Merrit Kyd is a broad-shouldered human with the compact, weathered body of someone who has spent years bracing against crowds, beasts, and flying debris. His brown skin is roughened by arena dust, with pale scars crossing his knuckles and a crescent burn beneath his left ear. His nose was broken long ago and healed slightly crooked. He walks with a measured, almost leisurely roll, yet can pivot with startling speed when danger appears. His close-cropped hair is iron gray at the temples, despite his age. The unexpected thing about him is his hands, which are extraordinarily delicate and clean, with carefully trimmed nails and the gentle touch of a person who tends flowers before dawn.