A compact dwarf of stocky carriage who moves like a man used to negotiating around barrows and market stalls. His beard is braided into three small cords, each tied with a different colored bead that twinkles faintly from a smear of mica he insists is good luck. His face is lined with laugh creases and travel dust, and a thin vertical scar runs through his left eyebrow, pale against ruddy skin. He favors a slow, deliberate gait but when he speaks or bargains his hands start a rapid, precise choreography as if weighing invisible coins. Unexpectedly, when night falls or when he is quietly content he hums a soft lullaby in a language no one in Triel speaks aloud.