The area was riddled with inlets of water and bog, making a treacherous journey for anyone who dared go there. Nina Ashford scanned the ground ahead and soothed her mount, encouraging the horse along the narrow path. It was a familiar track to Nina for she had grown up in a nearby village, but it was dangerous nonetheless. Her mount huffed on the cold night air, picking its way carefully. The clear sky was in her favor, which was some mercy, but her attire was not. She'd come straight from a formal supper and hadn't had time to change out of her best evening gown. Word had reached her of the whereabouts of the Daedalus and she'd grasped the opportunity to view it in secret. Fetching her cloak, she'd paused only to strap her pistol to her ankle boot and her sword to her flank—wary of brigands and smugglers on the marshes—then raced out into the night lest the Daedalus be moved elsewhere. The man who had so callously stolen her designs for the machine had enormous wealth at his disposal.
