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rst of it was my mouth； a grotesque blob of purple and red； all bruise and stitches。 I tried to smile and a bolt of pain ripped through my lips。 I wouldn t be doing that for a while。 There were stitches
across my left cheek； just under the chin； on the forehead just below the hairline。
The old guy with the leg cast said something in Urdu。 I gave him a shrug and shook my head。 He pointed to his face； patted it； and grinned a wide； toothless grin。 Very good； he said in English。 Ins hallah。
Thank you； I whispered。
Farid and Sohrab came in just as I put the mirror away。 Sohrab took his seat on the stool； rested his head on the bed s side rail。
You know； the sooner we get you out of here the better； Farid said。
Dr。 Faruqi says…… …
I don t mean the hospital。 I mean Peshawar。
Why？
I don t think you ll be safe here for long； Farid said。 He lowered his voice。 The Taliban have friends here。 They will start looking for you。
I think they already may have； I murmured。 I thought suddenly of the bearded man who d wandered into the room and just stood there staring at me。
Farid leaned in。 As soon as you can walk； I ll take you to Islamabad。 Not entirely safe there either； no place in Pakistan is； but it s better than here。 At least it will buy you some time。
Farid Jan； this can t be safe for you either。 Maybe you shouldn t be seen with me。 You have a family to take care of。
Farid made a waving gesture。 My boys are young； but they are very shrewd。 They know how to take care of their mothers and sisters。 He smiled。 Besides； I didn t say I d do it for free。
I wouldn t let you if you offered； I said。 I forgot I couldn t
smile and tried。 A tiny streak of blood trickled down my chin。 Can I ask you for one more favor？
For you a thousand times over； Farid said。
And； just like that； I was crying。 I hitched gusts of air； tears gushing down my cheeks； stinging the raw flesh of my lips。
What s the matter？ Farid said； alarmed。
I buried my face in one hand and held up the other。 I knew the whole room was watching me。 After； I felt tired； hollow。 I m sorry； I said。 Sohrab was looking at me with a frown creasing his brow。
When I could talk again； I told Farid what I needed。 Rahim Khan said they live here in Peshawar。
Maybe you should write down their names； Farid said； eyeing me cautiously； as if wondering what might set me off next。 I scribbled their names on a scrap of paper towel。 John and Betty Caldwell。
Farid pocketed the folded piece of paper。 I will look for them as soon as I can； he said。 He turned to Sohrab。 As for you； I ll pick you up this evening。 Don t tire Amir agha too much。
But Sohrab had wandered to the window； where a half…dozen pigeons strutted back and forth on the sill； pecking at wood and scraps of old bread。
IN THE MIDDLE DRAWER of the dresser beside my bed； I had found an old _National Geographic_ magazine； a chewed…up pencil； a b with missing teeth； and what I was reaching for now； sweat pouring down my face from the effort： a deck of cards。 I had counted them earlier and； surprisingly； found the deck plete。 I
asked Sohrab if he wanted to play。 I didn t expect him to answer； let alone play。 He d been quiet since we had fled Kabul。
But he turned from the window and said； The only game I know is panjpar。
I feel sorry for you already； because I am a grand master at panjpar。 World renowned。
He took his seat on the stool next to me。 I dealt him his five cards。 When your father and I were your age； we used to play this game。 Especially in the winter； when it snowed and we couldn t go outside。 We used t