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Chapter Text

The human city of Kholinar rose from the horizon like the carapace of a chasmfiend rose from the plains outside of the Ten Cities. It seemed impossible, defiant of the rules of nature, and yet it did exist, which was both grand and terrifying.

Venli stifled her fear and awe both as she was led into the city. Ulim, invisible to most, rested in her gemheart. He would judge any expressions of emotion she gave to the Alethi capital. Either her fear was proof of her weakness, or her awe was proof of how far her people had fallen.

She was determined to prove that neither thing was true. She would be powerful, and her people still had the capacity for greatness. Venli would lead them there, gloriously, and she would replace her ancestors as the subject of Listener songs. It was what Ulim promised. It was why she was here, pretending to cozy up to the king of the Alethi humans.

King Gavilar had asked the Listeners to send an ambassador to Kholinar to "foster unity" between their peoples. Venli was suspicious of the man, but Ulim had insisted that she be the one to represent her people in Kholinar. She still was not sure why, but Ulim had promised her answers once they arrived in the city.

At the entrance to the city, she was greeted by a large contingent of blue-coated soldiers, the guards of the royal family. The captain of the guard informed her that the royal family would meet her at the palace.

"I hear there's quite a party planned in your honor, Brig- ah, Ambassador," the captain said. He stumbled over his words when he met Venli's eyes.

She was supposed to be of high status, but she did not have the light-colored eyes that Alethi nobility had. She knew that would be a point of contention for the Alethi, and she was fine with watching them squirm.

A palanquin was waiting to escort her to the palace. It was the usual transportation offered to Alethi noblewomen. She also noticed that the windows were covered with thick drapes, keeping anyone from looking inside at her.

Beyond the guards, within the city walls, Venli realized that a large crowd of humans had gathered. They were staring at her. Even though they had Parshmen slaves, they had never seen a free Listener like her. Venli let her gaze sweep over them. Let them stare at her. She was here at the request of their king, to be honored by him. That was something none of them had accomplished.

The palanquin took her through the streets of Kholinar, ever-winding. Venli was not used to traveling without using her own feet. Both the caravan journey to Kholinar and the palanquin journey to the palace were foreign to her, but she refused to let her surprise show.

The humans, for the most part, thought they were superior to the Listeners. Ulim seemed to agree with that opinion, but he was still working with her. She had that over them all. She might not know Ulim's plans for her, but she knew she was important. That was what mattered. Not one of the humans in Kholinar would be remembered as Venli intended to be remembered.

Finally, the noises of common people began to fade, and the palanquin came to a stop. It lowered to the ground, and Venli stepped out, doing her best to look dignified and unimpressed. She knew the humans supposedly paid more attention to facial expressions because they lacked the Rhythms, so she tried to relax the muscles in her face.

Before her, atop a long set of stairs, she saw the Alethi royal family. They looked down on her, a crude if effective show of power. Behind her were guards, and behind them she could hear the voices of people, all watching.

"Hope that thing doesn't spread to my parshmen."

"That skin and hair are better than any I've seen on a parshman, I'll tell you that."

"Does it speak Alethi? Does it understand us?"

"An alliance with parshmen! Now I've seen everything…"

"An exposed safehand… I suppose you cannot expect a savage to know religion."

Venli tried her best to tune out the words of the crowd, suppressing the urge to turn on them, but she internally attuned Fury.

You will put them all in their place, one day, Ulim said. Don't get distracted now. You have a mission.

It wasn't often that Ulim reassured her. Venli began her ascent towards the entrance of the Kholinar palace, not once turning back despite the loud commentary of the gathered crowd.

King Gavilar stood in the center, standing tall and still, as if a statue. He was dressed in a deep blue and wore a golden hair ornament. To one side of him stood a woman with graying black hair strands. She wore a long maroon havah with ornate silver lining, a wide sleeve draped elegantly over her left hand. She had a slim circlet of gold in her hair, much smaller than the crown Gavilar wore. She must be Gavilar's wife, Queen Navani.

On Gavilar's other side stood a tall, bulky man in a military uniform. Venli knew about him; Dalinar Kholin, brother to the king. He'd been with Gavilar when the Listeners had first encountered the Alethi. He was accompanied by a willowy woman with yellow hairstrands, something Venli had never seen before. Her eyes were down-turned, unlike the rest of the Kholin family.

Beside Navani stood a young man who wore a similar thin golden circlet. He was dressed in a brightly colored yellow coat and had a decorative sword at his waist. This was the crown prince of Alethkar, Elhokar. Unlike his father, he shifted slightly from foot to foot, making him seem far less impressive.

The entire family wore neutral expressions, as far as Venli's Listener eyes could tell. That was, except for the last woman, standing on the other side of Elhokar. Her eyes were definitely narrowed, and her lip was curled.

She was the tallest out of the assembled human women, and her posture indicated that she was comfortable with that fact. She wore a deep purple havah that hugged her upper body before flaring out at the hip. Her left hand was covered in a narrow sleeve. Her havah was simple, without much decoration. Her black hair was arranged in a complex geometric style of braids. Out of all of them, she matched Gavilar's statuesque impression the most, other than the look of utter contempt on her face.

That was Jasnah Kholin, the daughter of the king. Venli attuned Spite as they locked eyes.

"Welcome to Alethkar, esteemed ambassador," Gavilar said, snapping Venli's attention away from Jasnah. "We are pleased to welcome you, and for the future of allyship that will bloom between our peoples."

Venli nodded, preparing herself to respond in Alethi, and trying her best not to glance over at the glaring princess. "Thank you for extending an invitation, King. I am pleased to represent the interests of my people here."

Good, Ulim whispered. You must gain his trust. Go along with what happens today, Venli.

She was still unsure what was meant to happen today, but she attuned Subservience anyway. Today was only the first day of what she assumed would be a profitable visit to the human royals. She was certain that she would walk out of this palace with all the information she needed to restore the power of her people, the power that Ulim promised. All she had to do was take it.

And if Jasnah Kholin hated her, so be it. She would be bored without some opposition. As she followed Gavilar into the palace gates, she shot her best approximation of a human smirk at Jasnah. If there was to be a contest between them, she would be sure to win it.

Chapter Text

Jasnah Kholin tries very hard to keep herself together.

When she wakes, she does not allow herself to linger in bed. Today is an "important day", according to her mother, completely happening to neglect the fact that every day is necessarily important for important people. So she suffers through waking, bathing, clothing, eating breakfast, and applying makeup well before the sun has risen. If Jasnah lets herself falter and fall back asleep, she finds she usually sleeps for another few hours. Not a desirable result, especially when today is such an important day.

The early hour allows her to spend some time researching. Samarathal's Magniloquence, a detailed treatise on types of rhetoric and on being effective with words. She does what invigorates her — taking notes, teasing out implications. If only she had more opportunities to simply sit down and read. She does wish she had more time to study — unfortunately, the world does not wait upon her whims, as her father seems so fond of reminding her.

And so, the world comes knocking in the form of her mother, who lets herself in. Dressed in a long maroon havah, her hair affixed into a bun held with long spikes, she carries a stack of papers in her freehand.

"Are you busy, dear?" She doesn't wait for an answer. "I was copying some of the transcriptions of your father's recent expeditions, but I noticed an inconsistency — in the second section, you wrote that he first encountered the Parshendi scout on Chachel, but then you say that the day after was when they brought their larger group to meet us, but you also refer to that day as Chachel and not Vevel. Which was it?"

Internally, Jasnah sighs. Interrupting her over something so simple as this? Why not ask her father himself? Although, of course, he probably wouldn't remember. Literacy is vital to Jasnah's life, but it does get exhausting being expected to constantly scribe for the men around her. Everything would be so much more simple if they could just learn to read themselves.

Jasnah holds her hand out for the papers, and begins to flip through them. Navani looks over her room.

"You have a study for this sort of thing, dear," she says, referring to Jasnah's books and desk. "And why does it have to be so bright in here?"

"I like things to be well-lit. And this is my study."

Navani frowns, conveying subtle disappointment in that frustrating way only mothers are capable of. That comment irritates Jasnah more than it should — but these are her rooms, not Navani's. Why would she care how well-lit they are? It's not like she has to sleep in them.

"Then it is not an error of mine," Jasnah says, finding the relevant passage. "I was copying down what Father said. I believe the day of first contact was Nanel, though you may of course wish to refer to the records of one of multiple scribes actually present."

Navani gives her a look. The kind of look that accompanies the question, why do you have to be so difficult all the time? Thankfully, she says nothing further, and leaves. Without closing the door all the way behind her. Jasnah scowls, having to forcibly keep herself from slamming the door shut in her anger.

Well, wonderful. Now her mood is thoroughly spoiled. She's in no mood to continue researching, even if the place she left off is a particularly interesting section on the use of epiphoras and their role in notable historical arguments. Not that she'd have any time to bother with further study regardless, given that a master-servant soon arrives to inform her that her aunt wants her for something. With a sigh, Jasnah rises and follows.

Jasnah does not hate her aunt. She doesn't hate any of her family, really, just.. dislikes them strongly sometimes. Evi less than others. What she lacks in tact, she makes up for in.. well, by not being either of her parents. Gavilar's expectations are difficult, or, really, impossible to live up to, and Navani seems to expect her to be present all of the time. Neither acknowledge the harm they cause Jasnah.

The master-servant leads her to her mother's study, now occupied by Evi at the writing desk. Books line the walls in shelves, the closest the palace would get to a true library, although Jasnah had encouraged converting a room to one at multiple points. There are other libraries in Kholinar, of course, and many aren't too far from the palace itself, though there is a difference between needing to wait an hour for a servant to retrieve a book and being able to cross the palace and simply find what you want.

"Oh.. Jasnah? I am sorry to bother, but could you.. talk of what these words mean?"

Jasnah walks over to the desk, leaning over her aunt's shoulder, the room lit with blue spheres. The book she's reading is an intermediate guide to Alethi spelling and grammar, intended for girls maybe eleven or twelve years of age. The other sheet is a collection of paragraphs, written in Evi's scrawled handwriting, transcribing the words of some other women at court. Evi points to a specific line.

"This 'divorce' they talk of. I have asked, and I am told the Alethi do not have divorce. Is this true?"

Jasnah sighs internally, again, though she supposes that she shouldn't discourage any kind of inquisitive behavior. Jasnah's sympathy is in short supply these days, but she does like her aunt, to a certain extent. So she bothers with a response.

"Technically, no, as the Vorin church does not officially approve of them. However, there exists legal methods of permanent separation, including the division of lands and wealth, which would be held by the woman's closest male relative. Navani's own parents did it, and though it's not common, it's also not seen as something the church can meaningfully prevent."

Evi nods slowly. "Thank you for your wisdom, Jasnah. I do not ask further."

Jasnah then leaves, following the greater-than-usual flow of servants to find them buzzing around the palace's massive ballroom. Preparing for the ball in two days' time — cleaning extensively, arranging furniture and mixing drinks and setting lighting.

Jasnah is not excited for the event, as there simply isn't enough of her excitement to go around. A long evening in a loud, busy place, where her presence is required and she's not allowed to simply slip away to her rooms. At least she can attempt to hide away in the upper balconies and hope that nobody comes looking for her, asking why she's focused on a book instead of on who to court, as if she's supposed to choose based on arbitrary physical features and not her hypothetical partner's mental acuity. Jasnah despises the small-minded high-dahn lighteyed women who attend, purely because of their games and gossip and lack of respect for real scholarship. Plus, a ball means possibly seeing Meridas..

Despite herself, Jasnah shivers.

"Oh, there you are," Navani says, placing her freehand on Jasnah's forearm as she walks by. "I need someone to help with logistics. Come along. We should have enough wine, although I'm worried about not having enough sapphire, even if your father says the blue and violet should be sufficient. We should be able to provide sufficiently for all guests, don't you think? And we have twenty-two of those tables, but with the layout I had Palinah draw up, we'll only be able to fit eighteen.. oh, I do wish we just had a set of ballroom furniture we didn't use for anything else. So many guests on such short notice.."

Jasnah is annoyed now. Furniture is expensive, she wants to snap, and this isn't even my job. "You know, Mother, we have scribes for this sort of thing."

"You've such a mind for it, Jasnah. And what's so wrong about me wanting to spend time with my daughter? Or are you too old for things like human interaction now?"

"I," Jasnah says slowly, trying to keep the anger out of her voice, "am not a little girl anymore. Please stop treating me like I am."

"You're my little girl, Jasnah, no matter how old you are. Now, if we can just — "

Jasnah spins on her heel and strides back down the hall, cracking multiple knuckles as she squeezes her safehand with her free in an attempt to get her anger out without destroying something.

Maddeningly, before she can return to her rooms, she is intercepted by yet another master-servant, who claims that her presence is wanted with the rest of her family in the palace entrance grounds, as a formal greeting to the Parshendi ambassador arriving in the city today.

Of course. The Parshendi ambassador. If they are anything like the other emissaries Jasnah has met over the years, they are likely to be frustrating, stubborn, and most importantly, highly politically motivated. From hearing of her father's experiences and from reading other accounts of the expedition, Jasnah isn't one to assume that the Parshendi are necessarily savages or even meaningfully less intelligent than humans. Nor is she particularly worried about the ambassador threatening her, or her family. They would come alone, as per the terms of the agreement.

So, Jasnah joins her family in the entrance hall, though she'd much rather be back in her rooms, standing beside her brother. Can't he stop shifting nervously like that? It's distracting. But Jasnah says nothing.

She instead focuses on the ambassador themself. Or herself, it seems, judging by the figure. Relatively tall, with a skin pattern of red and white, her orange hair done up, dressed in what appears to be relatively formal clothing, though not of Vorin custom. She wears no glove on her safehand, and Jasnah forces herself to turn away from staring at her finely patterned fingers.

She introduces herself as Venli, claiming that she is "pleased to represent the interests of my people here". Jasnah hates her immediately. She doesn't trust the way she talks.

Jasnah turns away when Venli smirks at her. Knowingly. Mockingly. She has to keep herself from biting her lip too hard, so she doesn't draw blood. If there's to be a contest between them — Jasnah is sure to win it.