Number One accepted the assertion and turned his attention back to the bench.
As long as Rohilah was sitting so close to Sullha, he couldn't approach her.
He could remove the thrall from Sullha selectively, the way he had done before, but the other woman couldn't help but notice that Sullha was no longer paying attention to her and talking to no one.
He could possibly thrall the other woman more deeply to ignore Sullha's conversation, but that required going too deep and might have unwanted side effects.
The simplest solution was to get the other woman away from the bench so he could talk to Sullha.
He turned to Number Three.I'm going to send your mother to the bathroom so I can ask Sullha whether she is trustworthy.
Number Three nodded, but he looked extremely uncomfortable, which Number One understood.
That kind of intrusion felt wrong coming from a son, and Number Three would be there along with the other six when Number One implanted the suggestions in his mother's mind.
You should retreat, Number One thought.Pull back from the active layer. You know how to do that. The rest of us will shield you from the thrall so you don't see what's inside your mother's mind.
It was a difficult thing to pull off, but they had all practiced it before. It was a decision to step back and imagine occupying a small place, an inner mental room. They didn't know yet how to close the door to their private rooms completely, but when it rained, even a partially closed door was better than being outside.
Number Three nodded, and then his presence in the collective dimmed. The other seven felt the change. The fabric of the shared awareness reorganized to accommodate the missing power source, and they registered the asymmetry of operating with seven active threads instead of eight.
It always felt odd, but they had practiced this before, so the sensation didn't throw them off.
Number One turned his attention to the woman on the bench beside Sullha and pushed a gentle thrall. It was an easy one, just a suggestion of a full bladder.
A few seconds later, she shifted on the bench and lifted her hand to stop Sullha, who was in the middle of an explanation. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but you'll need to hold that thought. I have to use the bathroom."
Sullha cast a glance behind her, and there was a knowing smirk on her face. "Of course. I'll be here when you return."
Rohilah rose from the bench, brushed at her skirt, and then walked across the playground toward the bathroom with her braid swinging gently against her back.
Number Three's presence brightened when he felt his mother passing by him.
Sullha was still sitting on the bench with her back to them, but as soon as Rohilah disappeared through the bathroom door, she turned her head around.
"Is it you, Yaaf?"
She'd felt him, and it was oddly satisfying that she had.
He removed the thrall from her, and as her eyes landed on Number Three, she smiled.
"Hello, Tersan," she said. "It's nice to meet you."
Number Three's reaction to his own name was a slight pull back. The name hadn't been spoken by anyone for over a year and a half.
He nodded, and through the collective, Number One realized that Number Three didn't know what to say. He was trying to construct a response and failing, as if he had gone mute and the muscles of speech no longer cooperated.
In a way, it was true. Number Three rarely spoke out loud. He wasn't used to the sound of his own voice.
Sullha seemed to understand, and her expression softened. "I know that you've met me already through Yaaf, and I've met you too, but I didn't know that I was meeting you because Yaaf didn't tell me that there were seven other men living inside his mind." She cast Number One an accusing glance. "Now that I get to know you in person, I can say that it's nice to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you, too," Number Three said, and it came out raspy as if he hadn't spoken in weeks.
The thing was that he'd spoken from time to time, so there was no reason for the rasp unless the cause was emotional rather than misuse.
"I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner," Number Three continued as if he was suddenly finding that his voice operated just fine and he was eager to use it. "We thought that you would not like Number One knowing that he was part of a collective."
"It is strange, but I am getting used to the idea of it. I guess I need to meet each one of you and make up my mind whether I like you or not. I can't like a collective, but I can be friends with all of its individual parts."
