Laila was stunned. “He knocked you out and tied you up, and then he just let you go?” “Yes,” Ayisha said. “He said I was to think it over and go back.” She’d returned to Laila’s house the moment the city gates were unlocked. “Go back for Ali—he is all right?” “Yes, I told you.” Ayisha had told Laila a dozen times that Ali was all right, but Laila had been up all night fretting and would not be wholly reassured until he was home, safe. Ayisha squatted to feed the oven fire. Laila was usually up at dawn to start the baking, but today she was fretting instead. So they’d started the baking late. She found the Englishman’s action puzzling, too—more than puzzling—it was disturbing. She didn’t understand what game he was playing, but she was sure it was a deep one. “How will we get Ali free? Is it money the Englishman wants?” Laila asked, with a glance at their hiding place behind the bricks. “No. He has more money than you and I will ever see in a lifetime.”
