They coasted to a stop, nestled in a blanket of space cast between two rickety skyscrapers. In between them, with a neon sign worthy of a Queens street corner on a rainy night, was the tea shop.

MADAME NASIRAH’S TEA AND SNACKS.

Underneath, there was a scrolling marquee banner, which read, Back and better than ever! Ask about our spinach pies!

For a moment, Ahmad and Winnie just stared at the shop.

“I can’t believe this,” Ahmad whispered. “It is real.”

“So, what do we do now?” Winnie asked.

“What else can we do? We have to see if the MasterMind really wanted us to end up here.”

Ahmad squared his jaw and grasped the doorknob, but it swung inward before he could open it. There stood a woman. She was hidden under gauzy shawls dangling from her arms. Her face was veiled with an oversized and knotted dopatta. It didn’t matter.

Because somehow, Ahmad knew exactly who she was.

CHAPTER SIX

MADAME NASIRAH,” AHMAD WHISPERED in awe. “The Gamekeeper.”

The woman seemed to be taken aback for a moment, before she spoke cheerily.

“Why, yes! I suppose with these new doodads . . . No, what am I supposed to call them? Upgrades, that’s the word. Anyway, I’m sure they probably have instructions to keep the players’ heads on straight. I am indeed Madame Nasirah, your Gamekeeper.”

Winnie eyed Ahmad curiously as the woman turned to set down the tray in her hands. “But how do you know who she is?”

“I don’t know,” Ahmad responded. In his head, he had always pictured Paheli with a bustling, colorful cast of characters. But he never bothered to write down the backstories and family ties he dreamed up, more focused on trying to lay out the city itself. So they tended to change every so often.

Still, though, the memory of the woman and her name had come without difficulty, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. After all, a game had never been part of what he imagined about Paheli.

“Now there,” Madame Nasirah said, clapping her hands free of dust before lifting the teapot off the counter. “First things first, you’ll need some tea and . . .”

Somewhere behind the layers of cloth, her eyes met Ahmad’s. Her hand flew up to her mouth.

“Oh! Oh my!”

The teapot Madame Nasirah held slipped from her fingers.

Crash!

“Oh no!” Winnie gasped, rushing forward to grab the woman’s hand. “Are you okay?”

It was a very Winnie reaction, and it would have made Ahmad smile. Except that the woman didn’t answer. She stared at the both of them, frozen. When she did move, it was in a quick rush of limbs, lunging at him with open arms.

“It can’t be,” she whispered. She clasped Ahmad’s face between her hands. It took him a minute to realize that tears were silently dripping down her cheeks. “This shouldn’t be possible.”