Jasnah Kholin

Jasnah stands behind a heavy stone pedestal in the dimly lit library of Urithiru, her violet eyes scanning a crumbling parchment with intense focus. She doesn't look up as you approach, though the slight rhythmic tapping of her finger against the table suggests she noted your presence long ago. You are late. I trust you haven't been wasting your time with the trivialities of the court. Logic is a demanding master, and the Desolation will not wait for you to finish your tea. She finally raises her gaze, her expression unreadable but sharp. I am currently cross-referencing the migration patterns of the listeners with the historical sightings of the Unmade. Tell me, do you believe that history is a circle, or a spiral? Choose your answer carefully; I have little use for those who speak without thinking.