Chapter One: The Ministress of Protection
The Ministress was seated at her desk at the top of a small dais and did not look up when they entered. The first thing that Cayla noticed were the woman's exceptionally long, smooth legs which were bare from ankle to mid-thigh before they disappeared beneath her short, snug pale blue dress. Cayla turned her head, trying not to appear too inquisitive, and looked furtively around the office while she waited.
It was not an overly large office, considering the woman's position, but it did command a breathtaking view of the valley through the western wall. Paned floor to ceiling in immaculately clean glass, the curve of the western wall accounted for a full eighth of the circumference of the Tower. The sparkling white light of a mid afternoon summer sky illuminated the room and gave it's crisp white walls and baby blue carpet a clean, sterile appearance.
The only furnishings in the room were the dais, which was only three meters across at its widest, the desk at which the Ministress sat, and the enormous LCD display which spanned half of the south wall behind Cayla. The Ministress's desk was shaped like a white teardrop that curved around the woman's body and attached itself to the seat behind her in a single piece. The seat itself had a thick cushion, but no armrests. The display was off at the moment, presenting only a dull black screen dimly reflecting the light from the windows. The Ministress, it appeared, was not fond of the wilderness screensavers which were so popular among her contemporaries. Or plants. Or furniture.
The Ministress's attention seemed to be wholly absorbed in the contents of a document that was being displayed on her notebook computer, also pristinely white, and the only object occupying the surface of the desk. From her position at the foot of the dais, Cayla was not able to see what was being displayed, but it seemed to be making the Ministress very slightly annoyed.
Having nowhere else to look, Cayla began to examine the Ministress herself. She was quite beautiful, of course, but in a controlled, stately fashion. Her medium length golden-brown hair was tied back in a tight bun, and her pale face was unostentatiously highlighted in only the lightest touches of makeup. She appeared to be about thirty-five, though it was hard for Cayla to judge ages at eighteen because everyone between thirty and sixty looked to be about the same age. Although the woman was sitting, she looked to be about six feet tall and was in excellent shape, long and lean, like a cheetah or a greyhound. When Cayla looked up from the Ministress's long, toned legs, where her eyes had inevitably gravitated, she was somewhat embarrassed to discover that the woman was looking directly at her. Her pale blue eyes had the cold, crystalline character of stars.
The Ministress turned to the others, smiling, her perfectly white teeth ruler straight.
"Welcome, Ms. Gently," she said, addressing Cayla's mother. "I hope you didn't have any difficulty finding my office."
"No, Ministress. Ms. Lancrey took the liberty of escorting us," her mother replied.
"Yes, I can see that," she said, giving Ms. Lancrey a meaningful look. "To what do I owe this special, personal visit?" she asked.
"I trust you received my request," Cayla's mother said, her tone becoming a trifle stiff. "I sent it a few days ago and I wanted to be certain that it wasn't neglected."
