Esme’s trump—for those who have added it to their decks—shows a tall, muscular woman in mottled green mail, hands resting on the crossguard of a sword as tall as she is. The matching cap of greenish metal sits on the ground at her feet. The woman looks slightly to the left of the painter, her blue-green eyes on something distant. Her features are lean and angular, her hair straight and black and cropped at shoulder length. She smiles; even in the picture, it looks easy and habitual.