Nobody talks much about what happened to Branz and Petra Breveyn. They were from Biston, that much is for certain. And they were proud children of rebels. Rebels who couldn't give up the cause, even after years of military rule.
In whispers, people say that Branz and Petra finally had had enough, and tried one last time to push back against the Korvosan guards who maintained martial law. And that was the last time anyone saw them, fifteen years ago. Some say they were caught and killed. Others say they escaped and fled into the countryside to rouse more support. But if that were true, wouldn't they have come back, now that martial law was lifted? Or perhaps they had done something so bad that even now they would be chased down and captured for it. Or maybe the Korvosans struck first, stealing them away in the dark of night. Or maybe they tangled with something far darker...
Whatever the truth of the matter, the one thing everyone knows is that they left behind their four-year-old daughter, Jannet. Nobody quite knows why they would have gone off and left her, but apparently they did. Through sheer luck, she managed to survive for five days before someone realized she had been left behind. When it became clear that the child's parents weren't coming back, what was to be done with her? That was when Marisol stepped forward.
Old Marisol was the wise woman of the fields -- the one farmers came to when their crops were failing, the one would-be mothers came to for advice and help in bearing children, renowned for her wisdom and slightly feared for her mysterious gifts. No one had ever seen her do ill, but at the same time everyone whispered that to cross Marisol was to court the worst of ill-fortune.
Marisol offered to take Jannet as her apprentice. And so Jannet came to live with her in her house outside of Biston, and to learn to treat the ailments of man and beast with salves, to see and know the subtle signs that foretold good or ill. She worked hard, but Marisol treated her kindly and taught her -- all the while watching to see if the spark of potential she thought she saw was truly there.
The day Jannet turned 18, Marisol told her that her apprenticeship was ended, and it was time for her to know the truth of Marisol's power - and her own. She brought Jannet out to a copse of trees, away from prying eyes and questioning villagers. There, she lit a fire, and added certain herbs and fragrant woods to it. As the smoke rose, Jannet found herself in a trance, captivated by the scent and the rhythm of the words Marisol chanted in some strange tongue. As she sat enthralled, a thrush flew from the woods and landed on her shoulder, whispering secrets and words of wisdom to her.
As the smoke cleared, so did Jannet's mind. She felt new wisdom and new power flowing through her, and she knew: like Marisol, she was now a witch.
Marisol smiled gravely at Jannet and warned her: "Use what is given only for good, for evil brings only evil. If someone dares cross you, you may strike at them, but know that if you strike wrongly, you will be struck in your turn."
They returned to Marisol's hut, the thrush perched on Jannet's shoulder, a place it rarely leaves. Jannet continued assisting the wise woman, though now she too was growing in wisdom, and showed a true gift for her new abilities, able to heal and grant good luck both.
It was barely a year later, though, that Marisol's many years finally caught up with her. As she died, she told Jannet, "Now this place is yours. Grow in wisdom and care for those who come to you."
Thus Jannet was left, young and inexperienced in her own abilities, to take the place of one of the more respected -- and feared -- members of the community. She is determined to do her best for the town, even if the murmurs about her parents' disappearance combined with her youth leave people somewhat skeptical of her. She has something of an "I'll show you" attitude, determined to somehow find a way to fill the giant footsteps of her beloved - and feared - predecessor.
