Chapter 21
YAAF
Yaaf stood behind the gate to the playground and watched Sullha.
The gate wasn't locked. It was there so the children couldn't wander off, not to keep the adult women in or out. There was no guard either.
Sullha was sitting on her usual bench with the same tattered book in her lap that she always brought as a prop. She was watching her son with a small smile playing on her lips and shielding her eyes with her hand against the setting sun.
He cast one more thrall before stepping through the gate.
It had become a habit to walk through the enclosure shrouded in a thrall that made everyone he passed look away and not see him.
Sullha didn't see him either until he was almost at her bench, and even then she only saw him because the slight movement of air at her shoulder gave him away.
She turned.
She'd told him last time that she could feel the displacement of air from his body that was not making a sound, and he enjoyed testing her.
"Is it you?" she asked.
He released her from the thrall and smiled. "You caught me again."
Her face brightened, and it did something to him. The first few times he'd come, she'd been reserved, but now she was back to being the girl he remembered, just all grown up.
Number One sat down beside her, leaving a hand's width of space between them.
He felt an overwhelming urge to take her hand, but he wasn't going to do that.
He wasn't sure whether the time she'd put her hand over his had been a one-time thing or a permission for that small display of physical affection.
"You're late," she said.
He arched a brow. "I didn't know you were waiting for me at a specific time."
She pointed at the setting sun. "Usually, you come before the sun gets so low."
He nodded. "It has been a long day."
"Yeah, mine was long too," she said. "Well, not really. It still lasted the same number of hours, but it was heavier."
"What happened?"
"I met Vinnah at lunch today. She still hums to herself, but she doesn't care who hears it. She just hums."
"That's good, isn't it?"
Given Sullha's expression, it wasn't, and he could feel Number Eight tense.
"We can't trust her," she said quietly. "She's one of them."
Number Eight was pushing through the hive mind, and the others were trying to disperse his agitation, and failing.
What does she mean? Number Eight demanded. One of who?
"Do you mean loyal to the Brotherhood?"
The collective was aware that there were some loyalists among the women, if for no other reason than the additional perks their loyalty could reward them with.
She let out a breath. "It's worse than that. She's one of the Sacred Mothers."
He had never heard that phrase before, and neither had any of the other seven.
What in the name of Mortdh is a Sacred Mother? Number Eight demanded.
Yaaf cringed, and so did Number Two and Number Four. They didn't like invoking the name of the false god, even if it was just a manner of speech.
Sullha caught his expression. "You know who I'm talking about, right?"
"No."
"So, why did you cringe?"
"You gave the impression that a Sacred Mother is not something good, and I braced for the bad news I would have to deliver to Number Eight. He's very anxious to hear about his mother."
"Poor guy," Sullha said.
She glanced toward the climbing frame. Tomek was arguing with an older girl about whose turn it was on the second bar. Sullha watched him for a second, making sure that the argument was not escalating, and then turned back to Yaaf.
"Some of the women in the enclosure formed their own order. A mirror organization to the Devout Order of Mortdh Brotherhood. They believe that as women who carry the godly gene, it's their sacred duty to birth warriors for Mortdh's army."
"That's nothing new. Women in the enclosure have been told that since they were old enough to understand what was required of them."
"True, but even those who accepted their fate without question were not delighted to perform their duty.
It's not like we are being treated as anything sacred.
" She snorted. "We are treated like things.
Like we have no feelings. We are supposed to obey, endure, and ask no questions.
" She took a deep, steadying breath. "Anyway, the women who belong to this order believe that to please Mortdh they need to do everything they can to fortify his army, so one day it is strong enough to conquer the world and spread Mortdh's word to every corner of the earth.
They believe all the women here were chosen by Mortdh for this task, and that what we have to endure is a privilege, not a hardship.
They are overjoyed when they conceive, especially when they have a son.
They celebrate when their boys are taken to the training camp.
They're proud of having been the vessels for Mortdh's will. "
The collective had not expected this. Number Eight hadn't expected it. None of them knew how to categorize this new information.
She wasn't like that when I was growing up, Number Eight thought.
"What do they do?" Yaaf asked. "Do they organize prayers to Mortdh?"
"Among other things. They organize themselves into circles. Each circle has a leader who is an older woman who has birthed at least two sons. She is considered wise in the work. The circle leaders are called Venerable Mothers. The head of the order is called the First Mother. She started it."
"How many of them are there?"
"I don't know exactly. I guess about a fifth of the adult women by now, maybe a bit more. The order is gaining popularity."
"How long has it been going on?"
"About four years. At first, it was a small circle of women, but the First Mother is good at collecting followers. She's charismatic."
Yaaf turned that number over. Four years wasn't that long for such a big change to happen in the enclosure.
Twenty percent of the adult women had converted, which meant there were between two hundred and two hundred and fifty of them.
The collective must have felt vibes of the order while Number One had been passing through the compound, but since they hadn't known what those vibes represented, they had not cataloged them.
There was fervor in the eyes of some of the women, and a sense of satisfaction that made no sense in this place. It had been hiding in plain sight, but the collective hadn't known what they were looking at.
"What's in it for them?" Yaaf asked. "What do they get out of it? Additional perks that the others don't get?"
"Among other things." Sullha sighed.
She looked toward the climbing frame again, probably more out of habit than because she needed to check on Tomek, who was hanging upside down on the lower bar like a boy-shaped bat.
She turned back to face Number One. "I can understand the appeal.
It gives meaning to the suffering. It gives them pride where there was shame.
They feel special. It's not fun to know that we are regarded as nothing more than wombs to produce boys for an army we will never see, and girls who will endure the same miserable existence as we do.
There is no way out other than death. What the First Mother offered was not a solution but a different way to think about the situation. "
He nodded. "I understand. It's the same in the Brotherhood.
Except, there the brainwashing is so relentless that most of the warriors believe that their lives belong to Mortdh, and that dying while doing his work is the highest honor.
We are trained to fight to the death. We cannot allow ourselves to be taken alive. "
She tilted her head. "Are they proud to be warriors in Mortdh's army?"
"Of course."
"How are you different? Did the enhancement have something to do with that?"
"Yes, but there were other factors as well."
"Like what?"
"I can't tell you what they are."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are sharing with me your escape plans, the most dangerous thing you can tell me, but you are hiding personal things. I don't get it."
"I will tell you soon, I promise."
In the background, the collective didn't agree. You can't tell her before she opens her heart to you. She will never love you if she knows that you are part of us.
Soon does not mean tomorrow.
The collective settled, retreating to allow him to think on his own.
"Most women find a way to bear it without joining a crazy order," Sullha said.
"Some go numb. Like my mother. Some get bitter.
Some get angry, and the anger keeps them sharp for a while, and then it wears them down, and then they go numb too, just a little later than those who gave up on life from the start. The Sacred Mothers found another path."
Sullha drew in a slow breath. "The First Mother offers them a story.
She tells her followers that they are not the victims of the work.
They are the sacred vessels. The boys are an offering to Mortdh.
They are not trapped here, they are the heart of a sacred undertaking.
They are not powerless. They are chosen. "
It all made sense. The collective had seen the same twisting of the truth in the training camps and later in the soldiers' barracks.
"And once a woman accepts that story," Sullha continued, “she does not suffer anymore.
The despair, anger, and grief lift, and she's at peace.
That's why they hum, to show how happy they are to serve.
They smile at their babies, and when it's time for the boys to leave at thirteen, they watch their sons go and weep with joy because they have been called to their Sacred Work. They cry for their own glory."
"What do members of the order think about the rest of you?"
"We are misguided, lost, pitiable. We are to be encouraged to join them and find our way to the light of Mortdh."
Yaaf wondered if his mother had joined the order. He hoped that she had because it meant that she had not suffered before becoming sick. That she found some joy no matter how misguided it was.
Number Eight didn't share his opinion. He was angry because he wanted to take his mother out of the compound and now it wasn't possible.
She couldn't be told anything.
The collective folded around Number Eight, helping him absorb the anger. He was going to transcend it as they had transcended everything else.
"Yaaf," Sullha said softly.
He returned his gaze to her.
She looked worried. "Were you thinking about Number Eight?"
He nodded.
"I'm sorry. I hate being the bearer of bad news."
"It's not your fault. You did what I asked you to do, and Number Eight will understand."
"She still hums," Sullha said quietly. "It's the first thing I noticed about her, but I doubt it's any of the tunes she used to hum to her son when he was little.
Now she hums all the time to advertise that she's happy and at peace.
She wants the other women to know that so they will be tempted to join the order. "
Yaaf felt Number Eight let go of the anger and move to sadness.
As hard as it was to admit, it would have been easier if the humming had stopped altogether. A broken woman could be put together again with enough care. A transformed woman was a different story.
There was no coming back from that.
It was like the Eight's transcendence. Now that they had experienced it, they were not willing to give it up. It had become part of them. It was who they were.