“What are you talking about?”

Ahmad didn’t do well with crying adults in general, but this was a new level of weird. He made wide, desperate eyes at Winnie, who looked just as panicked. That was a little surprising, considering how much better Winnie was with adults usually.

“Your face is so familiar,” Madame Nasirah said. She leaned back and dabbed delicately at her eyes, trying to laugh. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me.”

Ahmad awkwardly wrapped his arm around her and gave her a few pats. Her embrace did feel familiar. She smelled of cardamom and cinnamon: like all the best desserts and his mother’s favorite tea blend. But a bit deeper and mustier. Older.

Winnie politely cleared her throat. “Sorry to butt in, but . . . you’ve seen Ahmad before? As a player?”

Madame Nasirah blinked at her. “Is Ahmad his name?” She looked back down into Ahmad’s face, squinting her eyes. “If only I could recall properly. This city keeps changing its rules on me, which is not unusual for Paheli. Its name after all means . . .”

“Riddle,” Ahmad finished for her. It always had been the best type of puzzle to him. He’d try to pin down the streets that were sometimes so vivid in his mind, but they seemed to change the next time he had a pencil in his hand.

“Yes.” Madame Nasirah smiled fondly as she bent down to pick up the strewn pieces of the teapot. “That’s Paheli for you. But recently, after this MasterMind or whoever arrived, there’s all these new words to learn and sometimes you go out to find a street you could find at a particular hour has vanished entirely—”

She broke off, shaking her head.

“But oh! The tea! I’ll need to put on another pot. You’ll need every last drop for strength before you proceed deeper into the game.”

Ahmad’s eyes widened, and he glanced toward Winnie.

Enjoy every last drop.

They were definitely in the right place.

At Madame Nasirah’s urging, they gingerly sat on dusty silk cushions around a small, round table. Everything about the shop, in comparison to the high-tech glamour of the street outside, seemed unloved and secondhand.

Winnie nudged Ahmad in the ribs, and hissed, “Do we really need to drink the tea?”

“The MasterMind said . . .”

“I know what she said. But how do we know it’s safe for us to drink it?”

Winnie’s eyes were round. Ahmad was stunned.

“Um, haven’t we switched places?” he whispered. “Usually, you’re Ms. ‘Let’s Ask the Teacher What to Do.’ ”