Nella Vey is a short, quick-moving halfling woman with stained fingers, a perpetual sheen of ink under her nails, and a face sharpened by constant calculation. Her brown curls are usually pinned in a hasty knot with nibs, receipts, or bone clips, and she wears round spectacles that ride low on her nose when she is thinking too hard. She carries herself with a nervous precision, shoulders slightly forward, hands always busy, as if the air itself were a page she might need to correct. Her clothing is practical clerk's wear, but the cuffs are lined with bright green silk from a richer life she no longer talks about. The unexpected thing about her is the perfume of fresh rain and mint that clings to her, softening the smell of old paper and lamp oil.