The dark sail appeared ahead where the river widened into the estuary. Han saw it first and called the others to the rail. A Registry cutter crossed the mouth of the channel, moving slowly enough to inspect the traffic.
Mei Qiao looked at the ship’s signal mast. “They’ll have seen us by now.”
“Lower the bright river pennant,” Han said. “Bring us into the fishing line. We don’t need to look like we’re hiding, but we don’t need to announce every passenger.”
Mei gave the order. The deckhands lowered the white-and-blue flag, then steered toward a row of fishing boats with nets spread across their sterns. Han watched the cutter’s mast. Its signals showed a request for cargo inspection.
“Their concern is the route,” Han said. “They’re checking traffic, not hunting one traveler.”
The vessel carried no forbidden goods, but the copied scripture notes could invite questions if a Registry clerk searched the cabin. Yan crouched beside the supply chest as if checking its latch. He could have raised his spiritual force and frightened the cutter into retreat. It would have drawn attention to the vessel and might have given the Registry a reason to search every boat nearby.
He looked to Han. “If they board us, what are they likely to ask?”
