“Okay, but you do finish it,” Winnie pointed out. “Just like you finish games. You’re with me, too, remember? I’m always the first person finished.”

“No need to brag about it,” Ahmad muttered. He knew that very well. The sight of her prim head bent happily over a book as he continued to labor through a state test was familiar, and always gave him that same sting of resentment.

“And we’re going to help you,” T.T. chimed in. “Consider us your cheering squad. We’re new to the job, certainly, but that gives us character!”

“New to the job?” Winnie asked.

“Paheli didn’t really . . . welcome residents of our nature in the past,” one of the mice said sheepishly. “The fact that we’re here now is only because so many updates, upgrades, and upheavals have worn tunnels through the city’s fortifications.”

“Meaning,” another mouse said pertly, “that under all the fluff and fancy cars, Paheli is rotting. And the Architect can’t do as much about it as he used to.”

Before Ahmad could begin to reply, the mice were nudging them along to the steering. They paused, though, and turned expectantly toward Ahmad. They stared. He stared back.

“Oh.” He reached into his bag. Ahmad passed out chenna murki to much excited squeaking and thanks. But he worried that he would run out quick, and wondered if the sweet snack was all that would keep these squeaky sidekicks on Team Ahmad and Winnie.

“All right, go ahead and steer,” T.T. said.

Ahmad hesitated, before jumping nearly out of his skin as the sky lit up. It took a moment for him to realize what they were seeing were projected images of what was happening elsewhere in the city: both cities, the one that lived and the one that waited, frozen, for their triumphant return. It was like a wider, brighter—and well, sadder—version of the Bat Signal.

New York was still, even as the dying sun cast golden light over the buildings and frozen inhabitants. Paheli, though it bustled and hummed with raised voices and moving feet, was almost frantic to prove that it was still alive. People cast their eyes about and hurried on. Merchants’ calls for business echoed with desperation.

Ahmad clenched his jaw, as Vijay Bhai settled in behind him and Winnie turned on the boat.

“Full speed ahead, for our city and our families!” she called out.

And off they went.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

AHMAD WASN’T A BIG fan of going fast and without brakes.

Winnie, though, decidedly was.

“All right!” she cheered, plowing the boat through a chain of golden coins floating in air as they jetted over the river. “Another ten points!”