The introduction of living fire and two breathing mortals into Entry hall 003 had begun to alter the delicate air-pressure balance of the stone chamber.
In the closed ecosystem of the House. There, thirty thousand cubic leagues of water pressed against outer dark rock shells, sky breath flow was not a matter of casual weather. It was a tuned building science. Every entry hall was designed with subtle heat vents, counter-balanced chimney pipes, and sound baffles intended to prevent the buildup of foul dampness, stale air, or toxic stone gases.
Qiao Ming stood at the base of the eastern wall, looking upward into the shadows of the vaulted ceiling.
High above, near the keystone where the soapstone arches came together eighteen arm-lengths from the floor, a faint, crystal-clear patter had begun. It was the sound of water drops droplets forming against the cold rock and falling back toward the stone floor. A warning sign that the warm, moisture-laden air rising from the salt-kiln was encountering the freezing stone mass of the upper foundation.
If the moisture was allowed to gather, it would create an inversion layer. Cold, clammy mist would go down back onto the glow-stone base, soaking the wool blankets and chilling the patient just as her fever was breaking.
