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Sure enough, the woman stopped at the house of Cedric Barrow—the second-most-reliable and trustworthy guide in town.

The first-most-reliable, Winston Decker, had been the owner of the other house she’d gone to.

Her stop in Cedric’s house took a bit longer. That didn’t shock Adam. Cedric’s wife, Maxime, didn’t let a visitor escape until she’d plied them with more snacks than they could eat without bursting.

Finally, the lady emerged, this time with Cedric beside her. The two of them shook hands politely, but Adam could still read the disappointment on her face as she left.

He waited until she was a couple of blocks up the road before jogging across the street to where Cedric lingered on his shaded porch.

“I was wondering why the assistant surveyor general was lurking under Señora Herrara’s bougainvilleas,” Cedric commented dryly, his tones touched with his Kriol accent.

Cedric was a bit on the shorter side, with tightly curled hair and a neatly trimmed beard. The hair was tinged with gray. Adam knew that Cedric had been making noises about scaling back his work after some trouble with his knees.

“Maybe I was just admiring the flowers,” Adam replied innocently.

Cedric scoffed. “You got an interest in this bakra woman, then?” he pressed easily.

Adam rubbed at the bridge of his nose. There wasn’t much point in denying it after he’d been spotted skulking about.

“Just curious. What was she after?” he asked casually.

“She wants a guide to take her into the Cayo,” Cedric said.

“TheCayo?” Adam echoed, blurting out the word with shock.

The Cayo District was the westernmost portion of the colony and by far its most unexplored, underpopulated area. The region was more or less a big, fat blank on Adam’s maps, mostly because the rivers ceased to be navigable once they reached the mountains—rugged peaks that topped 3,000 feet, covered in thick forests.

Nobody went to the Cayo. Even the loggers didn’t bother with it. Why should they when they’d have to haul any mahogany or dyewoods they harvested out the hard way, instead of just tossing them into a river?

The land wasn’t farmable. It took days of slogging through the virgin bush to get there. The Cayo was, in short, a virtually impenetrable wilderness.

“What does she want to go there for?” Adam demanded.

“Du ah luk de fool?” Cedric retorted in crisp Kriol. “A bakra woman like that always got a father or brother or husband somewhere in the background. Doesn’t matter how many gray hairs I have in my beard—job like that gonna be nothing but trouble. I didn’t let her get to the reasons. Just let her down easy while Maxime filled her up with powderbuns.” He nodded up the road. “Better catch up if you want to keep following her.”

“Hell,” Adam said and darted down the steps.

Cedric’s chuckle sounded from behind him.

The woman’s figure slipped around a corner. Adam made a quick calculation, then dashed into an alley instead. He dodged a cluster of stray chickens, which squawked at him with alarm.

“Wach dehn fowl, bwai!” an older woman snapped sharply.

“Morning, Miss Ivy,” Adam called back.

She waved him on with a huff of disapproval.

Adam spilled out of the alley into the street that led to the bridge, making it just in time to see the Englishwoman walking his way. He adjusted his pace to match her quick steps as he slipped alongside her.

“Nice day for a walk,” he commented casually.

She glared at him. Her eyes were hazel, with little sparks of green and silver that flashed at him across the splash of freckles on her nose. They were nice eyes—even when they were shooting daggers at him.

“You,” she hissed.

“I heard you were looking to make a little jaunt to the interior,” Adam said.

She stopped walking, and her glare deepened.