Assignment: Avalon

Chapter Two: Divided Siblings

Kyla XA294 stood very still in the middle of the immense, circular room. Whispers and distant noises made eerie by echoes swirled around her, playing hide and seek among the green marble pillars that separated the great white dome of the ceiling from the flat white expanse of the floor. Directly overhead hung a giant crystal chandelier, and she was struck by the unreasonable fear that it would fall and crush her if she dared to move.

"Wait here," she'd been told by the sour-faced middle-aged woman who had greeted her and led her to this spot, then had disappeared up the wide, black-carpeted staircase Kyla now faced, the only interruption in the equidistant spacing of the pillars along the walls. The room had no furniture, but several closed shiny black doors punctuated the walls behind the pillars. A hint of something like incense, but bitter, not sweet, hung in the chill air.

Kyla had never imagined a place so grand, so beautiful...and so utterly without human warmth. If a house reflected its owner, she hated to think what this room said about her new mistress, Lady Ava Moldar.

The distant noises continued to tease her ears, but still no one appeared on the black stairs. Kyla shifted her stance a little, keeping a wary eye on the threatening chandelier. Whatever Lady Moldar is like, she thought, this place has got to be better than the tekfarm. And at least I'll be closer to Tor...

Her twin had always dreaded the day, inevitable though it was, when Skandar, the artificial intelligence that managed tek society, assigned them their lifetasks. Whenever they were alone, he had railed against Skandar, against the Strator, who set the policies Skandar carried, against the Noble Council that advised the Strator, against the Lords and Ladies that all teks served, against a system that offered them no choice of futures.

He'd talked of running away, of joining the semi-mythical "Free Forcers" who supposedly were conducting a guerilla war against Skandar and the Strator, or, if the Free Forcers really didn't exist, of starting such a war himself. But locked within the tekfarm's fence, constantly watched by Thoughtforcers and worked long and hard in the fields, talk was all it had ever been.

Three months ago, he'd been given his lifetask, before she received hers; unusual, but who knew why Skandar did anything? And it had been the worst possible news, considering how Tor felt: he'd been assigned to Skyforce, the aerial arm of the province's military. He would be serving the hated Skandar and the Strator directly; might even be asked to kill and die for them on the Battlefield, in the never-ending struggle against the other provinces, who would like nothing better than to divide up Skandar's riches among themselves.

He must have been miserable these last three months, she thought. She hoped she could cheer him up. She'd already sent a message to Skyforce Base, telling Tor she'd finally been assigned her lifetask, maidservant to Lady Moldar, and when she would arrive. He might already have sent a message to her here...she shifted her weight again. Maybe the Lady would even let her go visit Tor right away. Of course, she'd have lots to learn about her duties here for the first little while, but surely Lady Moldar could spare her for a few hours...

Surely Lady Moldar could have spared her a chair, too. She'd already had a long trip from the tekfarm, and only the last half hour of it had been on good roads. Her muscles ached from jouncing over potholes for two hours before that. How long would she be kept waiting?

Not the proper mindset for a servant, she admonished herself. Didn't people talk about servants waiting on their masters "hand and foot?"

She just hadn't realized the phrase could be meant so literally.

She looked hopefully up the stairs...and at last her patience was rewarded. The sour-looking servant returned. "Follow me," she said.

She led Kyla up the steps—up close, the black carpet was improbably thick and soft, almost like fur—to a landing where the steps split left and right while a broad corridor continued straight ahead. They followed the corridor, whose black carpet, white walls, and black doors were relieved only by a thin green piping along the baseboard and around the doorjambs. Kyla found the decor hideous. Maybe she'd get used to it.