It was safer to remain unseen, and the back alleys of Labrys Town afforded the best places to hide. But staying unseen in this town wasn't easy. Elder Lane wove between tall and twisted shop buildings, as dark now as those on Head Street. Every so often, Clara passed hemispheres of clear glass fixed to the walls. These observation devices, simply called 'eyes' by most people, were filled with a milky fluid that gave them the appearance of rheumy eyeballs. They were scattered throughout the streets, lanes and alleys, and there was no telling when the eyes were watching you. In Labrys Town the way to remain unseen meant not drawing attention to yourself.

Clara moved as fast as she was able. As fast as she dared.

She turned off Elder   Lane into Market Square and headed across the open ground towards the other side. The metal shutters of storage lock-ups were closed and locked for the night, the skeletons of empty barrows and stalls stood in front of them. Clara glanced nervously at a stone pillar standing proud at the square's centre, with a wooden bench surrounding its base. Around the top of the pillar were five eyes capable of seeing every angle of the square. Cautiously, she jogged past and headed out into a narrow lane that had no name.

A figure lying prone on a shop doorstep did not stir as she passed. A dim light shone from within a dispensary, but no one could be seen working inside.

A wave of nausea and dizziness threatened to swamp Clara. She placed a hand against a shop window to steady herself and took several deep breaths.

Ahead of Clara, a Chapel of the Timewatcher lit the dimness with soft blue light. The doors to the chapels and churches of Labrys Town were always open to both the faithful and those seeking sanctuary. Clara was tempted to slip inside its welcoming entrance, to sleep till morning under the protective gaze of the Timewatcher. But this was not the time for rest.

Marney's kiss had altered Clara. Somehow, it had transferred a map of the Great Labyrinth into her head, shown her how to navigate the twists and turns of its alleyways. But the empath had left something else behind, too, a presence of some kind ... a message? Clara could feel it, drifting, dormant in her mind like a locked box without a key. A box of secrets? Clara didn't understand why Marney had saved her, or what she had done to her. Clara needed a safe haven to rest and make sense of everything – somewhere more familiar than a random place of worship.

Her dizziness passing, Clara continued on, leaving the Chapel of the Timewatcher and the promise of its sanctuary behind.

She cut through a plaza full of gambling houses and weapon-smiths, and then across a communal garden where she paused to drink cool water from a fountain. She flinched as the angry shouts of a brawl, not too far away, reached her ears. Thankfully, the shouts did not come from the direction she was headed.

After passing a row of lodging houses, she turned left into another alley and slowed to a walk. Reaching the end of the alley, Clara furtively peered out onto Green Glass Row, the busiest street in Labrys Town – especially at night.

The beat of music and the buzz of voices spilled from the open doors and misted windows of clubs and taverns. The smell of sweat and alcohol was strong and bitter in the air. Though rain had lessened the activity on the street, several denizens had gathered under umbrellas and darted through the downpour, eager to be somewhere drier. A tram stopped, and a group of young men disembarked. They laughed and joked and jostled one another as they passed the scrutiny of the big doorman of a nightclub called the Lazy House. Having ushered them in, the doorman then resumed his conversation with two girls who were sheltering under the club's awning.

The five-storeyed Lazy House wasn't just a nightclub; it was also a whorehouse, and Clara was one of its employees. Clara knew the doorman, Roma, at least as much as she wanted to. She vaguely recognised the girls he spoke with, but they were streetwalkers, not employed by Clara's boss. 

It had been three days since Charlie Hemlock had first kidnapped her; three days she had been missing. There would repercussions, questions she couldn't answer, waiting inside the Lazy House. Exhausted, mentally and physically, Clara could only deal with one step at a time. Step one – she must get to the safety of her room, where she could think and make sense of the night, her own private sanctuary where she could find a little peace of mind. However, she needed to get there without being seen by Roma, without having to walk across a busy bar and dance floor. She ducked back into the shadows as a couple, giggling beneath an umbrella, hurried past.

The door to the Lazy House opened, and someone inside spoke to Roma. While he was turned away from them, the streetwalkers moved off, and Clara seized her chance. She left the alley, ran across Green Glass Row and down the side of the nightclub building to the rear. To her relief she found a back door open and unattended. She slipped inside to a darkened hallway, and crept up the stairs which vibrated from the sound of music pounding through the walls.

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