“What do you suppose is taking them so long?” she muttered. “They’re gnomes,” Vil answered coolly. Thinking he’d been asleep, Martine jumped at the man’s voice. The blade slipped between her fingers and stuck into the floor next to her boot with a quivering thunk. “The Vani have their own sense of time. You’d better get used to it. I’ve never seen anything hurry them,” he mumbled drowsily.”