“When did you order the supplies brought down?” Royce asked Price, who still stood with his foot on the rail.

“Before returning to pick you up at The Regal Fox. I like to stay ahead of things.” He winked. “Duster, you might remember Etcher here from the Langdon Bridge last time you were in Colnora. Don’t hold that against him. Etcher volunteered to get you safely to the mills when no one else cared for the idea. Now off you go.” Price untied the bowline and shoved them out into the black water.

“Stow those lines, Mr. Etcher, sir,” Wally said as he waited until they cleared the dock to lock the two long oars into place. With each stroke, the oars creaked quietly, and the skiff glided into the river’s current.

The boatman sat backward as he pulled on the oars. Little effort was required as the current propelled them downstream. Wally pulled on one side or the other, correcting their course as needed. Occasionally he stroked both together, to keep them moving slightly faster than the water’s flow.

“Blast,” Wally cursed softly.

“What is it?” Hadrian asked.

“The lantern went out on the Bocant dock. I use it to steer by. Just my luck, any other night they leave it on. They use that hoisting contraption to unload boats. Sometimes the barges are late rounding the point, and in the darkness that lantern is their marker. They never know when the barges will arrive, so they usually just leave it on all night and—oh wait, it’s back. Must have just blown out or something.”

“Quiet down,” Etcher whispered from the bow. “This is no pleasure cruise. You’re being paid to row, not be a river guide.”

Royce peered into their dark wake. “Is it normal for small boats to be on the river at night?”

“Not unless you’re smuggling,” Wally said in a coy tone that made Arista wonder if he had firsthand experience.

“If you don’t keep your traps shut, someone will notice us,” Etcher growled.

“Too late,” Royce replied.

“What’s that?”

“Behind us, there’s at least one boat following.”

Arista looked but could see nothing except the line the moon drew on the black surface of the water.

“You’ve got a fine pair of eyes, you do,” Wally said.

“You’re the one that saw them,” Royce replied. “The light on the dock didn’t go out. The other boat blocked it when they passed in your line of sight.”

“How many?” Hadrian asked.

“Six, and they’re in a wherry.”

“They’ll be able to catch us, then, won’t they?” Arista questioned.

Hadrian nodded. “They race wherries down the Galewyr and here on the Bernum for prize money. No one races skiffs.”

Despite this, Wally stroked noticeably harder, which, combined with the current, moved the skiff along at a brisk pace, raising a breeze in their faces.

“Langdon Bridge approaching,” Etcher announced.