Vasketa Gerez is beautiful in the unsettling way of a forest pool that reflects a face a moment too late. Her features are fine and angular, with high cheekbones, a narrow chin, and ears notched by old frostbite. Her skin has the matte texture of pale birch bark, but freckles of green-gold appear across her shoulders whenever she casts a spell. Her movements are quiet without being delicate. She plants each foot with deliberate pressure, as if testing whether the world will hold her. Her hands are long-fingered and permanently stained dark beneath the nails from digging roots and handling charcoal. A thin scar crosses her throat, yet she wears no collar or scarf, making the injury conspicuous. She leaves people with the impression that she has just heard something beneath the floorboards that they cannot hear.