I am nervous, and try to hide it. But I keep turning back to the fountain, Ettie always in my sight.

“Who are you?” I ask sharply.

“A son of the Guild of Letters, one of the People of the Pen. And a brother who owes you a debt of blood. You set me free from the Châtelet.”

I blink in surprise, studying his features. The beard is gone, but yes, it is him.

He smiles. “I have come by some information that I thought might be of use to you.” He moves to glance over my shoulder to where Ettie is. “The Tiger is going to take the girl,” he says.

My heart drops, Ettie: she’s there, handing the water man her coin.

“He can’t. Orso will go to war with the Flesh Guild.”

“He will use your father, Thénardier—”

“Thénardier is not my father,” I say, baring my teeth.

He raises his eyebrows.

I shake my head. “How do you know that he will take her?” I ask, even though Loup’s warning of a shadow pounds in my head.

“Is there anything the Guild of Letters does not know? All things come to our ears eventually. My brethren learned that Thénardier plans to kidnap her and give her to the Tiger.”

“I’ll tell Tomasis.” I frown as I watch Ettie. She’s got her bucket and is carrying it slowly away from the crowd, where no one will jostle her. She’s so weak her progress is unsteady.

The man gives a small, grim smile. “The Thief Lord will not involve himself in such a matter. There is an … understanding between the Guilds. He won’t defy the Tiger.”

My mind is racing. I look at the crowd, suspicious of everyone, as Ettie unhooks the water pouch and dips it into the bucket.

“When?” I ask, turning back to the man.

“There was no time or day specified,” he begins; then his eyes go wide. “Sister—”

I whip around. One glance shows me that the water pouch lies on the ground and a desperate-looking stranger in a loose shirt and ragged boots is pulling Ettie away from the fountain and toward the streets.

Part of me is amazed that anyone would dare take a child of the Guilds in broad daylight. But the part of me that is the Black Cat of the Thieves Guild is already moving, racing after them, dagger in hand. I sing a call so sharp that people turn to look, and every Ghost within a mile must be able to hear it.

Ettie is kicking and flailing, but the man’s arm is tight around her neck. She sees me loping after her and reaches for me, tries to call out but can only choke.

I repeat my call again and again, and as I run, an echo begins to hang in the air. The Ghosts have heard me. They’re answering.

The man reaches the street and drags Ettie around a corner just as I spot the first Ghost. Like a shadow, she seems to melt from a wall, her voice picking up the call.