She tripped again and swore. This time when Asfandyar offered his hand, she took it. As he grabbed her hand, she saw his gaze catch on the family crest ring she always wore on her third finger. He seemed to recognize it for an instant, then his face was masked yet again.

This was the second time.

Before she could wonder, Asfandyar pulled her along. He was as strong as the river’s current, and they began the hike down the mountain in comfortable silence.

When they arrived, the village was quiet. Thankfully, the nights hadn’t gotten so hot quite yet, so the people were soundly asleep inside. In the more humid nights, the people pulled their charpai outside, sleeping under the open sky. Tonight, the courtyards were empty.

“How do you want to do this?” Asfandyar asked.

Durkhanai smiled. “With grace,” she said. “Watch and learn, spy.”

Durkhanai recalled which homes held the ill and went to the one closest by. Most of the village structures were open-doored, which made her work simpler.

Silent as a mouse, she slipped into the kitchen area, which was separate from the main structure of the home. She pulled a small vial from her satchel and set it down beside the ghara, the clay pot used to store water. It was the first place people visited in the morning

From the smaller purse inside the satchel, Durkhanai pulled out a rolled piece of paper. It held the instructions for the medicine and a little note signed, from a friend.

Heart beating quickly, she slipped out.

“See?” Durkhanai whispered, going back to where Asfandyar was waiting on the street.

She was euphoric off of not getting caught and what she had accomplished, the good she was spreading. It felt like a splendid game.

“That was the good work of a spy,” Asfandyar admitted, impressed.

“I don’t know what I am,” she said offhandedly, laughing just a little.

“You’re amazing, that’s what you are,” he said in earnest. “Knowing just who needs the medicine and coming out to personally deliver it to each of them . . . I confess, when I first caught you in the cupboard, I assumed you’d pass medicine vials to a messenger to deliver. But what you are doing . . . it is amazing.”

“That I am,” she agreed, flipping her hair.

So they went on. Durkhanai recalled which homes needed medicine, and she slipped little medicine vials into their kitchens while Asfandyar stood watch. They worked in easy silence, a quick and nimble system. It wasn’t long before they ran out of medicine.

The time was getting close to fajr, when the people would wake to pray before dawn. They had to get back before anybody noticed their absences and before anybody could see them arriving.

They began the hike up, both lightheaded from exhaustion and giddy from what they had accomplished.