Chapter 116
The third rule of warfare is to attack where your opponent is weak. Every man is both weak and strong. Confront his weakness with your strength.
— Proverbs for Towers and War, Zenaz, date unknown
F en looked over the contract, sealed and signed by Jasnah, ordering the assassin to watch Aesudan—with provisions, should they be needed, for killing the queen.
Storms. Jasnah had burned this contract, hadn’t she? Did a pseudo-deity’s powers allow Taravangian to see the past, and replicate an artifact such as this?
“Why,” Taravangian asked, gesturing to her, his other hand resting on the top of his cane as he sat, “would you have assassins watch your own family, Jasnah?”
“Aesudan was unpredictable,” Jasnah explained, turning toward him from where she stood by Fen. “And power hungry. I worried about her destabilizing the kingdom.”
“Ah,” Taravangian said. “But didn’t you condemn me for killing to obtain the throne of Jah Keved? Didn’t you insist there were ‘ obviously better ways than murder ’? Are you a hypocrite, Jasnah?”
Damnation.
He was good.
He’d led her right into a trap, let her think she was doing well, before slamming a revelation into her head like a warhammer. Was this what it was like to argue with someone who could foresee the future?
“Did you go to Aesudan and try to get her to change?” Taravangian asked. “Or did you talk to your brother, who loved her? No. I know you didn’t. Why not?”
“Contract notwithstanding, I never moved against Aesudan, Fen,” Jasnah said, her mind racing as she tried to find a way to control this development. “I had the option, but all I did was watch her to be certain.”
“You were willing to murder a member of your own family,” Taravangian said. “In secret. You knew then, as you now know, that pain and suffering are sometimes required. You speak of freedom and liberty, but you connive and plot to force your goals upon the world. Because you recognized the job of the monarch is to protect their people. No matter what.”
Jasnah looked across at him, meeting his eyes. He couldn’t know …
“Did you ever explore the possibility,” Taravangian asked, “of assassinating Fen?”
Damnation.
Fen—holding the contract at Jasnah’s side—stared at her with obvious concern. Lying now would only make it worse. He could have re-created those paper trails as well.
“I investigated every monarch with whom we interacted,” Jasnah admitted. “And assessed their likelihood of being a threat to my people.”
“Did you ever ‘explore the possibility of assassinating’ me, Jasnah?” Fen asked.
“I …” Jasnah said. “I am known to overprepare at times. I need to know my options.”
Again Taravangian smiled. Choose your words more carefully, Jasnah thought to herself in annoyance. Don’t let him rile you into speaking hastily.
“Options?” Fen said. “Killing me was an option ?”
“It was before I knew you,” Jasnah said, slowing, being more deliberate with her diction. “Please understand. I was exploring a hypothetical. Surely, as a queen, you …”
Storms. He wanted her to admit that a monarch had to protect her people—leading toward the inevitable conclusion that joining his coalition would be better for Thaylenah. Jasnah took a deep breath, and steered the conversation back toward Taravangian. “He’s trying to turn us against one another, Fen. Look at his smile.”
“I smile,” Taravangian said, “because I do not wish to let myself despair at the harsh realities of the world. A good monarch does as you did, Jasnah. Anyone, including a friend, can become a liability. A good monarch prepares to do even what is painful. Tell me honestly. If you, right now, thought Fen were a threat to your family—if she were planning to destroy Alethkar—would you eliminate her?”
“Any queen would,” Jasnah said.
“I don’t … know if I would,” Fen whispered.
Jasnah froze, standing at the center of their little triangle of three chairs, then looked at the other queen.
“Oh, I’d bluster,” Fen said. “I’d scream and I’d be angry. But assassinating a friend …” The paper went limp in her fingers. “I’ve always worried I’m too soft for this job.”
This was unexpected; Jasnah would not have anticipated that from Fen. Taravangian had prepared well. He somehow knew the queen better than Jasnah did.
“It’s all right, Fen,” Taravangian said. “You have a model before you. Jasnah—who, despite her words to the contrary, doesn’t actually seek the greater good.” Taravangian faced her. “Admit it, Jasnah. You only seek your greater good. You protect your kingdom, and your people, above others. Your philosophy is deeply flawed, for you cannot know what is best for all. A mortal cannot think of Roshar at large—let alone the cosmere. Have you imagined how many planets there are, how many people? Would you let Roshar be destroyed to protect them?”
She …
Storms. Her mind reeled. The grand scope of the cosmere, and the billions who lived in it, was indeed too much.
Don’t let him steer, she thought. Don’t let him catch you with corner cases.
“I could never know,” Jasnah said, “that destroying a planet was for the best—and so no, I wouldn’t.”
“If you can’t know the greater good,” Taravangian said, “why would you profess to try to seek it?”
She almost followed with the next logical sentence: that it was her duty to do her best to seek the greater good. A person could only see so far, and had to act on their best information. If she said that, he’d point out that he had more information—seeing into the future as a pseudo-deity did. She wouldn’t fall into that trap.
She closed her mouth. He noticed, and nodded slightly to her in acknowledgment.
“I don’t like how this is going, Jasnah,” Ivory said in her ear. “I … worry.”
“This does not change the situation,” Jasnah said, meeting Taravangian’s eyes. “Fen knows that you double-crossed us, and set us up for destruction. She might question my morality, but why does that matter? You are the one she would be making a deal with. Your history of behavior is far more important.”
“Well, that’s true, at least,” Fen said, lowering the contract.
Another nod, almost imperceptible, from Taravangian—in recognition of her skillful turning of the conversation.
“Fen, she’s right,” Taravangian said. “I’ve been a monster at times. However, I am bound by contracts. And if we are considering history, the singers have always been a multiracial society, willing to accept humans among them. And while we speak of the Voidbringers and their destruction—only the humans, in recent history, have accomplished something truly barbarous: the near extinction of the singers. A union between you and my empire is perfectly workable, and my goal isn’t to prove myself moral, but to show that your correct choice—your sole reasonable choice—is to take the deal I’m offering.”
“And you are failing at proving that goal,” Jasnah said. “Fen doesn’t care about the fate of the cosmere—but she does care about the fate of Roshar. What kinds of policies will you implement, Taravangian? What kind of god will you be? You’ve told Dalinar that you intend to launch invasions of other worlds. Will you simply turn Thaylenah into a mill churning out soldiers to die in your thirst for conquest?”
Jasnah caught the briefest glance of annoyance from him. “I would be willing,” he said, seeming reluctant, “to exempt the Thaylen people from conscription, allowing them to join up only if they wish it.”
“You’d need to promise more than that,” Fen said. “I know how you can get ‘volunteers’ by creating hardships for those who don’t sign up. We’d need protections in place against that.”
“Of course,” Taravangian said.
Jasnah gritted her teeth. Don’t let negotiations start. That was yet another wrong turn. He was more than good at this. He was fantastic, and Jasnah …
Jasnah found herself invigorated. She rebelled against the emotion; she was striving to defend the fate of an entire people. This was a solemn, terrifying situation.
She didn’t enjoy this, but a part of her was engaged in a way she had rarely been in her life. Arguing with someone who had the genuine capacity to not merely match her every point, but defeat her. It made her feel alert, even alive.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jasnah said to him, “because the destruction and pain you will cause Roshar will be legendary should you win. Sometimes, yes, pain and suffering are needed—which is why we continue to fight you. Siding with you would be a betrayal of Roshar itself.”
“Jasnah,” he said, “every war on this planet has been caused by the conflict between two Shards. Two religions. Now that there is only one Shard, one god, we have found a way to peace—with your uncle’s contest. It’s time to look forward, not backward. By siding with me, Fen can reap the greatest benefits of the new world we’re creating.”
“I don’t know, Taravangian,” Fen said. “She’s right. Siding with you would be a betrayal of Honor, and Roshar.”
“Honor is dead,” Taravangian said, “and regardless, Honor never had sway with any monarch who was in their right mind. Fen, if you join with me, I will end religious strife forever, across the cosmere. Think of being the one to help bring peace to untold millions.”
“Again,” Jasnah said, “this is a scope beyond our ability to consider. You’ve proven that.”
“Admit it, Jasnah,” he said. “Doesn’t this appeal to you? A crusade to put a stop to religious strife? The chance to kill the remaining gods, leaving you only one to deal with? Isn’t that the core of who you are?”
“No,” she said, feeling her strength mount.
“But you have always said—”
“My core,” she said, “is rationality. It is not hatred. I am not defined by my heresy, no matter how much people have tried to do so.”
Taravangian hesitated, studying her.
“It’s an easy mistake to make,” Jasnah continued. “My goal is nothing more than the freedom of mind, body, and will for all. Let them worship how they wish, but let them do so with their eyes open, having all the relevant information.”
“And the gods who subject people to their demands?”
“I would have issues with them, as I do with you,” Jasnah said. “But I do not know them—and I am not a child, Taravangian. I do not assume that without religion, there would be nothing for people to go to war over.
“If you assume I will crusade against religion or other Shards simply because they exist, then you make a mistake. The same mistake made by all who give petty, casual thought to my heresy. They assume I replace religious ideology with an ideology of their absence. That is not the case. I am against dogma of any variety. God, nationality, or philosophy—when you become a slave to it without capacity to change or reconsider, that is the problem.”
“But you have said in the past—”
“When new information arrives,” Jasnah said, “I change. If I find oppression in the cosmere, I will oppose it. However, to join you in war against other planets would only perpetuate suffering.” She took a deep breath, everything locking into place. “I will not side with you. I am not you.”
“Of course not,” he said. “You don’t see far enough. If you did, you’d understand completely. The greatest good.”
“You are not good for this planet. Your history, temperament, and morality all prove it. It will require sacrifices to stand against you, but we will do so, united. Regardless of the cost.”
He nodded to her a third time. “I appreciate it, Jasnah,” he said. “You are remarkable. And you almost won.”
Almost?
She turned to Fen, who watched this exchange with wide eyes. She looked up to Jasnah.
Regardless of the cost … Jasnah had said that.
She meant it.
And Fen had said earlier she wouldn’t kill a friend to protect her kingdom … then Fen had admitted that was a weakness in her, and had relied on Jasnah as a guide.
“Jasnah would sacrifice Thaylenah, Fen,” Taravangian said quietly, “to protect her people. Just as she’d sacrifice all those worlds in the cosmere to protect Roshar. Just as she’d kill you to protect her family. Ultimately she’s like any of us: Family. Kingdom. World. In that order.”
“I—” Jasnah started, not wanting to let him talk.
“Would you deny it?” Taravangian said, his soft, kindly voice cutting through her objection. “Would you deny that you’d throw away Thaylenah to destroy me, but that you would not do the same with Alethkar? If you were able to save your land, but condemn the other, what would you do?”
What would she do? It deserved thought, and she knew—with a little of it—that she’d do as he said. Stopping him was worth the price of a nation. But would she do it for her people? In this, Jasnah found her emotions treasonous.
The proper answer would be yes. But she didn’t know if she could say that in good conscience. She had a special duty to protect her people, because she was their queen.
“The individual details of a situation would be too intricate for me to answer a question like that,” Jasnah said. “So I say, without further context, that I wouldn’t destroy Thaylenah.”
Fen was eyeing her. Storms, Jasnah was being too academic about this. For all Fen’s limitations as a queen at times, she was incredibly emotionally intelligent. She was probably reading too much into the way Jasnah paused.
“By the first winds,” Fen said. “That’s a lie, isn’t it, Jasnah? You would sacrifice Thaylenah to defeat him. Of course you would.”
“I’d strive to do what is right,” Jasnah said. “But Fen, he’s deflecting us with abstractions.”
“Actually, they’re quite concrete,” Taravangian said. He stood up to face her. “We know what you and the Alethi would do in such a situation. You already encountered one. When Dalinar made his contract, what thought did he give to Thaylenah?”
“He froze all—”
“He didn’t even think about them,” Taravangian said. “I can see that moment, Jasnah! He gave a plea for Herdaz to save face because of a promise, but he forgot the rest. He could have frozen the national lines immediately, but he didn’t. Why? Because he was thinking of Alethkar alone, which was already captured. What thought did he give for the rest? None. As you, in a similar situation, would consider only you and yours.”
“Nonsense,” Jasnah said. “I’d think of the greater good.”
“How can you know, though?” Fen demanded, standing too. “How can you know what is right for others? You’re just like Dalinar, aren’t you? So determined to decide.”
“Fen, no,” Jasnah said. “Listen—”
Jasnah’s own voice cut in. “What if we renegotiated the contract?”
She froze. So did Fen. They looked to Taravangian, who held up his hand, a small Lightweaving appearing above it. Showing the group of them—Jasnah, Fen, Wit, Dalinar, Navani—sitting in a room full of plants, meeting last week. Jasnah had spoken, and in his simulacrum, she did again.
“If there is a new Odium,” the image of Jasnah said, “he might agree to different terms. Perhaps he will stop the war entirely if we give him accommodations. What if we let him leave?”
“Jasnah,” Wit said, pained. “We can’t unleash him upon the cosmere.”
Taravangian met her eyes.
And Jasnah, in that moment, knew she had lost.
“Sometimes,” the Jasnah hovering over his hand said, “you have to think about yourself first.”
“What is best for Thaylenah, Jasnah?” Taravangian whispered.
Fen turned toward her. “He is right. If you wanted to do what was best for Thaylenah, what would you do? A monarch must be willing to sacrifice anything to protect their people. Isn’t that right?”
Jasnah took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind, claw this conversation back. She had the philosophical grounding to resist this. “Fen, listen. He’s set up a classic prisoner’s dilemma for us. It’s a conversation we have all the time in philosophical circles; it may seem that the best thing to do is sell out the others, but if we remain united—”
“Sometimes,” the small Jasnah repeated, “you have to think about yourself first.”
“But—”
“ Sometimes ”—louder, her own voice condemning her—“you have to think about yourself first. ”
“You’ve always tried to have it both ways, Jasnah,” Taravangian whispered. “Protect your own. Then do what is right. In that order.” He looked to Fen. “I will give nearly anything to see her defeated, Fen. Including the greatest deal any kingdom or planet will ever get from me. Thaylenah will become a genuine world power, not subject to Alethkar. Ever. Again.”
“I—” Jasnah said.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said, focusing on her. “Deny that you seek your own country’s needs first. Lie for us, Jasnah. Look me in the eyes, and lie. ”
Storms. She needed support, and turned to her ideals. But they wavered. And … and … the truth was, he did offer an excellent opportunity for Thaylenah. It truly would protect Fen’s people best, and make them rich. They’d have free trade within Odium’s empire, they would be protected from any future Alethi aggression, and they would benefit—like any conquering people—from his aggression toward the cosmere.
History bore this out. Grand conquests brought lavish wealth to those back home. Aligning with Odium would bring Fen’s people stability and prosperity. It might not be the greater good, but Jasnah’s core rocked as she acknowledged—finally—that she really couldn’t see the greater good.
And never had been able to.
No, a part of her thought. Freedom is more important.
But did she believe that? Or did she believe that keeping people safe was right, regardless? Even if Dalinar won this war … Fen’s people were headed for debilitating austerity. Jasnah had been willing to kill Aesudan … and had killed those men in Kharbranth. Did she still think those choices were right?
It all became a mess in her head.
As he had obviously intended.
“Jasnah,” Fen said, “I know you’d take the deal. He’s been correct all along.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” Jasnah snapped.
And … those words were a lie. It was what she wanted Fen to do, not what she would do. It wasn’t best for Thaylenah—but it might be best for Alethkar.
Oh …
Oh, storms. When the moment came, she did exactly as he said she would. She did whatever it took to win.
“He’s right,” Fen whispered. “You lie.”
Jasnah trembled, and inwardly marveled at what Taravangian had done. He’d made her stay up all night, preparing political arguments so she now buzzed with exhaustionspren. Then he’d cornered her and besmirched her character and turned her very moral framework against her. He had come armed not merely with politics, but with the truth.
“I’ll take the deal, Taravangian,” Fen said. “Assuming we can reach points I agree with.”
Jasnah barely heard it. He’s right about me, she thought, horrified—seeing the near assassination of Aesudan … the lesson in Kharbranth … the way she’d stood with a sword to Renarin’s neck—all those moments in a new light.
I didn’t swing, she thought. I didn’t kill him, or Aesudan. But that proved Taravangian correct. She’d loved them too much to kill them, which meant her moral philosophy was an utter sham. Jasnah Kholin loved her family, her people, her kingdom.
And that, in this instant, condemned her.
It suddenly seemed that she’d always been two women. One who pretended to be cold, calculating, and willing to do anything in the name of her philosophical morality. Another who knew that there had always been something wrong with the morals she claimed to follow.
She couldn’t know what was right.
The cosmere, even the world, was just too big.
She … she needed time to deal with this.
So she sat down again, and the negotiations began. At the end Fen—wisely—made her deal. In so doing, Thaylenah joined the enemy without a single sword being raised.