendi servant in loose white clothing helping them. A Shin man? That was unusual. Jasnah composed herself. What did these episodes of hers mean? Superstitious folktales she’d read said that misbehaving shadows meant you were cursed. She usually dismissed such things as nonsense, but some superstitions were rooted in fact. Her other experiences proved that. She would need to investigate further. The calm, scholarly thoughts felt like a lie compared to the truth of her cold, clammy skin and the sweat trickling down the back of her neck. But it was important to be rational at all times, not just when calm. She forced herself out through the doors, leaving the muggy room for the quiet hallway. She’d chosen the back exit, commonly used by servants. It was the most direct route, after all. Here, master-servants dressed in black and white moved on errands from their brightlords or ladies. She had expected that, but had not anticipated the sight of her father standing just ahead, in quiet conference with Brightlord Meridas Amaram. What was the king doing out here? Gavilar Kholin was shorter than Amaram, yet the latter stooped shallowly in the king’s company. That was common around Gavilar, who would speak with such quiet intensity that you wanted to lean in and listen, to catch every word and implication.

He was a handsome man, unlike his brother, with a beard that outlined his strong jaw rather than covering it. He had a personal magnetism and intensity that Jasnah felt no biographer had yet managed to convey. Tearim, captain of the King’s Guard, loomed behind them. He wore Gavilar’s Shardplate; the king himself had stopped wearing it of late, preferring to entrust it to Tearim, who was known as one of the world’s great duelists. Instead, Gavilar wore robes of a majestic, classical style. Jasnah glanced back at the feast hall. When had her father slipped out? Sloppy, she accused herself. You should have checked to see if he was still there before leaving. Ahead, he rested his hand on Amaram’s shoulder and raised a finger, speaking harshly but quietly, the words indistinct to Jasnah. “Father?” she asked. He glanced at her. “Ah, Jasnah. Retiring so early?” “It’s hardly early,” Jasnah said, gliding forward. It seemed obvious to her that Gavilar and Amaram had ducked out to find privacy for their discussion. “This is the tiresome part of the feast, where the conversation grows louder but no smarter, and the company drunken.” “Many people consider that sort of thing enjoyable.” “Many people, unfortunately, are idiots.” Her father smiled. “Is it terribly difficult for you?” he asked softly. “Living with the rest of us, suffering our average wits and simple thoughts? Is it lonely to be so singular in your brilliance, Jasnah?” She took it as the rebuke it was, and found herself blushing. Even her mother, Navani, could not do that to her. “Perhaps if you found pleasant associations,” Gavilar said, “you would enjoy the feasts.” His eyes swung toward Amaram, whom he’d long fancied as a potential match for her. It would never happen. Amaram met her eyes, then murmured words of parting to her father and hastened away down the corridor. “What errand did you give him?” Jasnah asked. “What are you about this night, Father?” “The treaty, of course.” The treaty. Why did he care so much about it? Others had counseled that he either ignore the Parshendi or conquer them. Gavilar insisted upon an accommodation. “I should return to the celebration,” Gavilar said, motioning to Tearim. The two moved along the hallway toward the doors Jasnah had left. “Father?” Jasnah said. “What is it you aren’t telling me?” He glanced back at her, lingering.

Pale green eyes, evidence of his good birth. When had he become so discerning? Storms . . . she felt as if she hardly knew this man any longer. Such a striking transformation in such a short time. From the way he inspected her, it almost seemed that he didn’t trust her. Did he know about her meeting with Liss? He turned away without saying more and pushed back into the party, his guard following. What is going on in this palace? Jasnah thought. She took a deep breath. She would have to prod further. Hopefully he hadn’t discovered her meetings with assassins—but if he had, she would work with that knowledge. Surely he would see that someone needed to keep watch on the family as he grew increasingly consumed by his fascination with the Parshendi. Jasnah turned and continued on her way, passing a master-servant, who bowed. After walking a short time in the corridors, Jasnah noticed her shadow behaving oddly again. She sighed in annoyance as it pulled toward the three Stormlight lamps on the walls. Fortunately, she’d passed from the populated area, and no servants were here to see. “All right,” she snapped. “That’s enough.” She hadn’t meant to speak aloud. However, as the words slipped out, several distant shadows—originating in an intersection up ahead—stirred to life. Her breath caught. Those shadows lengthened, deepened. Figures formed from them, growing, standing, rising. Stormfather. I’m going insane. One took the shape of a man of midnight blackness, though he had a certain reflective cast, as if he were made of oil. No . . . of some other liquid with a coating of oil floating on the outside, giving him a dark, prismatic quality. He strode toward her and unsheathed a sword. Logic, cold and resolute, guided Jasnah. Shouting would not bring help quickly enough, and the inky litheness of this creature bespoke a speed certain to exceed her own. She stood her ground and met the thing’s glare, causing it to hesitate. Behind it, a small clutch of other creatures had materialized from the darkness. She had sensed those eyes upon her during the previous months. By now, the entire hallway had darkened, as if it had been submerged and was slowly sinking into lightless depths.

Heart racing, breath quickening, Jasnah raised her hand to the granite wall beside her, seeking to touch something solid. Her fingers sank into the stone a fraction, as if the wall had become mud. Oh, storms. She had to do something. What? What could she possibly do? The figure before her glanced at the wall. The wall lamp nearest Jasnah went dark. And then . . . Then the palace disintegrated. The entire building shattered into thousands upon thousands of small glass spheres, like beads. Jasnah screamed as she fell backward through a dark sky. She was no longer in the palace; she was somewhere else—another land, another time, another . . . something. She was left with the sight of the dark, lustrous figure hovering in the air above, seeming satisfied as he resheathed his sword. Jasnah crashed into something—an ocean of the glass beads. Countless others rained around her, clicking like hailstones into the strange sea. She had never seen this place; she could not explain what had happened or what it meant. She thrashed as she sank into what seemed an impossibility. Beads of glass on all sides. She couldn’t see anything beyond them, only felt herself descending through this churning, suffocating, clattering mass. She was going to die. Leaving work unfinished, leaving her family unprotected! She would never know the answers. No. Jasnah flailed in the darkness, beads rolling across her skin, getting into her clothing, working their way into her nose as she tried to swim. It was no use. She had no buoyancy in this mess. She raised a hand before her mouth and tried to make a pocket of air to use for breathing, and managed to gasp in a small breath. But the beads rolled around her hand, forcing between her fingers. She sank, more slowly now, as through a viscous liquid. Each bead that touched her gave a faint impression of something. A door. A table. A shoe. The beads found their way into her mouth. They seemed to move on their own. They would choke her, destroy her. No . . . no, it was just because they seemed attracted to her. An impression came to her, not as a distinct thought but a feeling. They wanted something from her. She snatched a bead in her hand; it gave her an impression of a cup. She gave . . . something . . . to it? The other beads near her pulled together, connecting, sticking like rocks sealed by mortar.

In a moment she was falling not among individual beads, but through large masses of them stuck together into the shape of . . . A cup. Each bead was a pattern, a guide for the others. She released the one she held, and the beads around her broke apart. She floundered, searching desperately as her air ran out. She needed something she could use, something that would help, some way to survive! Desperate, she swept her arms wide to touch as many beads as she could. A silver platter. A coat. A statue. A lantern. And then, something ancient. Something ponderous and slow of thought, yet somehow strong. The palace itself. Frantic, Jasnah seized this sphere and forced her power into it. Her mind blurring, she gave this bead everything she had, and then commanded it to rise. Beads shifted. A great crashing sounded as beads met one another, clicking, cracking, rattling. It was almost like the sound of a wave breaking on rocks. Jasnah surged up from the depths, something solid moving beneath her, obeying her command. Beads battered her head, shoulders, arms, until finally she exploded from the surface of the sea of glass, hurling a spray of beads into a dark sky. She knelt on a platform of glass made up of small beads locked together. She held her hand to the side, uplifted, clutching the sphere that was the guide. Others rolled around her, forming into the shape of a hallway with lanterns on the walls, an intersection ahead. It didn’t look right, of course—the entire thing was made of beads. But it was a fair approximation. She wasn’t strong enough to form the entire palace. She created only this hallway, without even a roof—but the floor supported her, kept her from sinking. She opened her mouth with a groan, beads falling out to clack against the floor. Then she coughed, drawing in sweet breaths, sweat trickling down the sides of her face and collecting on her chin. Ahead of her, the dark figure stepped up onto the platform. He again slid his sword from his sheath. Jasnah held up a second bead, the statue she’d sensed earlier. She gave it power, and other beads collected before her, taking the shape of one of the statues that lined the front of the feast hall—the statue of Talenelat’Elin, Herald of War. A tall, muscular man with a large Shardblade. It was not alive, but she made it move, lowering its sword of beads. She doubted it could fight. Round beads could not form a sharp sword. Yet the threat made the dark figure hesitate.

Gritting her teeth, Jasnah heaved herself to her feet, beads streaming from her clothing. She would not kneel before this thing, whatever it was. She stepped up beside the bead statue, noting for the first time the strange clouds overhead. They seemed to form a narrow ribbon of highway, straight and long, pointing toward the horizon. She met the oil figure’s gaze. It regarded her for a moment, then raised two fingers to its forehead and bowed, as if in respect, a cloak flourishing out behind. Others had gathered beyond it, and they turned to each other, exchanging hushed whispers. The place of beads faded, and Jasnah found herself back in the hallway of the palace. The real one, with real stone, though it had gone dark—the Stormlight dead in the lamps on the walls. The only illumination came from far down the corridor. She pressed back against the wall, breathing deeply. I, she thought, need to write this experience down. She would do so, then analyze and consider. Later. Now, she wanted to be away from this place. She hurried away, with no concern for her direction, trying to escape those eyes she still felt watching. It didn’t work. Eventually, she composed herself and wiped the sweat from her face with a kerchief. Shadesmar, she thought. That is what it is called in the nursery tales. Shadesmar, the mythological kingdom of the spren. Mythology she’d never believed. Surely she could find something if she searched the histories well enough. Nearly everything that happened had happened before. The grand lesson of history, and . . . Storms! Her appointment. Cursing to herself, she hurried on her way. That experience continued to distract her, but she needed to make her meeting. So she continued down two floors, getting farther from the sounds of the thrumming Parshendi drums until she could hear only the sharpest cracks of their beats. That music’s complexity had always surprised her, suggesting that the Parshendi were not the uncultured savages many took them for. This far away, the music sounded disturbingly like the beads from the dark place, rattling against one another. She’d intentionally chosen this out-of-the-way section of the palace for her meeting with Liss. Nobody ever visited this set of guest rooms. A man that Jasnah didn’t know lounged here, outside the proper door. That relieved her. The man would be Liss’s new servant, and his presence meant Liss hadn’t left, despite Jasnah’s tardiness.

Composing herself, she nodded to the guard—a Veden brute with red speckling his beard—and pushed into the room. Liss stood from the table inside the small chamber. She wore a maid’s dress—low cut, of course—and could have been Alethi. Or Veden. Or Bav. Depending on which part of her accent she chose to emphasize. Long dark hair, worn loose, and a plump, attractive figure made her distinctive in all the right ways. “You’re late, Brightness,” Liss said. Jasnah gave no reply. She was the employer here, and was not required to give excuses. Instead, she laid something on the table beside Liss. A small envelope, sealed with weevilwax. Jasnah set two fingers on it, considering. No. This was too brash. She didn’t know if her father realized what she was doing, but even if he hadn’t, too much was happening in this palace. She did not want to commit to an assassination until she was more certain. Fortunately, she had prepared a backup plan. She slid a second envelope from the safepouch inside her sleeve and set it on the table in place of the first. She removed her fingers from it, rounding the table and sitting down. Liss sat back down and made the letter vanish into the bust of her dress. “An odd night, Brightness,” the woman said, “to be engaging in treason.” “I am hiring you to watch only.” “Pardon, Brightness. But one does not commonly hire an assassin to watch. Only.” “You have instructions in the envelope,” Jasnah said. “Along with initial payment. I chose you because you are expert at extended observations. It is what I want. For now.” Liss smiled, but nodded. “Spying on the wife of the heir to the throne? It will be more expensive this way. You sure you don’t simply want her dead?” Jasnah drummed her fingers on the table, then realized she was doing it to the beat of the drums above. The music was so unexpectedly complex—precisely like the Parshendi themselves. Too much is happening, she thought. I need to be very careful. Very subtle. “I accept the cost,” Jasnah replied. “In one week’s time, I will arrange for one of my sister-in-law’s maids to be released. You will apply for the position, using faked credentials I assume you are capable of producing. You will be hired. “From there, you watch and report. I will tell you if your other services are needed. You move only if I say. Understood?” “You’re the one payin’,” Liss said, a faint Bav dialect showing through. If it showed, it was only because she wished it.

Liss was the most skilled assassin Jasnah knew. People called her the Weeper, as she gouged out the eyes of the targets she killed. Although she hadn’t coined the cognomen, it served her purpose well, since she had secrets to hide. For one thing, nobody knew that the Weeper was a woman. It was said the Weeper gouged the eyes out to proclaim indifference to whether her victims were lighteyed or dark. The truth was that the action hid a second secret—Liss didn’t want anyone to know that the way she killed left corpses with burned-out sockets. “Our meeting is done, then,” Liss said, standing. Jasnah nodded absently, mind again on her bizarre interaction with the spren earlier. That glistening skin, colors dancing across a surface the color of tar . . . She forced her mind away from that moment. She needed to devote her attention to the task at hand. For now, that was Liss. Liss hesitated at the door before leaving. “Do you know why I like you, Brightness?” “I suspect that it has something to do with my pockets and their proverbial depth.” Liss smiled. “There’s that, ain’t going to deny it, but you’re also different from other lighteyes. When others hire me, they turn up their noses at the entire process. They’re all too eager to use my services, but sneer and wring their hands, as if they hate being forced to do something utterly distasteful.” “Assassination is distasteful, Liss. So is cleaning out chamber pots. I can respect the one employed for such jobs without admiring the job itself.” Liss grinned, then cracked the door. “That new servant of yours outside,” Jasnah said. “Didn’t you say you wanted to show him off for me?” “Talak?” Liss said, glancing at the Veden man. “Oh, you mean that other one. No, Brightness, I sold that one to a slaver a few weeks ago.” Liss grimaced. “Really? I thought you said he was the best servant you’d ever had.” “Too good a servant,” Liss said. “Let’s leave it at that. Storming creepy, that Shin fellow was.” Liss shivered visibly, then slipped out the door. “Remember our first agreement,” Jasnah said after her. “Always there in the back o’ my mind, Brightness.”

Liss closed the door. Jasnah settled in her seat, lacing her fingers in front of her. Their “first agreement” was that if anyone should come to Liss and offer a contract on a member of Jasnah’s family, Liss would let Jasnah match the offer in exchange for the name of the one who made it. Liss would do it. Probably. So would the dozen other assassins Jasnah dealt with. A repeat customer was always more valuable than a one-off contract, and it was in the best interests of a woman like Liss to have a friend in the government. Jasnah’s family was safe from the likes of these. Unless she herself employed the assassins, of course. Jasnah let out a deep sigh, then rose, trying to shrug off the weight she felt bearing her down. Wait. Did Liss say her old servant was Shin? It was probably a coincidence. Shin people weren’t plentiful in the East, but you did see them on occasion. Still, Liss mentioning a Shin man and Jasnah seeing one among the Parshendi . . . well, there was no harm in checking, even if it meant returning to the feast. Something was off about this night, and not just because of her shadow and the spren. Jasnah left the small chamber in the bowels of the palace and strode out into the hallway. She turned her steps upward. Above, the drums cut off abruptly, like an instrument’s strings suddenly cut. Was the party ending so early? Dalinar hadn’t done something to offend the celebrants, had he? That man and his wine . . . Well, the Parshendi had ignored his offenses in the past, so they probably would again. In truth, Jasnah was happy for her father’s sudden focus on a treaty. It meant she would have a chance to study Parshendi traditions and histories at her leisure. Could it be, she wondered, that scholars have been searching in the wrong ruins all these years? Words echoed in the hallway, coming from up ahead. “I’m worried about Ash.” “You’re worried about everything.” Jasnah hesitated in the hallway. “She’s getting worse,” the voice continued. “We weren’t supposed to get worse. Am I getting worse? I think I feel worse.” “Shut up.” “I don’t like this. What we’ve done was wrong. That creature carries my lord’s own Blade. We shouldn’t have let him keep it. He—” The two passed through the intersection ahead of Jasnah. They were ambassadors from the West, including the Azish man with the white birthmark on his cheek. Or was it a scar? The shorter of the two men—he could have been Alethi—cut off when he noticed Jasnah. He let out a squeak, then hurried on his way. The Azish man, the one dressed in black and silver, stopped and looked her up and down. He frowned. “Is the feast over already?” Jasnah asked down the hallway.

Her brother had invited these two to the celebration along with every other ranking foreign dignitary in Kholinar. “Yes,” the man said. His stare made her uncomfortable. She walked forward anyway. I should check further into these two, she thought. She’d investigated their backgrounds, of course, and found nothing of note. Had they been talking about a Shardblade? “Come on!” the shorter man said, returning and taking the taller man by the arm. He allowed himself to be pulled away. Jasnah walked to where the corridors crossed, then watched them go. Where once drums had sounded, screams suddenly rose. Oh no . . . Jasnah turned with alarm, then grabbed her skirt and ran as hard as she could. A dozen different potential disasters raced through her mind. What else could happen on this broken night, when shadows stood up and her father looked upon her with suspicion? Nerves stretched thin, she reached the steps and started climbing. It took her far too long. She could hear the screams as she climbed and finally emerged into chaos. Dead bodies in one direction, a demolished wall in the other. How . . . The destruction led toward her father’s rooms. The entire palace shook, and a crunch echoed from that direction. No, no, no! She passed Shardblade cuts on the stone walls as she ran. Please. Corpses with burned eyes. Bodies littered the floor like discarded bones at the dinner table. Not this. A broken doorway. Her father’s quarters. Jasnah stopped in the hallway, gasping. Control yourself, control . . . She couldn’t. Not now. Frantic, she ran into the quarters, though a Shardbearer would kill her with ease. She wasn’t thinking straight. She should get someone who could help. Dalinar? He’d be drunk. Sadeas, then. The room looked like it had been hit by a highstorm. Furniture in a shambles, splinters everywhere. The balcony doors were broken outward. Someone lurched toward them, a man in her father’s Shardplate. Tearim, the bodyguard? No. The helm was broken. It was not Tearim, but Gavilar. Someone on the balcony screamed. “Father!” Jasnah shouted. Gavilar hesitated as he stepped out onto the balcony, looking back at her. The balcony broke beneath him. Jasnah screamed, dashing through the room to the broken balcony, falling to her knees at the edge. Wind tugged locks of hair loose from her bun as she watched two men fall. Her father, and the Shin man in white from the feast. The Shin man glowed with a white light. He fell onto the wall. He hit it, rolling, then came to a stop. He stood up, somehow remaining on the outer palace wall and not falling. It defied reason. He turned, then stalked toward her father. Jasnah watched, growing cold, helpless as the assassin stepped down to her father and knelt over him. Tears fell from her chin, and the wind caught them. What was he doing down there? She couldn’t make it out. When the assassin walked away, he left behind her father’s corpse. Impaled on a length of wood. He was dead—indeed, his Shardblade had appeared beside him, as they all did when their Bearers died.

“I worked so hard . . .” Jasnah whispered, numb. “Everything I did to protect this family . . .” How? Liss. Liss had done this! No. Jasnah wasn’t thinking straight. That Shin man . . . she wouldn’t have admitted to owning him in such a case. She’d sold him. “We are sorry for your loss.” Jasnah spun, blinking bleary eyes. Three Parshendi, including Klade, stood in the doorway in their distinctive clothing. Neatly stitched cloth wraps for both men and women, sashes at the waist, loose shirts with no sleeves. Hanging vests, open at the sides, woven in bright colors. They didn’t segregate clothing by gender. She thought they did by caste, however, and— Stop it, she thought at herself. Stop thinking like a scholar for one storming day! “We take responsibility for his death,” said the foremost Parshendi. Gangnah was female, though with the Parshendi, the gender differences seemed minimal. The clothing hid breasts and hips, neither of which were ever very pronounced. Fortunately, the lack of a beard was a clear indication. All the Parshendi men she’d ever seen had beards, which they wore tied with bits of gemstone, and— STOP IT. “What did you say?” Jasnah demanded, forcing herself to her feet. “Why would it be your fault, Gangnah?” “Because we hired the assassin,” the Parshendi woman said in her heavily accented singsong voice. “We killed your father, Jasnah Kholin.” “You . . .” Emotion suddenly ran cold, like a river freezing in the heights. Jasnah looked from Gangnah to Klade, to Varnali. Elders, all three of them. Members of the Parshendi ruling council. “Why?” Jasnah whispered. “Because it had to be done,” Gangnah said. “Why?” Jasnah demanded, stalking forward. “He fought for you! He kept the predators at bay! My father wanted peace, you monsters! Why would you betray us now, of all times?” Gangnah drew her lips to a line. The song of her voice changed. She seemed almost like a mother, explaining something very difficult to a small child. “Because your father was about to do something very dangerous.” “Send for Brightlord Dalinar!” a voice outside in the hall shouted. “Storms! Did my orders get to Elhokar? The crown prince must be taken to safety!” Highprince Sadeas stumbled into the room along with a team of soldiers. His bulbous, ruddy face was wet with sweat, and he wore Gavilar’s clothing, the regal robes of office. “What are the savages doing here? Storms! Protect Princess Jasnah. The one who did this—he was in their retinue!”

The soldiers moved to surround the Parshendi. Jasnah ignored them, turning and stepping back to the broken doorway, hand on the wall, looking down at her father splayed on the rocks below, Blade beside him. “There will be war,” she whispered. “And I will not stand in its way.” “This is understood,” Gangnah said from behind. “The assassin,” Jasnah said. “He walked on the wall.” Gangnah said nothing. In the shattering of her world, Jasnah caught hold of this fragment. She had seen something tonight. Something that should not have been possible. Did it relate to the strange spren? Her experience in that place of glass beads and a dark sky? These questions became her lifeline for stability. Sadeas demanded answers from the Parshendi leaders. He received none. When he stepped up beside her and saw the wreckage below, he went barreling off, shouting for his guards and running down below to reach the fallen king. Hours later, it was discovered that the assassination—and the surrender of three of the Parshendi leaders—had covered the flight of the larger portion of their number. They escaped the city quickly, and the cavalry Dalinar sent after them were destroyed. A hundred horses, each nearly priceless, lost along with their riders. The Parshendi leaders said nothing more and gave no clues, even when they were strung up, hanged for their crimes. Jasnah ignored all that. Instead, she interrogated the surviving guards on what they had seen. She followed leads about the now-famous assassin’s nature, prying information from Liss. She got almost nothing. Liss had owned him only a short time, and claimed she hadn’t known about his strange powers. Jasnah couldn’t find the previous owner. Next came the books. A dedicated, frenzied effort to distract her from what she had lost. That night, Jasnah had seen the impossible. She would learn what it meant.

 

 

Here we get the first taste of the reaction Jasnah’s “heresy” incited. Stares and gossip over such an unprecedented occurrence. Dalinar getting drunk and creating a scene is considered normal and understandable by proxy. Jasnah knew the reaction she was going to get, but she did it anyway. I think we get a taste, a hint of the thirst for knowledge and the implaccable determination that drives Jasnah forward. She is very much alone and will be isolated for this from the nobility and in some ways from her family (namely her father). Despite that, Jasnah stands firm in her convictions. I like the juxtaposition of this scene, because just when we see Jasnah’s inner strength, we also see how vulnerable she can be. Her own shadow is betraying her. She instantly feels a spike of anxiety and nausea. Ultimately she is able to gather herself, but we see in a bit this is only the beginning. She runs into her father, and I think he is being unfair to her. His daughter prefers to avoid drunken loud parties, and he admonishes her for it. A man that we have confirmation from WoB tends to use people (including his own brother) more as tools than as people. Then, showing his lack of understanding for his daughter, urges her once more towards Amaram. What I also find interesting is Jasnah realizes her father looks at her with mistrust while back in Way of Kings we see Dalinar greatly trusts and depends on her enough to ask her on numerous occasions to come to the Shattered Plains for her support.  Then we come to the part that begins to show us what logic and rational thought are to Jasnah. They are her armor and shield. They protect her, but that does not mean behind that armor that a heart of emotion does not beat. We have seen numerous examples so far of how emotional and human Jasnah is, and I still have many more to cover (in fact far more than even I recalled).

When Jasnah is confronted by the inkspren and falls into Shadesmar she felt fear, and uncertainty. She drew upon logic to guide her and help her through it. She drew upon the love of her family and her desire to protect them. She faced her fears, and survived a near death experience. It is this experience that causes her to be so hard on Shallan regarding soulcasting. She realizes she could have died, and worries the same might happen to Shallan. She is not keeping information from Shallan, she is trying to protect her and keep her safe. Jasnah meets with the assassin and she instructs her to watch only. Jasnah feels she needs more information. She finds assassination distasteful, and will seek other avenues if possible, but will use it if necessary. This proves just because she considers a possibility, does not mean she will follow through on it because Aesudan doesn’t get assassinated. Given what we find out in Oathbringer, perhaps she should have been, but we do know the reason she wasn’t was because Jasnah stayed her hand. We also know as per WoB, that the reason she considered assassinating Aesudan to begin with was to protect her family whom she loves. Her standing orders with all assassins is if they are offered a job to kill her family, she will meet and exceed what they are being paid to give Jasnah information on who hired them. Again, protecting. Jasnah muses about how she looked into and vetted just about everyone at the party, again focusing on protecting the people she loves. Then Jasnah hears the drums stop, and screaming. What is the first thing she thinks/does? She thinks of her family and runs towards the screaming. She thinks to herself about her father looking at her with suspicion in the same sentence as her thinking about the shadows coming to life. The shadows coming to life was a scary moment for her. She became nauseous with anxiety. She couples her father’s distrust with that experience. To me that says she loves her father, and was hurt by his distrust.

“Control yourself, control…. She couldn’t. Now now. Frantic, she ran into the quarters, though a Shardbearer would kill her with ease. She wasn’t thinking straight”. That clearly shows an emotional, caring, fearful, loving Jasnah. She knowingly is putting herself in danger. A danger that would spell her doom, all to be there for her father.  She then gets to experience a front row seat of the death of her father. His final moments. She has to watch him fall to his death. She screams and runs to the edge. She cries for the loss of her father. For her family she tried so hard to protect. This extends to the great weight she puts on her shoulders to stop the desolation. She is now trying to protect the world. The parshendi leaders then claim credit for the death of her father, that she just had to watch, and now speak to her calmly practically over his corpse. Angry and confused Jasnah demands answers. Sadeas then comes into the room and takes over. Jasnah then states “There will be war, and I will not stand in its way”. She did not swear vengeance, nor declare war on the parshendi people like Elhokar did. She did not call for their extermination and hunting down of every single last one of them as Elhokar and Sadeas did. Jasnah realized this act would lead to war, and hurt and betrayed, she states she will not try to stop it. That says to me normally she would. That she would make efforts to stop wars. Otherwise why even say that? This is supported considering all her subsequent efforts of research are to prevent the greatest and worst war her planet has ever known. The Desolations.

 

Spoiler

 

Words of Radiance page 38

Jasnah ignored the eyes of the sailors. It wasn’t that she didn’t notice men. Jasnah noticed everything and everyone. She simply didn’t seem to care, one way or another, how men perceived her. No, that’s not true, Shallan thought as Jasnah walked over. She wouldn’t take the time to do her hair, or put on makeup, if she didn’t care how she was perceived. In that, Jasnah was an enigma. On one hand, she seemed to be a scholar concerned only with her research. On the other hand, she cultivated the poise and dignity of a king’s daughter—and, at times, used it like a bludgeon. “And here you are,” Jasnah said, walking to Shallan. A spray of water from the side of the ship chose that moment to fly up and sprinkle her. She frowned at the drops of water beading on her silk clothing, then looked back to Shallan and raised her eyebrow. “The ship, you may have noticed, has two very fine cabins that I hired out for us at no small expense.” “Yes, but they’re inside.” “As rooms usually are.” “I’ve spent most of my life inside.” “So you will spend much more of it, if you wish to be a scholar.” Shallan bit her lip, waiting for the order to go below. Curiously, it did not come. Jasnah gestured for Captain Tozbek to approach, and he did so, groveling his way over with cap in hand. “Yes, Brightness?” he asked. “I should like another of these . . . seats,” Jasnah said, regarding Shallan’s box. Tozbek quickly had one of his men lash a second box in place. As she waited for the seat to be ready, Jasnah waved for Shallan to hand over her sketches. Jasnah inspected the drawing of the santhid, then looked over the side of the ship. “No wonder the sailors were making such a fuss.” “Luck, Brightness!” one of the sailors said. “It is a good omen for your trip, don’t you think?” “I shall take any fortune provided me, Nanhel Eltorv,” she said. “Thank you for the seat.” The sailor bowed awkwardly before retreating.

“You think they’re superstitious fools,” Shallan said softly, watching the sailor leave. “From what I have observed,” Jasnah said, “these sailors are men who have found a purpose in life and now take simple pleasure in it.” Jasnah looked at the next drawing. “Many people make far less out of life. Captain Tozbek runs a good crew. You were wise in bringing him to my attention.” Shallan smiled. “You didn’t answer my question.” “You didn’t ask a question,” Jasnah said. “These sketches are characteristically skillful, Shallan, but weren’t you supposed to be reading?” “I . . . had trouble concentrating.” “So you came up on deck,” Jasnah said, “to sketch pictures of young men working without their shirts on. You expected this to help your concentration?” Shallan blushed, as Jasnah stopped at one sheet of paper in the stack. Shallan sat patiently—she’d been well trained in that by her father—until Jasnah turned it toward her. The picture of Shadesmar, of course. “You have respected my command not to peer into this realm again?” Jasnah asked. “Yes, Brightness. That picture was drawn from a memory of my first . . . lapse.” Jasnah lowered the page. Shallan thought she saw a hint of something in the woman’s expression. Was Jasnah wondering if she could trust Shallan’s word? “I assume this is what is bothering you?” Jasnah asked. “Yes, Brightness.” “I suppose I should explain it to you, then.” “Really? You would do this?” “You needn’t sound so surprised.” “It seems like powerful information,” Shallan said. “The way you forbade me . . . I assumed that knowledge of this place was secret, or at least not to be trusted to one of my age.” Jasnah sniffed. “I’ve found that refusing to explain secrets to young people makes them more prone to get themselves into trouble, not less. Your experimentation proves that you’ve already stumbled face-first into all of this—as I once did myself, I’ll have you know. I know through painful experience how dangerous Shadesmar can be. If I leave you in ignorance, I’ll be to blame if you get yourself killed there.” “So you’d have explained about it if I’d asked earlier in our trip?” “Probably not,” Jasnah admitted. “I had to see how willing you were to obey me. This time.”

Shallan wilted, and suppressed the urge to point out that back when she’d been a studious and obedient ward, Jasnah hadn’t divulged nearly as many secrets as she did now. “So what is it? That . . . place.” “It’s not truly a location,” Jasnah said. “Not as we usually think of them. Shadesmar is here, all around us, right now. All things exist there in some form, as all things exist here.” Shallan frowned. “I don’t—” Jasnah held up a finger to quiet her. “All things have three components: the soul, the body, and the mind. That place you saw, Shadesmar, is what we call the Cognitive Realm—the place of the mind. “All around us you see the physical world. You can touch it, see it, hear it. This is how your physical body experiences the world. Well, Shadesmar is the way that your cognitive self—your unconscious self—experiences the world. Through your hidden senses touching that realm, you make intuitive leaps in logic and you form hopes. It is likely through those extra senses that you, Shallan, create art.” Water splashed on the bow of the ship as it crossed a swell. Shallan wiped a drop of salty water from her cheek, trying to think through what Jasnah had just said. “That made almost no sense whatsoever to me, Brightness.” “I should hope that it didn’t,” Jasnah said. “I’ve spent six years researching Shadesmar, and I still barely know what to make of it. I shall have to accompany you there several times before you can understand, even a little, the true significance of the place.” Jasnah grimaced at the thought. Shallan was always surprised to see visible emotion from her. Emotion was something relatable, something human—and Shallan’s mental image of Jasnah Kholin was of someone almost divine. It was, upon reflection, an odd way to regard a determined atheist.

“Listen to me,” Jasnah said. “My own words betray my ignorance. I told you that Shadesmar wasn’t a place, and yet I call it one in my next breath. I speak of visiting it, though it is all around us. We simply don’t have the proper terminology to discuss it. Let me try another tactic.” Jasnah stood up, and Shallan hastened to follow. They walked along the ship’s rail, feeling the deck sway beneath their feet. Sailors made way for Jasnah with quick bows. They regarded her with as much reverence as they would a king. How did she do it? How could she control her surroundings without seeming to do anything at all? “Look down into the waters,” Jasnah said as they reached the bow. “What do you see?” Shallan stopped beside the rail and stared down at the blue waters, foaming as they were broken by the ship’s prow. Here at the bow, she could see a deepness to the swells. An unfathomable expanse that extended not just outward, but downward. “I see eternity,” Shallan said. “Spoken like an artist,” Jasnah said. “This ship sails across depths we cannot know. Beneath these waves is a bustling, frantic, unseen world.” Jasnah leaned forward, gripping the rail with one hand unclothed and the other veiled within the safehand sleeve. She looked outward. Not at the depths, and not at the land distantly peeking over both the northern and southern horizons. She looked toward the east. Toward the storms. “There is an entire world, Shallan,” Jasnah said, “of which our minds skim but the surface. A world of deep, profound thought. A world created by deep, profound thoughts. When you see Shadesmar, you enter those depths. It is an alien place to us in some ways, but at the same time we formed it. With some help.” “We did what?” “What are spren?” Jasnah asked. The question caught Shallan off guard, but by now she was accustomed to challenging questions from Jasnah. She took time to think and consider her answer. “Nobody knows what spren are,” Shallan said, “though many philosophers have different opinions on—” “No,” Jasnah said. “What are they?” “I . . .” Shallan looked up at a pair of windspren spinning through the air above. They looked like tiny ribbons of light, glowing softly, dancing around one another. “They’re living ideas.” Jasnah spun on her. “What?” Shallan said, jumping. “Am I wrong?” “No,” Jasnah said. “You’re right.” The woman narrowed her eyes. “By my best guess, spren are elements of the Cognitive Realm that have leaked into the physical world. They’re concepts that have gained a fragment of sentience, perhaps because of human intervention. “Think of a man who gets angry often. Think of how his friends and family might start referring to that anger as a beast, as a thing that possesses him, as something external to him. Humans personify. We speak of the wind as if it has a will of its own. “Spren are those ideas—the ideas of collective human experience—somehow come alive. Shadesmar is where that first happens, and it is their place. Though we created it, they shaped it. They live there; they rule there, within their own cities.” “Cities?” “Yes,”

Jasnah said, looking back out over the ocean. She seemed troubled. “Spren are wild in their variety. Some are as clever as humans and create cities. Others are like fish and simply swim in the currents.” Shallan nodded. Though in truth she was having trouble grasping any of this, she didn’t want Jasnah to stop talking. This was the sort of knowledge that Shallan needed, the kind of thing she craved. “Does this have to do with what you discovered? About the parshmen, the Voidbringers?” “I haven’t been able to determine that yet. The spren are not always forthcoming. In some cases, they do not know. In others, they do not trust me because of our ancient betrayal.” Shallan frowned, looking to her teacher. “Betrayal?” “They tell me of it,” Jasnah said, “but they won’t say what it was. We broke an oath, and in so doing offended them greatly. I think some of them may have died, though how a concept can die, I do not know.” Jasnah turned to Shallan with a solemn expression. “I realize this is overwhelming. You will have to learn this, all of it, if you are to help me. Are you still willing?” “Do I have a choice?” A smile tugged at the edges of Jasnah’s lips. “I doubt it. You Soulcast on your own, without the aid of a fabrial. You are like me.” Shallan stared out over the waters. Like Jasnah. What did it mean? Why— She froze, blinking. For a moment, she thought she’d seen the same pattern as before, the one that had made ridges on her sheet of paper. This time it had been in the water, impossibly formed on the surface of a wave. “Brightness . . .” she said, resting her fingers on Jasnah’s arm. “I thought I saw something in the water, just now. A pattern of sharp lines, like a maze.” “Show me where.” “It was on one of the waves, and we’ve passed it now. But I think I saw it earlier, on one of my pages. Does it mean something?” “Most certainly. I must admit, Shallan, I find the coincidence of our meeting to be startling. Suspiciously so.” “Brightness?” “They were involved,” Jasnah said. “They brought you to me. And they are still watching you, it appears. So no, Shallan, you no longer have a choice. The old ways are returning, and I don’t see it as a hopeful sign. It’s an act of self-preservation. The spren sense impending danger, and so they return to us. Our attention now must turn to the Shattered Plains and the relics of Urithiru. It will be a long, long time before you return to your homeland.” Shallan nodded mutely. “This worries you,” Jasnah said. “Yes, Brightness. My family . . .” Shallan felt like a traitor in abandoning her brothers, who had been depending on her for wealth. She’d written to them and explained, without many specifics, that she’d had to return the stolen Soulcaster—and was now required to help Jasnah with her work.

Balat’s reply had been positive, after a fashion. He said he was glad at least one of them had escaped the fate that was coming to the house. He thought that the rest of them—her three brothers and Balat’s betrothed—were doomed. They might be right. Not only would Father’s debts crush them, but there was the matter of her father’s broken Soulcaster. The group that had given it to him wanted it back. Unfortunately, Shallan was convinced that Jasnah’s quest was of the utmost importance. The Voidbringers would soon return—indeed, they were not some distant threat from stories. They lived among men, and had for centuries. The gentle, quiet parshmen who worked as perfect servants and slaves were really destroyers. Stopping the catastrophe of the return of the Voidbringers was a greater duty than even protecting her brothers. It was still painful to admit that. Jasnah studied her. “With regard to your family, Shallan. I have taken some action.” “Action?” Shallan said, taking the taller woman’s arm. “You’ve helped my brothers?” “After a fashion,” Jasnah said. “Wealth would not truly solve this problem, I suspect, though I have arranged for a small gift to be sent. From what you’ve said, your family’s problems really stem from two issues. First, the Ghostbloods desire their Soulcaster—which you have broken—to be returned. Second, your house is without allies and deeply in debt.” Jasnah proffered a sheet of paper. “This,” she continued, “is from a conversation I had with my mother via spanreed this morning.” Shallan traced it with her eyes, noting Jasnah’s explanation of the broken Soulcaster and her request for help. This happens more often than you’d think, Navani had replied. The failing likely has to do with the alignment of the gem housings. Bring me the device, and we shall see. “My mother,” Jasnah said, “is a renowned artifabrian. I suspect she can make yours function again. We can send it to your brothers, who can return it to its owners.” “You’d let me do that?” Shallan asked. During their days sailing, Shallan had cautiously pried for more information about the sect, hoping to understand her father and his motives. Jasnah claimed to know very little of them beyond the fact that they wanted her research, and were willing to kill for it. “I don’t particularly want them having access to such a valuable device,” Jasnah said. “But I don’t have time to protect your family right now directly. This is a workable solution, assuming your brothers can stall a while longer. Have them tell the truth, if they must—that you, knowing I was a scholar, came to me and asked me to fix the Soulcaster. Perhaps that will sate them for now.”

“Thank you, Brightness.” Storms. If she’d just gone to Jasnah in the first place, after being accepted as her ward, how much easier would it have been? Shallan looked down at the paper, noticing that the conversation continued. As for the other matter, Navani wrote, I’m very fond of this suggestion. I believe I can persuade the boy to at least consider it, as his most recent affair ended quite abruptly—as is common with him—earlier in the week. “What is this second part?” Shallan asked, looking up from the paper. “Sating the Ghostbloods alone will not save your house,” Jasnah said. “Your debts are too great, particularly considering your father’s actions in alienating so many. I have therefore arranged a powerful alliance for your house.” “Alliance? How?” Jasnah took a deep breath. She seemed reluctant to explain. “I have taken the initial steps in arranging for you to be betrothed to one of my cousins, son of my uncle Dalinar Kholin. The boy’s name is Adolin. He is handsome and well-acquainted with amiable discourse.” “Betrothed?” Shallan said. “You’ve promised him my hand?” “I have started the process,” Jasnah said, speaking with uncharacteristic anxiety. “Though at times he lacks foresight, Adolin has a good heart—as good as that of his father, who may be the best man I have ever known. He is considered Alethkar’s most eligible son, and my mother has long wanted him wed.” “Betrothed,” Shallan repeated. “Yes. Is that distressing?” “It’s wonderful!” Shallan exclaimed, grabbing Jasnah’s arm more tightly. “So easy. If I’m married to someone so powerful . . . Storms! Nobody would dare touch us in Jah Keved. It would solve many of our problems. Brightness Jasnah, you’re a genius!” Jasnah relaxed visibly. “Yes, well, it did seem a workable solution. I had wondered, however, if you’d be offended.” “Why on the winds would I be offended?” “Because of the restriction of freedom implicit in a marriage,” Jasnah said. “And if not that, because the offer was made without consulting you. I had to see if the possibility was even open first. It has proceeded further than I’d expected, as my mother has seized on the idea. Navani has . . . a tendency toward the overwhelming.” Shallan had trouble imagining anyone overwhelming Jasnah. “Stormfather! You’re worried I’d be offended? Brightness, I spent my entire life locked in my father’s manor—I grew up assuming he’d pick my husband.” “But you’re free of your father now.” “Yes, and I was so perfectly wise in my own pursuit of relationships,” Shallan said. “The first man I chose was not only an ardent, but secretly an assassin.” “It doesn’t bother you at all?” Jasnah said. “The idea of being beholden to another, particularly a man?” “It’s not like I’m being sold into slavery,” Shallan said with a laugh. “No. I suppose not.”

Jasnah shook herself, her poise returning. “Well, I will let Navani know you are amenable to the engagement, and we should have a causal in place within the day.” A causal—a conditional betrothal, in Vorin terminology. She would be, for all intents and purposes, engaged, but would have no legal footing until an official betrothal was signed and verified by the ardents. “The boy’s father has said he will not force Adolin into anything,” Jasnah explained, “though the boy is recently single, as he has managed to offend yet another young lady. Regardless, Dalinar would rather you two meet before anything more binding is agreed upon. There have been . . . shifts in the political climate of the Shattered Plains. A great loss to my uncle’s army. Another reason for us to hasten to the Plains.” “Adolin Kholin,” Shallan said, listening with half an ear. “A duelist. A fantastic one. And even a Shardbearer.” “Ah, so you were paying attention to your readings about my father and family.” “I was—but I knew about your family before that. The Alethi are the center of society! Even girls from rural houses know the names of the Alethi princes.” And she’d be lying if she denied youthful daydreams of meeting one. “But Brightness, are you certain this match will be wise? I mean, I’m hardly the most important of individuals.” “Well, yes. The daughter of another highprince might have been preferable for Adolin. However, it seems that he has managed to offend each and every one of the eligible women of that rank. The boy is, shall we say, somewhat overeager about relationships. Nothing you can’t work through, I’m sure.” “Stormfather,” Shallan said, feeling her legs go weak. “He’s heir to a princedom! He’s in line to the throne of Alethkar itself!” “Third in line,” Jasnah said, “behind my brother’s infant son and Dalinar, my uncle.” “Brightness, I have to ask. Why Adolin? Why not the younger son? I—I have nothing to offer Adolin, or the house.” “On the contrary,” Jasnah said, “if you are what I think you are, then you will be able to offer him something nobody else can. Something more important than riches.” “What is it you think that I am?” Shallan whispered, meeting the older woman’s eyes, finally asking the question that she hadn’t dared. “Right now, you are but a promise,” Jasnah said. “A chrysalis with the potential for grandeur inside. When once humans and spren bonded, the results were women who danced in the skies and men who could destroy the stones with a touch.” “The Lost Radiants. Traitors to mankind.”

She couldn’t absorb it all. The betrothal, Shadesmar and the spren, and this, her mysterious destiny. She’d known. But speaking it . . . She sank down, heedless of getting her dress wet on the deck, and sat with her back against the bulwark. Jasnah allowed her to compose herself before, amazingly, sitting down herself. She did so with far more poise, tucking her dress underneath her legs as she sat sideways. They both drew looks from the sailors. “They’re going to chew me to pieces,” Shallan said. “The Alethi court. It’s the most ferocious in the world.” Jasnah snorted. “It’s more bluster than storm, Shallan. I will train you.” “I’ll never be like you, Brightness. You have power, authority, wealth. Just look how the sailors respond to you.” “Am I specifically using said power, authority, or wealth right now?” “You paid for this trip.” “Did you not pay for several trips on this ship?” Jasnah asked. “They did not treat you the same as they do me?” “No. Oh, they are fond of me. But I don’t have your weight, Jasnah.” “I will assume that did not have implications toward my girth,” Jasnah said with a hint of a smile. “I understand your argument, Shallan. It is, however, dead wrong.” Shallan turned to her. Jasnah sat upon the deck of the ship as if it were a throne, back straight, head up, commanding. Shallan sat with her legs against her chest, arms around them below the knees. Even the ways they sat were different. She was nothing like this woman. “There is a secret you must learn, child,” Jasnah said. “A secret that is even more important than those relating to Shadesmar and spren. Power is an illusion of perception.” Shallan frowned. “Don’t mistake me,” Jasnah continued. “Some kinds of power are real—power to command armies, power to Soulcast. These come into play far less often than you would think. On an individual basis, in most interactions, this thing we call power—authority—exists only as it is perceived. “You say I have wealth. This is true, but you have also seen that I do not often use it. You say I have authority as the sister of a king. I do. And yet, the men of this ship would treat me exactly the same way if I were a beggar who had convinced them I was the sister to a king. In that case, my authority is not a real thing. It is mere vapors—an illusion. I can create that illusion for them, as can you.” “I’m not convinced, Brightness.” “I know. If you were, you would be doing it already.” Jasnah stood up, brushing off her skirt. “You will tell me if you see that pattern—the one that appeared on the waves—again?” “Yes, Brightness,” Shallan said, distracted. “Then take the rest of the day for your art. I need to consider how to best teach you of Shadesmar.”

 

 

We get to hear more of Shallan’s musings on Jasnah. What is interesting, is even while Shallan has an idealized view of Jasnah, she is also learning to see beneath the surface. It is not that Jasnah does not care what people think. It is Jasnah understands that how you present yourself, and carry yourself will affect how people perceive you. As a princess to the most powerful nation in the world, she has been raised to understand this, and know how to use it. Jasnah also has no problem “getting dirty” by sitting on the boxes on the deck in order to talk to her ward in a scenario and manner that is more comfortable to Shallan. Once again, (noticing so many that this is getting downright repetitive lol) Jasnah shows understanding to others beliefs, even if they do not align with her own. The sailors have “superstitions” that the santhid is lucky. Instead of making the sailor feel stupid, or deride him for such beliefs, Jasnah nods, says “I shall take any fortune provided me, Nanhel Eltorv”. She acknowledges his belief, and even makes a point to use his name, showing she is considerate enough to know them as people, and not mere servants. Shallan tries to get Jasnah to say she thinks them fools. Instead Jasnah is respectful and complimentary of the captain and his crews sailing capabilities. To me the message is clear. It does not matter your religious inclinations so long as they do not intrude on your capabilities in accomplishing your job. Jasnah then begins to teach Shallan about Shadesmar. This is a great part because we learn quite a few things about Jasnah. First, this enforces what I wrote earlier as to why Jasnah ordered Shallan not to soulcast. She says so herself, she nearly died in her first experience with Shadesmar. She does not want the same for Shallan. Jasnah was protecting her out of concern for her wellbeing.

As Jasnah explains, she also admits her own ignorance. She states that she has been researching it for 6 years and has barely scratched the surface of understanding the place. That even as she tries to explain it, she refers to it in an erroneous manner. We then get the best quote that encapsulates Shallan’s view of Jasnah and for me why there are so many incorrect readings of her. “Jasnah grimaced at the thought. Shallan was always surprised to see visible emotion from her. Emotion was something relatable, something human - and Shallan’s mental image of Jasnah Kholin was of someone almost divine.” Jasnah, to Shallan, is everything she wishes she could be. But that impression is mostly surface. A hard diamond surface that I hope through typing this long post shows is not the real Jasnah. The real Jasnah has emotions. She loves. She cries. She gets angry. She makes mistakes. She learns from them. She is human. Even as Jasnah takes joy in teaching Shallan, and their burgeoning relationship, the fact Shallan exists terrifies her. For Jasnah it means the end really is coming. Jasnah knowing the enormity of their upcoming task, and what she will be asking of Shallan for her to help her, Jasnah helps preserve Shallan’s family so Shallan can focus on the voidbringers. Despite knowing the “cold” necessity given the impending danger, Jasnah is still considerate of Shallan. She only inquired about the possibility of setting up a casual between Adolin and Shallan. It was Navani that jumped on it with a gusto and got things moving forward so quickly. Even though it ultimately was not Jasnah’s fault, she still apologizes to Shallan. Even though this solution is perfectly logical, and would solve all the issues, she still checks with Shallan. She makes sure Shallan knows she can change her mind. She checks to see if it bothered Shallan. All things someone who cares for another individual, and is considerate of others feelings would do. We then get a master class as Jasnah explains how her authority works, and about perception. We practically get a blow by blow reveal that the Jasnah everyone is “so scared of” and sees as “cold and emotionless”, is not actually Jasnah. It is a Jasnah she presents in order to exist within the Alethi court. It is a Jasnah she presents in order to stand up to the Vorin church. It is a Jasnah she presents in order to accomplish the goals she needs to stop the end of the world. But that is not all there is to Jasnah. There is a Jasnah inside people very rarely get to see. And to me that is the real Jasnah.

 

Spoiler

 

Words of Radiance page 69

“Perhaps it simply needs more time,” Jasnah said. “When I first bonded with Ivory—” She stopped abruptly. “What?” Shallan said. “I’m sorry. He does not like me to speak of him. It makes him anxious. The knights’ breaking of their oaths was very painful to the spren. Many spren died; I’m certain of it. Though Ivory won’t speak of it, I gather that what he’s done is regarded as a betrayal by the others of his kind.” “But—” “No more of that,” Jasnah said. “I’m sorry.” …

What has your research revealed?” With Jasnah, everything seemed to be a test of scholarship. Shallan smothered a sigh. This was why she had come with Jasnah, rather than returning to her home. Still, she did wish that sometimes Jasnah would just tell her answers rather than making her work so hard to find them…

The Stormfather, of course, is a strange offshoot of this, his theoretical nature changing depending on which era of Vorinism is doing the talking. . . .” She trailed off. Shallan blushed, realizing she’d looked away and had begun tracing a glyphward on her blanket against the evil in Jasnah’s words. “That was a tangent,” Jasnah said. “I apologize.” “You’re so sure he isn’t real,” Shallan said. “The Almighty.” “I have no more proof of him than I do of the Thaylen Passions, Nu Ralik of the Purelake, or any other religion.” “And the Heralds? You don’t think they existed?” “I don’t know,” Jasnah said. “There are many things in this world that I don’t understand. For example, there is some slight proof that both the Stormfather and the Almighty are real creatures—simply powerful spren, such as the Nightwatcher.” “Then he would be real.” “I never claimed he was not,” Jasnah said. “I merely claimed that I do not accept him as God, nor do I feel any inclination to worship him. But this is, again, a tangent.” Jasnah stood. “You are relieved of other duties of study. For the next few days, you have only one focus for your scholarship.”

 

 

I think this scene gives us some wonderful hints into Jasnah’s character. First we have Ivory who is uncomfortable being discussed. Jasnah is not keeping this information from Shallan out of control, nor pettiness towards the betrayal. She is doing it out of consideration and respect towards her spren. We then see yet another example of how Jasnah does not tell Shallan how to think. Jasnah asks Shallan questions, and allows her to derive her own conclusions. Jasnah even takes the fact that Shallan is devout into consideration when discussing religion. She apologizes for going off on what she terms a tangent because she forgot how such words would make Shallan feel as a believer. When pressed, Jasnah explains that it is not personal against Vorinism. She holds the same standard to all the world’s religions. Most of all we reach a favorite quote of mine that I tend to use in response to people who say Jasnah would have to re-evaluate her beliefs when she meets a shard. She says “I merely claimed that I do not accept him as God, nor do I feel any inclination to worship him”. She realizes and accepts there are beings running around with powers beyond her. However, this does not mean they should be worshipped. She is a being with powers beyond other people. Does that mean she should be worshipped?

 

Spoiler

 

Words of Radiance page 109

Shallan replaced the spheres in her pocket, then opened the door into the ship’s narrow companionway and moved to Jasnah’s cabin. It was the cabin that Tozbek and his wife usually shared, but they had vacated it for the third—and smallest—of the cabins to give Jasnah the better quarters. People did things like that for her, even when she didn’t ask. Jasnah would have some spheres for Shallan to use. Indeed, Jasnah’s door was cracked open, swaying slightly as the ship creaked and rocked along its evening path. Jasnah sat at the desk inside, and Shallan peeked in, suddenly uncertain if she wanted to bother the woman. She could see Jasnah’s face, hand against her temple, staring at the pages spread before her. Jasnah’s eyes were haunted, her expression haggard. This was not the Jasnah that Shallan was accustomed to seeing. The confidence had been overwhelmed by exhaustion, the poise replaced by worry. Jasnah started to write something, but stopped after just a few words. She set down the pen, closing her eyes and massaging her temples. A few dizzy-looking spren, like jets of dust rising into the air, appeared around Jasnah’s head. Exhaustionspren. Shallan pulled back, suddenly feeling as if she’d intruded upon an intimate moment. Jasnah with her defenses down. Shallan began to creep away, but a voice from the floor suddenly said, “Truth!” Startled, Jasnah looked up, eyes finding Shallan—who, of course, blushed furiously. Jasnah turned her eyes down toward Pattern on the floor, then reset her mask, sitting up with proper posture. “Yes, child?” “I . . . I needed spheres . . .” Shallan said. “Those in my pouch went dun.” “Have you been Soulcasting?” Jasnah asked sharply. “What? No, Brightness. I promised I would not.” “Then it is the second ability,” Jasnah said. “Come in and close that door. I should speak to Captain Tozbek; it won’t latch properly.” Shallan stepped in, pushing the door closed, though the latch didn’t catch. She stepped forward, hands clasped, feeling embarrassed. “What did you do?” Jasnah asked. “It involved light, I assume?” “I seemed to make plants appear,” Shallan said. “Well, really just the color. One of the sailors saw the deck turn green, but it vanished when I stopped thinking about the plants.” “Yes . . .” Jasnah said. She flipped through one of her books, stopping at an illustration. Shallan had seen it before; it was as ancient as Vorinism. Ten spheres connected by lines forming a shape like an hourglass on its side. Two of the spheres at the center looked almost like pupils. The Double Eye of the Almighty.

“Ten Essences,” Jasnah said softly. She ran her fingers along the page. “Ten Surges. Ten orders. But what does it mean that the spren have finally decided to return the oaths to us? And how much time remains to me? Not long. Not long . . .” “Brightness?” Shallan asked. “Before your arrival, I could assume I was an anomaly,” Jasnah said. “I could hope that Surgebindings were not returning in large numbers. I no longer have that hope. The Cryptics sent you to me, of that I have no doubt, because they knew you would need training. That gives me hope that I was at least one of the first.” “I don’t understand.” Jasnah looked up toward Shallan, meeting her eyes with an intense gaze. The woman’s eyes were reddened with fatigue. How late was she working? Every night when Shallan turned in, there was still light coming from under Jasnah’s door. “To be honest,” Jasnah said, “I don’t understand either.” “Are you all right?” Shallan asked. “Before I entered, you seemed . . . distressed.” Jasnah hesitated just briefly. “I have merely been spending too long at my studies.” She turned to one of her trunks, digging out a dark cloth pouch filled with spheres. “Take these. I would suggest that you keep spheres with you at all times, so that your Surgebinding has the opportunity to manifest.” “Can you teach me?” Shallan asked, taking the pouch. “I don’t know,” Jasnah said. “I will try. On this diagram, one of the Surges is known as Illumination, the mastery of light. For now, I would prefer you expend your efforts on learning this Surge, as opposed to Soulcasting. That is a dangerous art, more so now than it once was.” Shallan nodded, rising. She hesitated before leaving, however. “Are you sure you are well?” “Of course.” She said it too quickly. The woman was poised, in control, but also obviously exhausted. The mask was cracked, and Shallan could see the truth. She’s trying to placate me, Shallan realized. Pat me on the head and send me back to bed, like a child awakened by a nightmare. “You’re worried,” Shallan said, meeting Jasnah’s eyes. The woman turned away. She pushed a book over something wiggling on her table—a small purple spren. Fearspren. Only one, true, but still. “No . . .” Shallan whispered. “You’re not worried. You’re terrified.” Stormfather! “It is all right, Shallan,” Jasnah said. “I just need some sleep. Go back to your studies.” Shallan sat down on the stool beside Jasnah’s desk. The older woman looked back at her, and Shallan could see the mask cracking further. Annoyance as Jasnah drew her lips to a line. Tension in the way she held her pen, in a fist. “You told me I could be part of this,” Shallan said. “Jasnah, if you’re worried about something . . .” “My worry is what it has always been,” Jasnah said, leaning back in her chair. “That I will be too late. That I’m incapable of doing anything meaningful to stop what is coming—that I’m trying to stop a highstorm by blowing against it really hard.”

“The Voidbringers,” Shallan said. “The parshmen.” “In the past,” Jasnah said, “the Desolation—the coming of the Voidbringers—was supposedly always marked by a return of the Heralds to prepare mankind. They would train the Knights Radiant, who would experience a rush of new members.” “But we captured the Voidbringers,” Shallan said. “And enslaved them.” That was what Jasnah postulated, and Shallan agreed, having seen the research. “So you think a kind of revolution is coming. That the parshmen will turn against us as they did in the past.” “Yes,” Jasnah said, rifling through her notes. “And soon. Your proving to be a Surgebinder does not comfort me, as it smacks too much of what happened before. But back then, new knights had teachers to train them, generations of tradition. We have nothing.” “The Voidbringers are captive,” Shallan said, glancing toward Pattern. He rested on the floor, almost invisible, saying nothing. “The parshmen can barely communicate. How could they possibly stage a revolution?” Jasnah found the sheet of paper she’d been seeking and handed it to Shallan. Written in Jasnah’s own hand, it was an account by a captain’s wife of a plateau assault on the Shattered Plains. “Parshendi,” Jasnah said, “can sing in time with one another no matter how far they are separated. They have some ability to communicate that we do not understand. I can only assume that their cousins the parshmen have the same. They may not need to hear a call to action in order to revolt.” Shallan read the report, nodding slowly. “We need to warn others, Jasnah.” “You don’t think I’ve tried?” Jasnah asked. “I’ve written to scholars and kings all around the world. Most dismiss me as paranoid. The evidence you readily accept, others call flimsy. “The ardents were my best hope, but their eyes are clouded by the interference of the Hierocracy. Besides, my personal beliefs make ardents skeptical of anything I say. My mother wants to see my research, which is something. My brother and uncle might believe, and that is why we are going to them.” She hesitated. “There is another reason we seek the Shattered Plains. A way to find evidence that might convince everyone.” “Urithiru,” Shallan said. “The city you seek?” Jasnah gave her another curt glance.

The ancient city was something Shallan had first learned about by secretly reading Jasnah’s notes. “You still blush too easily when confronted,” Jasnah noted. “I’m sorry.” “And apologize too easily as well.” “I’m . . . uh, indignant?” Jasnah smiled, picking up the representation of the Double Eye. She stared at it. “There is a secret hidden somewhere on the Shattered Plains. A secret about Urithiru.” “You told me the city wasn’t there!” “It isn’t. But the path to it may be.” Her lips tightened. “According to legend, only a Knight Radiant could open the way.” “Fortunately, we know two of those.” “Again, you are not a Radiant, and neither am I. Being able to replicate some of the things they could do may not matter. We don’t have their traditions or knowledge.” “We’re talking about the potential end of civilization itself, aren’t we?” Shallan asked softly. Jasnah hesitated. “The Desolations,” Shallan said. “I know very little, but the legends . . .” “In the aftermath of each one, mankind was broken. Great cities in ashes, industry smashed. Each time, knowledge and growth were reduced to an almost prehistoric state—it took centuries of rebuilding to restore civilization to what it had been before.” She hesitated. “I keep hoping that I’m wrong.” “Urithiru,” Shallan said. She tried to refrain from just asking questions, trying instead to reason her way to the answer. “You said the city was a kind of base or home to the Knights Radiant. I hadn’t heard of it before speaking with you, and so can guess that it’s not commonly referred to in the literature. Perhaps, then, it is one of the things that the Hierocracy suppressed knowledge of?” “Very good,” Jasnah said. “Although I think that it had begun to fade into legend even before then, the Hierocracy did not help.” “So if it existed before the Hierocracy, and if the pathway to it was locked at the fall of the Radiants . . . then it might contain records that have not been touched by modern scholars. Unaltered, unchanged lore about the Voidbringers and Surgebinding.” Shallan shivered. “That’s why we’re really going to the Shattered Plains.” Jasnah smiled through her fatigue. “Very good indeed. My time in the Palanaeum was very useful, but also in some ways disappointing. While I confirmed my suspicions about the parshmen, I also found that many of the great library’s records bore the same signs of tampering as others I’d read. This ‘cleansing’ of history, removing direct references to Urithiru or the Radiants because they were embarrassments to Vorinism—it’s infuriating. And people ask me why I am hostile to the church! I need primary sources. And then, there are stories—ones I dare to believe—claiming that Urithiru was holy and protected from the Voidbringers. Maybe that was wishful fancy, but I am not too much a scholar to hope that something like that might be true.”

“And the parshmen?” “We will try to persuade the Alethi to rid themselves of those.” “Not an easy task.” “A nearly impossible one,” Jasnah said, standing. She began to pack her books away for the night, putting them in her waterproofed trunk. “Parshmen are such perfect slaves. Docile, obedient. Our society has become far too reliant upon them. The parshmen wouldn’t need to turn violent to throw us into chaos—though I’m certain that is what’s coming—they could simply walk away. It would cause an economic crisis.” She closed the trunk after removing one volume, then turned back to Shallan. “Convincing everyone of what I say is beyond us without more evidence. Even if my brother listens, he doesn’t have the authority to force the highprinces to get rid of their parshmen. And, in all honesty, I fear my brother won’t be brave enough to risk the collapse expelling the parshmen might cause.” “But if they turn on us, the collapse will come anyway.” “Yes,” Jasnah said. “You know this, and I know it. My mother might believe it. But the risk of being wrong is so immense that . . . well, we will need evidence—overwhelming and irrefutable evidence. So we find the city. At all costs, we find that city.” Shallan nodded. “I did not want to lay all of this upon your shoulders, child,” Jasnah said, sitting back down. “However, I will admit that it is a relief to speak of these things to someone who doesn’t challenge me on every other point.” “We’ll do it, Jasnah,” Shallan said. “We’ll travel to the Shattered Plains and we’ll find Urithiru. We’ll get the evidence and convince everyone to listen.” “Ah, the optimism of youth,” Jasnah said. “That is nice to hear on occasion too.” She handed the book to Shallan. “Among the Knights Radiant, there was an order known as the Lightweavers. I know precious little about them, but of all the sources I’ve read, this one has the most information.” Shallan took the volume eagerly. Words of Radiance, the title read. “Go,” Jasnah said. “Read.” Shallan glanced at her. “I will sleep,” Jasnah promised, a smile creeping to her lips. “And stop trying to mother me. I don’t even let Navani do that.” Shallan sighed, nodding, and left Jasnah’s quarters. Pattern tagged along behind; he’d spent the entire conversation silent. As she entered her cabin, she found herself much heavier of heart than when she’d left it. She couldn’t banish the image of terror in Jasnah’s eyes. Jasnah Kholin shouldn’t fear anything, should she? Shallan crawled onto her cot with the book she’d been given and the pouch of spheres. Part of her was eager to begin, but she was exhausted, her eyelids drooping. It really had gotten late. If she started the book now . . . Perhaps better to get a good night’s sleep, then dig refreshed into a new day’s studies. She set the book on the small table beside her bed, curled up, and let the rocking of the boat coax her to sleep. She awoke to screams, shouts, and smoke.

 

 

Here is another wonderful scene that shows the depth of Jasnah’s character. It begins with Shallan remarking to herself how people naturally defer to Jasnah without her even having to ask. So we could potentially theorize that Jasnah did not even ask for the captain’s quarters. That he provided them because he assumed that is what a princess would want. Shallan peaks in on Jasnah, and for the first time sees Jasnah without her armor completely up. And what does she find?  Jasnah red eyed, exhausted, and terrified. The “divine” Jasnah that Shallan thinks is impervious to all things and can accomplish anything, is about ready to collapse and feels powerless to save the ones she loves. Despite this terror, Jasnah pulls herself together, puts on her “mask”, and tries to reassure Shallan. She is trying to be strong for Shallan. Jasnah is afraid she will be too late, just like she was too late to stop the death of her father. She has tried warning everyone, but no one will listen. Despite the threat, her warning isn’t even to kill the parshmen. Her warning is to let them go. To keep them away from large population centers to try and avoid the level of devastation and death all the texts speak of. A warning Dalinar takes to heart and employs when he leaves for the Shattered Plains. He does not execute them, he lets them go. Yet again we find out in Kholinar the same thing. The warning Jasnah gave, that Dalinar related to Kholinar was to let them go. She is desperate for more information, more proof to show her findings are true. To convince as many people as she can, so she can save as many lives as she can. On top of that is the hope that Urithiru is safe. A last bastion that humanity could retreat to.

 

Spoiler

 

Jasnah Deleted Scene

Jasnah Kholin opened her eyes and gasped, fingers rigid, clawing at the obsidian ground. A knife in her chest! She could feel it grinding on her bones as it slipped between two ribs, glancing off her sternum. She spasmed, rolling into a ball, quivering.

“Jasnah.”

No. She could not lay prone. She fought to her knees, but then found herself raking her fingers across the ground, trembling, heaving breaths in and out. Moving—even breathing—was perversely difficult, not because of pain or incapacity, but because of the overwhelming sense of tension. It made her shake, made her made her want to run, fight, do anything she could to not die.

She shouted, stumbling to her feet, and spun about, hand on her chest.

Wet blood. Her blood. A dress cut with a single knife hole.

“Jasnah.” A figure all in black. A landscape of obsidian ground reflecting a bizarre sky and a sun that did not change locations.

She darted her head from side to side, taking in everything but registering very little of it.

Storms. She could sense that knife again, sliding into her flesh. She felt that same helplessness, that same panic—emotions which had accompanied the knife’s fall. She remembered the darkness consuming her, her hearing fading, the end.

She closed her eyes and shivered, trying to banish the memories. Yet the effort of trying to do so only seemed to solidify them.

She knew that she would remember dying for as long as it took the darkness to claim her again.

“You did well,” Ivory said. “Well, Jasnah.”

“The knife,” she whispered, opening her eyes, angry at how her voice trembled, “the knife was unexpected.” She breathed in and out, trying to calm herself. That puffed out the last of her Stormlight, which she had drawn in at the last possible moment, then used like a lash to pull herself into this place. It had kept her alive, healed her.

Ivory said that while a person held enough Stormlight, only a crushing blow to the head itself would kill. She’d believed him, but storms that hadn’t made it any easier to lay there before the knife. Who would have expected them to stab her? Shouldn’t they have assumed that a blow to the head would be enough to—

Wait. Shallan!

“We have to go back,” Jasnah said, spinning. “Ivory, where is the junction?”

“It is not.”

She was able to locate the ship with ease. In Shadesmar, land and sea were reversed, so she stood on solid ground—but in the Physical Realm, Shallan and the sailors would still be in their ship. They manifest here as lights, similar to candle flames, and Jasnah thought of them as the representation of the person’s soul—despite Ivory telling her that was an extreme simplification.

They spotted the air around her, standing up on deck. That solitary flame would be Shallan herself. Many smaller lights darted beneath the ground—faintly visible through the obsidian. Fish and other sea life.

Nerves still taut, Jasnah searched around for the junction: a faint warping of the air that marked the place of her passage into Shadesmar. She could use it return to the ship, to…

One of the lights up above winked out.

Jasnah froze. “They’re being executed. Ivory! The junction.”

“A junction is not, Jasnah,” Ivory repeated. He stood with hands clasped behind his back, wearing a sharp—yet somehow alien—suit, all black. Here in Shadesmar, it was easier to distinguish the mother-of-pearl sheen to his skin, like the colors made by oil on water.

“Not?” Jasnah said, trying to parse his meaning. She’d missed his explanation the first time. Despite their years together, his language constructions still baffled her on occasion. “But there’s always a junction…”

“Only when a piece of you is there,” Ivory said. “Today, that is not. You are here, Jasnah. I am…sorry.”

“You brought me all the way into Shadesmar,” she asked. “Now?”

He bowed his head.

For years she’d been trying to get him to bring her into his world. Though she could peek into Shadesmar on her own—and even slip one foot in, so to speak—entering fully required Ivory’s help. How had it happened? The academic wanted to record her experiences and tease out the process, so that perhaps she could replicate it. She’d used Stormlight, hadn’t she? An outpouring of it, thrust into Shadesmar. A lash which had pulling her, like gravitation from a distant place, unseen…

Memories of what happened mixed with the terror of those last minutes. She shoved both emotions and memories aside. How could she help the people on the ship? Jasnah stepped up to the light, hovering before her, lifting a hand to cup one. Shallan, she assumed, though she could not be certain. Ivory said that there wasn’t always a direct correlation between objects their manifestation in Shadesmar.

She couldn’t touch the soul before her, not completely. Its natural power repelled her hand, as if she were trying to push two pieces of magnetized stone against one another.

A sudden screech broke Shadesmar’s silence.

Jasnah jumped, spinning. It sounded a trumping beast, only overlaid by the sounds of glass breaking. The terrible noise drove a shiver up her spine. It sounded like it had come from someplace nearby.

Ivory gasped. He leaped forward, grabbing Jasnah by the arm. “We must go.”

“What is that?” Jasnah asked.

“Grinder,” Ivory said. “You call them painspren.”

“Painspren are harmless.”

“On your side, harmless. Here, harmmore. Very harmmore. Come.” He yanked on her arm.

“Wait.”

The ship’s crew would die because of her. Storms! She had not thought that the Ghostbloods would be so bold. But what to do? She felt like a child here, newborn. Years of study had told her so little. Could she do anything to those souls above her? She couldn’t even distinguish which were the assassins and which were the crew.

The screech sounded again, coming closer. Jasnah looked up, growing tense. This place was so alien, with ridges and mountains of pure black obsidian, a landscape that was perpetually dim. Small beads of glass rolled about her feet—representations of inanimate objects in the physical realm.

Perhaps…

She fished among them, and these she could identify immediately by touch. Three plates from the galley, one bead each. A trunk holding clothing.

Several of her books.

Her hand hesitated. Oh storms, this was a disaster. Why hadn’t she prepared better? Her contingency plan in case of an assassination attempt had been to play dead, using faint amounts of stormlight from gems sewn into her hem to stay alive. But she’d foolishly expected assassins to appear in the night, strike her down, then flee. She’d not prepared for a mutiny, an assassination led by a member of the crew.

They would murder everyone on board.

“Jasnah!” Ivory said, sounding more desperate. “We must not be in this place! Emotions from the ship draw them!”

She dropped the spheres representing her books and ran her fingers through the other spheres, seeking… there. Ropes—the bonds tying the sailors as they were executed. She found a group of them and seized the spheres.

She drew in the last of her Stormlight, a few gemstones’ worth. So little.

The landscape reacted immediately. Beads on the ground nearby shivered and rolled toward her, seeking the stormlight. The calls of the painspren intensified. It was even closer now. Ivory breathed in sharply, and high above, several long ribbons of smoke descended out of the clouds and began to circle about her.

Stormlight was precious here. It was power, currency, even—perhaps—life. Without it, she’d be defenseless.

“Can I use this Light to return?” she asked him.

“Here?” He shook his head. “No. We must find a stable junction. Honor’s Perpendicularity, perhaps, though it is very distant. But Jasnah, the grinders will soon be!”

Jasnah gripped the beads in her hand.

“You,” she command, “will change.”

“I am a rope,” one of them said. “I am—”

“You will change.”

The ropes shivered, transforming—one by one—into smoke in the physical realm.

 

So taking a step out of the books for a second to look at a deleted scene. Brandon sometimes does these to discovery write a character so he can get himself into the frame of mind to write them. I do not recall if this is counted as canon or not, but I think it gives us a great look into Jasnah’s head so I am going to comment on it. This is what happened to Jasnah after she was stabbed on the boat. She escaped to Shadesmar. We do not see her exult in victory for escaping. We do not see her run off and forget the people on the ship. What we find out is first, she was pulled out by Ivory, so she did not intend to abandon Shallan nor the people on the ship. Second, her first thoughts once she calms down after her near death experience is Shallan and going back to help her. Her next thought is realizing the sailors are being executed and wanting to help/save them as well. It is only because she does not have enough stormlight to do so, that she doesn’t. She literally can’t. Despite the danger of Shadesmar. Despite the warning of Ivory about the grinders coming, Jasnah uses the last of her stormlight to free the sailors. To try somehow in someway to help save them.

 

Spoiler

 

Words of Radiance page 140

Jasnah was dead. Shallan felt like weeping. A woman so brilliant, so amazing, was just….gone. Jasnah had been trying to save everyone, protect the world itself. And they’d killed her for it.

 

 

Nothing much to add here. Another example of how Shallan views Jasnah. Another example of the emotions shared between them. Shallan is genuinely sad over the loss of Jasnah.

 

Spoiler

 

Words of Radiance page 147

Control is the basis of all power. How would Jasnah respond to this situation? The answer was simple. She would be Jasnah. “I will allow you to assist me,” Shallan said. She somehow kept her voice even, despite the anxious terror she felt inside. “. . . Brightness?” Tvlakv asked. “As you can see,” Shallan said, “I am the victim of a shipwreck. My servants are lost to me. You and your men will do. I have a trunk. We will need to go fetch it.” She felt like one of the ten fools. Surely he would see through the flimsy act. Pretending you had authority was not the same as having it, no matter what Jasnah said.

 

 

I included this scene because I feel through Shallan it gives us a look into Jasnah’s head. Everyone sees what Jasnah projects, but they rarely see what goes on in her head. This is what Shallan experiences and I do not think it a stretch to theorize that perhaps Jasnah went through a similar beginning. Learning how to project confidence and strength, even when inside you are scared.

 

Spoiler

 

Words of Radiance page 215

“Before I saw Jasnah’s expression that night,” she explained, “before I talked to her through her fatigue and got a sense of just how worried she was, I had fallen into a trap. The trap of a scholar. Despite my initial horror at what Jasnah had described about the parshmen, I had come to see it all as an intellectual puzzle. Jasnah was so outwardly dispassionate that I assumed she did the same.”

 

 

Shallan realizing and commenting to herself that just because Jasnah appeared dispassionate, does not mean she was actually dispassionate. In fact because of that moment on the ship, Shallan realizes the truth was quite different. Jasnah is deeply worried, and driving herself harder than anyone else to stop the end.

 

Spoiler

 

Words of Radiance page 216

As Shallan set aside the last book, she noticed something on the bottom of the trunk. A loose piece of paper? She picked it up, curious—then nearly dropped it in surprise. It was a picture of Jasnah, drawn by Shallan herself. Shallan had given it to the woman after being accepted as her ward. She’d assumed Jasnah had thrown it away—the woman had little fondness for visual arts, which she considered a frivolity. Instead, she’d kept it here with her most precious things. No. Shallan didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to face it.

 

 

This is a great moment. Shallan realizes that despite Jasnah saying she considers art a frivolity, Jasnah still held onto the drawing Shallan made of her. She kept it among her most precious things. If that isn’t a sign Jasnah cares for Shallan I don’t know what would.

 

Spoiler

 

Words of Radiance page 252

Shallan flipped the page and drew again. A picture of Jasnah on the ship, seated at her desk, papers and books sprawled around her. It wasn’t the setting that mattered, but the face. That worried, terrified face. Exhausted, pushed to her limits. Shallan got this one right. The first drawing since the disaster that captured perfectly what she’d seen. Jasnah’s burden.

 

 

Yet another quote showing the great burden Jasnah was toiling under. It has surprised me how many times these things are mentioned. Far more than I initially thought. Perhaps since these thoughts are but a few lines, with a lot of space between, it is easy to pass over them. Seeing them lined up one after the other though seems to really hammer it home for me.

 

Spoiler

 

Words of Radiance page 332

He still didn’t know how he felt about all this. Part of him had wanted to push back simply because he resisted being subject to Jasnah’s manipulation. But then, his recent track record wasn’t anything to boast of. After what had happened with Danlan . . . It wasn’t his fault, was it, that he was a friendly man? Why did every woman have to be so jealous?

 

 

I wanted to include this quote, because I found it interesting that despite Adolin’s excitement for the pending nuptials, he still considers Jasnah “manipulating” him. Despite this we know the reality of the situation is it was Navani that urged it forward, and my very next quote in Words of Radiance has Shallan setting things straight.

 

Spoiler

 

Words of Radiance page 568

“So,” he said, flipping through the list of wines, described by glyphs, “we are supposed to get married.” “I would lighten that phrasing, Brightlord,” Shallan said, choosing her words carefully. “We aren’t supposed to get married. Your cousin Jasnah merely wanted us to consider a union, and your aunt seemed to agree.”

 

 

From Shallan’s own lips. Jasnah just brought the idea forward for them to consider it. Any pressure would come more from Navani, and any other (potential) societal norms. But Jasnah was most certainly not forcing the two together.

 

Spoiler

 

Words of Radiance page 772

What is a woman’s place in this modern world? Jasnah Kholin’s words read. I rebel against this question, though so many of my peers ask it. The inherent bias in the inquiry seems invisible to so many of them. They consider themselves progressive because they are willing to challenge many of the assumptions of the past. They ignore the greater assumption—that a “place” for women must be defined and set forth to begin with. Half of the population must somehow be reduced to the role arrived at by a single conversation. No matter how broad that role is, it will be—by nature—a reduction from the infinite variety that is womanhood. I say that there is no role for women—there is, instead, a role for each woman, and she must make it for herself. For some, it will be the role of scholar; for others, it will be the role of wife. For others, it will be both. For yet others, it will be neither. Do not mistake me in assuming I value one woman’s role above another. My point is not to stratify our society—we have done that far too well already—my point is to diversify our discourse. A woman’s strength should not be in her role, whatever she chooses it to be, but in the power to choose that role. It is amazing to me that I even have to make this point, as I see it as the very foundation of our conversation.

 

 

This is an excerpt from one of Jasnah’s published writings. I really like this mention because it shows what is a priority to Jasnah. Personal choice. She is not condemning any women for choosing to be a wife. Nor is she saying only the scholarly life is of any worth. She is arguing a woman should have a right to choose between them if she so desires. I think this might be part of what led Jasnah to atheism. Feeling liberated from a belief structure whose rules restrict asking of questions, and force gender roles. I think it says a lot for her strength of character that Jasnah chose the path she did.

 

Spoiler

 

Words of Radiance page 787

“She wouldn’t let me be a mother to her, Dalinar,” Navani said, staring into the distance. “Do you know that? It was almost like . . . like once Jasnah climbed into adolescence, she no longer needed a mother. I would try to get close to her, and there was this coldness, like even being near me reminded her that she had once been a child. What happened to my little girl, so full of questions?”

 

 

I find this scene, and a few others below interesting because it brings us back to the outside view of Jasnah. The view other people hold of her. Cold, and distant. Meanwhile I feel our journey through Way of Kings and Words of Radiance show us a very different picture. I wonder if this was intention on Brandon’s part. As if to say “here is Jasnah as we know her. Then here is the Jasnah we get to know. Now ask yourself how you feel when you hear people talk about Jasnah this way after we got to know her on a deeper level”. At the same time this also adds depth to the mystery that is Jasnah. What happened to Jasnah to change her from Navani’s little girl, so full of questions?

 

 

So that is the end of Way of Kings and Words of Radiance. There is perhaps one more quote I wanted to include in Words of Radiance, but I think I will settle for first seeing the response to this.

 

[Calderis]

For the majority, I agree with your assessments.

Jasnah is by far the character I most relate to and admire. She's... Better than me in the areas where I accell, more strictly logical and intelligent.. and also much further emotionally constrained and misunderstood. 

What I find sad is that an assessment like this is needed in the first place. 

[Pathfinder]

15 hours ago, Calderis said:

For the majority, I agree with your assessments.

Jasnah is by far the character I most relate to and admire. She's... Better than me in the areas where I accell, more strictly logical and intelligent.. and also much further emotionally constrained and misunderstood. 

What I find sad is that an assessment like this is needed in the first place. 

Thank you, and I agree. It genuinely surprised me to find how many more scenes there were than I recalled with Jasnah. I thought I would have just a couple of big scenes, with a bunch of glimpses that I would need to delve into to really show but to find the sheer number turned this from a few day write up to a two week endeavor. It might be because most of her scenes are from another person's perspective that it is easy to just see the surface or forget what lies beneath. Seriously the back five with her view points can't come soon enough lol. 

[Bigmikey357]

Something that you confirm with your in-depth analysis and something I've been arguing for awhile is that Jasnah is easily misunderstood both in story and by readers. By readers because most of what we get comes from Shallan's POV, and she's got a serious girl-crush on her mentor. On the few times we get into her head we actually get to see her vulnerable. In the first 2 books there's very few times where we see that vulnerability, we get more in OB but not much. In the narrative she's misunderstood because she projects strength so well. The lesson she give Shallan on the deck of Wind's Pleasure is how she lives her life. She isn't letting many people in, possibly because she's been hurt by those she's loved previously. Add to the fact of her heresy and the assumptions she has to deal with as a result of those beliefs and nobody is really probing beneath the surface. The advantage in that is love or hate her, she gives no one an opportunity to disregard or disrespect her. She's a force in the world with or without Surges.

[+ILuvHats]

It’s scary how long your post is.

[Turin Turambar]

I love Jasnah. Best Character ever. She's the most like me - even if it is slightly disturbing.

[Pathfinder]

2 hours ago, Bigmikey357 said:

Something that you confirm with your in-depth analysis and something I've been arguing for awhile is that Jasnah is easily misunderstood both in story and by readers. By readers because most of what we get comes from Shallan's POV, and she's got a serious girl-crush on her mentor. On the few times we get into her head we actually get to see her vulnerable. In the first 2 books there's very few times where we see that vulnerability, we get more in OB but not much. In the narrative she's misunderstood because she projects strength so well. The lesson she give Shallan on the deck of Wind's Pleasure is how she lives her life. She isn't letting many people in, possibly because she's been hurt by those she's loved previously. Add to the fact of her heresy and the assumptions she has to deal with as a result of those beliefs and nobody is really probing beneath the surface. The advantage in that is love or hate her, she gives no one an opportunity to disregard or disrespect her. She's a force in the world with or without Surges.

Writing all this up has made me even more curious to find out what happened to Jasnah to change her from a child prodigy curious and full of questions, to the guarded and strong woman we know today. That is why upon going over each quote, I love Shallan's scene with the slave trader after the ship wreck. Jasnah is considered dead, but I think by seeing through Shallan's mind trying to emulate Jasnah, we could possibly have a hint at the way a young Jasnah learned to draw strength of logic and rational thought against the adversity surrounding her. 

1 hour ago, ILuvHats said:

It’s scary how long your post is.

LOL, it was even longer all together in the word doc I typed up because I had included the quotes in it. With the quotes included, it came to 71 pages. And that is Way of Kings and Words of Radiance alone. I still haven't covered Oathbringer lol. 

1 hour ago, Turin Turambar said:

I love Jasnah. Best Character ever. She's the most like me - even if it is slightly disturbing.

Lol she is epicness. I think Jasnah is important because society puts more value on those that are charismatic, work well with others, and are frequently vocal. Jasnah shows analytical skills, with measured responses and thoughtful silences can be just as beneficial in numerous areas of expertise and in some cases be preferred. Same thing with Renarin. Just because these traits are not what is prevalent does not mean they are "weird" or have lesser value. Jasnah can exist, be logical and rational, but at the same time be human and have a right to feel like she belongs. Her strength standing up to the cultures, societies and religions of her world is downright inspirational. 

Edited March 5, 2019 by Pathfinder

[Turin Turambar]

I do want to know about that madness she had at childhood. Also, what I meant by that she's like me is that I understand her. It's probably related to the fact that I share the same MBTI as her. (INTJ).

[Pathfinder]

16 hours ago, Turin Turambar said:

I do want to know about that madness she had at childhood. Also, what I meant by that she's like me is that I understand her. It's probably related to the fact that I share the same MBTI as her. (INTJ).

I have a theory that she might have had a mild degree of paranoid schizophrenia. There is nothing concrete in the book nor WoB to back it up, but I feel it would explain a lot. 

I understand. I was just responding to the portion where you said "even if it is slightly disturbing". 

[Turin Turambar]

So there is nothing concrete - what what supports this theory of yours?

[+Child of Hodor]

@Pathfinder This is really well put together! I agree there is a person who cares deeply in there, but she is afraid of people hurting her.  

Paranoid for sure, schizophrenic I don't know. EDIT: My guess is she was locked up for a combo of being a stubborn female and telling people she was seeing things or hearing voices which were really a product of her starting to bond a spren. 

She keeps people at arms length for a variety of reasons. She alludes to her time in the asylum and how people close to her hurt her. That would make a child less trusting. She was stubborn from a young age and didn't like being told what to do or being reliant on others:

Spoiler

"By age six, she was pointing out my logical fallacies as I tried to get her to go to bed on time." - WoR Ch. 77

"She wouldn't let me be a mother to her, Dalinar." Navani said ... "I would get close to her and there was this coldness" - WoR Ch. 67

A lot has been made of her single status "is she asexual, is she bi, lesbian?" I don't know her orientation, but I do know that having a spouse or lover would make it harder to keep her Radiant powers secret. They'd be around each other constantly. She has gone to great lengths for 6 years to make everyone think she has a fabrial soulcaster. Probably on some level afraid of getting locked up again or worse if people knew she could do magic. 

She seems to hide that she has plate, even now:

Quote

"Instead, he found only Jasnah Kholin, looking completely nonplussed. A glow faded around her, different from the smoke of her Stormlight. Like geometric shapes outlining her ..." - OB CH. 120

You're in a huge battle in a city where buildings are collapsing, keep your armor on!

A spouse would mean being more tied down and she couldn't travel the world, one of your early quotes illustrates how much traveling she does in her studies. 

Part of her enjoys having a ward and she gets attached to Shallan quickly, but she rarely has wards. She is afraid of getting attached. 

Gavilar and her had a weird relationship where they were both keeping secrets from each other. She kept assassinations from him and he kept his secret society from her. 

Edited March 6, 2019 by Child of Hodor

[Pathfinder]

1 hour ago, Turin Turambar said:

So there is nothing concrete - what what supports this theory of yours?

Technically nothing which I readily realize and admit. Basically my theory is when Jasnah was a child she had a mild degree of paranoid schizophrenia. This would result in her having hallucinations no one else could see. Due to the manner in which the Ardentia treat the "insane", it would be plausible for Navani and Gavilar to send her away to get treated hoping to help her get better. Unfortunately since the treatment is very archaic compared to all we know in the real world, they ended up doing far more harm to Jasnah than good. For instance putting her in a dark room would allow her hallucinations to run rampant. Who knows what other forms of treatment they would do? Realizing she may never be free, and feeling tormented by the "treatment", Jasnah sought logic and rational thought to dispel her hallucinations. I draw upon the biography of John Nash Jr. He also was an intellectual beset by hallucinations brought on by paranoid schizophrenia. At that time electro shock therapy was a very common treatment. He viewed it as torture and over time employed logic and rational thought to try to tell the difference between reality and his hallucinations. Over the course of his life he had a degree of success. I think this enforced logical and rational view to overcome her hallucinations caused her to attract Ivory which led to her later bonding him. The reason there is nothing concrete to back this up, is all the tidbits we have are too loose. Her going "oh no not again" to the shadows could be attributed to a wide range of causes. So I could not claim my thoughts are the only reason that could cause it. It would explain a lot, but it wouldn't exclude any other possibilities. So that's my theory lol. 

 

 

1 hour ago, Child of Hodor said:

@Pathfinder This is really well put together! I agree there is a person who cares deeply in there, but she is afraid of people hurting her.  

Paranoid for sure, schizophrenic I don't know. EDIT: My guess is she was locked up for a combo of being a stubborn female and telling people she was seeing things or hearing voices which were really a product of her starting to bond a spren. 

She keeps people at arms length for a variety of reasons. She alludes to her time in the asylum and how people close to her hurt her. That would make a child less trusting. She was stubborn from a young age and didn't like being told what to do or being reliant on others:

  Reveal hidden contents

"By age six, she was pointing out my logical fallacies as I tried to get her to go to bed on time." - WoR Ch. 77

"She wouldn't let me be a mother to her, Dalinar." Navani said ... "I would get close to her and there was this coldness" - WoR Ch. 67

A lot has been made of her single status "is she asexual, is she bi, lesbian?" I don't know her orientation, but I do know that having a spouse or lover would make it harder to keep her Radiant powers secret. They'd be around each other constantly. She has gone to great lengths for 6 years to make everyone think she has a fabrial soulcaster. Probably on some level afraid of getting locked up again or worse if people knew she could do magic. 

She seems to hide that she has plate, even now:

You're in a huge battle in a city where buildings are collapsing, keep your armor on!

A spouse would mean being more tied down and she couldn't travel the world, one of your early quotes illustrates how much traveling she does in her studies. 

Part of her enjoys having a ward and she gets attached to Shallan quickly, but she rarely has wards. She is afraid of getting attached. 

Gavilar and her had a weird relationship where they were both keeping secrets from each other. She kept assassinations from him and he kept his secret society from her. 

Only thing is although jasnah does comment she has felt their eyes on her for some time, the scene where she first faces Ivory, is the first time she ever met him. She did not know who or what they were and mused to herself she has to research the experience. For me if she had already been bonding him, she would have recognized him when he appeared. I think it is an allusion to what happened to Shallan and Elhokar who felt like they were being watched. In Shallan's case she had bonded pattern when she was young, but she had blocked that part out of her memory. From what we have seen of Jasnah, she very much remembered what was done to her. Elhokar sees them in the mirrors, but Jasnah makes no mention of every seeing them. Only feeling them watching her. That is why I am not sure if I agree yet that Ivory was the reason she was locked up. I feel like it is something else. 

edit: though I realize as I re-read what I wrote, if someone was muttering to themselves "they are watching me, always watching me", I would be concerned for their mental health. So maybe ivory could have been the cause without Jasnah having to actually see him. 

I am not sure we can accurately say she was stubborn and didn't like being told what to do when she was young. Navani speaks of an inquisitive child who used to go to her with questions. Then when she hit adolescents something changed, and it was like she skipped to adulthood. That was when she began to shut people out. I think the event happened, then she became distant

That could be a potential as why she is single. Concerned about sharing her secret. I see what you are going for.

Gavilar and Jasnah I think there is a load of unknown information there. She seems by all rights to love her father, and was deeply hurt to see him killed. Yet she also comments on how he was originally distant till they bonded over the parshendi. Then she gets hurt again by his mistrust. So it really makes me wonder how their dynamic worked when she was younger. 

Edited March 6, 2019 by Pathfinder

[Calderis]

@Pathfinder I am not discounting your theory outright... But I feel the need to question Jasnah's age at the time.

Schizophrenia typically manifests itself in the mid to late teen years. I fear she might have been too young, but to be fair we really don't know enough about her past. 

[ZenBossanova]

3 hours ago, Pathfinder said:

I have a theory that she might have had a mild degree of paranoid schizophrenia. There is nothing concrete in the book nor WoB to back it up, but I feel it would explain a lot. 

I understand. I was just responding to the portion where you said "even if it is slightly disturbing". 

There was a recent post that looked at that in detail, and came to a very similar conclusion. A lot about her really fell into place if she was treated for mental illness as a child. 

You will want to look at this. 

 

[Pathfinder]

1 hour ago, Calderis said:

@Pathfinder I am not discounting your theory outright... But I feel the need to question Jasnah's age at the time.

Schizophrenia typically manifests itself in the mid to late teen years. I fear she might have been too young, but to be fair we really don't know enough about her past. 

Good point. I had not considered if there was an age range for schizophrenia. I agree the implication is that she was fairly young when all this occurred. Hmmm, something to definitely think on. I do admit my theory is out there. I will say doing this re-read has me wondering if it could actually be due to ivory but not directly. In the scene where she sees her shadows acting strange, and I believe one other, she muses that she had "felt their eyes watching her for some time". That is not an exact quote. Perhaps she confessed to Navani and Gavilar about the feeling of unseen eyes always on her, and they took that as madness?

1 hour ago, ZenBossanova said:

There was a recent post that looked at that in detail, and came to a very similar conclusion. A lot about her really fell into place if she was treated for mental illness as a child. 

You will want to look at this. 

 

Lol, I was the one that wrote it on that thread. My theory is that her schizophrenia is what got her locked up, and how she dealt with her schizophrenia to escape is what attracted Ivory. So Ivory would have come later, not caused the locking up. At least that is my theory. 

[+Child of Hodor]

2 hours ago, Pathfinder said:

Only thing is although jasnah does comment she has felt their eyes on her for some time, the scene where she first faces Ivory, is the first time she ever met him. She did not know who or what they were and mused to herself she has to research the experience. For me if she had already been bonding him, she would have recognized him when he appeared. I think it is an allusion to what happened to Shallan and Elhokar who felt like they were being watched. In Shallan's case she had bonded pattern when she was young, but she had blocked that part out of her memory. From what we have seen of Jasnah, she very much remembered what was done to her. Elhokar sees them in the mirrors, but Jasnah makes no mention of every seeing them. Only feeling them watching her. That is why I am not sure if I agree yet that Ivory was the reason she was locked up. I feel like it is something else. 

edit: though I realize as I re-read what I wrote, if someone was muttering to themselves "they are watching me, always watching me", I would be concerned for their mental health. So maybe ivory could have been the cause without Jasnah having to actually see him. 

I am not sure we can accurately say she was stubborn and didn't like being told what to do when she was young. Navani speaks of an inquisitive child who used to go to her with questions. Then when she hit adolescents something changed, and it was like she skipped to adulthood. That was when she began to shut people out. I think the event happened, then she became distant

That could be a potential as why she is single. Concerned about sharing her secret. I see what you are going for.

Gavilar and Jasnah I think there is a load of unknown information there. She seems by all rights to love her father, and was deeply hurt to see him killed. Yet she also comments on how he was originally distant till they bonded over the parshendi. Then she gets hurt again by his mistrust. So it really makes me wonder how their dynamic worked when she was younger. 

Yeah, I was thinking like how Elhokar was paranoid that people were watching him.  He wasn't anywhere near speaking the first ideal in the beginning of tWoK, but he was already seeing or sensing multiple spren out of the corner of his eye or over his shoulder in the mirror. Different Spren than her order, but still. 

It seems like some of the radiant spren types scout potential radiants in groups. When Jasnah earns Ivory's respect in the WoR prologue there are other spren watching:

Quote

"It regarded her for a moment, then raised two fingers to its forehead and bowed, as if in respect, a cloak flourishing behind. Others had gathered beyond it, and they turned to each other, exchanging hushed whispers."

Lift and Wyndle were matched by "the Ring" much to Wyndle's chagrin. Spren other than Wyndle had observed Lift and found her suitable:

Spoiler

"You realize that I didn't choose you," ... "I wanted to pick a distinguished Iriali matron." ... "But no, the Ring said we should choose you. 'She has visited the Old Magic,' they said. 'Our mother has blessed her,' they said. 'She will be young and we can mold her,' they said. Well, they don't have to put up with --" - WoR I-9

Point is it could have been very early in the process (like Elhokar) and she could have been sensing spren other than Ivory. 

The way Jasnah thinks about herself and her one episode doesn't fit with a lifelong mental illness:

Quote

"my mind has always been the one thing I could rely upon."  Except once. - OB Ch. 47

Ivory has been with her 24/7 for 6 years and finds her remarkably stable for a human: 

Spoiler

 

"Ivory, you think all humans are unstable." 

"Not you," he said, lifting his chin. "You are like a spren. You think by facts. You change not on simple whims."

- OB Ch. 47

 

Ivory is not a licensed medical professional, but I would think schizophrenia would manifest at some point in 6 years. He'd notice changes in her behavior & mental state. If she was having delusions that he didn't perceive he would not think that she "thinks by fact". Syl notices Kaladin's depression. Pattern worries about Shallan taking her personas too far and her extreme memory suppression(dissociative disorder). The nahel bond and radiant powers haven't helped their mental illnesses (Shallan's have been exacerbated). 

As @Calderis said it doesn't usually occur that young. It rarely first manifests before 16 or after 45 and men manifest it earlier than women. https://www.psycom.net/paranoid-schizophrenia

The paranoid part fits, but most of the other stuff doesn't. It can go into remission, but for her to have one episode when she was 10ish(?) and none in 25-28 years doesn't seem right. 

Spoiler

 

Examples of the most common paranoid symptoms are:

• delusions of persecution, reference, exalted birth, special mission, bodily change, or jealousy; 
• hallucinatory voices that threaten the patient or give commands, or auditory hallucinations without verbal form, such as whistling, humming, or laughing; 
• hallucinations of smell or taste, or of sexual or other bodily sensations; visual hallucinations may occur but are rarely predominant. 

The course of paranoid schizophrenia may be episodic, with partial or complete remissions, or chronic. In chronic cases, the florid symptoms persist over years and it is difficult to distinguish discrete episodes. The onset tends to be later than in the hebephrenic and catatonic forms. http://www.schizophrenia.com/szparanoid.htm

 

More likely she was perceiving things others couldn't for magical reasons one time and it stopped. It may not be spren bonding, but something. 

Edited March 6, 2019 by Child of Hodor

[Pathfinder]

16 hours ago, Child of Hodor said:

Yeah, I was thinking like how Elhokar was paranoid that people were watching him.  He wasn't anywhere near speaking the first ideal in the beginning of tWoK, but he was already seeing or sensing multiple spren out of the corner of his eye or over his shoulder in the mirror. Different Spren than her order, but still. 

It seems like some of the radiant spren types scout potential radiants in groups. When Jasnah earns Ivory's respect in the WoR prologue there are other spren watching:

Lift and Wyndle were matched by "the Ring" much to Wyndle's chagrin. Spren other than Wyndle had observed Lift and found her suitable:

  Hide contents

"You realize that I didn't choose you," ... "I wanted to pick a distinguished Iriali matron." ... "But no, the Ring said we should choose you. 'She has visited the Old Magic,' they said. 'Our mother has blessed her,' they said. 'She will be young and we can mold her,' they said. Well, they don't have to put up with --" - WoR I-9

Point is it could have been very early in the process (like Elhokar) and she could have been sensing spren other than Ivory. 

The way Jasnah thinks about herself and her one episode doesn't fit with a lifelong mental illness:

Ivory has been with her 24/7 for 6 years and finds her remarkably stable for a human: 

  Hide contents

 

"Ivory, you think all humans are unstable." 

"Not you," he said, lifting his chin. "You are like a spren. You think by facts. You change not on simple whims."

- OB Ch. 47

 

Ivory is not a licensed medical professional, but I would think schizophrenia would manifest at some point in 6 years. He'd notice changes in her behavior & mental state. If she was having delusions that he didn't perceive he would not think that she "thinks by fact". Syl notices Kaladin's depression. Pattern worries about Shallan taking her personas too far and her extreme memory suppression(dissociative disorder). The nahel bond and radiant powers haven't helped their mental illnesses (Shallan's have been exacerbated). 

As @Calderis said it doesn't usually occur that young. It rarely first manifests before 16 or after 45 and men manifest it earlier than women. https://www.psycom.net/paranoid-schizophrenia

The paranoid part fits, but most of the other stuff doesn't. It can go into remission, but for her to have one episode when she was 10ish(?) and none in 25-28 years doesn't seem right. 

  Reveal hidden contents

 

Examples of the most common paranoid symptoms are:

• delusions of persecution, reference, exalted birth, special mission, bodily change, or jealousy; 
• hallucinatory voices that threaten the patient or give commands, or auditory hallucinations without verbal form, such as whistling, humming, or laughing; 
• hallucinations of smell or taste, or of sexual or other bodily sensations; visual hallucinations may occur but are rarely predominant. 

The course of paranoid schizophrenia may be episodic, with partial or complete remissions, or chronic. In chronic cases, the florid symptoms persist over years and it is difficult to distinguish discrete episodes. The onset tends to be later than in the hebephrenic and catatonic forms. http://www.schizophrenia.com/szparanoid.htm

 

More likely she was perceiving things others couldn't for magical reasons one time and it stopped. It may not be spren bonding, but something. 

Hmmm, the only thing that is conflicting (not against your theory, I mean in the information we have in general), is that Ivory states he bonded Jasnah against the wishes of his kind. Could they have been watching her because they saw the potential and wanted to be wary of her, but then one of them (Ivory) while watching felt drawn to her and ignored their protests? Hmmmm. 

Well again, my very loose theory is that the schizophrenia would have predated Ivory's interest in Jasnah. That the way she tried to cope with it using rational thought to tell the difference between hallucination and reality would have drawn him to her. So Jasnah having relied on it so much to judge her very reality by it, would seem like a beacon of logic to Ivory and lead him to say that. At least that is the line of thinking of my theory. 

Actually that made me remember the other instance I was drawing upon that now makes me think the age issue might not be as great an issue. Two girls aged 12 attempted to kill a third girl aged 12 because "slender man" told them to. One of the girl's father was medically diagnosed as schizophrenic and commented on how he would see demons in the backseat, and have to try to remind himself it wasn't real. He hadn't thought she exhibited any signs of it, and felt he failed at not helping her cope with the issues. Now that could have been used for the daughter to try and commute her sentence to plead insanity, but having a familial history of the illness could lend credence to their claim she had it and that is why she did what she did. So although it may come up in less circumstances, it could potentially still be on the table. Hmmm, more for me to think on!

Edited March 7, 2019 by Pathfinder

[+Q10fanatic]

I created an account (longtime lurker) just to say that I thoroughly enjoyed this deep dive into Jasnah's character and I hope that you get add Oathbringer to the analysis soon!

[Pathfinder]

6 hours ago, Q10fanatic said:

I created an account (longtime lurker) just to say that I thoroughly enjoyed this deep dive into Jasnah's character and I hope that you get add Oathbringer to the analysis soon!

Thank you! I will do my best. Since there is one book left, part of me thinks it won't take as long as Way of Kings and Words of Radiance, but at the same token Oathbringer is pretty hefty all on its own. Since there is interest, I will get right to work on it!

[Pathfinder]

Ok, finally finished Oathbringer! Sorry for the delay. Here we go!

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 95

Still, she tried to keep her head high, her back straight, and to walk more like her tutors had always instructed. Power was an illusion of perception, as Jasnah had said. The first step to being in control was to see yourself as capable of being in control.

 

 

Reinforcement of the lessons Jasnah taught Shallan. To the outside world Jasnah is cold, harsh, and in control always. But we see through her lessons to Shallan, it is a shield, it is armor to help protect the feelings inside, but also aid in survival at court.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 104

Dalinar nodded, squatting down beside the corpse, though Shallan had no idea what he expected to see. The fellow was very dead. “Perhaps if I put my son on the job, it will convince people I’m serious about finding the killer. Perhaps not—they might just think I’ve put someone in charge who can keep the secret. Storms, I miss Jasnah. She would have known how to spin this, to keep opinion from turning against us in court.

 

 

Another example of how Dalinar trusts and depended on Jasnah. She is capable and proficient in politics. That does not however mean she is a manipulative snake in the grass. Dalinar reasons the necessity of doing so and if he was more capable, he would do so himself. He even says he will do as much when at the end of the book it is revealed to him that Adolin is the one that murdered Sadeas.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 148

“Sorry,” Shallan said, making two fists before herself and shivering in glee. She’d spent so long feeling timid, it was so satisfying to hear a reference to her confidence. It was working! Jasnah’s teaching about practicing and acting like she was in control. It was working.

 

 

Just including this quote to further back up my earlier point about how Jasnah carries herself externally vs internally.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 151

“I don’t spend all my time hitting people with swords, Shallan,” Adolin said. “Jasnah and Aunt Navani made very certain that my youth was filled with interminable periods spent listening to ardents lecture me on politics and trade. Some of it stuck in my brain, against my natural inclinations. Those three books are the best of the ones I remember having read to me, though the last one is an updated version. I thought it might help.”

 

 

Another sign of Jasnah caring for her family. She and Navani looked after Adolin after Evi’s death, and made sure he had a good education. She took an interest in her cousins when she didn’t have to.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 161

A poised woman, not as flighty as Shallan, not as unintentionally silly. A woman who hadn’t been sheltered. A woman hard enough, strong enough, to wield this sword. A woman like … like Jasnah. Yes, Jasnah’s subtle smile, composure, and self-confidence. Shallan outlined her own face with these ideals, creating a harder version of it. Could … could she be this woman?

 

 

Despite all Shallan learned about Jasnah, it is interesting that she still has a very idealized view of her mentor

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 163

“Brightlord Kholin?” Too formal. Right. That was how Radiant would act, of course—but she could allow herself some familiarity. Jasnah had done that. “I was merely,” Radiant said, “attempting to show the respect due a master from his humble pupil.”

 

 

I like this little tidbit, because it shows even when Jasnah is in command, she does still take the time to allow some familiarity and a personal touch.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 231

“A task?” Shallan snapped, causing the chicken to chirp at her again. “Mraize, I’m not going to do some task for you people. You killed Jasnah.”

“An enemy combatant,” Mraize said. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You know full well what that woman was capable of, and what she got herself into by attacking us. Do you blame your wonderfully moral Blackthorn for what he did in war? The countless people he slaughtered?”

“Don’t deflect your evils by pointing out the faults of others,” Shallan said. “I’m not going to further your cause. I don’t care how much you demand that I Soulcast for you, I’m not going to do it.”

“So quick to insist, yet you acknowledge your debt. One Soulcaster lost, destroyed. But we forgive these things, for missions undertaken. And before you object again, know that the task we require of you is one you’re already undertaking. Surely you have sensed the darkness in this place. The … wrongness.” Shallan looked about the small room, flickering with shadows from a few candles on the counter. “Your task,” Mraize said, “is to secure this location. Urithiru must remain strong if we are to properly use the advent of the Voidbringers.”

“Use them?”

“Yes,” Mraize said. “This is a power we will control, but we must not let either side gain dominance yet. Secure Urithiru. Hunt the source of the darkness you feel, and expunge it. This is your task. And for it I will give payment in information.” He leaned closer to her and spoke a single word. “Helaran.”

 

 

I find this accusation of Mraize interesting. He implies that Jasnah struck first and the Ghostbloods were just retaliating. Thing is, as shown earlier, Jasnah discovered that the Ghostbloods were intent on taking advantage of the Desolations to gain power. She is trying to stop it to save her family and the world. We have no idea what was happening that resulted in Jasnah killing a member of the Ghostbloods. The common assumption is an assassination, but that is far from the only possibility, and personally I do not think was the case. I could easily see a circumstance occurring where while Jasnah was searching for information, an agent of the ghostbloods runs into her, and they end up in conflict over an ancient tome or piece of information. The battle results in Jasnah surviving and killing the agent of the Ghostbloods. Regardless the circumstance, the Ghostbloods hardly come out as an innocent organization. To me they are right up there with the Sons of Honor. One organization (Sons of Honor) wants to bring about the Desolations which will result in the deaths of countless innocent people to further their own agenda, the other organization (Ghostbloods) wants to manipulate the Desolation and prolong it resulting in even greater loss of life to further their own agenda. Sounds pretty similar to me.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 271

He had to do something. “Blade and Plate,” Dalinar said to Gavilar urgently. “I won them both, but I give them to you. A gift. For your children.” “Ha!” Gavilar said. “Jasnah? What would she do with Shards? No, no. You—” “Keep them,” Dalinar pled, grabbing his brother by the arm. “Please.” “Very well, if you insist,” Gavilar said. “I suppose you do already have Plate to give your heir.” “If I have one.” “You will!” Gavilar said, sending some men to recover Kalanor’s Blade and Plate. “Ha! Toh will have to agree, finally, that we can protect his line. I suspect the wedding will happen within the month!”

 

 

I find this dismissive comment by Gavilar interesting. He could mean it wouldn’t make sense to give it to Jasnah because since she is a woman, she would not wield it. However, I am surprised he wouldn’t consider it as a means to marry Jasnah off once she comes of age given I believe she is 6 years old at this time. Either way, Gavilar doesn’t think much regarding his daughter in this moment.  

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 277

Shallan gritted her teeth, but found her anger … cool. Not gone. No, she would not forgive this man for killing Helaran. But the uncomfortable truth was that she didn’t know why, or how, her brother had fallen to Amaram. She could almost hear Jasnah whispering to her: Don’t judge without more details.

 

 

I like this scene because again it shows how Jasnah works. She doesn’t jump to conclusions. She doesn’t rush nor act without further information. Jasnah ingrained this so much that Shallan reminds herself of it, even when her brother’s killer is right in front of her. She thinks to herself, Jasnah would say not to judge without more details. Without gathering more information.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 334

He flipped through her pages. “What’s this section? Why take such care for where each text was found? Fiksin concluded that these Dawnchant books had all spread from a central location, and so there’s nothing to learn by where they ended up.”

“Fiksin was a boot-licker, not a scholar,” Ellista said. “Look, there’s easy proof here that the same writing system was once used all across Roshar. I have references in Makabakam, Sela Tales, Alethela … Not a diaspora of texts, but real evidence they wrote naturally in the Dawnchant.”

“Do you suppose they all spoke the same language?”

“Hardly.”

“But Jasnah Kholin’s Relic and Monument?”

“Doesn’t claim everyone spoke the same language, only that they wrote it. It’s foolish to assume that everyone used the same language across hundreds of years and dozens of nations. It makes more sense that there was a codified written language, the language of scholarship, just like you’ll find many undertexts written in Alethi now.”

“Ah…” he said. “And then a Desolation hit.…”

 

 

I like this brief scene simply because it shows that Jasnah is a published author that is known world wide and is respected. The woman certainly has to have quite a few credentials in her own right to be regarded as such.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 345

Jasnah was alive. Jasnah Kholin was alive. Shallan was supposed to be recovering from her ordeal, never mind that the bridgemen had handled the fighting. All she’d done was grope an eldritch spren. Still, she spent the next day holed up in her room sketching and thinking. Jasnah’s return sparked something in her. Shallan had once been more analytical in her drawing, including notes and explanations with the sketches. Lately she’d only been doing pages and pages of twisted images. Well, she’d been trained as a scholar, hadn’t she? She shouldn’t just draw; she should analyze, extrapolate, speculate. So, she addressed herself to fully recording her experiences with the Unmade. Adolin and Palona visited her separately, and even Dalinar came to check on her while Navani clicked her tongue and asked after her health. Shallan endured their company, then eagerly returned to her drawing. There were so many questions. Why exactly had she been able to drive the thing away? What was the meaning of its creations? Hanging over her research, however, was a single daunting fact. Jasnah was alive. Storms … Jasnah was alive. That changed everything. Eventually, Shallan couldn’t remain locked up any longer. Though Navani mentioned Jasnah was planning to visit her later in the evening, Shallan washed and dressed, then threw her satchel over her shoulder and went searching for the woman. She had to know how Jasnah had survived. In fact, as Shallan stalked the hallways of Urithiru, she found herself increasingly perturbed. Jasnah claimed to always look at things from a logical perspective, but she had a flair for the dramatic to rival any storyteller. Shallan well remembered that night in Kharbranth when Jasnah had lured thieves in, then dealt with them in stunning—and brutal—fashion. Jasnah didn’t want to merely prove her points. She wanted to drive them right into your skull, with a flourish and a pithy epigram. Why hadn’t she written via spanreed to let everyone know she had survived? Storms, where had she been all this time? A few inquiries led Shallan back to the pit with its spiraling stairs. Guards in sharp Kholin blue confirmed that Jasnah was below, so Shallan started trudging down those steps again, and was surprised to find that she felt no anxiety at the descent. In fact … the oppressive feelings she’d felt since they’d arrived at the tower seemed to have evaporated. No more fear, no more formless sense of wrongness. The thing she’d chased away had been its cause. Somehow, its aura had pervaded the entire tower. At the base of the stairs, she found more soldiers. Dalinar obviously wanted this place well guarded; she certainly couldn’t complain about that. These let her pass without incident, save a bow and a murmur of “Brightness Radiant.” She strode down the muraled hallway, the sphere lanterns set along the base of the walls making it pleasingly bright. Once she’d passed the empty library rooms to either side, she heard voices drifting toward her from ahead. She stepped up into the room where she’d faced the Midnight Mother, and got her first good look at the place when it wasn’t covered in writhing darkness. The crystal pillar at the center really was something incredible. It wasn’t a single gemstone, but a myriad of them fused together: emerald, ruby, topaz, sapphire … All ten varieties seemed to have been melted into a single thick pillar, twenty feet tall. Storms … what would it look like if all those gems were somehow infused, rather than dun as they were at the moment? A large group of guards stood at a barricade near the other side of the room, looking down into the tunnel where the Unmade had vanished. Jasnah rounded the giant pillar, freehand resting on the crystal. The princess wore red, lips painted to match, hair up and run through with swordlike hairspikes with rubies on the pommels. Storms. She was perfect. A curvaceous figure, tan Alethi skin, light violet eyes, and not a hint of aberrant color to her jet-black hair. Making Jasnah Kholin as beautiful as she was brilliant was one of the most unfair things the Almighty had ever done. Shallan hesitated in the doorway, feeling much as she had upon seeing Jasnah for the first time in Kharbranth. Insecure, overwhelmed, and—if she was honest—incredibly envious. Whatever ordeals Jasnah had been through, she looked no worse for wear. That was remarkable, considering that the last time Shallan had seen Jasnah, the woman had been lying unconscious on the floor while a man rammed a knife through her chest.

“My mother,” Jasnah said, hand still on the pillar, not looking toward Shallan, “thinks this must be some kind of incredibly intricate fabrial. A logical assumption; we’ve always believed that the ancients had access to great and wonderful technology. How else do you explain Shardblades and Shardplate?”

“Brightness?” Shallan said. “But … Shardblades aren’t fabrials. They’re spren, transformed by the bond.”

“As are fabrials, after a manner of speaking,” Jasnah said. “You do know how they’re made, don’t you?”

“Only vaguely,” Shallan said. This was how their reunion went? A lecture? Fitting.

“You capture a spren,” Jasnah said, “and imprison it inside a gemstone crafted for the purpose. Artifabrians have found that specific stimuli will provoke certain responses in the spren. For example, flamespren give off heat—and by pressing metal against a ruby with a flamespren trapped inside, you can increase or decrease that heat.”

“That’s…”

“Incredible?”

“Horrible,” Shallan said. She’d known some of this, but to contemplate it directly appalled her. “Brightness, we’re imprisoning spren?”

“No worse than hitching a wagon to a chull.”

“Sure, if in order to get a chull to pull a wagon, you first had to lock it in a box forever.” Pattern hummed softly from her skirts in agreement. Jasnah just cocked an eyebrow.

“There are spren and there are spren, child.” She rested her fingers on the pillar again. “Do a sketch of this for me. Be certain to get the proportions and colors right, if you please.” The careless presumption of the command hit Shallan like a slap in the face. What was she, some servant to be given orders? Yes, a part of her affirmed. That’s exactly what you are. You’re Jasnah’s ward. The request wasn’t at all unusual in that light, but compared to how she had grown accustomed to being treated, it was … Well, it wasn’t worth taking offense at, and she should accept that. Storms, when had she grown so touchy? She took out her sketchpad and got to work. “I was heartened to hear that you had made it here on your own,” Jasnah said. “I … apologize for what happened on Wind’s Pleasure. My lack of foresight caused the deaths of many, and doubtless hardship for you, Shallan. Please accept my regret.” Shallan shrugged, sketching. “You’ve done very well,” Jasnah continued. “Imagine my amazement when I reached the Shattered Plains, only to discover that the warcamp had already relocated to this tower. What you have accomplished is brilliant, child. We will need to speak further, however, about the group that again tried to assassinate me. The Ghostbloods will almost certainly start targeting you, now that you’ve begun progressing toward your final Ideals.”

“You’re sure it was the Ghostbloods that attacked the ship?”

“Of course I am.” She glanced at Shallan, lips turning down. “Are you certain you are well enough to be about, child? You seem uncharacteristically reserved.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re displeased because of the secrets I kept.”

“We all need secrets, Brightness. I know this more than anyone. But it would have been nice if you had let us know you were alive.” Here I was assuming I could handle things on my own—assuming I’d have to handle things on my own. But all that time, you were on your way back to toss everything into the air again.

“I only had the opportunity upon reaching the warcamps,” Jasnah said, “and there decided that I couldn’t risk it. I was tired and unprotected. If the Ghostbloods wished to finish me off, they could have done so at their leisure. I determined that a few more days of everyone believing I was dead would not greatly increase their distress.”

“But how did you even survive in the first place?”

“Child, I’m an Elsecaller.”

“Of course. An Elsecaller, Brightness. A thing you never explained; a word which no one but the most dedicated scholar of the esoteric would recognize! That explains it perfectly.” Jasnah smiled for some reason.

“All Radiants have an attachment to Shadesmar,” Jasnah said. “Our spren originate there, and our bond ties us to them. But my order has special control over moving between realms. I was able to shift to Shadesmar to escape my would-be assassins.”

“And that helped with the knife in your storming chest?”

“No,” Jasnah said. “But surely by now you’ve learned the value of a little Stormlight when it comes to bodily wounds?” Of course she had, and she could probably have guessed all of this. But for some reason she didn’t want to accept that. She wanted to remain annoyed at Jasnah. “My true difficulty was not escaping, but returning,” Jasnah said. “My powers make it easy to transfer to Shadesmar, but getting back to this realm is no small feat. I had to find a transfer point—a place where Shadesmar and our realm touch—which is far, far more difficult than one might assume. It’s like … going downhill one way, but uphill to get back.” Well, perhaps her return would take some pressure off Shallan. Jasnah could be “Brightness Radiant” and Shallan could be … well, whatever she was. “We will need to converse further,” Jasnah said. “I would hear the exact story, from your perspective, of the discovery of Urithiru. And I assume you have sketches of the transformed parshmen? That will tell us much. I … believe I once disparaged the usefulness of your artistic skill. I now find reason to call myself foolish for that presumption.”

“It’s fine, Brightness,” Shallan said with a sigh, still sketching the pillar. “I can get you those things, and there is a lot to talk about.” But how much of it would she be able to say? How would Jasnah react, for instance, to finding that Shallan had been dealing with the Ghostbloods? It’s not like you’re really a part of their organization, Shallan thought to herself. If anything, you’re using them for information. Jasnah might find that admirable. Shallan still wasn’t eager to broach the topic.

“I feel lost…” Jasnah said. Shallan looked up from her sketchbook to find the woman regarding the pillar again, speaking softly, as if to herself. “For years I was at the very forefront of all this,” Jasnah said. “One short stumble, and I find myself scrambling to stay afloat. These visions that my uncle is having … the refounding of the Radiants in my absence … “That Windrunner. What do you think of him, Shallan? I find him much as I imagined his order, but I have only met him once. It has all come so quickly. After years of struggling in the shadows, everything coming to light—and despite my years of study—I understand so very little.” Shallan continued her sketch. It was nice to be reminded that, for all their differences, there were occasional things that she and Jasnah shared. She just wished that ignorance weren’t at the top of the list.

 

 

Jasnah has returned. Jasnah is alive! The very revelation changes Shallan. Gives her some focus. Brings her back to her scholarly aspirations. Causing her to re-examine a lot of what she has gone through and trying to learn from it. In a way it is much like a student that was given a homework assignment and left to their own devices. Then once they realize the teacher is returning, they quickly scramble to make up all the lost time, and worry about how their work will look. She then muses in (to me) a way that indicates she is hurt. Jasnah did not confide in Shallan that she had survived. Shallan was left out of the loop and grieved over her loss mentor. In a way she feels a bit betrayed. She also seems a bit upset over having to track Jasnah down to talk instead of the other way around, while forgetting that she just mused to herself that she locked herself away to recover and examine what she just went through. So it is not exactly Jasnah’s fault for giving Shallan space, space that Shallan herself required and got annoyed at any interruptions (from everyone, Adolin included). Shallan again thinks of Jasnah as perfect based on her appearance. Through our journey through Way of Kings and Words of Radiance we know far more lies beneath. Despite all she has learned of Jasnah, Shallan still sees her mentor as flawless and is envious of her. She thinks that Jasnah came out of the attempted assassination without any problems, when we know the truth is quite the opposite. Jasnah was distraught and torn up over abandoning Shallan and the crew against her own will by Ivory pulling her into Shadesmar. When she met Hoid, she was burned, dirty, and exhausted from unknown trials and danger. Just because Jasnah looks composed now, does not mean the woman did not have to fight and was not hurt during the intervening time.

Shallan is then hurt/annoyed that their reunion starts with Jasnah lecturing her. She says to herself how it is “fitting” in a bitter manner. However I would argue it is fitting because of how Jasnah is. It is how Jasnah copes. Outwardly she is logical and focused, while inwardly she feels. The glimpse we saw of how upset she was over Shallan’s supposedly attempted suicide is to show us that just because Jasnah does not blatantly show her emotions, does not mean those emotions do not exist. For all we know when Jasnah found out Shallan survived and all she accomplished, Jasnah could have (and I feel probably did) been filled with relief, pride and joy. So to me, it is not entirely fair for Shallan, despite all she has learned about Jasnah, to be upset about how Jasnah goes about their reuniting. Jasnah confirms this by then apologizing to Shallan. She takes what happened on herself, when anyone could make the same mistake, especially when she was single handedly fighting an entire organization with resources that transcend the planet, all while doing her best to do a game of catch up with the fate of the world on the line. I mean jeez, talk about high expectations. Jasnah is smart and capable, but she isn’t inhuman. Or at least that is my opinion, and I feel all the quotes I am providing support that.

Jasnah then extols Shallan for all her accomplishments, and warns her that she is almost certainly in danger. Jasnah then notices the change in Shallan’s tone that causes her to be concerned for Shallan. Shallan says she is upset for not being told Jasnah was alive, but we also see her being honest with herself that the real reason she is upset is that by Jasnah returning, Shallan begins to question her capabilities again. Here is someone that in her head, is so capable as to be perfect. What are her accomplishments when held against Jasnah? I do not fault Shallan for feeling this way because it happens to all of us sometimes, but we also know this is not true, nor fair towards Jasnah. Shallan gets snarky with Jasnah, and Jasnah smiles. Shallan doesn’t understand why, but for me, I think this is Jasnah being happy about returning to their old dynamic. I think Jasnah missed Shallan, and Shallan getting snarky with her is familiar. It causes a warm feeling for Jasnah. Remember although Jasnah does not outwardly show emotion, I think it is safe to say in the journey we have been on, we have seen how deeply Jasnah cares for Shallan. In some ways, Shallan views Jasnah’s return as a relief. Someone else that can take over from all the pressures. Let Jasnah be “Brightness Radiant”.

The scene closes by given us another glimpse into vulnerable Jasnah. She feels lost, drowning in all the information she has to catch up on. She struggled for so long, and now that everything is being revealed, she feels like she knew nothing to begin with. For such a scholar, it must be very upsetting.

 

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 399

“All right,” Dalinar said. “Bring in Navani and Jasnah.” He eventually planned to show this vision to the young emperor of Azir, but first he wanted to prepare. “Put them somewhere close to me, please. Let them keep their own clothing.” Nearby, two men stopped in place. A mist of glowing Stormlight obscured their forms, and when the mist faded, Navani and Jasnah stood there, wearing havahs. Dalinar jogged over to them. “Welcome to my madness, ladies.” Navani turned about, craning her neck to stare up at the tops of the castle-like rock formations. She glanced toward a group of soldiers who limped past, one man helping his wounded companion and calling for Regrowth.

“Storms!” Navani whispered. “It feels so real.”

“I did warn you,” Dalinar said. “Hopefully you don’t look too ridiculous back in the rooms.” Though he had become familiar enough with the visions that his body no longer acted out what he was doing in them, that wouldn’t be so for Jasnah, Navani, or any of the monarchs he brought in.

“What is that woman doing?” Jasnah asked, curious. A younger woman met the limping men. A Radiant? She had the look about her, though she wasn’t armored. It was more her air of confidence, the way she settled them down and took something glowing from the pouch at her belt.

“I remember this,” Dalinar said. “It’s one of those devices I mentioned from another vision. The ones that provide Regrowth, as they call it. Healing.” Navani’s eyes widened, and she beamed like a child who had been given a plate full of sweets for Middlefest. She gave Dalinar a quick hug, then hurried over to watch. She stepped right up to the side of the group, then waved impatiently for the Radiant to continue. Jasnah turned to look around the canyon.

“I know of no place in our time of this description, Uncle. This seems like the stormlands, from those formations.”

“Maybe it’s lost somewhere in the Unclaimed Hills?”

“That, or it’s been so long the rock formations have weathered away completely.” She narrowed her eyes at a group of people who came through the canyon, carrying water to the soldiers. Last time, Dalinar had stumbled down into the canyon just in time to meet them and get a drink. You’re needed above, one had told him, pointing up the shallow slope along the side of the canyon opposite where he had been fighting. “That clothing,” Jasnah said softly. “Those weapons…”

“We’ve gone back to ancient times.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Jasnah said. “But didn’t you tell me this vision comes at the end of the Desolations?”

“From what I remember of it, yes.”

“So the vision with the Midnight Essence happened before this, chronologically. Yet you saw steel, or at least iron, in that one. Remember the poker?”

“I’m not likely to forget.” He rubbed his chin. “Iron and steel then, but men wielding crude weapons here, of copper and bronze. As if they didn’t know how to Soulcast iron, or at least not how to forge it properly, despite it being a later date. Huh. That is odd.”

“This is confirmation of what we’ve been told, but which I could never quite believe. The Desolations were so terrible they destroyed learning and progress and left behind a broken people.”

“The orders of Radiants were supposed to stop that,” Dalinar said. “I learned it in another vision.”

“Yes, I read that one. All of them, actually.” She looked to him then, and smiled. People were always surprised to see emotion from Jasnah, but Dalinar considered that unfair. She did smile—she merely reserved the expression for when it was most genuine. “Thank you, Uncle,” she said. “You have given the world a grand gift. A man can be brave in facing down a hundred enemies, but coming into these—and recording them rather than hiding them—was bravery on an entirely different level.”

“It was mere stubbornness. I refused to believe I was mad.”

“Then I bless your stubbornness, Uncle.” Jasnah pursed her lips in thought, then continued more softly. “I’m worried about you, Uncle. What people are saying.”

“You mean my heresy?” Dalinar said.

“I’m less worried about the heresy itself, and more how you’re dealing with the backlash.” Ahead of them, Navani had somehow bullied the Radiant into letting her look at the fabrial. The day was stretching toward late afternoon, the canyon falling into shadow. But this vision was a long one, and he was content to wait upon Navani. He settled down on a rock.

“I don’t deny God, Jasnah,” he said. “I simply believe that the being we call the Almighty was never actually God.”

“Which is the wise decision to make, considering the accounts of your visions.” Jasnah settled down beside him.

“You must be happy to hear me say that,” he said.

“I’m happy to have someone to talk to, and I’m certainly happy to see you on a journey of discovery. But am I happy to see you in pain? Am I happy to see you forced to abandon something you held dear?” She shook her head. “I don’t mind people believing what works for them, Uncle. That’s something nobody ever seems to understand—I have no stake in their beliefs. I don’t need company to be confident.”

“How do you suffer it, Jasnah?” Dalinar said. “The things people say about you? I see the lies in their eyes before they speak. Or they will tell me, with utter sincerity, things I have reportedly said—even though I deny them. They refuse my own word against the rumors about me!” Jasnah stared out across the canyon. More men were gathering at the other end, a weak, beleaguered group who were only now discovering they were the victors in this contest. A large column of smoke rose in the distance, though he couldn’t see the source.

“I wish I had answers, Uncle,” Jasnah said softly. “Fighting makes you strong, but also callous. I worry I have learned too much of the latter and not enough of the former. But I can give you a warning.” He looked toward her, raising his eyebrows. “They will try,” Jasnah said, “to define you by something you are not. Don’t let them. I can be a scholar, a woman, a historian, a Radiant. People will still try to classify me by the thing that makes me an outsider. They want, ironically, the thing I don’t do or believe to be the prime marker of my identity. I have always rejected that, and will continue to do so.” She reached over and put her freehand on his arm. “You are not a heretic, Dalinar Kholin. You are a king, a Radiant, and a father. You are a man with complicated beliefs, who does not accept everything you are told. You decide how you are defined. Don’t surrender that to them. They will gleefully take the chance to define you, if you allow it.” Dalinar nodded slowly. “Regardless,” Jasnah said, standing. “This is probably not the best occasion for such a conversation. I realize we can replay this vision at will, but the number of storms in which we can do it will be limited. I should be exploring.”

“Last time, I went that way,” Dalinar said, pointing up the slope. “I’d like to see what I saw again.”

“Excellent. We’d best split to cover more ground. I will go in the other direction, then we can meet afterward and compare notes.” She took off down the slope toward the largest gathering of men. Dalinar stood up and stretched, his earlier exertion still weighing on him. A short time later Navani returned, mumbling explanations of what she’d seen under her breath. Teshav sat with her in the waking world, and Kalami with Jasnah, recording what they said—the only way to take notes in one of these visions. Navani took his arm in hers and looked after Jasnah, a fond smile on her lips. No, none would think Jasnah emotionless if they’d witnessed that tearful reunion between mother and daughter.

“How did you ever mother that one?” Dalinar asked.

“Mostly without letting her realize she was being mothered,” Navani said. She pulled him close. “That fabrial is wonderful, Dalinar. It’s like a Soulcaster.”

“In what way?”

“In that I have no idea how it works! I think … I think something is wrong with the way we’ve been viewing the ancient fabrials.” He looked to her, and she shook her head. “I can’t explain yet.”

“Navani…” he prodded.

“No,” she said stubbornly. “I need to present my ideas to the scholars, see if what I’m thinking even makes sense, and then prepare a report. That’s the short of it, Dalinar Kholin. So be patient.”

“I probably won’t understand half of what you say anyway,” he grumbled. He didn’t immediately start them up in the direction he’d gone before. Last time he’d been prompted by someone in the vision. He’d acted differently this time. Would the same prompting still come? He had to wait only a short time until an officer came running up to them. “You there,” the man said. “Malad-son-Zent, isn’t that your name? You’re promoted to sergeant. Head to base camp three.” He pointed up the incline. “Up over that knob there, down the other side. Hop to it!” He spared a frown for Navani—to his eyes, the two of them didn’t belong standing in such a familial pose—but then charged off without another word. Dalinar smiled.

“What?” Navani said.

“These are set experiences that Honor wanted me to have. Though there’s freedom in them, I suspect that the same information will be conveyed no matter what I do.”

“So, do you want to disobey?” Dalinar shook his head.

“There are some things I need to see again—now that I understand this vision is accurate, I know better questions to ask.” They started up the incline of smooth rock, walking arm in arm. Dalinar felt unexpected emotions start to churn within him, partially due to Jasnah’s words. But this was something deeper: a welling of gratitude, relief, even love.

“Dalinar?” Navani asked. “Are you well?”

“I’m just … thinking,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “Blood of my fathers … it’s been nearly half a year, hasn’t it? Since all this started? All that time, I came to these alone. It’s just good to share the burden, Navani. To be able to show this to you, and to know for once—absolutely and certainly—that what I’m seeing isn’t merely in my own mind.”

 

 

This is one of my favorite scenes with Jasnah. It shows so much about her that was hidden over the course of the books, laid bare. First we see Jasnah business as usual, analyzing the vision for historical accuracy, and information. That is how she reasons that the cause of the inconsistent technological level despite the chronological nature of the Visions is how utterly devastating the Desolations were. They destroyed learning and progress, leaving behind a broken people. The Radiants were supposed to stop that. Now they are experiencing a desolation where the Radiants aren’t anywhere near the same number they were, without anywhere close the knowledge of the surges. The situation looks pretty dire to me. Despite the looming threat Jasnah smiles. Why? Because she sees the visions as gift to help them survive the coming end of the world. She admires and loves Dalinar. She recognizes how hard it was on him to hold true to the visions even after everyone (including his own son) thought him mad. She then expresses concern for him and the backlash from the church. She doesn’t take this time to say “ha I told you so”. She doesn’t say “see? The church is horrible!”. Not at all. What she says is she is concerned about how he feels. She knows how important religion became to Dalinar. She knows how much it must pain him to be at odds with the church, and even more at odds with his best friend Kadash. Even Dalinar of all people, assume Jasnah would exult in another heretic joining her ranks. But that does not matter to her. It does not matter to her that he still believes in a god, just that it is not the Almighty. No, she is happy to be able to talk to the uncle she loves. She is pained to see him in pain. She feels sorrow for his loss. She has no problem with people believing in what works for them. No one seems to understand that about her no matter how many times she says it. He asks how she can stand the things people say about her. How they treat her, and she is open and honest in her response. She doesn’t know. She has had to fight for every inch. She has had to fight to hold her beliefs. She has had to fight to be herself. People will try to classify you, and belittle you based on things that actually don’t apply to you at all, just so it is easier for them to cast you aside. She rejects that. She chooses to define herself, and suggests he does the same. Brandon then takes the time to mention Navani and Jasnah’s reunion. The cold and distant Jasnah in tears when reunited with her mother. The scene closes with Dalinar finally feeling the relief and love that comes from knowing he can finally share his burden with Navani and Jasnah. This scene really hits every single point I have been hitting this entire way through this thread.

 

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 411

“Shallan can take notes for us,” Jasnah said. Shallan looked up from her notebook. She’d settled against the tile-covered wall, sitting on the floor in her blue havah, and had intended to spend the meeting doing sketches. It had been over a week since her recovery and subsequent meeting with Jasnah at the crystal pillar. Shallan was feeling better and better, and at the same time less and less like herself. What a surreal experience it was, following Jasnah around as if nothing had changed. Today, Dalinar had called a meeting of his Radiants, and Jasnah had suggested the basement rooms of the tower because they were so well secured. She was incredibly worried about being spied upon. The rows of dust had been removed from the library floor; Navani’s flock of scholars had carefully catalogued every splinter. The emptiness served only to underscore the absence of the information they’d hoped to find. Now everyone was looking at her. “Notes?” Shallan asked. She’d barely been following the conversation. “We could call for Brightness Teshav.…” So far, it was a small group. The Blackthorn, Navani, and their core Surgebinders: Jasnah, Renarin, Shallan, and Kaladin Stormblessed, the flying bridgeman. Adolin and Elhokar were away, visiting Vedenar to survey the military capacities of Taravangian’s army. Malata was working the Oathgate for them. “No need to call in another scribe,” Jasnah said. “We covered shorthand in your training, Shallan. I’d see how well you’ve retained the skill. Be fastidious; we will need to report to my brother what we determine here.” The rest of them had settled into a group of chairs except for Kaladin, who stood leaning against the wall. Looming like a thundercloud. He had killed Helaran, her brother. The emotion of that peeked out, but Shallan smothered it, stuffing it into the back of her mind. Kaladin wasn’t to be blamed for that. He’d just been defending his brightlord. She stood up, feeling like a chastened child. The weight of their stares prodded her to walk over and take a seat beside Jasnah with her pad open and pencil ready. “So,” Kaladin said. “According to the Stormfather, not only is the Almighty dead, but he condemned ten people to an eternity of torture. We call them Heralds, and they’re not only traitors to their oaths, they’re probably also mad. We had one of them in our custody—likely the maddest of the lot—but we lost him in the turmoil of getting everyone to Urithiru. In short, everyone who might have been able to help us is crazy, dead, a traitor, or some combination of the three.” He folded his arms. “Figures.” Jasnah glanced at Shallan. She sighed, then recorded a summary of what he’d said. Even though it was already a summary. “So what do we do with this knowledge?” Renarin said, leaning forward with his hands clasped. “We must curb the Voidbringer assault,” Jasnah said. “We can’t let them secure too great a foothold.” “The parshmen aren’t our enemies,” Kaladin said softly. Shallan glanced at him. There was something about that wavy dark hair, that grim expression. Always serious, always solemn—and so tense. Like he had to be strict with himself to contain his passion. “Of course they’re our enemies,” Jasnah said. “They’re in the process of conquering the world. Even if your report indicates they aren’t as immediately destructive as we feared, they are still an enormous threat.” “They just want to live better lives,” Kaladin said. “I can believe,” Jasnah said, “that the common parshmen have such a simple motive. But their leaders? They will pursue our extinction.” “Agreed,” Navani said. “They were born out of a twisted thirst to destroy humankind.” “The parshmen are the key,” Jasnah said, shuffling through some pages of notes. “Looking over what you discovered, it seems that all parshmen can bond with ordinary spren as part of their natural life cycle. What we’ve been calling ‘Voidbringers’ are instead a combination of a parshman with some kind of hostile spren or spirit.” “The Fused,” Dalinar said. “Great,” Kaladin said. “Fine. Let’s fight them, then. Why do the common folk have to get crushed in the process?” “Perhaps,” Jasnah said, “you should visit my uncle’s vision and see for yourself the consequences of a soft heart. Firsthand witness of a Desolation might change your perspective.” “I’ve seen war, Brightness. I’m a soldier. Problem is, Ideals have expanded my focus. I can’t help but see the common men among the enemy. They’re not monsters.” Dalinar raised a hand to stop Jasnah’s reply. “Your concern does you credit, Captain,” Dalinar said. “And your reports have been exceptionally timely. Do you honestly see a chance for an accommodation here?” “I … I don’t know, sir. Even the common parshmen are furious at what was done to them.” “I can’t afford to stay my hand from war,” Dalinar said. “Everything you say is right, but it is also nothing new. I have never gone to battle where some poor fools on either side—men who didn’t want to be there in the first place—weren’t going to bear the brunt of the pain.” “Maybe,” Kaladin said, “that should make you reconsider those other wars, rather than using them to justify this one.” Shallan’s breath caught. It didn’t seem the sort of thing you said to the Blackthorn. “Would that it were so simple, Captain.” Dalinar sighed loudly, looking … weathered to Shallan. “Let me say this: If we can be certain of one thing, it is the morality of defending our homeland. I don’t ask you to go to war idly, but I will ask you to protect. Alethkar is besieged. The men doing it might be innocents, but they are controlled by those who are evil.” Kaladin nodded slowly. “The king has asked my help in opening the Oathgate. I’ve agreed to give it to him.” “Once we secure our homeland,” Dalinar said, “I promise to do something I’d never have contemplated before hearing your reports. I’ll seek to negotiate; I’ll see if there is some way out of this that doesn’t involve smashing our armies together.” “Negotiate?” Jasnah said. “Uncle, these creatures are crafty, ancient, and angry. They spent millennia torturing the Heralds just to return and seek our destruction.” “We’ll see,” Dalinar said. “Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to contact anyone in the city with the visions. The Stormfather has found Kholinar to be a ‘dark spot’ to him.” Navani nodded. “That seems, unfortunately, to coordinate with the failure of the spanreeds in the city. Captain Kaladin’s report confirms what our last notes from the city said: The enemy is mobilizing for an assault on the capital. We can’t know what the city’s status will be once our strike force arrives. You might have to infiltrate an occupied city, Captain.” “Please send that it isn’t so,” Renarin whispered, eyes down. “How many would have died on those walls, fighting nightmares…” “We need more information,” Jasnah said. “Captain Kaladin, how many people can you take with you to Alethkar?” “I plan to fly at the front of a storm,” Kaladin said. “Like I did returning to Urithiru. It’s a bumpy ride, but maybe I can fly over the top of the winds. I need to test it. Anyway, I think I could bring a small group.” “You won’t need a large force,” Dalinar said. “You, a few of your best squires. I’d send Adolin with you too, so you have another Shardbearer in an emergency. Six, perhaps? You, three of your men, the king, Adolin. Get past the enemy, sneak into the palace, and activate the Oathgate.” “Pardon if this is out of line,” Kaladin said, “but Elhokar himself is the odd one. Why not just send me and Adolin? The king will probably slow us down.” “The king needs to go for personal reasons. Will there be a problem between you?” “I’ll do what is right, regardless of my feelings, sir. And … I might be beyond those feelings anyway, now.” “This is too small,” Jasnah mumbled. Shallan started, then glanced at her. “Too small?” “Not ambitious enough,” Jasnah said more firmly. “By the Stormfather’s explanation, the Fused are immortal. Nothing stops their rebirth now that the Heralds have failed. This is our real problem. Our enemy has a near-endless supply of parshman bodies to inhabit, and judging by what the good captain has confirmed through experience, these Fused can access some kind of Surgebinding. How do we fight against that?” Shallan looked up from her notepad, glancing toward the others in the room. Renarin still leaned forward, hands clasped, eyes on the floor. Navani and Dalinar were sharing a look. Kaladin continued to lean against the wall, arms folded, but he shifted his posture, uncomfortable. “Well,” Dalinar finally said. “We’ll have to take this one goal at a time. First Kholinar.” “Pardon, Uncle,” Jasnah said. “While I don’t disagree with that first step, now is not the time to think only of the immediate future. If we are to avoid a Desolation that breaks society, then we’ll need to use the past as our guide and make a plan.” “She’s right,” Renarin whispered. “We’re facing something that killed the Almighty himself. We fight terrors that break the minds of men and ruin their souls. We can’t think small.” He ran his hands through his hair, which was marked by less yellow than his brother’s. “Almighty. We have to think big—but can we take it all in without going mad ourselves?” Dalinar took a deep breath. “Jasnah, you have a suggestion of where to start this plan?” “Yes. The answer is obvious. We need to find the Heralds.” Kaladin nodded in agreement. “Then,” Jasnah added, “we need to kill them.” “What?” Kaladin demanded. “Woman, are you insane?” “The Stormfather laid it out,” Jasnah said, unperturbed. “The Heralds made a pact. When they died, their souls traveled to Damnation and trapped the spirits of the Voidbringers, preventing them from returning.” “Yeah. Then the Heralds were tortured until they broke.” “The Stormfather said their pact was weakened, but did not say it was destroyed,” Jasnah said. “I suggest that we at least see if one of them is willing to return to Damnation. Perhaps they can still prevent the spirits of the enemy from being reborn. It’s either that, or we completely exterminate the parshmen so that the enemy has no hosts.” She met Kaladin’s eyes. “In the face of such an atrocity, I would consider the sacrifice of one or more Heralds to be a small price.” “Storms!” Kaladin said, standing up straight. “Have you no sympathy?” “I have plenty, bridgeman. Fortunately, I temper it with logic. Perhaps you should consider acquiring some at a future date.” “Listen, Brightness,” Kaladin began. “I—” “Enough, Captain,” Dalinar said. He gave Jasnah a glance. Both fell quiet, Jasnah without so much as a peep. Shallan had never seen her respond to someone with the respect she gave Dalinar. “Jasnah,” Dalinar said. “Even if the pact of the Heralds still holds, we can’t know that they’d stay in Damnation—or the mechanics for locking away the Voidbringers there. That said, locating them seems like an excellent first step; they must know much that can greatly assist us. I will leave it to you, Jasnah, to plan out how to accomplish that.” “What … what of the Unmade?” Renarin said. “There will be others, like the creature we found down here.” “Navani has been researching them,” Dalinar said. “We need to go even further, Uncle,” Jasnah said. “We need to watch the movements of the Voidbringers. Our only hope is to defeat their armies so soundly that even if their leaders are constantly reborn, they lack the manpower to overwhelm us.” “Protecting Alethkar,” Kaladin said, “doesn’t have to mean completely crushing the parshmen and—” “If you wish, Captain,” Jasnah snapped, “I can get you some mink kits to cuddle while the adults plan. None of us want to talk about this, but that does not make it any less inevitable.” “I’d love that,” Kaladin responded. “In turn, I’ll get you some eels to cuddle. You’ll feel right at home.” Jasnah, curiously, smiled. “Let me ask this, Captain. Do you think ignoring the movement of Voidbringer troops would be wise?” “Probably not,” he admitted. “And do you think, perhaps, that you could train your squire Windrunners to fly up high and scout for us? If spanreeds are proving unreliable these days, we’ll need another method of watching the enemy. I’d happily cuddle skyeels, as you offer, if your team would be willing to spend some time imitating them.” Kaladin looked to Dalinar, who nodded appreciatively. “Excellent,” Jasnah said. “Uncle, your coalition of monarchs is a superb idea. We need to pen the enemy in and prevent them from overrunning all of Roshar. If…” She trailed off. Shallan paused, looking at the doodle she’d been doing. Actually, it was a bit more complex than a doodle. It was … kind of a full sketch of Kaladin’s face, with passionate eyes and a determined expression. Jasnah had noticed a creationspren in the form of a small gemstone that had appeared on the top of her page, and Shallan blushed, shooing it away. “Perhaps,” Jasnah said, glancing at Shallan’s sketchbook, “we could do with a short break, Uncle.” “If you wish,” he said. “I could use something to drink.” They broke up, Dalinar and Navani chatting softly as they went to check with the guards and servants in the main hallway. Shallan watched them go with a sense of longing, as she felt Jasnah loom over her. “Let us chat,” Jasnah said, nodding toward the far end of the long, rectangular room. Shallan sighed, closed her notebook, and followed Jasnah to the other end, near a pattern of tiles on the wall. This far from the spheres brought for the meeting, the lighting was dim. “May I?” Jasnah said, holding out her hand for Shallan’s notebook. She relinquished it. “A fine depiction of the young captain,” Jasnah said. “I see … three lines of notes here? After you were pointedly instructed to take the minutes.” “We should have sent for a scribe.” “We had a scribe. To take notes is not a lowly task, Shallan. It is a service you can provide.” “If it’s not a lowly task,” Shallan said, “then perhaps you should have done it.” Jasnah closed the sketchpad and fixed Shallan with a calm, level stare. The type that made Shallan squirm. “I remember,” Jasnah said, “a nervous, desperate young woman. Frantic to earn my goodwill.” Shallan didn’t reply. “I understand,” Jasnah said, “that you have enjoyed independence. What you accomplished here is remarkable, Shallan. You even seem to have earned my uncle’s trust—a challenging task.” “Then maybe we can just call the wardship finished, eh?” Shallan said. “I mean, I’m a full Radiant now.” “Radiant, yes,” Jasnah said. “Full? Where’s your armor?” “Um … armor?” Jasnah sighed softly, opening up the sketchpad again. “Shallan,” she said in a strangely … comforting tone. “I’m impressed. I am impressed, truly. But what I’ve heard of you recently is troubling. You’ve ingratiated yourself with my family, and made good on the causal betrothal to Adolin. Yet here you are with wandering eyes, as this sketch testifies.” “I—” “You skip meetings that Dalinar calls,” Jasnah continued, soft but immovable. “When you do go, you sit at the back and barely pay attention. He tells me that half the time, you find an excuse to slip out early. “You investigated the presence of an Unmade in the tower, and frightened it off basically alone. Yet you never explained how you found it when Dalinar’s soldiers could not.” She met Shallan’s eyes. “You’ve always hidden things from me. Some of those secrets were very damaging, and I find myself unwilling to believe you don’t have others.” Shallan bit her lip, but nodded. “That was an invitation,” Jasnah said, “to talk to me.” Shallan nodded again. She wasn’t working with the Ghostbloods. That was Veil. And Jasnah didn’t need to know about Veil. Jasnah couldn’t know about Veil. “Very well,” Jasnah said with a sigh. “Your wardship is not finished, and won’t be until I’m convinced that you can meet minimum requirements of scholarship—such as taking shorthand notes during an important conference. Your path as a Radiant is another matter. I don’t know that I can guide you; each order was distinctive in its approach. But as a young man will not be excused from his geography lessons simply because he has achieved competence with the sword, I will not release you from your duties to me simply because you have discovered your powers as a Radiant.” Jasnah handed back the sketchpad and walked toward the ring of chairs. She settled next to Renarin, prodding him gently to speak with her. He looked up for the first time since the meeting had begun and nodded, saying something Shallan couldn’t hear. “Mmmm…” Pattern said. “She is wise.” “That’s perhaps her most infuriating feature,” Shallan said. “Storms. She makes me feel like a child.” “Mmm.” “Worst part is, she’s probably right,” Shallan said. “Around her, I do act more like a child. It’s like part of me wants to let her take care of everything. And I hate, hate, hate that about myself.” “Is there a solution?” “I don’t know.” “Perhaps … act like an adult?” Shallan put her hands to her face, groaning softly and rubbing her eyes with her fingers. She’d basically asked for that, hadn’t she? “Come on,” she said, “let’s go to the rest of the meeting. As much as I want an excuse to get out of here.” “Mmm…” Pattern said. “Something about this room…” “What?” Shallan asked. “Something…” Pattern said in his buzzing way. “It has memories, Shallan.” Memories. Did he mean in Shadesmar? She’d avoided traveling there—that was at least one thing in which she’d listened to Jasnah. She made her way back to her seat, and after a moment’s thought, slipped Jasnah a quick note. Pattern says this room has memories. Worth investigating in Shadesmar? Jasnah regarded the note, then wrote back. I’ve found that we should not ignore the offhand comments of our spren. Press him; I will investigate this place. Thank you for the suggestion. The meeting started again, and now turned to discussion of specific kingdoms around Roshar. Jasnah was most keen on getting the Shin to join them. The Shattered Plains held the easternmost of the Oathgates, and that was already under Alethi control. If they could gain access to the one farthest to the west, they could travel the breadth of Roshar—from the entry point of the highstorms to the entry point of the Everstorms—in a heartbeat. They didn’t talk tactics too specifically; that was a masculine art, and Dalinar would want his highprinces and generals to discuss the battlefields. Still, Shallan didn’t fail to notice the tactical terms Jasnah used now and then. In things like this, Shallan had difficulty understanding the woman. In some ways, Jasnah seemed fiercely masculine. She studied whatever she pleased, and she talked tactics as easily as she talked poetry. She could be aggressive, even cold—Shallan had seen her straight-up execute thieves who had tried to rob her. Beyond that … well, it probably was best not to speculate on things with no meaning, but people did talk. Jasnah had turned down every suitor for her hand, including some very attractive and influential men. People wondered. Was she perhaps simply not interested? All of this should have resulted in a person who was decidedly unfeminine. Yet Jasnah wore the finest makeup, and wore it well, with shadowed eyes and bright red lips. She kept her safehand covered, and preferred intricate and fetching styles of braids from her hairdresser. Her writings and her mind made her the very model of Vorin femininity. Next to Jasnah, Shallan felt pale, stupid, and completely lacking in curves. What would it be like, to be so confident? So beautiful, yet so unconstrained, all at once? Surely, Jasnah Kholin had far fewer problems in life than Shallan. At the very least, she created far fewer for herself than Shallan did. It was about this point that Shallan realized she’d missed a good fifteen minutes of the meeting, and had again lapsed in her note-taking. Blushing furiously, she huddled up on her chair and did her best to remain focused for the rest of the meeting. At the end, she presented a sheet of formal shorthand to Jasnah. The woman looked it over, then cocked a perfectly shaped eyebrow at the line at the center where Shallan had grown distracted. Dalinar said some stuff here, the line read. It was very important and useful, so I’m sure you remember it without needing a reminder. Shallan smiled apologetically and shrugged. “Please write this out in longhand,” Jasnah said, handing it back. “Have a copy sent to my mother and to my brother’s head scribe.” Shallan took it as a dismissal and rushed away. She felt like a student who had just been released from lessons, which angered her. At the same time, she wanted to run off and immediately do as Jasnah had asked, to renew her mistress’s faith in her, which angered her even more. She ran up the steps out of the tower’s basement, using Stormlight to prevent fatigue. The different sides within her clashed, snapping at each other. She imagined months spent under Jasnah’s watchful care, training to become a mousy scribe as her father had always wanted. She remembered the days in Kharbranth, when she’d been so uncertain, so timid. She couldn’t return to that. She wouldn’t. But what to do instead?

 

 

 

 

So just like the scene with the thugs, I know this is a hotly discussed scene based on morality and etc. A with the other scene, I am not discussing the morality of Kaladin and Jasnah. I am looking at this scene from what I feel is Jasnah’s perspective and the why. Why she is saying what she is saying. What she is feeling. This is again to better understand Jasnah the character. So here we go. Jasnah views her and Shallan’s relationship as still a wardship. She feels just because Shallan gained powers, does not change that Shallan is still a student in need of education. A 10 year old that can fly still needs to learn math and language. So too a 17 year old (If I recall her age correctly, if I am wrong, please let me know and I will correct) still needs the training of a scholar. This sense of normality both assures Shallan while also grating on her nerves. We see Jasnah’s paranoia on being spied on or potentially assassinated. Given how many times people have tried to kill her before we even got to meet her, nonetheless in the books we have read, I feel this paranoia is warranted. After all it is not paranoia if they really are out to get you. Jasnah is also respectful to her brother’s rule. She makes sure to include notes for him to review so he can be kept abreast of what is happening in his absence. This being a war meeting, Jasnah begins by covering tactical issues. She reasons that they have to prevent the voidbringers from gaining too great a foot hold, otherwise team humanity will be fighting a defensive/losing battle. Kaladin says they aren’t our enemies. Jasnah (in my opinion), annoyed responds that of course they are the enemies. They are in the process of conquering the world. That even if they are not immediately hostile, their leaders are, and those leaders can possess them turning them hostile. Navani agrees. Kaladin replies that they should just fight the fused. This again (in my opinion) frustrates Jasnah. They just established that the fused possess the parshendi, so trying to separate who you fight is an exercise in futility. On top of that, in “normal” war when you are on the battlefield, you cannot exactly say to an enemy “hey can you step to the side so I can attack your leader instead of you? I don’t have any problems with you. I just want to kill him”. Now as I said at the beginning of this scene, I am not commenting on whether what Kaladin said was right or wrong. I am (in my opinion) looking at this exchange from Jasnah’s perspective and rationale. Keep in mind we just had a scene with Jasnah prior to this where she realized based on the blow to technology, that these Desolations were so devastating that they actually sent humanity back to the “stone age”. Jasnah has been driving herself to exhaustion and stress with every fiber of her being to try and prevent this. Unfortunately she was not able to. I would imagine she sees it as a personal failure. Like she felt she failed to protect her father from the assassin in white. Now that the desolation is here, she is doing the best she can to protect the people she loves, and survive. All Kaladin is doing (in my opinion she would think this) is ignoring the issues at hand, and preventing any true discussion. That is why I think the fight escalates. Jasnah feels this is a very extreme and dangerous situation. Such situations require research, and hard choices. Denying the existence of such issues only results in greater problems. I feel Jasnah really is taking the desolations as a responsibility she is placing on her own shoulders. She is terrified of making a mistake. Of having not thought of something spelling the end of her and everyone she loves. That is why she is aggressive right back at Kaladin. There are no second chances in a situation like this. You make a mistake, its game over. Period. So she will research and discuss every part, on any chance any hope could be come to. Even when both Kaladin and Jasnah are bullheaded and butting heads, she adapts. Even when Kaladin calls her insane (which considering her history, that barb probably cut especially deep). She knows they need information regardless what they ultimately decide to do. So she concedes in the argument, so long as it means something real is accomplished. Fine, let him say I cuddle eels, if it means we get the info we need to protect. To preserve against the end of the world. Jasnah then notices Shallan’s drawing of Kaladin, and suggests taking a break. Jasnah comments how being a scribe is not such a lowly task as Shallan implies. Jasnah does not belittle useful occupations. Jasnah tries to discuss what happened with Shallan, while Shallan acts petulant and lashes out. With patience Jasnah gives credit where credit is due and lists Shallan’s accomplishments. But she also lists multiple concerning actions Shallan has been taking lately. Actions that do not care whether you are a radiant or not, they still need to be done. Jasnah gives Shallan an opportunity to open up. To confide in her. Despite this, Shallan remains closed off. In resignation Jasnah makes it explicit that despite being a radiant, Shallan still has responsibilities, and Jasnah will hold her to them. Jasnah feels Shallan needs structure, and Shallan ends up admitting to Pattern that Jasnah is probably right. Jasnah listens when Shallan mentions what Pattern said about the room, showing despite their disagreement, Jasnah is always open to new information. Shallan then remarks to herself how Jasnah uses tactical terms, and held her own in the militaristic discussion. She muses that Jasnah is a woman of contradictions. She defies labels and stands up for others to be able to do the same. Then we get Shallan’s idealized version of Jasnah once more. She thinks Jasnah is so perfect, that everything is effortless to her, and she has hardly any problems. I hope through this thread I have show the reality is quite different. Everything Jasnah has attained she has had to fight and work for. I find it interesting that Shallan now feels that studying under Jasnah would result in her being a mousey scribe, while in Way of Kings, she felt studying under Jasnah was liberating and allowed her to be more herself.

 

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 451

A short time later, Shallan Davar—now safely tucked back into a blue havah—strolled through the hallway beneath Urithiru. She was pleased with the work that Veil was doing with the men, but storms, did she have to drink so much? Shallan burned off practically an entire barrel’s worth of alcohol to clear her head. She took a deep breath, then stepped into the former library room. Here she found not only Navani, Jasnah, and Teshav, but a host of ardents and scribes. May Aladar, Adrotagia from Kharbranth … there were even three stormwardens, the odd men with the long beards who liked to predict the weather. Shallan had heard that they would occasionally use the blowing of the winds to foretell the future, but they never offered such services openly. Being near them made Shallan wish for a glyphward. Veil didn’t keep any handy, unfortunately. She was basically a heretic, and thought about religion as often as she did seasilk prices in Rall Elorim. At least Jasnah had the backbone to pick a side and announce it; Veil would simply shrug and make some wisecrack. It— “Mmmm…” Pattern whispered from her skirt. “Shallan?” Right. She’d been just standing in the doorway, hadn’t she? She walked in, unfortunately passing Janala, who was acting as Teshav’s assistant. The pretty young woman stood with her nose perpetually in the air, and was the type of person whose very enunciation made Shallan’s skin crawl. The woman’s arrogance was what Shallan didn’t like—not, of course, that Adolin had been courting Janala soon before meeting Shallan. She had once tried to avoid Adolin’s former romantic partners, but … well, that was like trying to avoid soldiers on a battlefield. They were just kind of everywhere. A dozen conversations buzzed through the room: talk about weights and measures, the proper placement of punctuation, and the atmospheric variations in the tower. Once she’d have given anything to be in a room like this. Now she was constantly late to the meetings. What had changed? I know how much a fraud I am, she thought, hugging the wall, passing a pretty young ardent discussing Azish politics with one of the stormwardens. Shallan had barely perused those books that Adolin had brought her. On her other side, Navani was talking fabrials with an engineer in a bright red havah. The woman nodded eagerly. “Yes, but how to stabilize it, Brightness? With the sails underneath, it will want to spin over, won’t it?” Shallan’s proximity to Navani had offered ample opportunity to study fabrial science. Why hadn’t she? As it enveloped her—the ideas, the questions, the logic—she suddenly felt she was drowning. Overwhelmed. Everyone in this room knew so much, and she felt insignificant compared to them. I need someone who can handle this, she thought. A scholar. Part of me can become a scholar. Not Veil, or Brightness Radiant. But someone— Pattern started humming on her dress again. Shallan backed to the wall. No, this … this was her, wasn’t it? Shallan had always wanted to be a scholar, hadn’t she? She didn’t need another persona to deal with this. Right? … Right? The moment of anxiety passed, and she breathed out, forcing herself to steady. Eventually she pulled a pad of paper and a charcoal pencil out of her satchel, then sought out Jasnah and presented herself. Jasnah cocked an eyebrow. “Late again?” “Sorry.” “I intended to ask your help understanding some of the translations we’re receiving from the Dawnchant, but we haven’t time before my mother’s meeting starts.” “Maybe I could help you—” “I have a few items to finish up. We can speak later.” An abrupt dismissal, but nothing more than Shallan had come to expect. She walked over to a chair beside the wall and sat down. “Surely,” she said softly, “if Jasnah had known that I’d just confronted a deep insecurity of mine, she’d have shown some empathy. Right?” “Jasnah?” Pattern asked. “I do not think you are paying attention, Shallan. She is not very empathetic.” Shallan sighed. “You’re empathetic though!” “The pathetic part, at least.” She steeled herself. “I belong here, Pattern, don’t I?” “Mmm. Yes, of course you do. You’ll want to sketch them, right?” “The classic scholars didn’t just draw. The Oilsworn knew mathematics—he created the study of ratios in art. Galid was an inventor, and her designs are still used in astronomy today. Sailors couldn’t find longitude at sea until the arrival of her clocks. Jasnah’s a historian—and more. That’s what I want.” “Are you sure?” “I think so.” Problem was, Veil wanted to spend her days drinking and laughing with the men, practicing espionage. Radiant wanted to practice with the sword and spend time around Adolin. What did Shallan want? And did it matter? Eventually Navani called the meeting to order, and people took seats. Scribes on one side of Navani, ardents from a variety of devotaries on the other—and far from Jasnah. As the stormwardens settled down farther around the ring of seats, Shallan noticed Renarin standing in the doorway. He shuffled, peeking in, but not entering. When several scholars turned toward him, he stepped backward, as if their stares were physically forcing him out. “I…” Renarin said. “Father said I could come … just listen maybe.” “You’re more than welcome, Cousin,” Jasnah said. She nodded for Shallan to get him a stool, so she did—and didn’t even protest being ordered about. She could be a scholar. She’d be the best little ward ever. Head down, Renarin rounded the ring of scholars, keeping a white-knuckled grip on a chain hung from his pocket. As soon as he sat, he started pulling the chain between the fingers of one hand, then the other. Shallan did her best to take notes, and not stray into sketching people instead. Fortunately, the proceedings were more interesting than usual. Navani had most of the scholars here working on trying to understand Urithiru. Inadara reported first—she was a wizened scribe who reminded Shallan of her father’s ardents—explaining that her team had been trying to ascertain the meaning of the strange shapes of the rooms and tunnels in the tower. She went on at length, talking of defensive constructions, air filtration, and the wells. She pointed out groupings of rooms that were shaped oddly, and of the bizarre murals they’d found, depicting fanciful creatures. When she eventually finished, Kalami reported on her team, who were convinced that certain gold and copper metalworks they’d found embedded in walls were fabrials, but they didn’t seem to do anything, even with gems attached. She passed around drawings, then moved on to explaining the efforts—failed so far—they’d taken to try to infuse the gemstone pillar. The only working fabrials were the lifts. “I suggest,” interrupted Elthebar, head of the stormwardens, “that the ratio of the gears used in the lift machinery might be indicative of the nature of those who built it. It is the science of digitology, you see. You can judge much about a man by the width of his fingers.” “And this has to do with gears … how?” Teshav asked. “In every way!” Elthebar said. “Why, the fact that you don’t know this is a clear indication that you are a scribe. Your writing is pretty, Brightness. But you must give more heed to science.” Pattern buzzed softly. “I never have liked him,” Shallan whispered. “He acts nice around Dalinar, but he’s quite mean.” “So … which attribute of his are we totaling and how many people are in the sample size?” Pattern asked. “Do you think, maybe,” Janala said, “we are asking the wrong questions?” Shallan narrowed her eyes, but checked herself, suppressing her jealousy. There was no need to hate someone simply because they’d been close to Adolin. It was just that something felt … off about Janala. Like many women at court, her laughter sounded rehearsed, contained. Like they used it as a seasoning, rather than actually feeling it. “What do you mean, child?” Adrotagia asked Janala. “Well, Brightness, we talk about the lifts, the strange fabrial column, the twisting hallways. We try to understand these things merely from their designs. Maybe instead we should figure out the tower’s needs, and then work backward to determine how these things might have met them.” “Hmmm,” Navani said. “Well, we know that they grew crops outside. Did some of these wall fabrials provide heat?” Renarin mumbled something. Everyone in the room looked at him. Not a few seemed surprised to hear him speak, and he shrank back. “What was that, Renarin?” Navani asked. “It’s not like that,” he said softly. “They’re not fabrials. They’re a fabrial.” The scribes and scholars shared looks. The prince … well, he often incited such reactions. Discomforted stares. “Brightlord?” Janala asked. “Are you perhaps secretly an artifabrian? Studying engineering by night, reading the women’s script?” Several of the others chuckled. Renarin blushed deeply, lowering his eyes farther. You’d never laugh like that at any other man of his rank, Shallan thought, feeling her cheeks grow hot. The Alethi court could be severely polite—but that didn’t mean they were nice. Renarin always had been a more acceptable target than Dalinar or Adolin. Shallan’s anger was a strange sensation. On more than one occasion, she’d been struck by Renarin’s oddness. His presence at this meeting was just another example. Was he thinking of finally joining the ardents? And he did that by simply showing up at a meeting for scribes, as if he were one of the women? At the same time, how dare Janala embarrass him? Navani started to say something, but Shallan cut in. “Surely, Janala, you didn’t just try to insult the son of the highprince.” “What? No, no of course I didn’t.” “Good,” Shallan said. “Because, if you had been trying to insult him, you did a terrible job. And I’ve heard that you’re very clever. So full of wit, and charm, and … other things.” Janala frowned at her. “… Is that flattery?” “We weren’t talking of your chest, dear. We’re speaking of your mind! Your wonderful, brilliant mind, so keen that it’s never been sharpened! So quick, it’s still running when everyone else is done! So dazzling, it’s never failed to leave everyone in awe at the things you say. So … um…” Jasnah was glaring at her. “… Hmm…” Shallan held up her notebook. “I took notes.” “Could we have a short break, Mother?” Jasnah asked. “An excellent suggestion,” Navani said. “Fifteen minutes, during which everyone should consider a list of requirements this tower would have, if it were to somehow become self-sufficient.” She rose, and the meeting broke up into individual conversations again. “I see,” Jasnah said to Shallan, “that you still use your tongue like a bludgeon rather than a knife.” “Yeah.” Shallan sighed. “Any tips?” Jasnah eyed her. “You heard what she said to Renarin, Brightness!” “And Mother was about to speak to her about it,” Jasnah said, “discreetly, with a judicious word. Instead, you threw a dictionary at her head.” “Sorry. She gets on my nerves.” “Janala is a fool, just bright enough to be proud of the wits she has, but stupid enough to be unaware of how outmatched they are.” Jasnah rubbed her temples. “Storms. This is why I never take wards.” “Because they give you so much trouble.” “Because I’m bad at it. I have scientific evidence of that fact, and you are but the latest experiment.” Jasnah shooed her away, rubbing her temples…

That reminded her of what Jasnah had said, though, and Shallan found herself glancing at the woman. “I know my cousin is intimidating,” Renarin whispered to her. “But you’re a Radiant too, Shallan. Don’t forget that. We could stand up to her if we wanted to.” “Do we want to?” Renarin grimaced. “Probably not. So often, she’s right, and you just end up feeling like one of the ten fools.”

 

 

 

 

I find it interesting that Shallan mused that Jasnah at least “had the backbone to pick a side and announce it”. Despite the off hand mention, as I have illustrated in this thread, I think that is very accurate. Jasnah has had to stand up for herself in defense of her beliefs despite overwhelming opposition. Even in light of this opposition, Jasnah still respects individuals of the opposing side so long as they return the respect and are genuinely good people seeking enlightenment. I think that speaks greatly on her character. This contrasts nicely with Janala, who in many ways is actually the type of person we are led to believe Jasnah is. Rich, self important, with her nose perpetually in the air. Shallan approaches Jasnah, and Jasnah admonishes her for her lateness, again. Shallan muses that had Jasnah known what she had just gone through, she would have shown some empathy, to which Pattern replies that she is not very empathetic. As I have mentioned before, I find this backing and forthing on the characters interpretation of Jasnah interesting. We have seen how much Jasnah cares for Shallan. How worried she can get over her. How often Jasnah puts forward a strong exterior, but underneath lies a multi layered and complicated woman. Just another surface commentary from a character disregarding what lies beneath. Renarin shows up feeling uncertain, and Jasnah immediately welcomes him before anyone could object or make him feel further outcasted. Later when Renarin is mocked, Shallan rushes to his defense. After taking a break, Jasnah explains that Navani was going to speak to Janala discreetly but also make it very clear how unacceptable her conduct was. Jasnah knows when to take action, and when to trust others to take action. She is just as protective of Renarin, and we see much later in the book how she was there for him when he was younger. Just because she does not exhibit an immediate outburst in response does not mean she does not have feelings for Renarin, and does not mean she will take no actions in his defense. We have another instance of Jasnah admitting fault. She takes responsibility for Shallan’s actions as her mentor, blaming herself that she has shortcomings as a teacher. I find Renarin’s comments about Jasnah interesting. He finds her intimidating, yet admits that standing up to her although is an option, is unfavorable because Jasnah usually is right which causes him to feel foolish. As we have just seen with Jasnah talking to Shallan, it is not because Jasnah insults or derides the person. Quite the contrary, she talks respectfully and measured. The individual on the other end gets upset/flustered because they end up being wrong and it makes them feel self conscious. To imagine how it feels for Jasnah that she must walk on eggshells around everyone else, all the time, for fear that she would injure their pride for “being right”. That the alternative is to remain silent and pretend ignorance so everyone else can feel better about themselves. To Jasnah, she would rather be cast in a negative light and be authentic, than pretend to be something she is not.

 

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer 476

Jasnah trembled as she read the madman’s words. She turned over the sheet, and found the next one covered in similar ideas, repeated over and over. This couldn’t be a coincidence, and the words were too specific. The abandoned Herald had come to Kholinar—and had been dismissed as a madman. She leaned back in her seat and Ivory—full-sized, like a human—stepped over to the table. Hands clasped behind his back, he wore his usual stiff formal suit. The spren’s coloring was jet black, both clothing and features, though something prismatic swirled on his skin. It was as if pure black marble had been coated in oil that glistened with hidden color. He rubbed his chin, reading the words. Jasnah had rejected the nice rooms with balconies on the rim of Urithiru; those had such an obvious entrance for assassins or spies. Her small room at the center of Dalinar’s section was far more secure. She had stuffed the ventilation openings with cloth. The airflow from the hallway outside was adequate for this room, and she wanted to make sure nobody could overhear her by listening through the shafts. In the corner of her room, three spanreeds worked tirelessly. She had rented them at great expense, until she could acquire new ones of her own. They were paired with reeds in Tashikk that had been delivered to one of the finest—and most trustworthy—information centers in the princedom. There, miles and miles away, a scribe was carefully rewriting each page of her notes, which she had originally sent to them to keep safe. “This speaker, Jasnah,” Ivory said, tapping the sheet she’d just read. Ivory had a clipped, no-nonsense voice. “This one who said these words. This person is a Herald. Our suspicions are true. The Heralds are, and the fallen one still is.” “We need to find him,” Jasnah said. “We must search Shadesmar,” Ivory said. “In this world, men can hide easily—but their souls shine out to us on the other side.” “Unless someone knows how to hide them.” Ivory looked toward the growing stack of notes in the corner; one of the pens had finished writing. Jasnah rose to change the paper; Shallan had rescued one of her trunks of notes, but two others had gone down with the sinking ship. Fortunately, Jasnah had sent off these backup copies. Or did it matter? This sheet, encrypted by her cipher, contained lines and lines of information connecting the parshmen to the Voidbringers. Once, she’d slaved over each of these passages, teasing them from history. Now their contents were common knowledge. In one moment, all of her expertise had been wiped away. “We’ve lost so much time,” she said. “Yes. We must catch what we have lost, Jasnah. We must.” “The enemy?” Jasnah asked. “He stirs. He angers.” Ivory shook his head, kneeling beside her as she changed the sheets of paper. “We are naught before him, Jasnah. He would destroy my kind and yours.” The spanreed finished, and another started writing out the first lines of her memoirs, which she’d worked on intermittently throughout her life. She’d thrown aside a dozen different attempts, and as she read this latest one, she found herself disliking it as well. “What do you think of Shallan?” she asked Ivory, shaking her head. “The person she’s become.” Ivory frowned, lips drawing tight. His sharply chiseled features, too angular to be human, were like those of a roughed-out statue the sculptor had neglected to finish. “She … is troubling,” he said. “That much hasn’t changed.” “She is not stable.” “Ivory, you think all humans are unstable.” “Not you,” he said, lifting his chin. “You are like a spren. You think by facts. You change not on simple whims. You are as you are.” She gave him a flat stare. “Mostly,” he added. “Mostly. But it is, Jasnah. Compared to other humans, you are practically a stone!” She sighed, standing up and brushing past him, returning to her writing desk. The Herald’s ravings glared at her. She settled down, feeling tired. “Jasnah?” Ivory asked. “Am I … in error?” “I am not so much a stone as you think, Ivory. Sometimes I wish I were.” “These words trouble you,” he said, stepping up to her again and resting his jet-black fingers on the paper. “Why? You have read many troubling things.” Jasnah settled back, listening to the three spanreeds scratching paper, writing out notes that—she feared—would mostly be irrelevant. Something stirred deep within her. Glimmers of memory from a dark room, screaming her voice ragged. A childhood illness nobody else seemed to remember, for all it had done to her. It had taught her that people she loved could still hurt her. “Have you ever wondered how it would feel to lose your sanity, Ivory?” Ivory nodded. “I have wondered this. How could I not? Considering what the ancient fathers are.” “You call me logical,” Jasnah whispered. “It’s untrue, as I let my passions rule me as much as many. In my times of peace, however, my mind has always been the one thing I could rely upon.” Except once. She shook her head, picking up the paper again. “I fear losing that, Ivory. It terrifies me. How would it have felt, to be these Heralds? To suffer your mind slowly becoming untrustworthy? Are they too far gone to know? Or are there lucid moments, where they strain and sort through memories … trying frantically to decide which are reliable and which are fabrications…” She shivered. “The ancient ones,” Ivory said again, nodding. He didn’t often speak of the spren who had been lost during the Recreance. Ivory and his fellows had been mere children—well, the spren equivalent—at the time. They spent years, centuries, with no older spren to nurture and guide them. The inkspren were only now beginning to recover the culture and society they had lost when men abandoned their vows. “Your ward,” Ivory said. “Her spren. A Cryptic.” “Which is bad?” Ivory nodded. He preferred simple, straightforward gestures. You never saw Ivory shrug. “Cryptics are trouble. They enjoy lies, Jasnah. Feast upon them. Speak one word untrue at a gathering, and seven cluster around you. Their humming fills your ears.” “Have you warred with them?” “One does not war with Cryptics, as one does honorspren. Cryptics have but one city, and do not wish to rule more. Only to listen.” He tapped the table. “Perhaps this one is better, with the bond.” Ivory was the only new-generation inkspren to form a Radiant bond. Some of his fellows would rather have killed Jasnah, instead of letting him risk what he had done. The spren had a noble air about him, stiff-backed and commanding. He could change his size at will, but not his shape, except when fully in this realm, manifesting as a Shardblade. He had taken the name Ivory as a symbol of defiance. He was not what his kin said he was, and would not suffer what fate proclaimed. The difference between a higher spren like him and a common emotion spren was in their ability to decide how to act. A living contradiction. Like human beings. “Shallan won’t listen to me any longer,” Jasnah said. “She rebels against every little thing I tell her. These last few months on her own have changed the child.” “She never obeyed well, Jasnah. That is who she is.” “In the past, at least she pretended to care about my teaching.” “But you have said, more humans should question their places in life. Did you not say that they too often accept presumed truth as fact?” She tapped the table. “You’re right, of course. Wouldn’t I rather have her straining against her boundaries, as opposed to happily living within them? Whether she obeys me or not is of little import. But I do worry about her ability to command her situation, rather than letting her impulses command her.” “How do you change this, if it is?” An excellent question. Jasnah searched through the papers on her small table. She’d been collecting reports from her informants in the warcamps—the ones who had survived—about Shallan. She’d truly done well in Jasnah’s absence. Perhaps what the child needed was not more structure, but more challenges. “All ten orders are again,” Ivory said from behind her. For years it had been only the two of them, Jasnah and Ivory. Ivory had been dodgy about giving odds on whether the other sapient spren would refound their orders or not. However, he’d always said that he was certain that the honorspren—and therefore the Windrunners—would never return. Their attempts to rule Shadesmar had apparently not endeared them to the other races. “Ten orders,” Jasnah said. “All ended in death.” “All but one,” Ivory agreed. “They lived in death instead.” She turned around, and he met her eyes with his own. No pupils, just oil shimmering above something deeply black. “We must tell the others what we learned from Wit, Ivory. Eventually, this secret must be known.” “Jasnah, no. It would be the end. Another Recreance.” “The truth has not destroyed me.” “You are special. No knowledge is that can destroy you. But the others…” She held his eyes, then gathered the sheets stacked beside her. “We shall see,” she said, then carried them to the table to bind them into a book.

 

 

 

 

Amazing scene right here. We get it all. Fear, doubt, compassion, and inner strength. Jasnah literally trembled at the thought of madness. Being unable to trust yourself and your own senses. She sympathizes with the Heralds. Earlier in the book she mentioned locating the Heralds, gaining information from them, requesting they return to damnation to potentially buy time, or if they refuse kill them so they return (knowing that even if it doesn’t slow down the voidbringers, the heralds could just return no worse for wear). To me this shows she does not think on possibilities lightly. She understands what they are going through and is terrified of potentially going through it again. She hints that she experienced that once in her life and it scarred her. Yet it still needs to be acknowledged. It still needs to be discussed. This shows great inner strength. This also shows what a deep cut Kaladin calling her insane must have been. We are again reminded what the stakes are in this war. The enemy stirs, he angers. He intends to destroy both Jasnah’s and Ivory’s kind. Despite the gravity of the situation, Jasnah still has time to talk about Shallan and the concern she has for her ward. Jasnah admits to Ivory and herself that she is not “stone”. She has emotions. She has fears. She cares about the people in her life, and doesn’t want to lose them. Even though she feels that the people she loved caused whatever happened to her in the past to question her sanity, she still loves them and wants to protect them. That is the driving force behind Jasnah. Love for her family. From before Gavilar’s death, to the coming desolation, Jasnah’s goal was to see her family safe. Jasnah muses on how Shallan seems to rebel against her simply to rebel. Through talking it out with Ivory, Jasnah realizes that by trying to help Shallan with structure, she may in fact be suffocating her. Making Shallan obey Jasnah is unimportant. Jasnah is not ordering Shallan around because she thinks she is better than her, nor because she treats everyone that way. Jasnah was keeping the ward relationship because she truly felt Shallan would benefit from it. Now that she is realizing that may not be the case. That maybe Shallan needs to find her own way. I think that is awesome. It shows a level of self reflection, and consideration of Jasnah that is down right endearing. She truly cares about Shallan’s well being, and works to get to know her as a person, rather than just a student. Works to learn what would genuinely help Shallan. Finally we see that Jasnah is not keeping secrets out of spite, nor to be deceptive. Any information she keeps from the other characters is either out of respect to Ivory (as I mentioned earlier in this thread) or because of the danger it may pose. Even then she is hesitant to keep information to herself.

 

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 520

The ancient Siln dynasty in Jah Keved had been founded after the death of King NanKhet. No contemporary accounts survived; the best they had dated from two centuries later. The author of that text—Natata Ved, often called Oileyes by her contemporaries—insisted that her methods were rigorous, although by modern standards, historical scholarship had been in its infancy. Jasnah had long been interested in NanKhet’s death, because he’d ruled for only three months. He’d succeeded to the throne when the previous king, his brother NanHar, had taken ill and died while on campaign in what would become modern Triax. Remarkably, during the brief span of his reign, NanKhet survived six assassination attempts. The first had come from his sister, who had wanted to place her husband on the throne. After surviving poisoning, NanKhet had put them both to death. Soon after, their son had tried to kill him in his bed. NanKhet, apparently a light sleeper, struck down his nephew with his own sword. NanKhet’s cousin tried next—that attack left NanKhet blinded in one eye—and was followed by another brother, an uncle, and finally NanKhet’s own son. At the end of three exasperating months, according to Oileyes, “The great, but weary, NanKhet called for an accounting of all his household. He gathered them together at a grand feast, promising the delights of distant Aimia. Instead, when all were assembled, NanKhet had them executed one by one. Their bodies were burned in a grand pyre, upon which was cooked the meat for the feast that he ate alone, at a table set for two hundred.” Natata Oileyes was known to have had a passion for the dramatic. The text sounded almost delighted when she’d explained how he’d died by choking on the food at that very feast, alone with nobody to help him. Similar tales repeated themselves throughout the long history of the Vorin lands. Kings fell, and their brothers or sons took the throne. Even a pretender of no true lineage would usually claim kinship through oblique and creative genealogical justifications. Jasnah was simultaneously fascinated and worried by these accounts. Thoughts about them were unusually present in her mind as she made her way into Urithiru’s basement. Something in her readings the night before had lodged this particular story in her brain. She soon peeked into the former library beneath Urithiru. Both rooms—one on either side of the hallway that led to the crystal pillar—were filled with scholars now, occupying tables carried down by squads of soldiers. Dalinar had sent expeditions down the tunnel the Unmade had used to flee. The scouts reported a long network of caverns. Following a stream of water, they’d marched for days, and eventually located an exit into the mountain foothills of Tu Fallia. It was nice to know that, in a pinch, there was another way out of Urithiru—and a potential means of supply other than through the Oathgates. They maintained guards in the upper tunnels, and for now it seemed safe enough in the basement. Therefore, Navani had transformed the area into a scholarly institute designed to solve Dalinar’s problems and to provide an edge in information, technology, and pure research. Concentrationspren rippled in the air like waves overhead—a rarity in Alethkar, but common here—and logicspren darted through them, like tiny stormclouds. Jasnah couldn’t help but smile. For over a decade, she’d dreamed of uniting the best minds of the kingdom in a coordinated effort. She’d been ignored; all anyone had wanted to discuss was her lack of belief in their god. Well, they were focused now. Turned out that the end of the world had to actually arrive before people would take it seriously. Renarin was there, standing near the corner, watching the work. He’d been joining the scholars with some regularity, but he still wore his uniform with the Bridge Four patch. You can’t spend forever floating between worlds, Cousin, she thought. Eventually you’ll need to decide where you want to belong. Life was so much harder, but potentially so much more fulfilling, when you found the courage to choose. The story of the old Veden king, NanKhet, had taught Jasnah something troubling: Often, the greatest threat to a ruling family was its own members. Why were so many of the old royal lines such knots of murder, greed, and infighting? And what made the few exceptions different? She’d grown adept at protecting her family against danger from without, carefully removing would-be deposers. But what could she do to protect it from within? In her absence, already the monarchy trembled. Her brother and her uncle—who she knew loved each other deeply—ground their wills against one another like mismatched gears. She would not have her family implode. If Alethkar was going to survive the Desolation, they’d need committed leadership. A stable throne. She entered the library room and walked to her writing stand. It was in a position where she could survey the others and have her back to a wall. She unpacked her satchel, setting up two spanreed boards. One of the reeds was blinking early, and she twisted the ruby, indicating she was ready. A message came back, writing out, We will begin in five minutes. She passed the time scrutinizing the various groups in the room, reading the lips of those she could see, absently taking notes in shorthand. She moved from conversation to conversation, gleaning a little from each one and noting the names of the people who spoke. —tests confirm something is different here. Temperatures are distinctly lower on other nearby peaks of the same elevation— —we have to assume that Brightlord Kholin is not going to return to the faith. What then?— —don’t know. Perhaps if we could find a way to conjoin the fabrials, we could imitate this effect— —the boy could be a powerful addition to our ranks. He shows interest in numerology, and asked me if we can truly predict events with it. I will speak with him again— That last one was from the stormwardens. Jasnah tightly pursed her lips. “Ivory?” she whispered. “I will watch them.” He left her side, shrunken to the size of a speck of dust. Jasnah made a note to speak to Renarin; she would not have him wasting his time with a bunch of fools who thought they could foretell the future based on the curls of smoke from a snuffed candle. Finally, her spanreed woke up. I have connected Jochi of Thaylenah and Ethid of Azir for you, Brightness. Here are their passcodes. Further entries will be strictly their notations. Excellent, Jasnah wrote back, authenticating the two passcodes. Losing her spanreeds in the sinking of the Wind’s Pleasure had been a huge setback. She could no longer directly contact important colleagues or informants. Fortunately, Tashikk was set up to deal with these kinds of situations. You could always buy new reeds connected to the princedom’s infamous information centers. You could reach anyone, in practice, so long as you trusted an intermediary. Jasnah had one of those she’d personally interviewed—and whom she paid good money—to ensure confidentiality. The intermediary would burn her copies of this conversation afterward. The system was as secure as Jasnah could make it, all things considered. Jasnah’s intermediary would now be joined by two others in Tashikk. Together, the three would be surrounded by six spanreed boards: one each for receiving comments from their masters, and one each to send back the entire conversation in real time, including the comments from the other two. That way, each conversant would be able to see a constant stream of comments, without having to stop and wait before replying. Navani talked of ways to improve the experience—of spanreeds that could be adjusted to connect to different people. That was one area of scholarship, however, that Jasnah did not have time to pursue. Her receiving board started to fill with notes written by her two colleagues. Jasnah, you live! Jochi wrote. Back from the dead. Remarkable! I can’t believe you ever thought she was dead, Ethid replied. Jasnah Kholin? Lost at sea? Likelier we’d find the Stormfather dead. Your confidence is comforting, Ethid, Jasnah wrote on her sending board. A moment later, those words were copied by her scribe into the common spanreed conversation. Are you at Urithiru? Jochi wrote. When can I visit? As soon as you’re willing to let everyone know you aren’t female, Jasnah wrote back. Jochi—known to the world as a dynamic woman of distinctive philosophy—was a pen name for a potbellied man in his sixties who ran a pastry shop in Thaylen City. Oh, I’m certain your wonderful city has need of pastries, Jochi wrote back jovially. Can we please discuss your silliness later? Ethid wrote. I have news. She was a scion—a kind of religious order of scribe—at the Azish royal palace. Well stop wasting time then! Jochi wrote. I love news. Goes excellently with a filled doughnut … no, no, a fluffy brioche. The news? Jasnah just wrote, smiling. These two had studied with her under the same master—they were Veristitalians of the keenest mind, regardless of how Jochi might seem. I’ve been tracking a man we are increasingly certain is the Herald Nakku, the Judge, Ethid wrote. Nalan, as you call him. Oh, are we sharing nursery tales now? Jochi asked. Heralds? Really, Ethid? If you haven’t noticed, Ethid wrote, the Voidbringers are back. Tales we dismissed are worth a second look, now. I agree, Jasnah wrote. But what makes you think you’ve found one of the Heralds? It’s a combination of many things, she wrote. This man attacked our palace, Jasnah. He tried to kill some thieves—the new Prime is one of them, but keep that in your sleeve. We’re doing what we can to play up his common roots while ignoring the fact that he was intent on robbing us. Heralds alive and trying to kill people, Jochi wrote. And here I thought my news about a sighting of Axies the Collector was interesting. There’s more, Ethid wrote. Jasnah, we’ve got a Radiant here. An Edgedancer. Or … we had one. Had one? Jochi wrote. Did you misplace her? She ran off. She’s just a kid, Jasnah. Reshi, raised on the streets. I think we may have met her, Jasnah wrote. My uncle encountered someone interesting in one of his recent visions. I’m surprised you let her get away from you. Have you ever tried to hold on to an Edgedancer? Ethid wrote back. She chased after the Herald to Tashikk, but the Prime says she is back now—and avoiding me. In any case, something’s wrong with the man I think is Nalan, Jasnah. I don’t think the Heralds will be a resource to us. I will provide you with sketches of the Heralds, Jasnah said. I have drawings of their true faces, provided by an unexpected source. Ethid, you are right about them. They aren’t going to be a resource; they’re broken. Have you read the accounts of my uncle’s visions? I have copies somewhere, Ethid wrote. Are they real? Most sources agree that he’s … unwell. He’s quite well, I assure you, Jasnah wrote. The visions are related to his order of Radiants. I will send you the latest few; they have relevance to the Heralds. Storms, Ethid wrote. The Blackthorn is actually a Radiant? Years of drought, and now they’re popping up like rockbuds. Ethid did not think highly of men who earned their reputations through conquest, despite having made the study of such men a cornerstone of her research. The conversation continued for some time. Jochi, growing uncharacteristically solemn, spoke directly of the state of Thaylenah. It had been hit hard by the repeated coming of the Everstorm; entire sections of Thaylen City were in ruin. Jasnah was most interested in the Thaylen parshmen who had stolen the ships that had survived the storm. Their exodus—combined with Kaladin Stormblessed’s interactions with the parshmen in Alethkar—was painting a new picture of what and who the Voidbringers were. The conversation moved on as Ethid transcribed an interesting account she’d discovered in an old book discussing the Desolations. From there, they spoke of the Dawnchant translations, in particular those by some ardents in Jah Keved who were ahead of the scholars at Kharbranth. Jasnah glanced through the library room, seeking out her mother, who was sitting near Shallan to discuss wedding preparations. Renarin still lurked at the far side of the room, mumbling to himself. Or perhaps to his spren? She absently read his lips. —it’s coming from in here, Renarin said. Somewhere in this room— Jasnah narrowed her eyes. Ethid, she wrote, weren’t you going to try to construct drawings of the spren tied to each order of Radiant? I’ve gotten quite far, actually, she wrote back. I saw the Edgedancer spren personally, after demanding a glimpse. What of the Truthwatchers? Jasnah wrote. Oh! I found a reference to those, Jochi wrote. The spren reportedly looked like light on a surface after it reflects through something crystalline. Jasnah thought for a moment, then briefly excused herself from the conversation. Jochi said he needed to go find a privy anyway. She slipped off her seat and crossed the room, passing near Navani and Shallan. “I don’t want to push you at all, dear,” Navani was saying. “But in these uncertain times, surely you wish for stability.” Jasnah stopped, freehand resting idly on Shallan’s shoulder. The younger woman perked up, then followed Jasnah’s gaze toward Renarin. “What?” Shallan whispered. “I don’t know,” Jasnah said. “Something odd…” Something about the way the youth was standing, the words he had spoken. He still looked wrong to her without his spectacles. Like a different person entirely. “Jasnah!” Shallan said, suddenly tense. “The doorway. Look!” Jasnah sucked in Stormlight at the girl’s tone and turned away from Renarin, toward the room’s doorway. There, a tall, square-jawed man had darkened the opening. He wore Sadeas’s colors, forest green and white. In fact, he was Sadeas now, at least its regent. Jasnah would always know him as Meridas Amaram. “What’s he doing here?” Shallan hissed. “He’s a highprince,” Navani said. “The soldiers aren’t going to forbid him without a direct command.” Amaram fixated on Jasnah with regal, light tan eyes. He strode toward her, exuding confidence, or was it conceit? “Jasnah,” he said when he drew close. “I was told I could find you here.” “Remind me to find whoever told you,” Jasnah said, “and have them hanged.” Amaram stiffened. “Could we speak together more privately, just for a moment?” “I think not.” “We need to discuss your uncle. The rift between our houses serves nobody. I wish to bridge that chasm, and Dalinar listens to you. Please, Jasnah. You can steer him properly.” “My uncle knows his own mind on these matters, and doesn’t require me to ‘steer’ him.” “As if you haven’t been doing so already, Jasnah. Everyone can see that he has started to share your religious beliefs.” “Which would be incredible, since I don’t have religious beliefs.” Amaram sighed, looking around. “Please,” he said. “Private?” “Not a chance, Meridas. Go. Away.” “We were close once.” “My father wished us to be close. Do not mistake his fancies for fact.” “Jasnah—” “You really should leave before somebody gets hurt.” He ignored her suggestion, glancing at Navani and Shallan, then stepping closer. “We thought you were dead. I needed to see for myself that you are well.” “You have seen. Now leave.” Instead, he gripped her forearm. “Why, Jasnah? Why have you always denied me?” “Other than the fact that you are a detestable buffoon who achieves only the lowest level of mediocrity, as it is the best your limited mind can imagine? I can’t possibly think of a reason.” “Mediocre?” Amaram growled. “You insult my mother, Jasnah. You know how hard she worked to raise me to be the best soldier this kingdom has ever known.” “Yes, from what I understand, she spent the seven months she was with child entertaining each and every military man she could find, in the hopes that something of them would stick to you.” Meridas’s eyes widened, and his face flushed deeply. To their side, Shallan audibly gasped. “You godless whore,” Amaram hissed, releasing her. “If you weren’t a woman…” “If I weren’t a woman, I suspect we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Unless I were a pig. Then you’d be doubly interested.” He thrust his hand to the side, stepping back, preparing to summon his Blade. Jasnah smiled, holding her freehand toward him, letting Stormlight curl and rise from it. “Oh, please do, Meridas. Give me an excuse. I dare you.” He stared at her hand. The entire room had gone silent, of course. He’d forced her to make a spectacle. His eyes flicked up to meet hers; then he spun and stalked from the room, shoulders hunched as if trying to shrug away the eyes—and the snickers—of the scholars. He will be trouble, Jasnah thought. Even more than he has been. Amaram genuinely thought he was Alethkar’s only hope and salvation, and had a keen desire to prove it. Left alone, he’d rip the armies apart to justify his inflated opinion of himself. She’d speak with Dalinar. Perhaps the two of them could devise something to keep Amaram safely occupied. And if that didn’t work, she wouldn’t speak to Dalinar about the other precaution she would take. She’d been out of touch for a long time, but she was confident there would be assassins for hire here, ones who knew her reputation for discretion and excellent pay. A high-pitched sound came from beside her, and Jasnah glanced to find Shallan sitting perkily on her seat, making an excited noise in the back of her throat and clapping her hands together quickly, the sound muffled by her clothed safehand. Wonderful. “Mother,” Jasnah said, “might I speak for a moment with my ward?” Navani nodded, her eyes lingering on the doorway where Amaram had exited. Once, she’d pushed for the union between them. Jasnah didn’t blame her; the truth of Amaram was difficult to see, and had been even more so in the past, when he’d been close to Jasnah’s father. Navani withdrew, leaving Shallan alone at the table stacked with reports. “Brightness!” Shallan said as Jasnah sat. “That was incredible!” “I let myself be pushed into abundant emotion.” “You were so clever!” “And yet, my first insult was not to attack him, but the moral reputation of his female relative. Clever? Or simply the use of an obvious bludgeon?” “Oh. Um … Well…” “Regardless,” Jasnah cut in, wishing to avoid further conversation about Amaram, “I’ve been thinking about your training.” Shallan stiffened immediately. “I’ve been very busy, Brightness. However, I’m sure I’ll be able to get to those books you assigned me very soon.” Jasnah rubbed her forehead. This girl … “Brightness,” Shallan said, “I think I might have to request a leave from my studies.” Shallan spoke so quickly the words ran into one another. “His Majesty says he needs me to go with him on the expedition to Kholinar.” Jasnah frowned. Kholinar? “Nonsense. They’ll have the Windrunner with them. Why do they need you?” “The king is worried they might need to sneak into the city,” Shallan said. “Or even through the middle of it, if it’s occupied. We can’t know how far the siege has progressed. If Elhokar has to reach the Oathgate without being recognized, then my illusions will be invaluable. I have to go. It’s so inconvenient. I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath, eyes wide, as if afraid that Jasnah would snap at her. This girl. “I’ll speak with Elhokar,” Jasnah said. “I feel that might be extreme. For now, I want you to do drawings of Renarin’s and Kaladin’s spren, for scholarly reasons. Bring them to me for…” She trailed off. “What is he doing?” Renarin stood near the far wall, which was covered in palm-size tiles. He tapped a specific one, and somehow made it pop out, like a drawer. Jasnah stood, throwing back her chair. She strode across the room, Shallan scampering along behind her. Renarin glanced at them, then held up what he’d found in the small drawer. A ruby, long as Jasnah’s thumb, cut into a strange shape with holes drilled in it. What on Roshar? She took it from him and held it up. “What is it?” Navani said, shouldering up beside her. “A fabrial? No metal parts. What is that shape?” Jasnah reluctantly surrendered it to her mother. “So many imperfections in the cut,” Navani said. “That will cause it to lose Stormlight quickly. It won’t even hold a charge for a day, I bet. And it will vibrate something fierce.” Curious. Jasnah touched it, infusing the gemstone with Stormlight. It started glowing, but not nearly as brightly as it should have. Navani was, of course, right. It vibrated as Stormlight curled off it. Why would anyone spoil a gem with such a twisted cut, and why hide it? The small drawer was latched with a spring, but she couldn’t see how Renarin had gotten it undone. “Storms,” Shallan whispered as other scholars crowded around. “That’s a pattern.” “A pattern?” “Buzzes in sequence…” Shallan said. “My spren says he thinks this is a code. Letters?” “Music of language,” Renarin whispered. He drew in Stormlight from some spheres in his pocket, then turned and pressed his hands against the wall, sending a surge of Stormlight through it that extended from his palms like twin ripples on the surface of a pond. Drawers slid open, one behind each white tile. A hundred, two hundred … each revealing gemstones inside. The library had decayed, but the ancient Radiants had obviously anticipated that. They’d found another way to pass on their knowledge.

 

 

 

 

One of the most important things in the world to Jasnah is keeping her family safe. Protecting them. One of her biggest tenants is history being a guide. Learning from the past. We see both at the very front of her thoughts with this scene. Looking to the past regarding prior dynasties and seeking to learn from them, in order to preserve her family and not fall to the same mistakes others have made. For over a decade Jasnah dreamed of bringing together the best minds of the kingdom together for the betterment of humanity. Instead all they cared about was her heresy. How frustrating must that have been for Jasnah wanting to save the people she loved, only to be continually pestered about beliefs she had every right to hold. We get a brief glimpse of mothering Jasnah towards Renarin. Knowing whatever path he chooses will be hard, but silently cheering him on to find the courage to choose. At the same time she trusts in his strength to choose, she also shows her protect side by having Ivory watch the stormwardens that seek to use Renarin. Finally we get to see Jasnah with friends! Friends that I might add are both from other countries (Azir and Thaylenah). Friends that I might also add that one of which has to pretend to be a woman in order to publish scholarly works. Jasnah holds no judgement towards that pastry chef, and speaks with him fondly. It does not matter that he is a man, nor from another country. All that matters to her is that he is a learned individual who questions and wants to learn more.

Jasnah, just like she said she would during her fight with Kaladin, continues to research the heralds, their functions, and the parshmen. She takes in the new information, acknowledging the new picture of what and who the voidbringers are. She discounts nothing so long as it is well reasoned and researched. Her concern regarding Renarin works just the way she approaches everything else. Research first. Confirm first. Do not act brashly. Renarin is acting oddly. Jasnah goes to Shallan to get her thoughts. Aiming to discuss with others and get their input. It is then they are interrupted and we get another epic Jasnah scene. This portion I feel the need to break down in list form regarding the order of occurence

 

Amaram enters the room and approaches Jasnah, drawing close without her permission

Jasnah makes it clear from the get go she has no intention nor desire to speak with him

Amaram disregards this response, and then requests to speak privately

Jasnah again makes it clear to him the answer is no (for the second time now)

Amaram pushes more, and implies that Jasnah should manipulate Dalinar to do as he wants

Jasnah respects Dalinar’s thoughts, and has no intention of “steering” him

Amaram jumps of course to religion as everyone does regarding Jasnah. She must be infecting him with her beliefs. She must be luring him away from the faith! (we of course know otherwise as per their conversation in Dalinar’s vision)

Jasnah corrects him

Amaram pushes her again, now the third time.

Jasnah tells him no again and to leave.

Amaram mentions being close once, to which she corrects that was her father, not her.

Jasnah warns him a fourth time to leave.

He ignores her and steps closer, and expresses concern over seeing her well

We are up to fifth time. Jasnah says she is well now leave. This is still not enough

Amaram grabs her by the arm and asks why has she refused him.

 

I think you all get my point that I do not have to continue in list form. Jasnah has already told him to leave five times. Each time Amaram has only gotten more insistent and closer, violating her personal space against her express wishes. She has had to be continually and relentlessly pushed to respond, and oh boy does she respond. He wants to know why? She makes sure to tell him and make clear why. The “noble” Amaram’s response? He goes to draw his shardblade. The second time he has done something like this. The first being on Dalinar and just like Dalinar, Jasnah checkmates Amaram handedly. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want a spectacle, but he forced it. We then learn more of why Jasnah despises Amaram. He is an egotistical narcissistic brightlord willing to see armies (and as we know, all of roshar) be torn apart to satisfy his overly inflated opinion of himself. She muses that she would speak with Dalinar to work out something. Not force Dalinar. Not “steer” him. Talk because they respect each other and work well together. Despite how Jasnah was pushed into this interaction, she still takes responsibility for her part in in and uses it as an educational moment for Shallan. Shallan then takes the opportunity to mention going to Kholinar. Jasnah listened and although not sold on it yet, says she will discuss it with Elhokar, showing she respects his authority to confer with him over her ward. The scene closes with an awesome Renarin moment.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 648

This time Vizier Noura herself stepped forward and took it. “ ‘Verdict,’ ” she read from the top. “ ‘By Jasnah Kholin.’ ” The others pushed through the guards, gathering around, and began reading it to themselves. Though this was the shortest of the essays, he heard them whispering and marveling over it. “Look, it incorporates all seven of Aqqu’s Logical Forms!” “That’s an allusion to the Grand Orientation. And … storms … she quotes Prime Kasimarlix in three successive stages, each escalating the same quote to a different level of Superior Understanding.” One woman held her hand to her mouth. “It’s written entirely in a single rhythmic meter!” “Great Yaezir,” Noura said. “You’re right.” “The allusions…” “Such wordplay…” “The momentum and rhetoric…” Logicspren burst around them in the shape of little stormclouds. Then, practically as one, the scions and viziers turned to Dalinar. “This is a work of art,” Noura said. “Is it … persuasive?” Dalinar asked. “It provokes further consideration,” Noura said, looking to the others, who nodded.

 

 

Just had to include this bit to show how differently two cultures view Jasnah. In Alethkar, the first thing on everyone’s mind is Jasnah’s heresy and her “coldness”. In Azir on the other hand, her work is lauded and her name inspires marvel and amazement. Truly makes me feel Alethkar does not know what they have in Jasnah.

 

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 974

She and the bridgemen passed no fewer than six squads of sentries on their way to the library rooms with the murals and—more importantly—the hidden gemstone records. Arriving, she idled in the doorway, impressed by the operation that Jasnah had organized down here since Navani had been forced to step back from the research. Each gemstone had been removed from its individual drawer, catalogued, and numbered. While one group listened and wrote, others sat at tables, busy translating. The room buzzed with a low hum of discussion and scratching reeds, concentrationspren dotting the air like ripples in the sky. Jasnah strolled along the tables, looking through pages of translations. As Navani entered, the bridgemen gathered around Renarin, who blushed, looking up from his own papers, which were covered in glyphs and numbers. He did look out of place in the room, the only man in uniform rather than in the robes of an ardent or stormwarden. “Mother,” Jasnah said, not looking up from her papers, “we need more translators. Do you have any other scribes versed in classical Alethelan?” “I’ve lent you everyone I have. What is Renarin studying over there?” “Hm? Oh, he thinks there might be a pattern to which stones were stored in which drawers. He’s been working on it all day.” “And?” “Nothing, which is not surprising. He insists he can find a pattern if he looks hard enough.” Jasnah lowered her pages and looked at her cousin, who was joking with the men of Bridge Four. Storms, Navani thought. He truly looks happy. Embarrassed as they ribbed him, but happy. She’d worried when he had first “joined” Bridge Four. He was the son of a highprince. Decorum and distance were appropriate when dealing with enlisted soldiers. But when, before this, had she last heard him laugh? “Maybe,” Navani said, “we should encourage him to take a break and go out with the bridgemen for the evening.” “I’d rather keep him here,” Jasnah said, flipping through her pages. “His powers need additional study.” Navani would talk to Renarin anyway and encourage him to go out more with the men. There was no arguing with Jasnah, any more than there was arguing with a boulder. You just stepped to the side and went around. “The translation goes well,” Navani asked, “other than the bottleneck on numbers of scribes?” “We’re lucky,” Jasnah said, “that the gemstones were recorded so late in the life of the Radiants. They spoke a language we can translate. If it had been the Dawnchant…” “That’s close to being cracked.” Jasnah frowned at that. Navani had thought the prospect of translating the Dawnchant—and writings lost to the shadowdays—would have excited her. Instead, it seemed to trouble her. “Have you found anything more about the tower’s fabrials in these gemstone records?” Navani asked. “I’ll be certain to prepare a report for you, Mother, with details of each and every fabrial mentioned. So far, those references are few. Most are personal histories.” “Damnation.” “Mother!” Jasnah said, lowering her pages. “What? I wouldn’t have thought you would object to a few strong words now and—” “It’s not the language, but the dismissal,” Jasnah said. “Histories.” Oh, right. “History is the key to human understanding.” Here we go. “We must learn from the past and apply that knowledge to our modern experience.” Lectured by my own daughter again. “The best indication of what human beings will do is not what they think, but what the record says similar groups have done in the past.” “Of course, Brightness.” Jasnah gave her a dry look, then set her papers aside. “I’m sorry, Mother. I’ve been dealing with a lot of lesser ardents today. My didactic side might have inflated.” “You have a didactic side? Dear, you hate teaching.” “Which explains my mood, I should think. I—” A young scribe called for her from the other side of the room. Jasnah sighed, then went to answer the question. Jasnah preferred to work alone, which was odd, considering how good she was at getting people to do what she wanted. Navani liked groups—but of course, Navani wasn’t a scholar. Oh, she knew how to pretend. But all she really did was nudge here and there, perhaps provide an idea. Others did all the real engineering. She poked through the papers Jasnah had set aside. Perhaps her daughter had missed something in the translations. To her mind, the only scholarship of importance was stuffy, dusty writings of old philosophers. When it came to fabrials, Jasnah barely knew her pairings from her warnings.… What was this? The glyphs were scrawled in white on the highprince’s wall, the paper read. We quickly ascertained the implement of writing to be a stone pried free near the window. This first sign was the roughest of them, the glyphs malformed. The reason for this later became apparent, as Prince Renarin was not versed in writing glyphs, save the numbers. The other pages were similar, talking about the strange numbers found around Dalinar’s palace in the days leading up to the Everstorm. They’d been made by Renarin, whose spren had given him warning that the enemy was preparing an assault. The poor boy, uncertain of his bond and frightened to speak out, had instead written the numbers where Dalinar would see them. It was a little odd, but in the face of everything else, it didn’t really register. And … well, it was Renarin. Why had Jasnah collected all of these? I have a description for you, finally, Jasnah, another said. We’ve convinced the Radiant that Lift found in Yeddaw to visit Azimir. Though she has not yet arrived, you can find sketches of her spren companion here. It looks like the shimmer you see on a wall when you shine light through a crystal. Troubled, Navani set the sheets down before Jasnah could return. She got a copy of the translated portions from the gemstones—several young scribes were assigned to making these available—then slipped out to go check on Dalinar.

 

 

 

 

Nice little tidbit here on Jasnah’s capabilities as a ruler. Navani is impressed with how Jasnah has everything organized and has three disparate groups (stormwardens, scholars, and ardents) all working together towards a common goal. Two of those groups by the way that oppose Jasnah in her beliefs, yet she succeeds in getting them to work under her and accomplishing tasks. Jasnah is trying to keep an eye on Renarin and research everything about him before coming to any conclusions. I find this interaction between Navani and Jasnah funny and interesting. History, in fact any history, is important in Jasnah’s mind. Even personal histories are worthy of note as it causes us to learn more about ourselves. We get another apology from Jasnah! It is funny, for someone that everyone (in the books) acts like is perfect, arrogant, and egotistical, Jasnah sure does admit when she is wrong, apologizes, and tries to do better an awful lot.

 

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 981

In the distance, a voice … “You must find the most important words a man can say.” Which key was it? He got one into the lock, but it wouldn’t turn. He couldn’t see. He blinked, feeling dizzy. “Those words came to me from one who claimed to have seen the future,” the voice said, echoing in the hallway. Feminine, familiar. “ ‘How is this possible?’ I asked in return. ‘Have you been touched by the void?’ “The reply was laughter. ‘No, sweet king. The past is the future, and as each man has lived, so must you.’ “ ‘So I can but repeat what has been done before?’ “ ‘In some things, yes. You will love. You will hurt. You will dream. And you will die. Each man’s past is your future.’ “ ‘Then what is the point?’ I asked. ‘If all has been seen and done?’ “ ‘The question,’ she replied, ‘is not whether you will love, hurt, dream, and die. It is what you will love, why you will hurt, when you will dream, and how you will die. This is your choice. You cannot pick the destination, only the path.’ ” Dalinar dropped the keys again, sobbing. There was no escape. He would fall again. Wine would consume him like a fire consumed a corpse. Leaving only ash. There was no way out. “This started my journey,” the voice said. “And this begins my writings. I cannot call this book a story, for it fails at its most fundamental to be a story. It is not one narrative, but many. And though it has a beginning, here on this page, my quest can never truly end. “I wasn’t seeking answers. I felt that I had those already. Plenty, in multitude, from a thousand different sources. I wasn’t seeking ‘myself.’ This is a platitude that people have ascribed to me, and I find the phrase lacks meaning. “In truth, by leaving, I was seeking only one thing. “A journey.” For years, it seemed that Dalinar had been seeing everything around him through a haze. But those words … something about them … Could words give off light? He turned from his door and walked down the corridor, searching for the source of the voice. Inside the royal reading room, he found Jasnah with a huge tome set before her at a standing table. She read to herself, turning to the next page, scowling. “What is that book?” Dalinar asked. Jasnah started. She wiped her eyes, smearing the makeup, leaving her eyes … clean, but raw. Holes in a mask. “This is where my father got that quote,” she said. “The one he…” The one he wrote as he died. Only a few knew of that. “What book is it?” “An old text,” Jasnah said. “Ancient, once well regarded. It’s associated with the Lost Radiants, so nobody references it anymore. There has to be some secret here, a puzzle behind my father’s last words. A cipher? But what?” Dalinar settled down into one of the seats. He felt as if he had no strength. “Will you read it to me?” Jasnah met his eyes, chewing her lip as she’d always done as a child. Then she read in a clear, strong voice, starting over from the first page, which he’d just heard. He had expected her to stop after a chapter or two, but she didn’t, and he didn’t want her to. Dalinar listened, rapt. People came to check on them; some brought Jasnah water to drink. For once, he didn’t ask them for anything. All he wanted was to listen. He understood the words, but at the same time he seemed to be missing what the book said. It was a sequence of vignettes about a king who left his palace to go on a pilgrimage. Dalinar couldn’t define, even to himself, what he found so striking about the tales. Was it their optimism? Was it the talk of paths and choices? It was so unpretentious. So different from the boasts of society or the battlefield. Just a series of stories, their morals ambiguous. It took almost eight hours to finish, but Jasnah never gave any indication she wanted to stop. When she read the last word, Dalinar found himself weeping again. Jasnah dabbed at her own eyes. She had always been so much stronger than he was, but here they shared an understanding. This was their send-off to Gavilar’s soul. This was their farewell. Leaving the book on the lectern, Jasnah walked over to Dalinar as he stood up. They embraced, saying nothing. After a few moments, she left.

 

 

 

 

Another touching moment between Jasnah and Dalinar. The love of her father drove Jasnah to seek “The Way of Kings” which she found out was the source of her father’s cryptic message to Dalinar. Sharing in their grief of a brother and father lost. Sharing in the words of the Way of Kings. Jasnah first sought it to answer the question of her father’s death, but like Dalinar, she heard something that touched her. She continued to read without pause. She didn’t have to be prompted by Dalinar to do so. She chose to. In tears the both of them spent nearly eight hours together reading it. Their last farewell to Gavilar. Looks like quite an emotional moment to me.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 994

That left the one in Panatham in Babatharnam—which the combined Iriali and Riran armies might have captured already—and one in Akinah, which Jasnah was confident had been destroyed long ago. Jah Keved made the most sense for the enemy to attack, didn’t it? Only … once you engaged yourself in Jah Keved, you were stuck fighting a long war of attrition. You lost mobility, had to dedicate enormous resources to it. He shook his head, feeling frustrated. He left the map, trailed by Navani, and stepped into the other room for refreshment. At the wine table, he forced himself to pour a warm, spiced orange. Something with no kick. Jasnah joined the group, delivering a stack of papers to her mother. “May I see?” Ialai asked. “No,” Jasnah replied; Dalinar hid a smile in his drink. “What secrets are you keeping?” Ialai asked. “What happened to your uncle’s grand talk of unification?” “I suspect that each monarch in this room,” Jasnah said, “would prefer to know that state secrets are allowed to remain their own. This is an alliance, not a wedding.” Queen Fen nodded at that. “As for these papers,” Jasnah continued, “they happen to be a scholarly report which my mother has not yet reviewed. We will release what we discover, once we are certain that our translations are correct and that nothing in these notes might give our enemies an advantage against this city.” Jasnah cocked an eyebrow. “Or would you prefer our scholarship be sloppy?” The Azish seemed mollified by this. “I just think,” Ialai said, “you showing up here with them is a slap in the face for the rest of us.” “Ialai,” Jasnah said, “it is good you are here. Sometimes, an intelligent dissenting voice tests and proves a theory. I do wish you’d work harder on the intelligent part.” Dalinar downed the rest of his drink and smiled as Ialai settled back in her chair, wisely not escalating a verbal battle against Jasnah. Unfortunately, Ruthar did not have similar sense. “Don’t mind her, Ialai,” he said, mustache wet with wine. “The godless have no concept of proper decency. Everyone knows that the only reason to abandon belief in the Almighty is so that you can explore vice.” Oh, Ruthar, Dalinar thought. You can’t win this fight. Jasnah has thought about the topic far more than you have. It’s a familiar battleground to her

 

 

Included this scene for two reasons. First, I think it is great to see Jasnah stop Ialai in her tracks. Jasnah is intelligent, competent and in control. Ruthar of course goes to the only thing anyone seems to think is worth talking of regarding Jasnah. Her faith. Just because she is a heretic, she must be a horrible sinner. Doesn’t matter she had been spending the better part of six years trying to stop the end of the world. Doesn’t matter she nearly died multiple times doing it. But because she doesn’t believe in the national religion, she must be a horrible person that seeks to sin anytime she can. Jasnah has had to fight this every step of the way, to the point that Dalinar knows it is a familiar battleground to her, and Ruthar doesn’t have a chance. I say again as I have said before, how much it feel that despite all your accomplishments. Everything you have done. All of it is forgotten in the face of your personal beliefs. To be attacked about it relentlessly. And people (in the book) wonder why Jasnah holds just a stern exterior. To me it is plain as day.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 1041

Sometime near the end of this discussion, Dalinar noticed Renarin shifting uncomfortably in his seat. As the Azish scribes began explaining their code of rules and guidelines for the coalition, Renarin excused himself in a hoarse voice, and left. Dalinar glanced at Navani, who seemed troubled. Jasnah stood to follow, but was interrupted by a scribe bringing her a small sheaf of documents. She accepted them and moved to Navani’s side so they could study them together.

 

 

Jasnah’s instinct is to check on Renarin and be there for him. It is only because of the pressing nature of what is happening that she is stopped. Jasnah cares for Renarin. It has been spelled out all across Oathbringer in Jasnah’s way. Because of what we have seen of Jasnah. Because of her interactions with those she cares about. Because of her feelings for Renarin, what to come was not a surprise to me. I feel it was building all along.

 

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 1084

Jasnah carefully stepped out of the way of a troop of soldiers running for the Oathgate. She had been informed via spanreed that troops were gathering in Urithiru to come help. Unfortunately, they would soon have to acknowledge what she already knew. Thaylen City was lost. Their adversary had played this hand too well. That angered her, but she kept that emotion in check. At the very least, she hoped that Amaram’s band of malcontents would soak up arrows and spears long enough to let the Thaylen civilians evacuate. Lightning from the storm lit the city red. Focus. She had to focus on what she could do, not what she had failed to do. First, she had to see that her uncle didn’t get himself killed fighting a useless battle. Second, she needed to help evacuate Thaylen City; she had already warned Urithiru to prepare for refugees. Both these goals would wait a short time as she dealt with a matter even more pressing. “The facts align,” Ivory said. “The truth that has always been, will now soon manifest to all.” He rode upon the high collar of her dress, tiny, holding on with one hand. “You are correct. A traitor is.” Jasnah undid the buttons on her safehand sleeve and pinned it back, exposing the gloved hand underneath. In preparation, she’d also worn a scout’s yellow and gold havah, with shorter skirts slit at the sides and front, trousers underneath. Sturdy boots. She turned out of the path of another group of cursing soldiers and strode up the steps to the doorway of the temple of Pailiah’Elin. True to the information she’d been given, she found Renarin Kholin kneeling on the floor inside, head bowed. Alone. A spren rose from his back, bright red, shimmering like the heat of a mirage. A crystalline structure, like a snowflake, though it dripped light upward toward the ceiling. In her pouch, she carried a sketch of the proper spren of the Truthwatchers. And this was something different. Jasnah put her hand to the side, then—taking a deep breath—summoned Ivory as a Shardblade.

 

 

It may not appear to be at first, but this is a very difficult scene for Jasnah. She is trying to push herself to do it. Continually reinforcing that it must be done. Focus, must focus.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 1097

Jasnah moved into the temple, gripping her Shardblade, stepping on slippered feet. The red spren rising from Renarin—like a snowflake made of crystal and light—seemed to sense her and panicked, disappearing into Renarin with a puff. A spren is, Ivory said. The wrong spren is. Renarin Kholin was a liar. He was no Truthwatcher. That is a spren of Odium, Ivory said. Corrupted spren. But … a human, bonded to one? This thing is not. “It is,” Jasnah whispered. “Somehow.” She was now close enough to hear Renarin whispering. “No … Not Father. No, please…”

 

 

Interesting tidbit here “Renarin Kholin was a liar”. The implication being the evidence Jasnah gathered indicates Renarin is a complicit and willing traitor.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 1120

Now, neither knew what they’d become. Renarin could feel the spren trembling inside him, hiding and whispering about the danger. Jasnah had found them. Renarin had seen that coming. He knelt in the ancient temple of Pailiah, and to his eyes it was full of colors. A thousand panes of stained glass sprouted on the walls, combining and melting together, creating a panorama. He saw himself coming to Thaylen City earlier in the day. He saw Dalinar talking to the monarchs, and then he saw them turning against him. She will hurt us! She will hurt us! “I know, Glys,” he whispered, turning toward a specific section of stained glass. This showed Renarin kneeling on the floor of the temple. In the sequence of stained glass panels, Jasnah approached him from behind, sword raised. And then … she struck him down.

 

 

A possible future. One being reinforced by Glys (not saying Glys is the cause of the future, or pushing it to happen. Just pointing out the nature of self fulfilling prophesies)

Spoiler

 

oathbringer page 1125

Jasnah stopped one pace behind Renarin. She could hear his whispers clearly now. “Father. Oh, Father…” The young man whipped his head in one direction, then another, seeing things that weren’t there. “He sees not what is, but what is to come,” Ivory said. “Odium’s power, Jasnah.”

 

 

More evidence. Renarin is clearly (or so it seems) using powers from the other side. He has lied about them. Kept them secret. There is a spy in Kholin’s house (though we know it is Taravangian, Jasnah did not). The only conclusion could be Renarin

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 1130

Jasnah raised her Blade over Renarin’s head. Make it quick. Make it painless. Most threats to a dynasty came from within. Renarin was obviously corrupted. She’d known there was a problem the moment she’d read that he had predicted the Everstorm. Now, Jasnah had to be strong. She had to do what was right, even when it was so, so hard. She prepared to swing, but then Renarin turned and looked at her. Tears streaming down his face, he met her eyes, and he nodded. Suddenly they were young again. He was a trembling child, weeping on her shoulder for a father who didn’t seem to be able to feel love. Little Renarin, always so solemn. Always misunderstood, laughed at and condemned by people who said similar things about Jasnah behind her back. Jasnah froze, as if standing at the edge of a cliff. Wind blew through the temple, carrying with it a pair of spren in the form of golden spheres, bobbing in the currents. Jasnah dismissed her sword. “Jasnah?” Ivory said, appearing back in the form of a man, clinging to her collar. Jasnah fell to her knees, then pulled Renarin into an embrace. He broke down crying, like he had as a boy, burying his head in her shoulder. “What’s wrong with me?” Renarin asked. “Why do I see these things? I thought I was doing something right, with Glys, but somehow it’s all wrong.…” “Hush,” Jasnah whispered. “We’ll find a way through it, Renarin. Whatever it is, we’ll fix it. We’ll survive this, somehow.” Storms. The things he’d said about Dalinar … “Jasnah,” Ivory said, becoming full size as he stepped free of her collar. He leaned down. “Jasnah, this is right. Somehow it is.” He seemed completely stunned. “It is not what makes sense, yet it is still right. How. How is this thing?” Renarin pulled back from her, his tearstained eyes going wide. “I saw you kill me.” “It’s all right, Renarin. I’m not going to.” “But don’t you see? Don’t you understand what that means?” Jasnah shook her head. “Jasnah,” Renarin said. “My vision was wrong about you. What I see … it can be wrong.”

 

 

Here we go. The big scene. The moment some have said is the first time we see emotion and genuine love from Jasnah. I think I have shown otherwise. Love has always been there. Just had to know where to look. Despite all the evidence. Despite everything indicating Renarin is the spy, Jasnah is still struggling. She keeps trying to convince herself to do it. But she realizes she can’t. It doesn’t matter if it could mean the world will end and the enemy will win. All that matters is her being there for that scared little boy she helped raise. The little boy she loved like a son.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 1134

Renarin ran after Jasnah through the Loft Wards of the city. People clogged the streets, but she didn’t use those. She leaped off buildings, dropping onto rooftops of the tiers below. She ran across each of these, then leaped down to the next street. Renarin struggled to follow, afraid of his weakness, confused by the things he’d seen. He dropped to a rooftop, feeling sudden pain at the fall—though Stormlight healed that. He limped after her until the pain left. “Jasnah!” he called. “Jasnah, I can’t keep up!” She stopped at the edge of a rooftop. He reached her, and she took his arm. “You can keep up, Renarin. You’re a Knight Radiant.” “I don’t think I’m a Radiant, Jasnah. I don’t know what I am.” An entire stream of gloryspren flew past them, hundreds in a sweeping formation that curved toward the base of the city. Something was glowing down there, a beacon in the dim light of an overcast city. “I know what you are,” Jasnah said. “You’re my cousin. Family, Renarin. Hold my hand. Run with me.” He nodded, and she towed him after her, leaping from the rooftop, ignoring the monstrous creature that climbed up nearby. Jasnah seemed focused on only one thing. That light.

 

And now Jasnah gives voice to the reason for her decision “You’re my cousin. Family”. Her family is what drove Jasnah to exhaustion for six years. To save them. Protect them. And now together with her family, they drive forward.

 

(I skipped the scene where Jasnah is doing some soulcasting amazingness as it does not give us any information on her as a character. Still epic though lol)

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 1142

“The enemy is trying to crush this city, Captain,” Dalinar said, lowering his arm. “We’re going to hold it against his forces.” “Seven Radiants?” Jasnah said, skeptical. “Uncle, that seems a tall order, even if one of us is—apparently—the storming Assassin in White.” “I serve Dalinar Kholin,” Szeth-son-son-Vallano whispered. His face, for some reason, was streaked with grey. “I cannot know truth, so I follow one who does.” “Whatever we do,” Shallan said, “we should do it quickly. Before those soldiers—” “Renarin!” Dalinar barked. “Sir!” Renarin said, scrambling forward. “We need to hold out until troops arrive from Urithiru. Fen doesn’t have the numbers to fight alone. Get to the Oathgate, stop that thunderclast up there from destroying it, and open the portal.” “Sir!” Renarin saluted. “Shallan, we don’t have an army yet,” Dalinar said. “Lightweave one up for us, and keep these soldiers busy. They’re consumed by a bloodlust that I suspect will make them easier to distract. Jasnah, the city we’re defending happens to have a big storming hole in its wall. Can you hold that hole and stop anyone who tries to get through?” She nodded, thoughtful.

 

 

Just including this scene because it shows that Jasnah has no problem falling in line and following orders so long as the source is an individual she trusts and respects, and the order makes sense. Decorum when it is required, action when it is not.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 1150

Jasnah stepped over a corpse. Her Blade vanished in a puff of Stormlight, and Ivory appeared next to her, his oily black features concerned as he regarded the sky. “This place is three, still,” he said. “Almost three.” “Or three places are nearly one,” Jasnah replied. Another batch of gloryspren flocked past, and she could see them as they were in the Cognitive Realm: like strange avians with long wings, and a golden sphere in place of the head. Well, being able to see into the Cognitive Realm without trying was one of the least unnerving things that had happened so far today. An incredible amount of Stormlight thrummed inside her—more than she’d ever held before. Another group of soldiers broke through Shallan’s illusions and charged over the rubble through the gap in the wall. Jasnah casually flipped her hand toward them. Once, their souls would have resisted mightily. Soulcasting living things was difficult; it usually required care and concentration—along with proper knowledge and procedure. Today, the men puffed away to smoke at her barest thought. It was so easy that a part of her was horrified. She felt invincible, which was a danger in itself. The human body wasn’t meant to be stuffed this full of Stormlight. It rose from her like smoke from a bonfire. Dalinar had closed his perpendicularity, however. He had been the storm, and had somehow recharged the spheres—but like a storm, his effects were passing. “Three worlds,” Ivory said. “Slowly splitting apart again, but for now, three realms are close.” “Then let’s make use of it before it fades, shall we?” She stepped up before the rent portion of the wall, a gap as wide as a small city block. Then raised her hands.

 

 

Jasnah given seemingly absolute power does not tempt her. In fact it horrifies and concerns her. She recognizes the dangers that it poses to her self, to her body, and to others. Jasnah is not the type to grab for power, steam rolling any in her way. She works with people she respects. The signs of this above and throughout the three books tells me she will work well with Dalinar, Adolin, and the other highprinces in preserving the Alethi and fighting the Voidbringers.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 1156

She reached the top of the wall and found her mother there with Queen Fen and some soldiers. They had made a command station at one of the old guard posts. Soldiers huddled outside with pikes pointed toward two Fused in the sky. Bother. Jasnah strode along the wall, taking in the melee of illusions and men outside. Shallan stood at the back; most of the spheres around her had been drained already. She was burning through Stormlight at a terrible rate. “Bad?” she asked Ivory. “It is,” he said from her collar. “It is.” “Mother,” Jasnah called, approaching where Fen and Navani stood by the guard post. “You need to rally the troops within the city and clear the enemy inside.” “We’re working on it,” Navani said. “But— Jasnah! In the air—” Jasnah raised an absent hand without looking, forming a wall of black pitch. A Fused crashed through it, and Jasnah Soulcast a flick of fire, sending the thing screaming and flailing, burning with a terrible smoke. Jasnah Soulcast the rest of the pitch on the wall to smoke, then continued forward. “We must take advantage of Radiant Shallan’s distraction and cleanse Thaylen City. Otherwise, when the assault comes from outside once more, our attention will be divided.” “From outside?” Fen said. “But we have the wall fixed, and— Storms! Brightness!” Jasnah stepped aside without looking as the second Fused swooped down—the reactions of spren in Shadesmar allowed her to judge where it was. She turned and swung her hand at the creature. Ivory formed and sliced through the Fused’s head as it passed, sending it curling about itself—eyes burning—and tumbling along the wall top. “The enemy,” Jasnah said, “will not be stopped by a wall, and Brightness Shallan has feasted upon almost all of the spheres Uncle Dalinar recharged. My Stormlight is nearly gone. We have to be ready to hold this position through conventional means once the power is gone.” “Surely there aren’t enough enemy troops to…” Fen’s consort said, but trailed off as Jasnah pointed with Ivory—who obligingly formed again—toward the waiting parshman armies. Neither the hovering red haze nor the breaking lightning of the storm was enough to drown out the red glows beginning to appear in the parshmen’s eyes. “We must be ready to hold this wall as long as it takes for troops to arrive from Urithiru,” Jasnah said. “Where is Renarin? Wasn’t he to deal with that thunderclast?” “One of my soldiers reported seeing him,” Fen said. “He had been slowed by the crowds. Prince Adolin expressed an intention to go help.” “Excellent. I will trust that task to my cousins, and instead see what I can do to keep my ward from getting herself killed.”

 

 

Jasnah, ever economical and tactical breaks down the situation in the battle to Fen and Navani. She takes in the information, considers what areas need support, and reasons what needs to be done. Finally she asks regarding Renarin, and once told he is working on, she trusts in his and Adolin’s capabilities to accomplish their goal. All, in my opinion, hallmarks of an excellent leader.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 1178

A woman with jet-black hair that had escaped its usual braids. It blew free as she stepped between the enemy and Shallan, Radiant, and Veil. The ground turned glossy, the surface of the stone Soulcast into oil. Veil, Shallan, and Radiant were able to glimpse it in the Cognitive Realm. It changed so easily. How did Jasnah manage that? Jasnah Soulcast a spark from the air, igniting the oil and casting up a field of flames. The Fused raised hands before their faces, stumbling back. “That should buy us a few moments.” Jasnah turned toward Radiant, Veil, and Shallan. She took Shallan by the arm—but Shallan wavered, then puffed away. Jasnah froze, then turned to Veil. “Here,” Radiant said, tired, stumbling to her feet. She was the one Jasnah could feel. She blinked away tears. “Are you … real?” “Yes, Shallan. You did well out here.” She touched Radiant’s arm, then glanced toward the Fused, who were venturing into the fires despite the heat. “Damnation. Perhaps I should have opened a pit beneath them instead.” Shallan winced as the last of her army—like the shredded light of a setting sun—vanished. Jasnah proffered a gemstone, which Radiant drank eagerly. Amaram’s troops had begun to form ranks again. “Come,” Jasnah said, pulling Veil back to the wall, where steps grew from the stone itself. “Soulcast?” Shallan asked. “Yes.” Jasnah stepped onto the first, but Shallan didn’t follow. “We shouldn’t have ignored this,” Radiant said. “We should have practiced this.” She slipped—for a moment—into viewing Shadesmar. Beads rolled and surged beneath her. “Not too far,” Jasnah warned. “You can’t bring your physical self into the realm, as I once assumed you could, but there are things here that can feast upon your mind.” “If I want to Soulcast the air. How?” “Avoid air until you practice further,” Jasnah said. “It is convenient, but difficult to control. Why don’t you try to turn some stone into oil, as I did? We can fire it as we climb the steps, and further impede the enemy.” “I…” So many beads, so many spren, churning in the lake that marked Thaylen City. So overwhelming. “That rubble near the wall will be easier than the ground itself,” Jasnah said, “as you’ll be able to treat those stones as distinct units, while the ground views itself all as one.” “It’s too much,” Shallan said, exhaustionspren spinning around her. “I can’t, Jasnah. I’m sorry.” “It is well, Shallan,” Jasnah said. “I merely wanted to see, as it seemed you were Soulcasting to give your illusions weight. But then, concentrated Stormlight has a faint mass to it. Either way, up the steps, child.” Radiant started up the stone steps. Behind, Jasnah waved her hand toward the approaching Fused—and stone formed from air, completely encasing them. It was brilliant. Any who saw it in only the Physical Realm would be impressed, but Radiant saw so much more. Jasnah’s absolute command and confidence. The Stormlight rushing to do her will. The air itself responding as if to the voice of God himself. Shallan gasped in wonder. “It obeyed. The air obeyed your call to transform. When I tried to make a single little stick change, it refused.” “Soulcasting is a practiced art,” Jasnah said. “Up, up. Keep walking.” She sliced the steps off as they walked. “Remember, you mustn’t order stones, as they are more stubborn than men. Use coercion. Speak of freedom and of movement. But for a gas becoming a solid, you must impose discipline and will. Each Essence is different, and each offers advantages and disadvantages when used as a substrate for Soulcasting.” Jasnah glanced over her shoulder at the gathering army. “And perhaps … this is one time when a lecture isn’t advisable. With all my complaints about not wanting wards, you’d think I would be able to resist instructing people at inopportune times. Keep moving.” Feeling exhausted, Veil, Shallan, and Radiant trudged up and finally reached the top of the wall.

 

 

Here we see Jasnah while holding off the fused still take the time to care for, and encourage Shallan while recognizing Shallan’s accomplishments. Shallan requests Jasnah teach her about soulcasting, and in fine ole Jasnah fashion she does exactly that. Shallan then feels overwhelmed and thinks it is a deficiency on her part. Jasnah reassures her it is fine, and then humbly relates that it takes time and work to learn the level of Jasnah’s skill. That Shallan isn’t just going to get it immediately. I find it ironic that at the same time Jasnah admonishes her capabilities as a teacher, she does a wonderful job. She is understanding, and supportive, while at the same time pushing her student to learn more.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 1182

Not the old fits, where he grew weak. He had new ones now, that neither he nor Glys could control. To his eyes, glass grew across the ground. It spread out like crystals, forming lattices, images, meanings and pathways. Stained-glass pictures, panel after panel. These had always been right. Until today—until they had proclaimed that Jasnah Kholin’s love would fail. He read this latest set of stained-glass images, then felt his fear drain away. He smiled. This seemed to confuse the Fused as they lowered their salutes.

 

 

I included this quote because I think this portion is poignant “until they had proclaimed that Jasnah Kholin’s love would fail”. In order for love to fail, it has to be there in the first place all along. Love I feel this thread has shown all throughout all three books, and love that I think we will learn even more of when we get to see Jasnah’s flashbacks.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 1193

Shallan wanted to sleep. She felt … weaker … more tired than the other two. Jasnah approached along the wall walk, then leaned down beside her. “Shallan? Are you well?” “Just tired,” Veil lied. “You have no idea how draining that was, Brightness. I could use a stiff drink.” “I suspect that would help very little,” Jasnah said, rising. “Rest here a while yet. I want to make absolutely certain the enemy is not returning.” “I swear to do better, Brightness,” Radiant said, taking Jasnah’s hand. “I wish to fulfill my wardship—to study and learn until you determine I am ready. I will not flee again. I’ve realized I have very far to go yet.” “That is well, Shallan.” Jasnah moved off.

 

 

I know by this point I am kind of beating a dead horse, but here again Jasnah takes the time to notice how Shallan is feeling and care for her. To see her safe and make certain the enemy is not coming back.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 1220

“Everyone in this storming country breaks the Codes,” Dalinar said, loudly, then looked over his shoulder. He continued, more softly. “I broke the Codes hundreds of times. You don’t have to be perfect, you only have to do your duty.” “No. I’ll be highprince, but not king. I just … no. I don’t want that burden. And before you complain that none of us want it, I’d also be terrible at the job. You think the monarchs would listen to me?” “I can’t be king of Alethkar,” Dalinar said softly. “I have to lead the Radiants—and need to divest myself of that power in Alethkar, to move away from that highking nonsense. We need a ruler in Alethkar who won’t be pushed over, but who can also deal with diplomats in diplomatic ways.” “Well, that’s not me,” Adolin repeated. “Who, then?” Dalinar demanded. Shallan cocked her head. “Hey. Have you boys ever considered…”

 

 

I included this scene because it basically lists Jasnah’s qualifications as all three end up agreeing Jasnah is the best choice. Adolin points out whoever is king needs to be able to have the other monarchs listen to the person. Dalinar comments they have to be the type of person who won’t be pushed over, but also can handle issues diplomatically. Balance. Strong hand, but even governance.

Spoiler

 

Oathbringer page 1222

The doors to the room slammed open, the noise of it sending a shock through the room, complaints falling silent. Even Turi sat up to note Jasnah Kholin standing in the doorway. She wore a small but unmistakable crown on her head. The Kholin family, it seemed, had chosen their new monarch. Turi grinned at the looks of worry on the faces of many of the others in the room. “Oh my,” he whispered to Palona. “Now this should be interesting.”

 

 

And now we close with Queen Jasnah. The reactions of all attending certainly seems to confirm that Dalinar’s, Adolin’s, and Shallan’s thoughts on Jasnah as Queen were right.

[Toaster Retribution]

@Pathfinder This is an awesome post! Great job, and thank you.

I liked Jasnah when I read Way of Kings. I did, and your post reminded me of that (thanks again!). And I have always considered her character to be great even though I personally dont like her.

And why don’t I? I dont think it is about me not getting that she is a good person, because I do, especially after this post. I understand that she is caring and not really cold. That all she does is for good. That she has a tough time, filled with hardships. 

My problem is easily divided into three parts, I think:

1. Im still not fond of her cold demeanor, which she puts up for the world to see. That is how we see her most of the time, and I find it annoying. When I read a lot of her lines and scenes in Oathbringer, she feels a little full of herself, and I dont like that. I don’t think that she is (or rather, I think she might be, but subconsciously). This is probably more my own fault than hers though. I just cant look away from my annoyance, even though I know that I’m not really annoyed with the Jasnah that exists deep down.

2. She is (and this, I would argue, is the one actual problem with Jasnahs character) overpowered. If Stormlight had been a tv-game, everyone would have been calling for Brandon to nerf her. She is an amazing fighter, a great scholar, incredibly knowledgeable, diplomatically skilled, keeps track of assassins, Ghostbloods and Heralds, might already have Shardplate, is able to get everyone to do what she wants them to do, and is intelligent, beautiful, rich, kind, caring and has a high position in society. No matter what the problem is, all characters can turn to Jasnah. That bothers me. In order for me to relate to her, she needs to have a weakness, a flaw that actively hinders her in an area which is currently important to her. As of now, she doesn’t have that. 

3. I just dont get the hype. I often get stuck loving characters who are minor/side characters, or as is the case in Stormlight, universally disliked (poor Amaram). I tend to have bias against the characters a LOT of other people love, but which I don’t get the hype for. In Jasnahs case, that is increased because of my other problems with her character. This is a fault of mine, and not anything directly related to Jasnah. 

But it was an educational text, and I am impressed with the work and sheer dedication on your part. Thanks for encouraging me to check it out!

 

[RShara]

Just now, Toaster Retribution said:

@Pathfinder This is an awesome post! Great job, and thank you.

I liked Jasnah when I read Way of Kings. I did, and your post reminded me of that (thanks again!). And I have always considered her character to be great even though I personally dont like her.

And why don’t I? I dont think it is about me not getting that she is a good person, because I do, especially after this post. I understand that she is caring and not really cold. That all she does is for good. That she has a tough time, filled with hardships. 

My problem is easily divided into three parts, I think:

1. Im still not fond of her cold demeanor, which she puts up for the world to see. That is how we see her most of the time, and I find it annoying. When I read a lot of her lines and scenes in Oathbringer, she feels a little full of herself, and I dont like that. I don’t think that she is (or rather, I think she might be, but subconsciously). This is probably more my own fault than hers though. I just cant look away from my annoyance, even though I know that I’m not really annoyed with the Jasnah that exists deep down.

2. She is (and this, I would argue, is the one actual problem with Jasnahs character) overpowered. If Stormlight had been a tv-game, everyone would have been calling for Brandon to nerf her. She is an amazing fighter, a great scholar, incredibly knowledgeable, diplomatically skilled, keeps track of assassins, Ghostbloods and Heralds, might already have Shardplate, is able to get everyone to do what she wants them to do, and is intelligent, beautiful, rich, kind, caring and has a high position in society. No matter what the problem is, all characters can turn to Jasnah. That bothers me. In order for me to relate to her, she needs to have a weakness, a flaw that actively hinders her in an area which is currently important to her. As of now, she doesn’t have that. 

3. I just dont get the hype. I often get stuck loving characters who are minor/side characters, or as is the case in Stormlight, universally disliked (poor Amaram). I tend to have bias against the characters a LOT of other people love, but which I don’t get the hype for. In Jasnahs case, that is increased because of my other problems with her character. This is a fault of mine, and not anything directly related to Jasnah. 

But it was an educational text, and I am impressed with the work and sheer dedication on your part. Thanks for encouraging me to check it out!

 

Remember that we only get a couple Jasnah PoVs. Most of our perception of her comes from Shallan's PoVs, and Shallan is.........very much an unreliable observer when it comes to Jasnah.

[Toaster Retribution]

2 minutes ago, RShara said:

Remember that we only get a couple Jasnah PoVs. Most of our perception of her comes from Shallan's PoVs, and Shallan is.........very much an unreliable observer when it comes to Jasnah.

Thanks for reminding me of this. It’s very true. But at the same time, I need to judge the character from what we see and hear of her. I think that she needs more POVs of her own to truly shine, because everyone except Kaladin loves and admires her, and might not notice her flaws or weaknesses.

[Pathfinder]

29 minutes ago, Toaster Retribution said:

@Pathfinder 

1. Im still not fond of her cold demeanor, which she puts up for the world to see. That is how we see her most of the time, and I find it annoying. When I read a lot of her lines and scenes in Oathbringer, she feels a little full of herself, and I dont like that. I don’t think that she is (or rather, I think she might be, but subconsciously). This is probably more my own fault than hers though. I just cant look away from my annoyance, even though I know that I’m not really annoyed with the Jasnah that exists deep down.

2. She is (and this, I would argue, is the one actual problem with Jasnahs character) overpowered. If Stormlight had been a tv-game, everyone would have been calling for Brandon to nerf her. She is an amazing fighter, a great scholar, incredibly knowledgeable, diplomatically skilled, keeps track of assassins, Ghostbloods and Heralds, might already have Shardplate, is able to get everyone to do what she wants them to do, and is intelligent, beautiful, rich, kind, caring and has a high position in society. No matter what the problem is, all characters can turn to Jasnah. That bothers me. In order for me to relate to her, she needs to have a weakness, a flaw that actively hinders her in an area which is currently important to her. As of now, she doesn’t have that. 

3. I just dont get the hype. I often get stuck loving characters who are minor/side characters, or as is the case in Stormlight, universally disliked (poor Amaram). I tend to have bias against the characters a LOT of other people love, but which I don’t get the hype for. In Jasnahs case, that is increased because of my other problems with her character. This is a fault of mine, and not anything directly related to Jasnah. 

But it was an educational text, and I am impressed with the work and sheer dedication on your part. Thanks for encouraging me to check it out!

 

1. Totally respect you do not enjoy her outward self. Totally entitled to your opinion. But for informational purposes it is a defensive mechanism. When she nearly died from soulcasting for the first time, she kept reciting in her brain to be calm and be rational. When she lost her father and was torn apart inside, she was fighting through her emotions to try and make sense of it all. It is how she copes. I will also point out, just about every single time she is cold and coarse to someone, they deserve it. They instigated the response. Otherwise she is respectful and considerate. 

2. I cannot recall if I covered this in my post, but Jasnah will not come to the forefront till the back five of stormlight. I see her becoming queen as a means to maintain and keep the peace of Alethkar while Dalinar handles the voidbringer war. To me for now she will be in the background till the back five. She is the furthest along radiant than all the others. When they catch up, let us speak again about the level of power. When we see the full force that Odium can bring to bear, that challenged even the heralds who as per WoB were confirmed to have once had access to amounts of investiture no radiant could attain (prior to Honor's death), let us speak again about her level of power. I see her return to the forefront to be when the stakes have rose significantly. So personally I do not think her level of power is a problem. 

3. To each their own. I think the hype for me at least is multi layered. She is a strong independent woman who is fully capable which is a concept that for a very long time unfortunately was unseen in novels. So she provides a character women can look up to, and identify with. She is rational, educated, and very intelligent. When a good chunk of movies, television, and novels involve the physically strong man of action who solves problems by cutting his way with his martial prowess, those who are more cerebrally inclined have her to identify with and look up to. For those who are magic system geeks, for myself at least, she has one of the most interesting power systems of all the radiants. Add the incredibly clever, and innovative ways she employs said abilities, and all I want to see is more. She is an atheist in a world that sees such as an abomination yet she holds true to her convictions. She is an atheist that is portrayed in a respectful and thoughtful manner. That gives individuals who are atheists themselves someone to identify with and look up to. Finally I feel as evidenced from this post, despite the view few view points we get of Jasnah, she is an incredibly layered and well thought out character (to me).

So again, you are totally entitled for her to just not work for you, but I do appreciate that you took the time to read the reasons why she does fit for myself and others. 

 

Edited May 7, 2019 by Pathfinder

[Calderis]

@Toaster Retribution not expecting to change your mind here but just wanted to add in another thought to consider.

I agree with this part of what you said, very very much. 

2 hours ago, Toaster Retribution said:

I think that she needs more POVs of her own to truly shine, because everyone except Kaladin loves and admires her, and might not notice her flaws or weaknesses.

I think it's much better to look at the way society as a whole looks at her. The brilliant, beautiful, spinster pariah. 

She is not well liked by anyone we see outside of her family and Shallan.

You're also correct in this description. 

2 hours ago, Toaster Retribution said:

2. She is (and this, I would argue, is the one actual problem with Jasnahs character) overpowered. If Stormlight had been a tv-game, everyone would have been calling for Brandon to nerf her. She is an amazing fighter, a great scholar, incredibly knowledgeable, diplomatically skilled, keeps track of assassins, Ghostbloods and Heralds, might already have Shardplate, is able to get everyone to do what she wants them to do, and is intelligent, beautiful, rich, kind, caring and has a high position in society. No matter what the problem is, all characters can turn to Jasnah. That bothers me. In order for me to relate to her, she needs to have a weakness, a flaw that actively hinders her in an area which is currently important to her. As of now, she doesn’t have that.

But if you were to strip away his PoV's I think nearly the same things could be said about Dalinar. He's incredibly capable. Maybe not brilliant but able to figure out what he needs in order to accomplish his goals consistently. Able to get people to bend to his will whether they like it or not... Most of Dalinar's struggles, Especially in tWoK, were internal. Without his PoV's, he'd have just seemed to be a force of personality slowly pushing his way towards the rule of Alethkar. 

If it weren't for her gender, and her religious beliefs, I think she'd be celebrated as another Blackthorn.