Mara was waiting one level below the upper spine, half concealed in the angle between a hanging storage rack and a rib support that had probably hidden better before the light shifted.
When Leon stepped into view, she folded her arms and looked at him once.
"She saw me," Mara said.
"Yes."
"How long ago?"
"Before I got to the landing."
Mara shut her eyes for one short second, the way people did when their irritation had become too specific to be theatrical.
"What did she say?"
"That the rib above spice line creaks on the outer edge."
Mara's face remained perfectly still.
That was how Leon knew the line had landed.
"Anything else?" she asked.
"Yes." He glanced back toward the levels above. "We should talk lower."
She did not argue with that.
They found Pell in the lower walkways pretending to inspect a tray of stripped shell plates while actually watching three separate crossing points at once. He fell into step with them instantly and asked, "Well?"
"Someone cleaner than the rest," Leon said.
"That tells me nothing."
"That was on purpose."
Pell made a wounded sound. "You both enjoy this too much."
They returned to the shelter compartment where Toma was sitting upright now, leg wrapped fresh and posture steadier than before, though not by much. He looked at Leon's face first, then at the others, and said, "How bad?"
Leon sat this time, more because his body asked than because he wanted to obey Toma retroactively.
"Structured," he said.
Pell grinned. "That is somehow worse."
Mara leaned against the support near the opening and let Leon speak.
He gave them the short version, but not a dishonest one. Sel Veyn. Quiet, precise, already informed. Invitation by recognition, not generosity. The token. Trader named Hest. Morning deadline. A task that sounded small and clearly was not.
Pell listened with open fascination.
Toma listened like a man taking the measure of weather before deciding whether to move camp.
Mara listened like someone trying very hard not to say I told you so before it would do any good.
When Leon finished, Pell said, "I like her."
Mara looked at him. "Of course you do."
"She sounds efficient."
"She sounds like a trap with posture."
Pell considered. "Those aren't opposites."
Toma asked, "And what are you not saying?"
Leon looked at him.
Toma held the look.
"You did not tell us the whole shape of that meeting," he said. "You told us the part you've already organized."
That was annoyingly fair.
Leon reached into his coat and took out the wrapped token.
"She knew about all of us," he said. "Entry, Trade Row, Orren, the route verification, your arrangement, Mara's shadowing, Pell not being brought up." He set the token on the floor between them. "Fast enough that there isn't much point pretending information moves slowly here."
Pell let out a low whistle.
Mara said, "Then don't touch the thing alone."
"That," Leon said, "was also my instinct."
They opened the token together.
Inside the dark wrapping lay a small bone marker carved in a narrow rectangular shape and polished smooth by handling. One side held a shallow mark like an accounting slash crossed by a smaller line. The other side was blank except for a tiny red stain near one edge, so small it could have been accidental if the object had belonged to anyone less organized.
Pell crouched closer. "That looks deeply boring."
"Good," Leon replied. "That usually means expensive."
Toma held out a hand and Leon passed him the marker.
He turned it over slowly. "You said trader named Hest."
Leon nodded.
Pell frowned. "Middle spine. Narrow man, silver thread in his sleeve seam, terrible tea, thinks he's invisible because he speaks softly."
Leon looked at him. "That was more useful than expected."
Pell looked pleased with himself. "I contain multitudes."
Mara crouched now too, not over the token, but over the question around it.
"What's the real test?" she asked.
Leon answered immediately. "Not whether I can deliver it."
"No," she said. "The real one."
He looked at the marker on Toma's palm.
"A misdirected token can be corrected by a runner," he said. "If Sel sent me, she wants a judgment, not the object moved."
Toma nodded once. "Then someone delayed it on purpose."
"Yes."
Pell said, "Leverage."
All three of them looked at him.
He shrugged. "I do listen sometimes. If a token goes late, somebody somewhere gets kept waiting, worried, annoyed, or dependent. Depends what the token means."
Mara looked at Leon. "You intend to go."
"Yes."
"Do you intend to tell Hest the truth?"
"That depends which truth."
That answer hung in the compartment for a moment.
Mara straightened first and said, "I hate this place."
Pell looked up at her from where he crouched by the token. "No. You hate that he's good at this place."
Mara's expression did not move, but the silence after his line said enough.
Leon said, "We don't know that yet."
Pell stood with the token still in Toma's hand and gave him a sharp, almost amused look. "You knew the room with Sel was dangerous before she finished speaking, and you stayed in it anyway. That's not confusion."
"It's survival."