Eldra is a tall, weather-beaten woman whose presence seems to lower the temperature of a room. Her skin has the dry, fine texture of parchment despite the constant dampness around her, and tiny grains of black sand collect in the creases of her knuckles. Her hands are the first thing people notice: broad-palmed, rope-burned, and permanently darkened beneath the nails by ink, tar, and old salt. She moves with the careful rolling balance of someone still standing on a deck in rough water, even on solid ground. Her hair hangs in thick silver ropes that drift slightly when there is no wind. She dresses like a mourning captain, but her coat is lined with bright yellow sailcloth, an almost cheerful contradiction beneath the solemn exterior. She leaves people with the impression that they have just remembered a song they never learned.