Another chimed in, “And all the floating footbridges are empty!”

“Is that what those are?” Ahmad had broken in with interest, remembering the delicate structures he’d seen during their walking tour of Paheli, bobbing toward a group of pedestrians waiting impatiently on the roof of a skyscraper.

Winnie had nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.

“Ouch! Winnie!”

“Focus, you nerd,” she’d muttered without looking up. “I lost count.”

She didn’t seem as focused on her task as she claimed to be, though, and Ahmad had wondered if she was maybe just as unnerved as he was, hearing about the deserted streets outside.

“But everyone can’t be gone, right, T.T.?”

He’d turned to their intrepid mouse friend, who squeaked, cake rusk crumbs spilling down his sleek chin.

“What? Well—”

Ahmad had angled his chin toward Winnie and made wide eyes.

“Oh, yes, yes!” T.T. had chittered. “This has happened before. At least, I think it has. And all was perfectly fine in the end, I think! Sure, there were craters and avalanches and more sandstorms than you could shake your tail at, but . . . well.”

T.T. had definitely been no help.

But now, even Winnie dozed. Ahmad trained his eyes across the room, trying to make sense of the fuzzy shapes and sounds. Everything was quiet. Too quiet.

Madame Nasirah was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she had curled up somewhere too, her shawls and layers forming a delicate chrysalis around her tired body.

No. It was just him, the artificial moonlight, the cluster of tea-related artifacts on every spare shelf and windowsill and countertop—

The shadowy figure, standing over his satchel.

“Hey!” Ahmad snapped, pulling himself upright. The figure froze. Ahmad rushed forward, determined to snatch its arm, but in a mere blink, it was gone.

Ahmad blinked. Everything was soft and still. Winnie hadn’t even stirred at his exclamation.

He rushed to the bag, yanking out the equipment and quietly taking stock. After a moment, he leaned back on his heels. Nothing was missing.

Nothing except for, of course . . .

He touched his pocket. The puzzle piece was there, a satisfyingly heavy lump of marble and jewel. He had taken the one with the elegantly curved monkey’s tail, bordered with ruby shards.

Winnie had tucked the other, with the monkey’s head and its polished gem eye, in her own pocket the previous night. Both of them locked eyes and nodded solemnly. Behind them, the mice watched and anxiously rubbed their paws together.

“The Architect is acting oddly,” Winnie had said then. “We can’t take any chances.”

“Are you sure this is necessary?” Ahmad ventured. He trusted Winnie, of course, who never misplaced her pencils on a test day or ran out of Scotch tape when she needed it most. But he couldn’t quite trust himself the same way.