Mihaly is a compact, broad-shouldered man whose movements are careful enough to seem rehearsed. He keeps his beard trimmed into a soft square, but the ends are always dusted pale from the tunnels. His hands are unusually clean for a jailor, with each fingernail scrubbed and rounded, while the rest of him carries the smell of lamp oil, wet stone, and old iron. He walks with his weight slightly forward, as if listening through the soles of his boots. The contradictory impression is immediate: he looks built to break bones, yet handles keys, cups, and frightened prisoners with the delicacy of a jeweler. A small brass bird hangs from his belt, polished bright everywhere except where his thumb has worn the breast completely dull.