“I… thank you,” Sadia says. The sound of the azaan breaks into the darkness, and the girl starts. “I have to go!” She turns to us, her face a canvas of questions, gratitude, and disbelief. “I don’t know what will happen in the future, but I will never forget what you have done for me. I will pay the debt I owe. Thank you.” She looks at us one last time and slips off into the darkness, gone as suddenly as she appeared.

We stand silently for a bit.

If all the troubles we seek to resolve were of the financial kind, our work would be so much easier. Still, it cannot hurt anyone if we consider this encounter a success.

A few minutes later, we walk farther up the path and enter the souk. Most of the human vendors have closed up for the night, though a few eateries remain open. Light spills out from open doors and lamps placed at intervals; the cobbled streets glisten softly. The power in the stones of this place takes our breath away. The Between pulses behind the walls; the barrier between it and the old souk is very thin.

As the evening deepens, magic asserts a stronger presence. The smell of it, like freshly cut grass, becomes prominent. Humans think they are alone in this souk, not realizing that the stranger who just passed them has skin the color of the sea at noon or the person they just smiled at is dressed in clothes made of cobwebs. Slowly, the souk empties of humans and fills with middle worlders. We stand, leaning against a wall under the shade of a tree heavy with purple blossoms, ready to bolt into the Between at the least provocation.

Opposite us is a human-shaped middle worlder whose skin is made of the silver scales of a fish. We do not intend to find out if he smells like one too. He keeps a marked, but fixed, distance from us. We, who have worn all shades of danger on our bodies, recognize his stare for what it is. He fancies himself a predator and thinks us prey. However, bound by the rules of this city, he can make no move on us.

A few minutes pass and the streets get busier with middle worlders.

We see Assi first, or perhaps she sees us. Paheli is practically thrumming with tension. Valentina and Talei stand protectively on either side of her. Assi, the creature with silver eyes, feathers instead of hair, and a mouth full of sharp teeth, moves toward us with a smile, perhaps of welcome, on her lips. Behind her is a motley group of middle worlders, each wearing their battle scars on their faces or their bodies. One of them has a gouged-out eye, the empty socket inviting both horror and sympathy. Another one has green thorns around her neck; she winces with each step.