“Have you seen Krys?” Sadie asked as we walked. “Since that night on the riverbank, I mean.”

“Yes. But I almost wish I hadn’t.”

“Why? How can you say that?”

I hesitated. Though I had wanted to tell Sadie about Krys, it seemed ridiculous to talk about my troubles now when Sadie was suffering so. “After you went back underground, I went to see him. At first, things were good between us, the way they used to be. I almost thought we could be together again. But then we quarreled.”

“About what?”

“You,” I admitted. Her eyes widened. “That is, about the sewer. He wanted to store munitions there for the Home Army. But I told him it was too dangerous.”

“I’ll store them if you want,” she said meekly, fear in her eyes. “It’s the least I can do.”

“No,” I said quickly. “I won’t let you do that. It’s very good of you, but I can’t let you endanger yourself or the others. We will find another way.” But the point gnawed at me as we made our way toward the café. I had refused to do what Krys wanted and we had parted angrily. Did I really dare ask for his help now?

“Saul kissed me,” Sadie blurted abruptly. “That is, we kissed. You were right. It turns out he is fond of me as well.” As she confided in me, her cheeks flushed.

“Oh, Sadie, I told you so!”

“I know it’s awful. I shouldn’t be thinking about such things right now, much less talking about them. But I had to tell you.”

“I’m glad you did. I’m so happy for you.” Anything that gave Sadie the slightest bit of hope right now seemed a blessing.

We reached the café and I led Sadie to the same archway where she had hidden the last time we had come here. I walked into the café and stopped. I had expected to see the girl with the dark curls. Instead, an unfamiliar man with an auburn beard stood behind the bar, drying glasses. “Excuse me,” I said. “I’m looking for the young woman who usually works here.”

“Kara?” he asked, and I nodded, hoping that was right. It was the first time I had heard her name. “She’s in the cellar bar.” He gestured down a flight of stairs on the right side of the café that I had not noticed before. I walked carefully down the uneven brick steps. At the bottom, I was surprised to find a lively piwnica. Redbrick cellar bars were not uncommon in Kraków; at least a dozen ringed the main market square. But I had not known about this unmarked one here beneath the café. An off-license, I realized, a business running without the knowledge or permission of the Germans. I was surprised how crowded it was for late morning. A mix of young people, students and workers, filled a half-dozen or so tables hewn from rough wood, drinking beer from large mugs. They were almost all men and a few shot me curious looks as I reached the bottom of the stairs.