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

chiseled walls.
    Patrick glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “These tunnels were once a cave system that existed before the city was built. They extend beneath the entire city and beyond. Once they were discovered, they were smoothed and reinforced. Now they serve as a refuge for the citizens during particularly severe winter storms, when even our walls can’t hold back the winter winds and massive snowdrifts.”
    “Remarkable,” Luthor muttered again.
    Simon looked over to his friend, who seemed enthralled with the architecture. “I wish I knew how long it would take before we can delve fully into our work.”
    Luthor looked over, and his eyes came back into focus. He coughed faintly to clear his throat. “We’ll be required to have dinner with the governor at a minimum, as decorum dictates. Beyond that, I believe we’ll be at his mercy.”
    “Forgive my prying,” Patrick interjected, “but the governor does indeed have a dinner planned for you both. He’s invited a number of local dignitaries to help welcome you to our land and to show his appreciation.”
    Simon reached up and ran his hand along his thin moustache. “Will Gideon Dosett be one of those dignitaries?”
    “I should assume so,” the advisor replied. “Mr. Dosett is one of the wealthiest and most influential men in Haversham.”
    “Where would I call on Mr. Dosett if I wished to speak to him during my investigation? Does he live near the governor’s estate?”
    If Haversham were anything like the capital, then every noble would have their residence near the ranking royal as they jockeyed for political favor.
    “You wouldn’t have to go far at all,” Patrick explained. “Mr. Dosett was actually recently granted quarters within the estate.”
    Simon frowned and exchanged glances with Luthor. Though Haversham’s governor was only a far distant cousin of the king, he was still a royal. Opening his home to a businessman, even one clearly as influential as Dosett, was unusual.
    Simon noticed many of the pedestrians in the tunnel moved hastily out of the way at the sight of the governor’s advisor and guards. They eyed Simon warily from their places as he passed, as though untrusting.
    The din of conversation grew as it echoed along the stone walls. Their tunnel suddenly opened into a massive, rounded hub, where a half dozen other tunnels converged into an underground marketplace. Vendor stalls were erected around the walls of the room, and merchants hawked their wares to the people who passed by.
    Looking up, he could see the ceiling arched overhead as though forming a natural dome. Sunlight spilled from the top, which was open to the air above. A soft, white snow fell through the gap, collecting in a pile that was illuminated by the shaft of light from the surface. The snow melted quickly near the mounted heaters, and its water collected in vats submerged into the floors nearby.
    Patrick led them across the room to a staircase carved into the stone. It was a much narrower passage, requiring the guards to follow single file behind the group. The stairwell twisted as it rose, and Simon could feel the cool breeze blowing through the passage. Though he had felt uncomfortable under the intense heat of the overhead lamps in the tunnel, he immediately longed for their warmth as the wind blew over him. Patrick seemed unfazed by the biting chill as he led the way. Soon, natural sunlight filtered over the rocks, illuminating the passage ahead.
    The stairs ended at an open doorway, its glass doors propped open, that led out onto a wide, cobblestone street in the city. Though it seemed that the majority were wandering through the tunnels below, Simon found the surface streets equally busy as people moved from store to store, purchasing provisions.
    People walked with a stoop, huddled in their thick jackets and fur-lined boots. Their carried groceries were tucked under their arms as they hurried home before their fresh-baked bread froze in the arctic