Nasuy the dyer

Her arms are purple to the elbow, and they'll stay that way. Dyers of Kommos marry dyers: nobody else can stand the smell.

Where to find

Kommos

The crabs are back to a polite number. My vats are full. My husband is sulking about his trident.
Ten thousand snails for one king's robe. I've counted. Don't ask me to count again.
A dyer from Tyre came asking our secret. I told him it was the singing. He's been singing at snails for a month.