Nahrza is a young woman with a composed, almost ceremonial stillness, as if she is always waiting for a page to finish speaking. Her hands are the first thing most people notice. The fingertips are permanently darkened by ink, the nails are short and translucent from years of scraping them clean, and fine calluses have raised along the sides of her middle fingers where quills rest. She moves with economical precision, turning her whole body rather than reaching carelessly, yet she has an unexpected habit of moving through a room like a dancer, stepping over stools and scattered folios without disturbing a single sheet. Her face is soft and youthful, but her attentive gaze makes her seem older when she studies someone. She gives the impression of a quiet clerk until she suddenly looks up and makes the entire room feel like a courtroom.