She always has mourning clothes with her. That way, she can begin a portrait as soon as a request comes in. And so it is today. Having slipped into her mourning dress in the shed on the pier, she boards the downstream ferry. Her hands are full: one holds the case with her painting tools and the other the garment bag for her mourning dress. She has heard that a rich man lies dying in a town twenty kilometers downstream. Her name is Rosa. "It's a race against time," she says with a grim smile. "I have to start as soon as possible, before the face changes." "Changes how?" Kaim asks. "It's hard to say."