It's too little too late, but I found the mystery girl as well. I don't have an online connection at home, so I walk to a local library. My foot was hurt so I haven't checked in the past two weeks. Anyway, that's all a side issue. I was curious about the dusty skinned mystery girl, so I looked it up. (For Fel's sake, since he expressed surprise that anyone would figure it out, it took me about 10 minutes.
) Here are the relevent quotes, since nobody has actually digged for them yet.
Demon's Bane, chapter 3
He looked up at saw himself looking at a young, swarthy-skinned woman with a slightly flat chest, wearing a simple woolen peasant dress, her long, straight black hair pulled back from her face by a kerchief folded down into a long strap tied into her hair. He hadn’t remembered asking for another book, but the mental state he was in, so distracted and interspective, he really wouldn’t be surprised if he had asked for it.
She seemed hauntingly familiar to him. Her face and her scent…he wasn’t sure, but he thought he’d met this woman some time before, but he couldn’t quite pin it down. Then again, he was very tired, and he was starting to feel like Phandebrass with his head so full of what he’d been reading that he was having trouble separating it from the rest of the world. She handed him a simple leather-bound tome, a tome with no title. She then smiled at him and winked, then scurried off between a pair of bookshelves and out of sight.
(same chapter)
She took no notice of anyone, and no one took notice of her. She didn’t look up regardless of who passed by her porch, nor did she look up when someone came up to her porch and sat down in her spare chair. It was a small, young woman with dark skin, radiant brown eyes, and straight black hair, wearing a simple peasant dress of dark wool. She was an attractive young lady, if a bit flat-chested and narrow through the hips, making her look slightly younger than she actually was.
Honor and Blood, chapter 2
Most of the men were quiet now, watching him stride in on his long legs, moving directly to intercept one of the serving women. She was forced to stop in front of him, barely reaching his chest, staring up at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. She was a pretty little girl, with pattern Arakite dark skin, black hair, and brown eyes. She was barely more than sixteen, with a chest not exactly equipped to being hugged by an open neckline, but she had a pleasing silhouette that made up for her lack of bust.
"C-Can I serve you, good master?" she asked hesitantly in Arakite.
"I want the lamb," he replied in fluent Arakite.
"It's not fully cooked yet, good master," she replied. "If you're willing to wait--"
"I'll take it as it is."
"If you really want it, good master. I'll have someone cut you--"
"You misunderstood me," he said in a calm voice. "I want the lamb. The entire lamb. I'll pay a fair price for it."
(same chapter)
Tarrin settled himself, readying to venture out into that stiff wind, with its blowing, stinging sand. But a sudden presence at his side made him look down. It was the pretty little barmaid, looking up at him with just a little bit of fear. She was holding up a scarf of red wool, with tassels at each end, offering it up to him.
"What is this?" he asked her defensively, his expression wary as his fear of strangers rose up in him with shocking speed. For an irrational moment, he felt the impulse to either strike her down or get away from her, but he remembered that she had been kind to him. She had talked to him when nobody else would, had smiled at him with sincerity in her eyes. No, he would not hurt this human. She was not threatening him then, and she was not threatening him now. She was afraid of him, but that was only natural, given what he was. That she would approach him despite her fear said much for her character.
"It'll keep the sand out of your nose and mouth," she replied with a gentle smile. There was absolutely no fear in her eyes now, as if she looked into his face and saw that he would do her no harm.
He looked down at her for a very long moment, his feral fear of her battling against a human feeling, a feeling of--gratitude? Compassion? Something about her struck at the human in him in a positive manner, making him not feel threatened by her.
She was giving him the scarf out of kindness. She expected nothing in return, not like the weaseling cons that had shown him a veil of kindness, only to hide the ugly truth of what they wanted from him beneath. She had nothing to gain from giving him the scarf. Her act was one of genuine compassion for him, a kindness to him. A sincere kindness.
It had been so long since someone had shown him such sincere kindness.
His rigid posture eased immediately. He reached down and took the scarf, her tiny hand absolutely swallowed up by his massive paw as he took it from her, and in that fleeting exchanged he felt her skin against his pad. It was warm, but it was calloused from her hard work. "I--thank you," he said brusquely, not entirely sure how to respond to her. As if he had forgotten what to do when faced with an act of kindness. The only thing he could think to do was reciprocate. "Here, take this. I don't need it anymore," he said, handing her the pouch of gold nuggets.
"What is this?"
"A fair price," he told her, looking down into hazel eyes that showed no fear. "It is a fair price."
then it should be up (or your web browser caches aggresively).