The Marlinspike Quarter was its usual grubby self. Youths loitered on corners, and crooked salesmen flogged stolen goods at makeshift stalls. Above them, washing billowed on lines strung between houses, most of it looking so grimy it was hard to believe it had actually been washed. A wrinkled old troll sat cross-legged against a wall, cranking out a tune on a hurdy-gurdy, while a half-starved monkey slept peacefully beside him. There was a soft clink as Newton tossed a coin to join the few that lay on a scrap of cloth in front of him. The troll nodded, almost imperceptibly, and carried on playing.

“Where are we going?” asked Tabitha.

“You’ll see.”

Tabitha sighed loudly. She hated it when Newton was mysterious. Which, unfortunately, was most of the time.

“Fairies,” called a salesman. “Best messenger fairies, cheap as brine! Fairies from the Old World and the New!”

They clamored in their cages as Newton and Tabitha passed, reaching out tiny arms, begging to be bought. Tabitha tried not to look. Newton didn’t want her to have a fairy—said she was too young to need one—which was completely ridiculous, of course, and totally unfair.

“When are we going after the smuggler?” she asked, to take her mind off the fairies.

“Soon enough. We need a few things first.”

“Well then, I’m going to Thalin Square to see the decorations.”

Newton looked at her for the first time since they’d left Bootles’.

“No, young lady. You’re coming with me.”

“Why should I? You won’t even tell me where we’re going.”

A pained, anxious look passed over Newton’s face as he realized that she had a point. Tabitha hated that look, almost as much as his not telling her what was going on. It meant he thought he wasn’t looking after her properly, and for some reason it never failed to make her feel bad.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have explained. We’re going to …” He trailed off, looking over her shoulder.

“Where? We’re going to where?”

But Newton was already striding past, his attention fixed somewhere else entirely. Exasperated, Tabitha followed.

They were heading for a dwarf standing on a street corner. The stranger had long black hair, a black mustache, and a black beard, all matted, greasy, and wildly out of control. He was holding his coat open, displaying a hodgepodge of pans, spoons, and knives that dangled from the lining. Tabitha reckoned the coat must have been made for a troll, because it was far too big for its current owner.

The dwarf caught sight of Newton, grinned, then turned tail and fled. Unfortunately, his legs were too short and his merchandise was too heavy for him to get very far. He clanked a short distance down the road and then stopped, bent over, puffing and wheezing to catch his breath.

“Well, if it isn’t the Ghost,” said Newton, strolling up and patting him on the back. “Good to see you.”

“It’s plain Jack Cobley now,” said the dwarf, peering up at Newton with bulging, bloodshot eyes. “And I ain’t done nothing wrong.”

Tabitha tried not to breathe in through her nose. The dwarf stank of something, and it definitely wasn’t shokel buns.

“I doubt that, Jack,” said Newton. “But relax. I’m not going to throw you in the Brig. Not this time.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” gibbered the dwarf, pathetically grateful. “Me smuggling days are over, you know that. I learned me lesson, sure as the sea. Never want to see the inside of the Brig again, long as I live.” He shuddered.

“Good. I need to ask a favor.”

Instantly, the dwarf became suspicious again.

“Favor? What favor?”

“That old sloop you had. You used to run dragons’ teeth in false barrel bottoms, back in the day. Remember?”

“Aye,” said the dwarf, his brow creased as he desperately tried to work out where this was going.

“What happened to her?”

“She’s anchored out in the bay. But I ain’t used her for a long time, Newt, I swear. She’s a wreck. It’d cost me more to repair her than buy a new boat, and I can’t afford that. Not on the money I make selling this junk.”

He waved a saucepan, forlorn.

“Perfect,” said Newton. “We’ll take her off your hands.” He opened his money pouch and counted out ten ducats. “This do?”

The dwarf’s eyes lit up, and he snatched the money.

“Yes, sir, that’ll do nicely.”

His eyes fell on Tabitha, and he stared. She looked down at her feet and clamped her teeth together. Here it came.

“Hey,” he said, grinning. “Hey, I know you.”

“All right,” said Newton. “It’s time to go now.”

“No, wait, you’re that girl, ain’t you? The Mandeville kid. I’m right, ain’t I? That fancy blue hair dye don’t fool me.”

“What if I am?” growled Tabitha, taking a step forward and glaring at him. “It’s no business of yours, you washed-up bilge bag.”

“Enough,” said Newton, putting himself between them. He took Tabitha by the arm and effortlessly moved her away.

“Ain’t you gonna ask me where I berthed it?” the dwarf called after them.

“I already checked,” replied Newton. “North side of the bay. Berth three hundred and forty three.”

It was only when they’d turned the corner that he let go of her.

“I wasn’t going to do anything,” she snapped, rubbing her arm. It had been a gentle grip by Newton’s standards, but it still hurt. “Why do you always have to treat me like a baby?”

“You need to watch that temper,” said Newton, ignoring her question entirely. “It’ll get you into trouble.”

“You don’t understand what it’s like, being recognized all the time like that. How could you? It’s not as if your parents were …” She choked back a sob and was immediately angry with herself for getting so upset. All those stupid feelings about her mother and father were bubbling up inside her again. The hurt and the loss. How could she be so pathetic, still? She’d been a baby when they died, for Thalin’s sake …

Newton stopped and turned to face her, placing his heavy hands on her shoulders.

“You don’t know much about my parents, Tabs,” he said softly. “And listen, ignore people like Jack Cobley. He’s an idiot, and idiots are a ducat a dozen in this town. Being a good watchman means being in control. That means staying calm. If you lose your temper, you could put all of us in danger. Do you understand?”

When Newton spoke like that, it was hard not to listen. She nodded, dabbed at her eyes, and took a deep, quavering breath.

He reached out to ruffle her hair, then pulled his hand back fast, clearly remembering how much she hated hair ruffling.

“Come on, then,” he said. “Let’s go and find the Ghost’s boat.”

They set off again.

As they walked, Tabitha glanced sideways at Newton. He didn’t look much like her real father. Or, at least, how she imagined her real father had looked. Her eyes wandered to his wrists and the red, blistered marks that ran around them. She had tried to ask him about those marks once, but he’d just muttered something and changed the subject. You don’t know much about my parents, Tabs. Well, it was true. There was a lot she didn’t know about him. Her real father would have told her everything about himself. Her real father wouldn’t have kept secrets from her …

Suddenly, Tabitha felt very alone.

“Why was he called the Ghost?” she asked, trying to sound like she was feeling fine now. “Was it because he was hard to catch?”

“Hardly. He’s an idiot, remember? We called him the Ghost because every time we caught him he went white as a sail.”

That made her chuckle.

Newton stopped and looked at her. He was wearing his anxious expression again.

“Look,” he said slowly. “I, er … I know you hate being the lookout. So this time, with this smuggler, I thought, maybe … Maybe you should have a chance to do some real watchman work. What do you think?”

Tabitha felt her jaw drop.

“Really?” was all she could say.

He nodded and gave her a slightly clumsy pat on the shoulder.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful. If everything goes to plan, you’ll be totally safe.”

Safe? Tabitha pretended she hadn’t heard that.