Read Online Fly by Night by Frances Hardinge - Free Book Online

All bore the seal of the Company of Stationers. Between them, however, was the packet Clent had laboured to hide. It opened to Mosca’s eager fingers, and she was at first disappointed to find that it seemed to be a letter of introduction, ‘. . . Testifying that Eponymous Clent is acting upon the behalf of the Company of Stationers in investigating certain illicit . . .’
    The page suddenly became a great deal easier to read as the canvas awning was twitched back, and Eponymous Clent pushed his head into the little cave.
    His smile slid away like water off a candle, and his plump face became absolutely expressionless in a way that told Mosca that he was very angry. She stared back, her black eyes burning with triumph.
    ‘How did you find those?’
    ‘You’re working for the Stationers? You’re a spy?’
    ‘You can read?’ Clent stared at her in disbelief as he struggled into the makeshift cabin.
    ‘Full of surprises, me,’ whispered Mosca savagely.
    At this moment the awning was flung violently aside and, as one, Mosca and Clent jumped to sit on the papers, landing with a thump, hip to hip.
    Partridge was stooping at the opening, the crooked corner of his mouth flexing and relaxing like an angry fist.
    ‘Are you people trouble to me?’ he asked hoarsely. ‘Only there’s five or so Watermen wherries blocking the river up ahead, and it looks to me like they’re searching boats.’

 
    D is for Daylight Robbery

     
    Mosca and Clent exchanged glances, and silently settled a single matter between them. They were on thin ice, on the brink of disaster, but for now they were also on the same side.
    ‘Ah, now, it would seem that we have an interest in common,’ Clent began quickly, turning back to Partridge. ‘You do not wish the Watermen to discover that you have been taking passengers illegally, and we . . . we are in no hurry to be found. So let us hurry to an understanding, and, ah . . .’
    ‘And what? What exactly do we do, you lily-handed sack of suet?’
    In answer, Clent reached down and knocked once on the planks of the deck, which answered hollowly.
    ‘What, stow you below boards and risk your bootnails inside the belly of the Maid ? I’ll see you gull food first. Dotheril!’ The head of another crewman appeared at the opening in the awning. ‘I think you’d better hail the Watermen and tell ’em we’ve just this minute found a couple of stowaways. Doesn’t it look that way to you?’
    ‘I’d say so, sir,’ agreed Dotheril coolly. ‘Guess they must have crept aboard while we was docked at the Halberd.’
    ‘If you give us up,’ hissed Mosca, ‘I’ll tell them about the other stowaways already down there. They don’t seem to be hurting your boat none. More of holiness than holes down there, I’d say.’
    Clent rallied well, considering that he had no idea what Mosca was talking about.
    ‘Yes, I fear the secret is out. We know that your boat, like many other “maids”, hides a secret in her belly. My niece, you see, has an enquiring mind and, while I have tried to damp her desire to peek and pry, it is her nature and there is little I can do about it. Well, Captain, I am at my wits’ end – have you decided what is to become of us all?’
    ‘We cannot dally long,’ whispered Dotheril. ‘We could nudge the bank and buy time that way, but if we did that, there might be a rattling in the . . .’ His eyes dropped pointedly towards the deck.
    Partridge’s mouth twitched once, twice, as if he was trying to crack a tiny nut between his teeth.
    ‘Take up the planks,’ he ordered in an undertone. ‘But if either of you makes a sound, I’ll nail the deck in place above your heads, seal the cracks with pitch, and leave you to your prayers.’
    They had to lever up three planks before Eponymous Clent was able to squeeze through. He disappeared into darkness with a muffled squawk.
    ‘Quiet!’
    ‘Merciless Fates! I would like to see you hold your tongue if you had just taken Good