Page 97 of Dark Chains: First Link
Sullha looked at the playground, where Tomek was now hanging upside down from one of the bars, his face red and his dark hair dangling.
"Yes," she said. "But it was before Tomek. There were nights when the kitchen knife seemed like the only way out."
The admission was quiet and unadorned, spoken without drama and without tears. It was just the truth of a girl who had been used and abused and had no way to stop any of it.
"What changed after he was born?" Yaaf asked.
Her eyes still on her son, her lips curved in a smile. "The moment the midwife put him in my arms, the calculation changed. I no longer lived for myself. I lived for him. He needed me, and being needed turned out to be enough of a reason to keep going."
"I'm glad he gave you that," Yaaf said. "I owe him."
She chuckled. "You don't, but I do. My love for him is what keeps me going." She turned back to the books. "You need to take these back."
He nodded. "Are you sure you can't keep at least one?"
"I would love to, but I'd better not. It's not worth the risk." She looked up at him and smiled. "Thank you for thinking of me."
The warmth of that smile spread through Yaaf's chest,kindling the coalsof a dormant fire into a steady sense of calm.
The collective absorbed that as well, distributing the good feeling among them. They were trying not to intrude, but he felt them in the background, monitoring and cataloging, learning from his interactions with Sullha the way they learned from everything else, but there was more beneath this analysis. Something that felt less like observation and more like a distant echo of joy.
37
YAAF
"Italked to Asira." Sullha moved the books to one side and angled her body toward him. "I arranged to be assigned to the same kitchen shift so I could strike up a conversation without it seeming weird. We talked, and she invited me to her room in the dormitory."
"What's your assessment of her?"
Sullha's mouth curved. "My assessment. You sound like you are debriefing a spy."
"I didn't mean it that way."
"I know. It's just funny coming from the boy who used to put beetles in my shoes so he could play hero when I screamed."
The memory surfaced in Yaaf's individual consciousness, vivid and warm. They had been eight, the beetle had been enormous, and she hadn't screamed. She had calmly removed it from her shoe, studied it, and then handed it to him, knowing that he had been the one who had planted it there.
"You never screamed at anything," he said.
"I screamed at plenty of things. Just not at beetles." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Asira can be trusted. She draws really well. Her dormitory room is covered wall to wall with portraits of real people and imagined landscapes. She creates entire worlds on paper with colored pencils."
"That's nice, but how does it tell you she can be trusted?"
"Because she doesn't just endure. She has hope. She creates, so she's still fighting, even if she doesn't know what she's fighting for."
The collective found the assessment reasonable. It was not a rigorous intelligence assessment, but Sullha couldn't have provided that even if she tried. What she had done instead was to use her human insight, something that the hive mind lacked. Dave could read surface thoughts and detect lies, but they couldn't evaluate character. That required a different kind of perception, one rooted in empathy rather than analysis.
"I trust your judgment," Yaaf said.
Sullha smiled, and her eyes seemed brighter. "She drew Tomek's portrait. He was enchanted with her. She's good with children."
"Did you tell her anything?"
She looked offended by the question. "Of course not."
"Good. What about Vinnah?"
"I haven't met her yet. Her next kitchen shift is next week, and I'm working on getting assigned to the same one."
