Orso’s gaze wanders over his children as they taunt what’s left of the broken man.

“We can ill afford such a confrontation.” His voice is low and soft. “Not when we’re so weak from hunger and sickness.” He shakes his head.

The Dead Lord is silent for a moment, his eyebrows knotted.

“It has become much bigger now than just her,” he says, looking at Ettie. “You’ve publicly thwarted the Tiger, and he can’t allow that. If a mere kitten can stand up to him before the Court, anyone might follow. He will have his vengeance or lose the power he holds over us. She has become a symbol he must destroy. Nothing will stop him.”

“But you can protect her!” I insist.

“Can I? He had me thrown into the Châtelet, attempted to kidnap her in broad daylight. If he’s bold enough to try take to her once, he’ll do it again.”

My heart sinks. If Orso can’t protect Ettie, then who can?

“There are at least four Guild Lords who would aid the Tiger if he asked them, because they fear him too much to refuse,” Orso says.

“But the Law!” I cry. “Does it count for nothing? He’s not allowed to touch her. She’s one of your children!”

“He’s weakened the Law. He’s tested it and made it his plaything.”

He puts the tips of his fingers together thoughtfully and looks at me. “Do you know how the Assassins take names?”

I shake my head.

“If someone wants to end a life, he gives the Keeper of Records the victim’s name and pays for the death. Most of the time the Assassins carry out the task, especially if they’ve anything to gain from it. But every now and again, they go to the one marked for death, the dead wolf, and they tell him the price that’s been offered, letting him counter. If he can pay the price they ask, the Assassins will cancel the contract forever because they will be richer if he lives.”

I listen, confused.

Orso sees this and elaborates. “You must pay a price higher than any the Tiger can offer to any child of the Guild. And you must pay it to all the Lords. Or she’ll never be safe.”

My mind reels.

“How much gold do you think it would take?”

“Gold?” Orso throws back his head, laughing heartily. The sound booms across the sewer.

Ettie is startled and wakes. She looks around, bleary-eyed.

“Would you pay the Lord of Smugglers in gold? Would you pay Tomasis in gold? What is gold to them?” Orso’s eyes challenge me. “Come now, little kitten, where’s that sharp brain of yours?”

I don’t understand.

“What weight has gold to the dying? Of what worth is gold in a time of famine?” Orso says.

Then it comes to me: Gold has no value to the dying. It can’t stop the hands of death. What the dying want is to live. And to live they need to eat.