Seln has the compact, forward-tilting posture of someone accustomed to running with a load. Wind and grit have roughened his cheeks and reddened the bridge of his nose; fine dust settles in the creases beside his mouth. His dark hair sticks up in damp, stubborn points beneath his cap. He smells unmistakably of beeswax and crushed mint, the wax from sealing packets and the mint leaves he chews to steady his stomach. He seems to be listening even when he looks away, and when he stands still, one heel keeps lifting as if the ground were already asking him to leave.

Seln wants to be regarded as reliable, yet he constantly searches for an escape route. He is evasive with officials and surprisingly direct with fellow workers. When calm, he notices small practical needs and quietly helps; when frightened, he talks over people and tries to bargain before he understands the accusation. His courage is real but brief: it appears when someone nearby is in immediate danger, then gives way to shaking hands and second thoughts.

Seln grew up carrying parcels between the upland hamlets and the market road, first for his aunt, who ran a tiny copy-and-seal stall, and later for the civic couriers. He learned to recognize ward conduits by their hum and to take shelter before a pass storm turned ugly. His life changed during a winter delivery when a conduit cracked above a ravine. Seln heard its pitch turn sharp, cut the satchel from his shoulder, and dragged an injured surveyor clear before the ward-light burst. The surveyor survived, but Seln was blamed for arriving late with a sealed dispatch. Since then, he has believed that official records are often less truthful than frightened witnesses. Recently, he was caught near another damaged ward conduit. A relay token had been planted at Ember Pass, and Seln knows it was there, but he does not know who ordered it placed. He fears the authorities will make him the convenient culprit. He still sends a portion of every wage to his aunt, who has begun to lose her eyesight, and he owes an apology to the surveyor he once saved, who now works for the ward inspectors.