“Is my beauty so great that it rendered you speechless?” She smirks at me.

I side-eye her. “Your beauty doesn’t, but your narcissism might.”

Her smile broadens. “I have it so I flaunt it.”

“Too bad Tabassum Naaz isn’t around to appreciate it,” I say, and am rewarded by the deepening color in Valentina’s cheeks.

She clears her throat. “Do you know the way to the store?”

“Yeah.” I quicken my steps. “The place isn’t that far. Just over half an hour’s walk from here.”

“Have you figured out a way to use conjuries against Baarish? Is it even possible to use them? Won’t he recognize them for what they are?” Valentina asks me things that Taraana was asking me, and I haven’t magically gained answers in the few hours that have passed since he did.

“No, I don’t know, and maybe,” I reply. I don’t mind being short with Valentina because when you’ve been companions with a person for more than three hundred years without killing them, you tend to go beyond familiarity-breeds-contempt. We’re into familiarity-breeds-comfort territory now. Heh. “I can’t make plans until I know what manner of conjury we’re dealing with.”

Before we cross the street leading to the mountain on which the conjury shop is located, we come across an old man sitting on a low stool in a corner. In front of him is a stove on which he’s cooking msemen, which is a thin, square-shaped pastry. We’ve eaten a lot today, but neither of us can resist the call of the msemen, especially when it’s drizzled slightly with both butter and honey. We treat ourselves and promise to keep it a secret from the girls.

I don’t know which of us notices the preternatural quietness in the streets closer to the store. No couples linger in the shadows being annoyingly mushy, no family strolls the streets exuding their harmony, no one except us and shadows. Valentina nudges me and I nod at her. We slip into the shadows cast by the buildings, which seem stoic fortresses that will admit no one.

“Magic?” Valentina raises an eyebrow.

I nod. What else could it be?

We haven’t been to this conjury store for a few years now. Well, it is wrong to call it a conjury store, as the primary products offered are pots and pans. The old shopkeeper sells conjuries on the side, probably to beef up his thin profits. He didn’t have many things the last time we saw him, but what he did have was authentic.