A tall, long-limbed merchant stands as if the road were a narrow deck shifting beneath him. His yellow mask is lacquered to a dry, eggshell sheen, with a neat, welcoming smile that never changes when he speaks. The coat beneath it is a patchwork of faded road cloth, carefully darned at the elbows with thread too bright to match. One cuff is repeatedly brushed clean, though the rest of him carries the damp smell of leaf mold and old rain. His teeth are small and square, packed close together; when he eats, he bites with the measured care of someone testing a coin. His laugh shows no teeth at all. He moves without rustling the ferns, then turns with the brisk certainty of a shopkeeper who has heard a customer hesitate.

He is genuinely generous with practical things and mercilessly exact about promises. With the lost, he is patient and almost hospitable; with the arrogant, he becomes a probing examiner. He can be moved by courage but distrusts grand declarations, and his tenderness toward the vulnerable sits uneasily beside his refusal to forgive a broken oath.

The oldest stories say he was once a mortal peddler who walked the island roads with a pack of needles, salt, and paper charms. In truth, he was a fey emissary sent to learn what mortals would trade when they were frightened and far from home. He took the shape of a traveling merchant and learned that a promise could be more valuable than any coin. Centuries ago, a winter storm trapped him and a band of travelers in a hollow beneath a fallen tree. A young guide named Uljaa swore to lead the others out if he gave them a dry path. He did, but the guide broke her vow and abandoned a wounded companion. When he revealed his true face, the guide's face vanished. The others fled, and he was left with the knowledge that his gifts could save people and his bargains could ruin them. He has since become a fixture of Whym's winding woods, appearing to the lost with precisely what they need. He still searches for Uljaa, now an old woman living under another name, because he wants her to choose freely whether to reclaim her face. He also has an uneasy friendship with a ferryman named Oru, who brings him news from the coast and refuses to make promises. The island's new road cutters have begun felling trees that mark his paths, and each vanished landmark makes his bargains harder to keep.