Orret’s boat had a painted eye on either side of its bow and no paint left where passengers put their feet.
“Sit on the ribs,” the captain said. “Not the baskets.”
Iven moved his boot from the edge of a covered basket.
“What is it?”
“My breakfast.”
Kesh sat behind the forward thwart, her long hook laid along the gunwale. Jalet climbed in last. He wore a borrowed coat over yesterday’s muddy shirt and kept touching the place on his wrist where the numbered token had been.
Eshra had cut its cord when she took his statement. The brass itself remained with his wage papers. No one had promised that helping would answer every question about the opening shot.
He had agreed to show them the barge.
