World on Fire (excerpt, part 1) - Need input/opinion/critique.

Working on a novel -- worried about the amount of detailing going into it. Too much? Too little? Not explained well? Something that you would/wouldn't continue reading?


  Jonah was alone. Lost in a nightmare.
    Standing on the steps leading to a sharp, stone building, vaguely resembling a heathen church, he glanced back at the woman urging him on. This wasn't the sort of place one would even sneak a glance at, let alone approach. Jonah looked up at the snow swirling around the remains of gargoyles, watchful over the decaying stone faces of the spires that encased the face of the structure.  He wrung his tiny hands and looked back again. The woman was wearing her usual nurses’ gown, with matching Dutch-style bonnet. The whiteness of her apron only accented the dinginess of his own brown woolen jacket and almost-matching hat, greying shortpants, and shoes which were roughly three sizes too large.  Even so, Jonah knew that he was lucky to have it. With the cold weather, shoes and patched trousers were more than most orphans could ever ask for.
     He lifted one small leg and then the other, trudging on at the command of the nurse behind him. On the inside, he felt nearly overwhelmingly grateful for the smile in her voice. Even though it was most likely programmed from years of practice rather than genuine friendliness, the glimpse of cheer that was rarely shown to him seemed to be the only thing encouraging him to take each slippery step. Jonah took one more step, one more, one, one, one, and he felt as if he were being eaten by the enormity of the orphanage. Glancing up, he watched and lost sight of the rotting gargoyles, spires, and even the sky itself, which was heavy, green-grey, and foreboding with the drawing of what was sure to be a champion of thunderstorms.  
    Finally reaching the top of what seemed to Jonah to be at least a hundred stairs, he heard the clunk of the door being unlocked, and saw gears churning through glass walls as heavy machinery slid open the double-doors which were easily six times taller than Jonah himself.  He walked into the monster.
    “Step quickly,” the slightly-too-loud voice of a man echoed from the grand staircase. He was tall, thin, bald, wearing black robes reminiscent of a priest, but open halfway down to reveal a set of sensible grey trousers and dark, dull loafers. His face was sharp and long, as if someone had held him by his chin and crown and pulled relentlessly. Eyes which seemed from a distance to be nearly menacing were, upon closer inspection as Jonah waddled slightly faster, seemed more bird-like and nearly glassy.
     Inside the great construction was just barely less terrifying than out; obviously kept diligently clean, shimmering and lighter colored than the dreary exterior. Jonah decided to himself that he enjoyed the persistent pattern of the floor tiles: large, white squares interrupted at every-other-corner by small greyed squares. He took the uniformity of them as another comfort. A constant, invariable rule, dependable in this strange place which, he suspected, may provide far too many twists and turns.