Brother Kest is a spare, weatherworn man who moves like someone always listening for a door that might open behind him. His skin is the color of old parchment warmed by candlelight, with a lattice of fine burn scars across his forearms and one long pale seam at the throat where a blade once kissed him. He wears his dark hair cropped close on the sides and longer on top, though a single white streak at the temple refuses to be hidden. His eyes are a sharp amber brown, alert and tired at once, often seeming to reflect red in firelight. He is only slightly above average height, but his narrow shoulders and lean, rope-boned frame make him appear even taller. He dresses in patched monk's layers under a travel-stained crimson tabard, yet the tabard is lined with surprisingly expensive silver thread that he insists was mended by a penitent noble. The contradictory impression he leaves is of a man both holy and hunted, a pilgrim who looks like he once belonged in a court.