““How do you keep track of the time down in the caverns?” Tyrus asked, anxious to continue the conversation. She shook her head. “We sleep when we feel like sleeping. Awake when it feels appropriate. There is no time in Boeotia. There are no crops to grow or tend. What we eat grows wild and replenishes itself. The seasons come and go, and the greater part of our people move from one place to another. What is time, Tyrus, truly?””
