The corridor refused to remain the same length. Martin counted forty paces from the entrance to the first intersection. When he glanced back, the closed door stood close enough to touch. Rias noticed the change at the same time. She marked the nearest wall with a Crucible Concord evidence point, walked ten steps, then turned.
The mark had moved to the ceiling. "Do not trust distance," she said through the private party channel.
[Flash Fang: Do not trust doors either. Three already changed position while we watched the opposite wall.]
The market looked less like a bazaar than an old noble estate that had been pulled apart and rebuilt without a map. Black carpets ran between reception desks. Old chandeliers hung over contract counters. Masked clerks sat behind polished wood beneath signs reading Guest Rights, Household Protection, Obligations, and Petitions. No guild crests appeared anywhere.
