Odrin is a narrow, weather-bent woman with the compact strength of someone accustomed to hauling chains and leaning into locked mechanisms. Her face is marked by pale salt freckles and a thin scar that runs from the corner of her mouth to her jaw, as if someone once tried to silence her with a blade. She moves with a measured, rocking gait that resembles a boat correcting itself in rough water. Her hands are broad, cracked, and permanently dark beneath the fingernails, yet she wears one immaculate white glove on her left hand. The glove is embroidered with tiny blue waves and is never removed in public. She leaves behind the impression of damp stone, candle smoke, and someone listening for a sound beneath another sound. Unexpectedly, her stern, exhausted face becomes almost girlish when she sees stray animals or badly made toys.