The woman-if it was a woman-laughed her ugly laugh.

"You know," she said.The tips of fingernails caressed the edge of his throat, running along the line of his throbbing artery."You know what you've lost."

"No."

"Yes.You know what has been taken, and you want it back."

"No."

"It's a gift," she said. "You are the enemy of my enemy, but you are not my friend."

"We didn't do anything to you.We didn't hurt you or-"

"You are in our town. Men like you have been coming to our towns-here and elsewhere-to take what is ours. Our sacred relics.The images of us that people-a precious, precious few-still worship."

"Relics? Who cares about relics, for Christ's sake? We're trying to stop terrorists from killing innocent people. Your people, too. My team . . . we came to protect everyone and everything from the Taliban.We don't want to take anything."

A subtle touch of fingernails on his cheek.

"Everyone wants to take something."

"No."

"Everyone wants something. Everyone wants to barter and trade."

"All I want are my men, d.a.m.n it.That's why we came here. Please . . . believe me.That's the only reason we came to this G.o.dd.a.m.n place."

"This is our home. No one comes here unless they want to make a deal. To get back what has been lost."

"Get back . . . ?" His voice trailed off.

"Yes," she said,"I can smell your desire.You do want to make a deal.You want what I have."

"Then give them back!" he shouted.

Soft, soft laughter. "They belong to me now. To us. To the sisters of the desert wind, to the lilitu. They shed blood in our streets, on our ground.Your men are ours by right. Body and soul, flesh and blood. And we will use them. Oh yes.You say that they are soldiers come to fight? Then fight they will.They will be our knights, our champions."

"No. It's not fair. It's those Taliban f.u.c.ks who are your enemy. If anyone's stealing your stuff, it's them. My men killed them.They're heroes."

"They will be heroes. Our heroes."

"No.You had no right to take them."

"As I said . . . they became ours when they drew blood on our streets."

"You b.i.t.c.h, that's not fair!"

The unseen woman made soft shushing sounds, the way a mother would soothe a hysterical child. "Listen now. Listen. We are cruel, but we are not dishonest.We repay our debts."There was a long pause, then she spoke again, her fetid breath moist on his cheek."We took from you because we claim the right to do so, and that is fair. But you are here, in our market stall, and you beg for something we have that you want.That is as it should be, for it is in keeping with this place. And so we will barter honestly with you." "What are you talking about? Barter for what?"

"You know."

"No . . . this doesn't make any sense."

"Oh, yes," she cooed. "You want something returned. Restored. Brought back."

"Yes, but-"

"But we must have something in return. Something to replace it.This for that. Something of value for us, and something you value for you."

"Please," he said, and even he didn't know if it was an entreaty or an acknowledgment that the d.i.c.kering could begin.

"What will you give me for what you want?" she asked.

Finn began to cry.

4.