The Surviving Sky, page 12
The images came to him again, the boy’s panicked tumble as Iravan let go, how Iravan had been so dispassionate, how easy the decision had been. In that moment of choice, he had been fully aware of his actions. There was no escaping it. He had done it. He had killed Oam. The horror threatened to consume him. Iravan couldn’t breathe.
He opened his mouth to acknowledge his guilt, glancing at Bharavi, but her eyes burned like hot coals. A small gray ice rose sprouted between her fingers, barely visible, resting on her rosewood chair—
And Iravan hesitated.
Chaiyya raised an eyebrow, waiting for his response.
The ice rose. It meant something.
Iravan inhaled deeply, his breath ragged in his chest. Arbitrary thoughts chased each other. Why hadn’t Chaiyya chosen a more comfortable chair? The way she was sitting—squirming—And Airav, so unsmiling. How often had he laughed with Iravan after their council meetings? For Airav to show no concern right now, for all of them to be so aloof—
Iravan’s shoulders straightened as it hit him.
He stared at them, and they stared back, his friends—no, not his friends, councilors. Those rosewood chairs weren’t ordinary chairs. They were high-backed council seats. This was not an informal gathering. This was a council assembly—impromptu, formal, significant. Iravan’s heart began to race. The rudra beads felt heavy in their absence.
“Iravan?” Chaiyya pressed.
Bharavi still played with the ice rose. What was it? What did she mean?
The image came to him in a flash. A private ward in the sanctum, its floor entirely laced with those gray flowers. Manav’s ward, where Bharavi often worked. Iravan had visited it once.
He stared at the ice rose. Manav had been a Senior Architect and councilor five years earlier—the last time Nakshar had possessed a full council of seven—when Iravan himself had ascended to the position. The man had turned out to be an Ecstatic only weeks after Iravan’s own rise. Iravan had personally excised him, and ever since then, Manav’s seat had lain vacant.
Why did Bharavi want him thinking of him? Something to do with the vacant council seat? The one that Ahilya was eyeing; the one the rest of the council had to make a decision on in three months? Each councilor had to place their nominations for discussion, and Bharavi had never been fully supportive of Naila’s nomination, not recognizing the talent in her. And Naila had been at the watchpost. Was this Bharavi’s way of telling him the Junior Architect wasn’t worthy? Why talk about that now, at this critical moment?
“You were asked a question,” Airav said.
Unable to see the snares, Iravan answered slowly. “I—I’m not taking responsibility for anyone’s death. Nor for the alarm’s failure. I’m accepting responsibility for sending Naila to the watchpost.”
“And you sincerely believe that’s the only wrong you did here?” Chaiyya asked.
Bharavi didn’t move, but Iravan could almost see her nod. She still held the ice rose between her fingers.
“Yes,” Iravan said, swallowing. “That’s the only weight I choose to bear.”
Chaiyya exchanged glances with Airav.
Airav’s penetrating stare lanced through Iravan, and Iravan stopped himself from recoiling. Airav was the seniormost councilor. His arms were covered with rudra beads up to the elbow, a sign of his tenure and responsibility.
“I’m afraid your wife is right,” Airav said in his slow, rumbling voice. “This fine distinction you’re making isn’t reasonable. Your failure at the watchpost was the failure of the alarm. It killed a citizen. It endangered the life of a Senior Architect—”
“My life—”
“Not yours. Your life belongs to the ashram first and foremost. That’s what it means to be an architect. Especially a Senior Architect.”
The reprimand seared through Iravan. He forced himself to meet Airav’s gaze.
“Your actions nearly annihilated Nakshar,” Airav continued. “You risked everything for a selfish motive.”
Iravan rubbed his empty wrist with a shaking hand. “No. Please. You know the watchpost duty isn’t hard. Naila should have been able to do it. She’s good enough—you know this. You know this.”
Chaiyya glanced at Airav, troubled. “He’s right.”
“He still shouldn’t have assigned it to her. That was an action calculated to keep his own needs in mind, not the welfare of the ashram.”
“You’re right,” Iravan said, desperate. “But please—you have to see. Even if I had been at the watchpost, the alarm would’ve failed. Three people would have died. I—I saved two.”
“This is conjecture at best,” Airav said. “You’re suggesting there’s a higher reason the alarm failed. You have no evidence of that.”
“Unless you’re implying something went wrong with the sungineers in the lab?” Kiana asked. The Senior Sungineer, her cane across her knees, frowned at the possibility of it being her team’s error. She was Iravan’s greatest rival on the council, but she’d seconded Bharavi’s nomination allowing Iravan a chance at the council in the first place. Now as she looked at him, her face was grave.
“No, that’s not—not what I mean,” he said, tripping over his words. “But it’s a pattern. This has to be the shortest lull in our recorded history. And earthrages are getting longer. Whatever happened with Naila—it’s a part of this. These are symptoms of a greater problem.”
“What do you mean?” Kiana asked, pushing her spectacles up.
Bharavi shook her head, but Iravan forged ahead anyway, stumbling through an explanation of the Resonance—how it had knocked him out of the Moment, how it had chased him, the manner in which it had overtaken him in the jungle. “It’s an interference in the Moment,” he ended, looking from one face to another. “I’ve—I’ve sensed it.”
Airav drew in a breath. “You’re condemning yourself with your own words. This Resonance—this is something an Ecstatic would say. Is it not?” The bald man turned to Bharavi, asking for confirmation.
Iravan’s heart sank. Too late, he understood Bharavi’s warning. Manav’s Ecstasy had shocked all of them. To have an architect with such incredible power lose control of trajection? It would have destroyed Nakshar. No wonder the councilors were wary now. They were scared of him.
He stared at her, silently pleading. With her work in the sanctum, Bharavi was the council’s expert on Ecstasy. She hadn’t believed him about the Resonance earlier, but she had to now. She had to.
Bharavi’s voice was careful. “Detecting Ecstasy is as obscure as it has always been. I can’t speak about this Resonance specifically.”
Senior Sungineer Laksiya cleared her throat. Iravan had been dreading her. Laksiya was always the last to speak in any council meeting, with a habit of cutting straight to the matter at heart. Her manner was cold to everyone, but she didn’t even look at him now, as though his being there was a presumption.
“We don’t need an expert’s opinion on this,” she said. “I think the situation is quite clear. I did say he was too young to be a part of the council.”
“We don’t induct people into the council based on their age,” Airav said reprovingly. “We induct them based on their expert skill. Their independent thinking. Their contribution to the survival of the ashram. Iravan fulfilled those criteria when we chose him.”
“Yes,” Laksiya said. “But look what those demands have done. If he were an ordinary Maze Architect, he’d have an opportunity for a healthier life. As Senior Architect, he’s burning out. He’s at greater risk of Ecstasy than any ordinary architect.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions,” Bharavi said. “Detecting an Ecstatic isn’t straightforward. Three separate conditions must simultaneously fail before we determine if an architect is at risk.”
“Yes,” Laksiya replied. “And hasn’t Iravan failed all three? His material bonds are loosening, as is obvious with his marriage to Ahilya. He has been flirting with the limits of trajection—he admitted to taking on more duties, we all saw his incredible escape from the jungle, and now he tells us about a mysterious Resonance that only he can sense? That’s two out of three. Add the fact that he chose to send a Junior Architect to the watchpost, knowing full well such an action would endanger Nakshar’s safety? That’s three on three.”
“The last one is hardly on the same scale,” Bharavi began, but Laksiya shook her head.
Her withering gaze swept them all in it. “He has always been reckless, and his position has made him more so. And now because of your decision to have him perform as a Senior Architect, he must lay himself bare for all of us.”
Bharavi jerked in her chair. “What are you saying?”
Laksiya transferred her cold gaze to Bharavi. “I vote that we put Senior Architect Iravan through the Examination of Ecstasy immediately.”
Iravan started to shake. His vision blurred. His throat grew thick.
A vote. A formal vote. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. Bile rose in him and he resisted the urge to vomit.
“You can’t be serious,” Bharavi sputtered. “You want to Examine him now? Look at him—he can barely sit in his chair. The Exam is the last step in checking an architect for Ecstasy. We never administer it unless there’s great proof—”
“How much more proof—”
“It strips away self-esteem,” Bharavi continued, speaking over Laksiya. “Even healthy architects take time to recover. He’s in no condition to be tested. You might as well excise him without the farce of an Examination.”
Laksiya remained unmoved. “If he truly is an Ecstatic, then it’s more dangerous for the ashram to wait until he is over his ordeal. What would you do—wait until he has tried to sabotage the rudra tree like Manav did? Wait until he trajects a person? Place your vote, Senior Architect Bharavi, and consider whether your reasoning isn’t biased because of your personal affiliation with him.”
Iravan’s stomach roiled. His gut hardened with a need to escape. He wouldn’t survive the Exam. He knew this as certainly as he knew his own name. Bharavi appeared to him as though from afar.
“I vote no,” she said to Laksiya, eyes flashing. “In order to do the Exam, he needs to enter the Moment, and I don’t think him capable of doing that—not right now. He’ll fail the Exam on those grounds alone. It would be a false positive. I vote no.”
“The Exam isn’t meant to be a trap,” Airav put in, his deep voice rumbling over them. “It’s a pass-fail test. The goal is not to traumatize him. It’s for him to sift his mind for the truth.” Airav glanced at Iravan. “I’m sorry, my friend. But Laksiya is right. The trajection we saw you do should not have been possible. I vote yes.”
Iravan clenched his fists, hard. His head threatened to explode like an overripe melon.
Two yesses. All it would take was one more, and he’d be forced to crawl through his mind. He’d have to examine every grievous breach of trajection’s limits, every regrettable decision that had jeopardized the ashram, every perverse thought about his material connections, all to prove he was not an Ecstatic. He’d be forced to relive it all, how he had crushed the magnaroot. How he had let go of Oam. How he had failed Ahilya.
A small moan escaped him. He tried not to gag.
Chaiyya studied him. Her round face was disturbed, wrinkles heavy on her forehead. “I think Iravan is in danger of Ecstasy. But to test him now—we’ll be testing his will, not his intent. He could spiral out of control. The Exam itself would fail. It’s wiser to wait until he has recovered. I vote no.”
They all turned to Kiana. The Senior Sungineer frowned into her hands. Her fingers moved in the manner of weighing the pros and cons of each side. Oh, rages, what if she decided against him now? Iravan had opposed her so many times. When they’d argued about the battery, Kiana had walked away from the meeting before Iravan could smooth things over. They were still friends, surely, but when it came to the ashram’s safety, Kiana would not relent.
She looked up at Iravan. “There’s merit to your arguments. Maybe there’s a pattern to what you say. I wonder if by putting you to the test, we might not be premature. And if Naila is as good as we’ve been led to believe, then why didn’t she sound the alarm? I vote no.”
A dry sob escaped Iravan.
“Th-thank you,” he whispered.
“There’s still the question of punishing your transgressions,” Airav said. He turned to the others. “He’s still guilty of abandoning his post. That’s actively endangering the ashram. That alone is grounds to ask for a vote of no confidence.”
“That’s rule-bending, Airav,” Bharavi snapped. “We’ve all done something similar. He needs a slap on the wrist, not to be disgraced and returned to Maze Architect. The punishment needs to fit the crime.”
“It resulted in a citizen’s death—”
“You can’t decide that in isolation,” Bharavi said. “The measure of Iravan’s guilt regarding the watchpost depends on whether there is value to his arguments about the interference. What if he’s right? Are you going to demote him for saving two lives? You agreed that Naila should have been able to sound the alarm.”
“I did. Which means we’ll need to investigate this claim.”
“I can do that,” Kiana volunteered.
“No, let me,” Iravan burst out, voice scratchy.
“No,” Airav said. “It can’t be one of us, Kiana—we have to sit in judgement of his arguments. And it certainly can’t be you, Iravan. That would be a conflict of interest.”
“It’s not,” Iravan protested. He cleared his throat. “Please, it’s the best use of my resources. I’m not going back on the Disc this flight, not after what I’ve been through. I’m most invested in clearing my name. And I’m the only one to feel the Resonance. Let me do this.”
“It would still be a biased report—”
“It won’t—Please—”
“Let him do it,” Chaiyya interrupted, putting a hand on Airav’s arm. “Biased or not, we have to sit in judgement. If we’re not convinced, it’s all the same.”
Airav frowned. “We’ll have to make a healbranch vow. It’s the only way for us to be impartial to his findings. But you can’t make such a promise, Chaiyya. If you break it, the ashram’s healbranch won’t respond to you anymore.”
“I’m still going to.”
“It will poison you instead of healing you.”
“I know, Airav.”
“You’d waste away, Chaiyya.”
Chaiyya’s round face twisted in a sardonic smile. “It’d be the same for any one of us if we broke a healbranch vow.”
“The rest of us aren’t pregnant,” Airav pointed out. “How do you think your wife will react if you tell her you endangered yourself?”
“Not well,” she admitted, tiredly. “But would you let me judge Iravan if I didn’t take the vow?”
Airav shook his head, disturbed.
“Precisely,” Chaiyya said. “I won’t recuse myself, Airav. Word the terms and conditions as you see fit, but let Iravan investigate and let us be about it.”
For a moment, everything hung in balance. Iravan watched them, Laksiya’s expressionless face, Airav’s sonorous breathing, Bharavi’s grim eyes. Then Airav nodded, and one by one the others did.
A simple twining pattern began to grow on Airav’s arms. Between the chairs, a thin white stem emerged, then split into five branches that reached for the councilors. All of them extended their hands, and the branches twirled around their wrists forming wooden bracelets.
“In three weeks,” Airav said, “I vow to render judgement on Iravan’s findings about his theory of interference in trajection.”
Iravan tucked his trembling hands under his arms. Three weeks. The shortest standard duration for any investigation. Airav must think him a lost cause already. The trial was not merely about the results of the investigation; it was about becoming worthy of the council again. A deep shame rose in Iravan.
“I vow to pervert neither my interpretation,” Airav continued, “nor my understanding of Iravan’s findings. I vow to base my judgement not on my friendship or kinship with Iravan, neither on hostility or rancor, but on Nakshar’s preservation, first and alone. If his claims are insufficient, I vow to enforce appropriate punishment as dictated by Nakshar’s laws, my conscience, and the rest of the council.”
“Agreed,” the others murmured.
The branches snapped away and retreated into the floor. A white bracelet gleamed on each of their wrists along with their rudra beads.
“Well,” Laksiya grunted. “I suppose now we’re all in for it. The judgement will be as much of us as it would be of him.”
Chaiyya rose ponderously. “Make your best case to us, Iravan. We’re on your side. If there’s logic to your theory regarding this Resonance, then you have nothing to worry about.”
Airav rose too, digging into the pockets of his white kurta. He withdrew a tangle of rudra bead necklaces and bracelets and handed them back to Iravan. Iravan gripped them hard, breathing in their scent before looping them around his neck and wrists.
“For what it’s worth,” Airav said, “you’re still a councilor and a Senior Architect. It’s time to act like it, my friend.”
A woman of few words, Laksiya merely nodded at Iravan. She walked away with Airav and Chaiyya, their chairs melting behind them.
Kiana stood up, her chair dissolving as well. Her eyes looked wary behind her spectacles. Her cane tapped on the ground soundlessly. “I’ll alert the sungineers’ lab that you may be around to ask questions, shall I?”
“Thank you, Kiana.”
She gave Iravan a long look. “Annoying as you are, I’d hate to see you leave the council.” She pressed his shoulder, strode away to a wall, activated her key, and disappeared.
In the end, only Bharavi remained.
Iravan dropped his head into his hands. “What do I do, Bha?”
He felt Bharavi’s tread, then she was kneeling by him, lifting his head up. “You understand what you’re up against,” she said grimly. “Why do you think Airav gave you back your beads?”
“I… I’m still a Senior Architect.”
“A Senior Architect with full privileges,” Bharavi said. “He gave you vine to see if you would crawl out of this pit or hang yourself. They’re going to watch you, Iravan. If there are signs, any at all, another indication of a failed marriage, the slightest rule-bending, even if it’s your due as a Senior Architect—an Examination could happen. You don’t have three weeks; you have until your next mistake.”
