All the beds lifted up on hinges; there was more storage under them. Every tiny bit of space had been used.

This is not going to be horrible, she thought with wonder. “Let me wander around in here and decide what I need to start bringing,” she said, and the workman nodded and left her alone.

Kordas would without a doubt want all his personal magic books at hand, and since he wasn’t here to need them, she could start by bringing those. And bedclothes; in winter they would want as many as they possessed, given that the tiny stove wasn’t going to put out a lot of heat. Bedclothes were bulky, but rather than waste storage space, they could all be piled on the beds in layers, giving them storage and covers at the same time—layers of sheets and coverlets, and you could bury yourself beneath as many or as few as the weather required. She’d have the maids put their own clothing in the storage under their beds. She wandered from prow to stern and back again, envisioning things in all the places where they could be put and fixing them firmly in her mind. She could start by stripping her own quarters and sleeping in one of the guest chambers.

In fact, I can start stripping the entire manor. Most of everything brought down from the manor could be put in storage boats. I’ll need to make sure there is an inventory on each one so we know where to find things. Her heart actually rose, as she understood—if Isla would allow it—how useful she could be.

She left the boat and sought out one of the workmen. “There should be a lot of people who kept care of the manor that will need to be seen to. Please put aside living-barges for them; I’ll send them here to decide who will live with whom and where. Can you outfit one whole barge as a kitchen?” she asked. I bet Isla hasn’t thought of that. But the cooks and kitchen staff can sleep on pallets on the floor there, and we’ll have a place out of the weather where we can make hot food. She didn’t think actual ovens for baking would be possible, but perhaps those ovens could be constructed outside.

The workman scratched his head and his brows wrinkled in thought for a moment. “I don’t know why not,” he said finally. “It’d be several stoves. They’d hold about one big pot each. Then counters to work, and a place to wash pots if the weather’s bad. Reckon it can be done.”

“Please do,” she said, taking it on her own to order it. Worst came to worst, she could cancel the order tomorrow.

She rode Sundrop back to the manor in the late afternoon, having committed everything she needed to do on her own barge to memory.