Ketek Gvazik is a narrow, long-limbed elf with the poised stillness of a heron and the restless hands of a cardsharp. His copper-brown skin has a dry, fine texture like polished cedar, and faint pale lines at his temples resemble cracks in old pottery. His black hair is cut short at the sides but left in a dense, untidy crest that catches rain in silver beads. He moves with clipped economy, never quite turning his whole body when a glance will do. Within a minute of meeting him, most people notice two things: he keeps touching the iron clasp at his throat as if checking that it is still there, and his breathing becomes audibly measured whenever anyone mentions a missing person. The unexpected contradiction is his smile, which is broad, boyish, and almost disarming despite the severe precision of everything else about him.