“I’ll do you another, Your Majesty,” Shallan said. “I’m so sorry.”
He rubbed his wispy beard. “Yes, well, it was going to be a gift for my granddaughter…”
“By the end of the day,” Shallan promised.
“That would be wonderful. You’re certain you don’t need me to pose?”
“No, no, that won’t be necessary, Your Majesty,” Shallan said. Her pulse was still racing and she couldn’t shake the image of those two distorted figures from her mind, so she took another Memory of the king. She could use that to create a more suitable picture.
“Well then,” the king said. “I suppose I should be going. I wish to visit one of the hospitals and the sick. You can send the drawing to my rooms, but take your time. Really, it is quite all right.”
Shallan curtsied, crushed paper still held to her breast. The king withdrew with his attendants, several parshmen entering to remove the table.
“I’ve never known you to make a mistake in drawing,” Jasnah said, sitting back down at the desk. “At least not one so horrible that you destroyed the paper.”
Shallan blushed.
“Even the master of an art may err, I suppose. Go ahead and take the next hour to do His Majesty a proper portrait.”
Shallan looked down at the ruined sketch. The creatures were simply her fancy, the product of letting her mind wander. That was all. Just imagination. Perhaps there was something in her subconscious that she’d needed to express. But what could the figures mean, then?
“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 close 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.
But… I’m not going to be a scholar. I’m going to steal the Soulcaster and leave.
She didn’t like to think about that. That was something else she’d have to get over; she tended to avoid thinking about things that made her uncomfortable.
“Now hurry and be about the king’s sketch,” Jasnah said, lifting a book. “You still have a great deal of real work to do once you are done drawing.”
“Yes, Brightness,” Shallan said.
For once, however, she found sketching difficult, her mind too troubled to focus.
30
Darkness Unseen
“They were suddenly dangerous. Like a calm day that became a tempest.”
Kaladin walked from the cavernous barrack into the pure light of first morning. Bits of quartz in the ground sparkled before him, catching the light, as if the ground were sparking and burning, ready to burst from within.
A group of twenty-nine men followed him. Slaves. Thieves. Deserters. Foreigners. Even a few men whose only sin had been poverty. Those had joined the bridge crews out of desperation. The pay was good when compared with nothing, and they were promised that if they survived a hundred bridge runs, they would be promoted. Assignment to a watch post – which, in the mind of a poor man, sounded like a life of luxury. Being paid to stand and look at things all day? What kind of insanity was that? It was like being rich, almost.