"She washed herself as well as she could in the little basin with its lukewarm water, and looked in the mirror dispassionately. The bruises on her face were fading, but she was tanned by the sun, and her cheeks and the bridge of her nose not far off from being actually burnt, so she must find some cream or ointment to deal with that."
"The alethiometer would have helped her decide, of course; even without the books, and without risking the sickness and disorientation of the new method, she'd have gained something from it; her knowledge of the symbols was much greater than it had been, and just to hold it would have given her thoughts something to focus on. And now it was gone. But she still had the glass, and the needle."
"If she didn't find something safe to keep them in, though, she might not have them for long. The glass was merely a glass (she supposed), but the needle . . . She took it very carefully out of the pocket it was in, and laid it in the centre of a piece of scrap paper, which she folded over and over till the needle couldn't slip out, and put it in a compartment of her rucksack."
She washes in lukewarm water and inspects fading bruises and emerging sunburn, deciding she needs cream, ointment and a broad-brimmed hat. She applies a little rose salve to her nose, lips, cheekbones and forehead. She weighs whether to continue relying on Ionides, who knows local languages, customs and travel, and considers affording his guidance with most of Farder Coram's gold still with her. She remembers recommendations for Mustafa Bey at Marletto's. She laments losing the alethiometer but retains the glass and needle, carefully wrapping and stowing the needle in her rucksack.
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