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“I see I anticipated your disappointment correctly,” came Ahmet’s sardonic reply. “Good thing I gave you food first.”
“It is always best to give me food first.”
“Yes. You and Jasmine are much alike.”
Raider held out a piece of egg for the dog, which was accepted with great care and a pleasing tail thump.
“If you’re trying to insult me, try again. He’s glorious.”
Ahmet snorted then said, “Don’t give him any more.”
***
While Raider had enjoyed Ahmet’s little prank with the skirt, he was glad to have his own clothes back before heading into the streets. The laundering had been worth paying for. His neatly mended kaftan was gleaming like a ruby, and his sandals felt clean and supple on his feet.
The scent of flatbread stalled him on his way to Jamil’s shop.
“Agra!” he called. “What are you making, dear woman?”
She sent him a gap-toothed grin over her thin shoulder as she used a long-handled wooden peel to remove flatbread from her round-bellied oven. “Cinnamon and a secret spice.”
“You wicked temptress.”
Agra tipped the flatbread onto the wicker table. “It’s almost midday. You need to eat, Raider. You are thin.”
“Hardly, but that’s of no consequence. I’ll take two.”
Agra practically hopped over to the oven again, expertly sliding the peel under another flatbread. “You are my best customer—when you’re in town. Why must you leave all the time?”
“I’m a feather on the wind, Agra. Hopeless.”
Agra wrapped the flatbreads in a palm leaf. “You are restless. Your soul is uneasy.”
Raider smiled to cover his discomfort. “I’m just curious about the world. I like to see things.”
She patted the back of his hand in a motherly sort of way. “Other things matter too.”
“Yes, like food. Now hand them over, woman.”
Agra extended both the palm leaf-wrapped bundle and an empty hand. Raider pressed a denar into the latter and was rewarded with another gap-toothed grin for his overpayment.
It wasn’t far from Agra’s stall to Jamil’s shop, so the flatbreads were still steaming when Raider ducked inside to find Jamil haggling with a heavyset woman in dark robes.
She made him work hard for the sale, pointing out every imperfection in the lamp she sought to purchase. By the time they agreed on the price and she left with the lamp in hand, Jamil looked harried. He’d smoothed his thin mustache so many times it was a wonder the thing hadn’t been worn clean off. Raider handed him one of the flatbreads.
“Ah!” Jamil brightened. “Cinnamon and … pepper?”
“Apparently it’s a secret.”
Jamil’s thin lips split into a smile. “There is always a ‘secret’ in Agra’s flatbread. And she always charges extra for it.”
Raider shrugged. He didn’t mind. He’d pay for Agra’s hard work and delightful grin any day. What else was money for?
“So—” Jamil settled on a fringed cushion in the corner, where his hookah’s glass belly billowed with steam. “You sold to Yusef yesterday.”
Raider took a seat on a cushion beside him. “You weren’t available. Besides, I sold to you last time. Remember the bracelets?”
Jamil waved this away and tore into the flatbread. Around a mouthful, he said, “I know why you’re here.”
