After it sighed, the bag trembled.   Kinchen reached into her vest and pulled out her knife. What kind of clockwork had the Raft King left her?   There. The bundle twitched again. She took a step to­ward it.   The sack froze. Then it shuddered another shudder, al­most as if something inside were waking up.   Something. But what?   Kinchen's heart thrummed inside her throat; she could feel it knocking like it wanted to leap out of her mouth. She shook herself. Not me, she told herself. I'm never scared.   No, she was definitely scared.   Whatever it was, she couldn't leave now, not knowing. Kinchen took a deep breath. With her knife, she cut the rope that bound the bag shut, yanked the top open, and peered inside.   It was--   A boy. Or maybe a girl--hard to tell in the dim inte­rior of the bag. Smaller than Kinchen. Dark-skinned, like Raftworld people tended to be. More than that she couldn't see. Whoever it was, he or she lay on its side, bound and gagged, peering up at her, huge brown eyes blinking rapidly in the sudden light.   The Raft King's clockwork trade was a person. Excerpted from A Crack in the Sea by H. M. Bouwman All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.