Wolves of the Northern Rift (A Magic & Machinery Novel Book 1) Read Free

connecting different steel and brass containers to one another. A smoke stack protruded up over the man’s shoulder, belching black smoke into the air. One of the hoses ran over the man’s arm and connected to a nozzle in his hand. With a squeeze of the nozzle, a gentle flame poured onto the dock’s frozen rooftop. The warm flames quickly melted the ice, leaving the surface wet rather than slippery.
    With the ice cleared, they were ushered into a building at the end of the flat rooftop. Stepping inside was like entering a sauna. The heat practically struck Simon physically, making him stagger. After exposure to the harsh wind outside, entering the building was a welcome relief.
    A sword-bearing guard stood at a table straight ahead and motioned for the two men to approach. As they reached his table, he gestured for them to place their bags on the table.
    “Paperwork please, gentlemen,” the guard said.
    Simon reached into his coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper. As he unfurled the paper, the guard could see the ribbon and wax seal at the bottom. He didn’t need to read the page. Pressed into the center of the deep red wax was the royal seal.
    The guard immediately grew flustered, and he bowed his head respectfully. “Forgive me, Inquisitor.”
    “There’s nothing to be forgiven,” Simon said, clearly enjoying this aspect of his station as Royal Inquisitor. “You were merely doing your job. Now, I believe you were expecting us?”
    “Of course, sir,” the guard said. He spun on his heels and motioned excitedly toward another guard near the far door. “You have an escort awaiting you in the lower tunnels, Inquisitor. The governor is expecting you for dinner this evening.”
    The other guard approached, equally flustered. Simon gestured for Luthor to follow the arriving guard, and they approached the stairwell that would lead into the tunnels that ran beneath the city.

 

    The guard led the two men into a wooden elevator. When they were both safely inside, he pulled an extendable metal cage across the door and latched it into place. Reaching out, he pulled a lever that stood beside the door. Near its base, large, metal gears turned against one another as the elevator’s brake was released. It vibrated, and then shook roughly, as the gears above it began turning. They slowly descended toward the subterranean tunnels. Simon occupied himself by watching the hammered copper wall of the elevator shaft slowly glide past.
    “What about our other bags?” Luthor asked after he grew sufficiently bored with their descent.
    The guard looked to the shorter man. “A porter has already procured your bags. They will be waiting for you when you arrive at the governor’s estate.”
    Simon knew the answer to Luthor’s question before he had asked it but knew that the apothecary was likely just passing the time. Their trip on the zeppelin had been long from the capital, and the dreadfully slow elevator ride wasn’t the enthusiastic adventure he hoped it would be.
    He looked around, admiring the craftsmanship that went into the car itself. Small reliefs had been expertly carved into the wood, leaving intricate patterns throughout each of the three main sides of the elevator car. The electric light hanging above them was encased in frosted glass, diffusing the harsh light. In another setting, the ride would have been a remarkable display, as Simon was sure the governor had intended it to be. Unfortunately, the capital was full of technological wonders, the least of which seemed to be the pulley-operated elevator.
    The guard looked at the Royal Inquisitor, and Simon offered a smile he hoped expressed that he was pleased. The truth was that he would have much preferred taking the stairs down the four or five flights. In the time they had ridden the elevator, he could have been in the tunnels and halfway to the governor’s estate. Sadly, he realized, pomp and circumstance often took priority over practicality.
    After