Cara Entaron is a startling contradiction made flesh, a woman whose face looks as if a storm tried to sculpt it and gave up halfway through. Her nose is broad and slightly twisted from an old break, her mouth sits too wide for perfect prettiness, and a pale seam of scar tissue crosses one cheek like a silver root. Yet when she smiles, her whole face changes, as though lantern light has been trapped under her skin. She moves with careful economy, never wasting a step, but when she is tending the sick her hands become swift and almost graceful. Travelers often recoil at first sight, then notice the impossible gentleness in her eyes and the clean herbal scent clinging to her sleeves. The most unexpected thing about her is that she adorns herself with tiny pressed flowers and polished brass beads, wearing them with the proud delicacy of a courtly lady.