“We maintain a very strict system to keep the wine consistent.” Andrew still faced the barrels, hands propped on his hips as he surveyed them. “The same system that was designed when they first went into use. The barrels cannot be allowed to dry out; as soon as they’re emptied, they’re refilled. We keep them in the same room they were originally held in, with no electricity or other modifications, to preserve the intended temperature and humidity.”

Margot faced the desks. Behind them, the stone wall was covered with slick, glimmering light from the lantern. All except for one section. At first glance it was easy to mistake it for a shadow, but as she stared into the dark, she realized, with slowly dawning anxiety, that it was a hole. A hole that led away so far that she couldn’t see its other end. The desks had been positioned ahead of it to block it. “No modifications…what about that?”

“Ah.” Andrew, his smile lopsided, rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes. This was the original cellar for the founding Hulls. As their business prospered, though, they expanded. But not without trouble. That tunnel collapsed only a few years after its construction. It was never filled in.”

“There are a lot of those about,” Kant said. “Some collapsed. Others abandoned. A network of old passageways connect them, with posts to mark the entrances. We keep clear mostly. Too dangerous.”

Margot lifted the lantern. Its metal was cold enough to sting her hands, but she leaned forward, extending the light to see down the passageway. Its walls had once been paved with stone too, though much of it had collapsed. Roots extended down, hanging like tendrils from the ceiling, catching the light in unnatural ways. Margot put the lantern back down. She felt queasy. A cold sweat was forming across her back. She fought her body’s reaction, willing her hands to be still, her heart to stop its palpitations.

“Ready to leave?” Kant asked.

She flinched at the words but fixed a smile on her face as she turned. Kant stood by a door opposite the one they’d entered through. An exit, she hoped. Her voice had become stuck in her throat like a blockage that couldn’t be removed, so she gestured for him to go ahead.

“You go ahead. I’ll pack up here,” Kant said as the ancient door groaned open. He stepped back to let them through, and Andrew entered first, carrying the lantern. Narrow stairs led upward. They were steep and less well maintained than the passage to the main cellar, and despite how dry the floor and walls appeared, Margot swore she heard dripping. She glanced to her side and was just in time to see another pathway spearing off to the left. They turned a corner, Andrew murmuring “Watch your step,” then Margot caught sight of a thin line of natural light far above them.