25. Yaaf #2
Number Three registered the movement without turning his head, and the pain it caused him arrived through the link.
The collective absorbed it the way it always did, spreading the pain across eight hearts.
A moment later, shame crossed Rohilah's face, and she loosened her arms deliberately without looking at him.
She is a mother protecting her child , Number Three sent. I understand the reflex .
Mirumah folded her hands on the table. "I have a question.
You say you are one mind in eight bodies.
You answer for each other. You feel for each other.
Then tell me this. When my son greeted me today, when he said I looked well, when he sat with me and answered my questions, was any of it him?
Or have I been speaking with a committee wearing my son's face? "
Inside the collective, Dumuz's anguish flared so hot that Bardov closed his eyes against it.
Let me answer her , Dumuz sent.
No , Yaaf said. Let all of us .
He presented his intention where the other seven could see it, and when understanding moved through them, it was accompanied by dread because what he was proposing was difficult and they were not proficient in it yet.
For how long? Camdor sent.
Long enough for her to see .
Yaaf, who had the most practice at retreating, withdrew from the collective, and the silence in his mind was not welcome but tolerable. One by one the others withdrew as well, and then each of them did something that was completely out of sync with the others.
One reached for his glass mid-thought and set it down unfinished. Another's posture loosened into a slouch. Those were small things, things that the women probably didn't even notice.
"Your question deserves eight answers," Yaaf said, and his own voice sounded strange to him against the silence in his mind. "We have separated to show you that we can, and you will hear each of us say whatever comes to his mind and not what is shared between us."
"When your son sat with you this morning," Bardov spoke first, his voice rougher than usual, "the rest of us felt his happiness. We did not create it. It was his alone, but we warmed ourselves in it, because some of us had nothing to be happy about today."
Number Three went next, and then Number Five.
"The committee, as you call it," Ravsoh said, "spent the morning being embarrassed by how much your son wanted to impress you. We teased him for it."
The others continued, with Dumuz closing the presentation.
He turned in his chair to face his mother.
"Everything I said to you today was mine.
The greeting was mine, and when I said you looked well, it was because you did.
You look free, and the look suits you. My teammates heard me say it, just as they would have if they stood close enough to overhear me.
If you had asked me two years ago whether I would want anyone to hear everything I say and think and feel, I would have said no, but things changed for me.
I think Yaaf has done a good job explaining it, so I won't repeat what he said.
I can just add my own perspective and confirm that it feels good to have seven others share my mind and never feel alone again.
And when I want privacy, I can have it, but usually, I don't."
Mirumah just looked into his eyes for the longest moment and then nodded. "Thank you for sharing this with me."
The collective flowed back together with the relief of a held breath released, and sensing that something had crested and passed, the others began to talk quietly. Cups lifted, and Mattie distributed slices of cake.
Zohara turned in her seat and looked at Sullha. "You knew," she accused.
The murmur died again.
"You had every opportunity to tell us and didn't," Zohara said, her voice sounding bewildered and hurt.
Sullha did not look away. "It was not my secret to tell. It was theirs."
Yaaf crossed the room and stood beside her chair, not touching her, but close enough that everyone in that room knew he had her back.
"I told Sullha because I trusted her with it. It wasn't easy for her to accept it either, but she did, and it meant the world to me." He looked at Zohara and then shifted his gaze to the rest of them. "If you must be angry at someone for the silence, I am the one who asked Sullha for it."
Assessment, Ravsoh sent. Their trust in her is fractured. She is the bridge between the women and everything new. A fractured bridge is an operational vulnerability. It must be repaired .
Sullha held Zohara's wounded gaze without flinching, absorbing the cost of his honesty in front of women whose trust she had spent a long time earning, and what Yaaf registered was not an operational vulnerability.
What he registered was her heart, taking the hit that should have been aimed at him.
How are we supposed to repair it? Camdor asked.
We don't need to do anything, Yaaf answered. Sullha will repair it herself .
The visit wound down after that, the way gatherings do when the harsh truths have been served along with the sweet cake.
The goodbyes happened all around him in a low tide of movement, Asira hugging Camdor and announcing to the room that she now had seven bonus brothers, Baruha laughing wetly and following her daughter's lead, Zohara touching Ravsoh's arm, tentative but not withdrawn, and Karina inclining her head to her son in a way that promised another visit and nothing else.
Mirumah left with formal correctness and dry eyes, and the collective folded itself around Dumuz to absorb the pain.
Yaaf let all of it move past him, because Sullha stood in front of him with Tomek's backpack over her shoulder, and this was the only goodbye that was his alone.
He held out his hand, and she put hers into it.
"I am sorry. I opened this door, and they turned on you."
She tightened her fingers around his. "Doors are meant to be opened, Yaaf. Especially among family."
He looked down at her hand in his, small and work-rough and steady, and he wanted to say something equally profound to her, but he didn't have anything, and the others were busy with their own words and couldn't help him.
Instead, he gently squeezed her hand.
"Call me tonight," he said.
She looked up at him and smiled. "I will."