In spite of the previous night’s storm, the sky was clear and calm. Madame Nasirah, at least, had returned to high spirits, happily pouring tea and fresh steamed milk delicately from one of her etched carafes, served alongside hot spinach pies. It was not a comfort to Ahmad.

“Five . . . six . . . seven . . . ,” he mumbled to himself.

He anxiously fiddled with the satchel in his lap, taking inventory, making the hologram flare upward with its small blast of air that made Madame Nasirah jump and clutch her scarves.

Winnie, on the other hand, paced.

Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.

It was on her fifth round through the tiny shop that Madame Nasirah put her foot down.

“Enough. If you need to stay busy, I’ll give you a task.”

Madame Nasirah reached into a drawer. Ahmad’s eyes widened as she pulled out sheets of blank paper.

“You like drawing maps of Paheli, right? Try and fill these in while you walk through the city. Keep track of what’s shifted during the night. It might be a clue as to what the Architect is planning.”

“Oh man!” It felt like years since he had gotten to chart out his beloved city—the Paheli that lived in his mind, rather than this waking nightmare. Ahmad eagerly took the sheets and the proffered pen that went with them.

“I wonder if I still know where everything goes!”

Winnie, however, narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“You want a map of the city? But you’re the Gamekeeper! Shouldn’t you know where everything is? Or if it shifts?”

Ahmad tugged on Winnie’s arm, his ears burning. “Winnie!”

Madame Nasirah chuckled. “Gamekeeper in name alone, I’m afraid. The more you children move about this world, the more I’ve realized how much of it has transformed around me.”

Ahmad and Winnie looked at each other. Ahmad tried to telepathically message Winnie with his brain.

Knock it off.

It felt silly, jumping out of their skin at every word the woman said. After all, she was the only person in this world who had thought to help them at all. Could they really not trust her?

“All right,” Winnie decided. “We’ll help while we wait for the Minaret to sound. But we’re not going on foot.”

Ahmad didn’t like where this was going.

A few minutes later, he didn’t like the speed they were going either.

“Winnie! Winnie, slow down!” he hollered, clutching his seat rest with both hands and squeezing his eyes shut.

They had reclaimed their flying rickshaw, and Winnie was enthralled with playing pilot once again. “Oh, come on,” she scoffed. “Don’t be such a baby. My dad goes faster when we are on the L.I.E.”