Spider's Game ((Book One) #Wattys2016 Winner!)

Chapter 3- Maddness

The sides of the meeting room curved, turning the room into a bullet shaped oblong of blue steel. Nothing broke the sleek metallic curve but for a table with three chairs on one side and a lone seat on the other. The furniture was across the room in front of the single flat wall. The legs of the chairs and table had been built at a slant so they sat evenly on the curved floor. Two of the three chairs and the far side of the table were filled with two elderly gentlemen.

The Agency's owners. One a gray haired scientist with thick spectacles and large sausage-like fingers. The other a tawny skinned gentleman, head shaved and shined till it formed a reflective surface. The third chair, Mr. Red's chair was empty.

Allison walked down the center of the floor, her metal tipped heels singing as they brushed the floor. She strode directly behind the lonely chair facing the men and set her hands on its back. She leaned a slight portion of her weight against the chair back, nothing more than an indication she'd stopped.

Do the other girls ever sit down? Or is the seat simply to demonstrate the inequality between the seated men and the agents who faced them across the table?

"Have a seat," said the gray haired man, Johnny, as he liked to be called. Though Allison did a little research and found his birth name, she'd never say it aloud.

"If you command, I'll kneel," Allison replied, making no move toward the chair.

"As it has ever been," Johnny said.

The shiny headed bald man, Lord Wasem, rarely spoke, and he didn't now. His steel nailed hands rose to the table top and a cascade of clicks rang into the room as his fingers drummed on the tabletop.

"Tradition is both a garland and a chain. In either event it demonstrates our role." Allison could ask why she was there but assumed they wanted to retain the reigns of the conversation. Her silence demonstrated her docility. See, the unspoken words said, I expect nothing from you, demand nothing. I only obey.

There were two things they could want from her- either to hand her another role, an assignment of some sort or they wanted a report on the new girl.

"You are getting on well with Glory?" Lord Wasem said.

Not even a question, then they did want to feel powerful, to know she would answer without being asked. This was usually a game they played with inexperienced operatives. They already know they own me.

"Glory is strong. She has a streak for empathy that Red will stamp out but she is settling in admirably."

"Yes Red can handle her now," Lord Wasem said.

An assignment then, since the comment implied an end to her brief mentorship. To bad, talking to Glory made her feel almost human, gave her something she was allowed to care about.

"Red is a magician. A sorcerer of sorts." Johnny said.

They were dwelling on Red, and he was absent. I'm being tested. Allison's heart thudded and she forced it to slow lest the slight movement of her chest give her away. Red would notice, these two might not have the skill but wisdom dictated not testing their abilities.

"If you are the art, he's the craftsman," Johnny leaned forward, his this glasses making his eyes huge and bug like.

"But I'm not art, merely the paintbrush. The work my hands do on your behalf, that is the art." Allison replied.

"Which places us as wealthy patrons of the arts," Johnny said.

Lord Wasem's fingernails pounded on the table.

"Or the talent, the inspiration of the artist," Allison said.

"We have a minor masterpiece that craved your brushstrokes." Johnny released a file from his net implant to hers.