In fact, it was incredible that all of the mothers wanted to go. Well, she hadn't gotten a confirmation from her own mother yet, and she was still waiting for Saphira and Burda.
She turned to the one she thought would be the easiest to convince. "Saphira?
"I am torn," she said. "I am the only teacher the younger children have. If I leave, who teaches them? Who explains the world to them in a way that makes it bearable?"
The question was not just for Sullha. It was for everyone.
"I cannot just abandon them," Saphira said.
"You're not abandoning them. They will have others to teach them. You have the right to choose yourself."
Saphira was quiet for a long moment, her gaze shifting to the climbing equipment where Tomek was now alone.
She sighed. "You are right. As selfish as it feels, I have an obligation to myself to seize this opportunity. If I survive the escape, I will feel terrible about the children I left behind and wonder what happened to them. But I'm not going to spend another decade being forced into the breeding building. If there is a way out of this, I am taking it. A chance like this will never come again."
"It might." Sullha leaned over to pat Saphira's knee. "We are not giving up on everyone here. Once we are free, we can plan how to save the others."
Saphira looked doubtful, but she nodded. "I hope one day everyone we are leaving behind will be set free, including the Sacred Mothers. They are just doing their best to survive."
She wasn't wrong, but it was more complicated than that. The Sacred Mothers were dangerous because they were brainwashed and fanatical. Women who could rejoice in being used by strangers for breeding and not feel sorrow when their sons and daughters were enslaved were a lost cause.
Logic didn't speak to them.
The other women didn't say anything, and Sullha wondered whether they felt guilty as well. Karina's eyes were on Saphira, Gindah's were on the ground, Baruha was holding Asira's hand, and Rohilah was stroking Bianca's soft wisps of hair.
Sullha turned to Burda. "What about you?"
Burda looked at the other women, then back at Sullha. "I am not coming." She lifted her hand to stop Sullha from arguing with her. "Listen to me, girl. I am sixty-three years old. I've never been outside these walls. Everything I know is here, and I'm too old to learn new things. Besides, I'm needed here."
"That is not true. You're smart, and you'll adapt."
Burda shook her head. "Let it go, Sullha. In your heart, you know that I'm making the right choice. Just admit it."
It was unnerving how easily Burda could read her. What else had she read in Sullha's expressions and body language? Did she know about Yaaf?
"I can't just let it go," Sullha murmured. "You deserve to be free."
"Perhaps," Burda agreed. "But the truth is that I'm free in here, too. I might not be allowed to go wherever I want, but where would I want to go? What would I want to do? My friends are here, and they need me. It's good to be needed. Perhaps even better than being free."
There was wisdom to her words that Sullha couldn't argue with.
Burda no longer suffered like the younger women. She'd already paid her dues to the Brotherhood and to Mortdh.
"I understand," she said. "I don't like it. But I understand your logic."
"Good."
The two of them looked at each other for a long moment, and then Sullha turned to the toughest prospect.
"Are you with us or with Burda?" she asked her mother.
Leehy stared at her, but it wasn't the vacant stare Sullha was used to seeing.
"Burda has something to contribute. I have nothing. Maybe there is something out there worth living for. I want to find out."
To say that Sullha was stunned was an understatement. She'd expected to argue with her mother, to have the other women help her convince Leehy that she should leave, but none of that was needed. Her mother had heard enough to convince herself that there was no point in staying.
"Thank you," Sullha said.
