“Please!” I cry.

“You’re daring, Black Cat of the Thieves Guild.” Corday’s face is a picture of calm. “And for that I’ll give you some free counsel.” Her eyes flicker back to Ettie. “Slice up her pretty face, and perhaps the Tiger won’t want her anymore.”

“Please. Don’t!” I plead.

“I doubt Kaplan would be put off by a disfigurement at this stage. You know what he’s like when he wants something,” says Col-Blanche.

“It’s true he doesn’t like being defied,” Corday agrees.

She glances again at Montparnasse, and at the merest blink of her eyes he lets go of Ettie and puts his blade away. Ettie breathes out in a long, loud sound.

I dare not even go to her. I try to still my trembling hands and keep my eyes on Corday, who seems to be measuring me up for something. I hope it’s not a coffin.

“You’re very small.”

I nod.

“And you’re a Cat.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“You must be very good at getting into hard-to-reach places.” Her eyes flicker toward the fireplace at Komayd.

“Nina can break into anywhere,” Ettie pipes up from behind me. “She once broke into the Tuileries!”

I could kick myself for having told her about my burglaries, but Ettie so loves stories.

Corday looks at Ettie in amusement. “Did she? Well, that’s very good, because everyone else has failed.”

I frown. Failed at what?

Corday’s and Komayd’s eyes meet; they’re having some sort of silent conversation.

“The Cat speaks truth: there’s only one Lord mad enough to openly defy the Tiger,” Komayd responds. “Only Orso.”

The Dead Lord.

Corday agrees with a tilt of her head. “So you are right, little Cat, to seek an audience with him.”

She motions to Montparnasse, and the bonds at our wrists are sliced with the whistle of a sharp blade.

“You must find the Ghosts,” Corday says. “They are incomprehensible at the best of times, and I hear the absence of their Father makes them … even worse. I wish you both the best of luck. Shall we drink to your endeavor?”

I’m left with the feeling I’ve missed a fundamental part of the conversation. Did we just walk into the Assassins Guild looking for clues about the Dead Lord, only to be sent to find the Ghosts? Nobody has seen them in weeks. Was this some sort of test?

Col-Blanche moves to a small side table and pours sparkling white wine into two cut-crystal glasses. He carries them over on a tray and offers them to us.

I hesitate. The Master of Poisons is offering me a drink. A drink no one else in the room is drinking. This is definitely a test.

“I thank you, sir, but I’m afraid we can’t accept your generosity,” I say.

Corday smiles, showing her even white teeth. The sight fills me with dread.

“Wise, little kitten.” She pulls a gold pocket watch out of a fold in her dress. It’s a small, intricate thing hanging on a long chain, with a brass serpent twisted around its face.