“Didn’t hear any rain.” Mosca stared out at the river, which seemed as languid as ever.

“I do not mean farther up the banks, child, I mean farther up the sides of the boat. We are lower in the water than we were yesterday, and I think we cannot put all of that down to the beer and bread in our bellies.”

“You mean . . . they got us off the boat so we wouldn’t see ’em loading up with something else?” Mosca squinted about the boat. “Is it hid among the bales?”

“No,” answered Clent, a little too quickly. “No, I think not. Cast your eyes upon the deck. The planks beneath us keep the cargo from bruising the barge’s belly, but in this case I fancy they are fulfilling another purpose.” Like most barges of its type, the Mettlesome Maid had no hold, and the hay bales were piled up on the deck. The deck was a flat layer of planks some little way above the barge’s elmwood bottom.

Mosca noticed for the first time that some strands of straw were clamped between the deck planks, as if the planks themselves had been removed and then replaced. She looked up at Clent, her eyes wide with a question.

“Now, under that canvas awning is the place where the crew sleeps. There will be no one there now, and if you were to say you wished to rest there for a while, no one would object. Then you need only lever up one of the planks, slip into the belly of the boat, and we shall have our questions answered.”

“But—”

“Come now. The powers that be have saddled me with a ferrety-looking child, and as far as I know ferrets have only two uses—poor-quality fur trim, or sending down holes after rabbits. Pray be a good ferret, and be quick about it.”

Mosca mimed a yawn, and picked her way along the deck toward the stern. At the gunwale Partridge rested a lazy hand on the great tiller, his eyes on the river ahead. He paid little attention as Mosca pulled up the awning, and slipped into the darkness beneath.

Prying up the planks was no mean feat. Mosca’s fingernails were short, and the planks were solid oak and a foot wide. She eventually found that she could slide one of the scraps of metal from Clent’s pouch between the planks, and after some painful minutes one rose out of its groove.