The Surviving Sky, page 6
Oam frowned. In a world destroyed constantly and unpredictably by earthrages, where the only certainty was trajection, the architect’s words didn’t inspire any confidence.
Ahilya spoke before he could raise any objections. “We’ll be fine. Won’t we, Oam?”
A startled glance passed over Oam, perhaps at the unexpected warmth in her voice. He returned her smile, flicked a loose braided curl behind him, and stood up straighter.
“Right,” Dhruv said briskly. “Inspect your equipment, both of you—and then double-check each other’s gear. Ahilya, with me, please, while I do the same for you. These should be your final verifications.”
Oam and Naila murmured, each of them asking the other to turn first. Ahilya followed Dhruv to the other side of the copse reluctantly. She knew why he had pulled her out of earshot, but time was running out.
She’d tagged the elephant-yaksha nearly five years before, yet for the first time in her life, she’d see the same creature more than once. The expedition could vindicate all her previous forays into the jungle; it could convince the council to take her seriously; it could even provide hard evidence for survival on land—something that could directly contribute to being nominated to the council. Based on what she found, today’s expedition would either clear her path forever or dash all her expectations to the ground. She followed the sungineer, her mind on the comparisons she could make to her baseline readings.
Dhruv stopped and his voice dropped. “All right,” he said, his businesslike manner vanishing now that they were alone. “Let’s see the deathbox.”
From her satchel, Ahilya pulled out an opaque glass cube larger than her fist, a dozen dials embedded into it. She twiddled the dials, and the cube opened. She flipped the dials again, and the deathbox closed.
“Good, good,” Dhruv muttered. “I’ll need a complete specimen this time, something with root and stem, preferably. The box should accommodate it.”
“I know. I’ll try.”
“They’re really pushing hard for the battery now,” he said, and she knew he meant the council. “Kiana asked about my designs again, and I’m running out of options. She told the entire lab that the council is looking to transfer a sungineer in exchange for an architect next time we trade with the other cities.” Dhruv’s spectacles shook in his hand as he removed them.
Ahilya nodded, her mouth dry. All occupations had to serve the city in some way, and she herself was on thin ground with reports from her previous expeditions becoming increasingly useless. If her study didn’t yield any results soon, the council could revoke her very profession, force her to become a historian who studied and exalted architect histories, just like it could transfer Dhruv. A weight settled in her stomach at the thought of failure.
Dhruv took a deep breath and glanced sheepishly at Ahilya. “Iravan didn’t mention anything, did he?”
“You know we don’t talk about the council.”
“I think—” Dhruv looked at her awkwardly. “I think he asked for the battery.”
She clenched her fists and swallowed the lump in her throat. Dhruv had never liked her husband, though since Iravan’s rise to the council, Dhruv’s forced politeness had verged on careful deference.
Iravan had known this, of course.
He had likely seen through it, had likely disdained it. Was his push for the battery simply an attempt to get rid of an exasperating irritant? Once, she would not have thought it possible, but the power her husband wielded now, the decision he had taken to change the architecture, his numerous subtle calls to obey him…
She met Dhruv’s gaze. “I won’t let him take you away.”
“It’s not that,” Dhruv said, shaking his head. “The battery is not just a way to avoid the transfer; it is the only way for a sungineer to be nominated to that vacant council seat. Kiana said she can’t nominate anyone from the lab unless they make progress with a battery. Iravan has clearly convinced her this is necessary.” He removed his glasses in frustration. “This is the problem with architects. They don’t understand sungineering and its methods. They think just because they can manipulate the world so easily on a whim, we can create devices to do the same thing. The battery is a bad idea for many reasons, but of course, no one listens to me.”
Ahilya pressed his hand. “If you become a councilor, they’ll have to.”
He nodded distractedly and wiped his glasses. “Which depends on today. Just bring back the spiralweed, all right? And be careful. You can’t be close to Naila when you’re harvesting the spiralweed, but once you are beside her again, the forcefield will engage in the deathbox, ensuring the weed stays trapped inside. You do that, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
His warnings to be cautious were understandable, but in his words Ahilya detected an unwillingness to speak to the real matter. She dropped her voice further, the pressure to leave momentarily forgotten in the face of Dhruv’s hidden reluctance.
“Dhruv, listen,” she said quietly. “I read about spiralweed. Doesn’t it feed on trajection? If it gets loose in Nakshar, it could endanger everyone. And if we’re found out, they could exile us both to some backwoods sister city.”
The sungineer drew back in surprise. “Ahilya, we don’t have much time. The council’s nominations close in three months. We’re up against architects for that position. We have to make a significantly better case than them just to be considered. If we don’t do this—forget being nominated; we can wave our professions goodbye. The first thing a full council does is to look at everyone’s professions and how they contribute to the welfare of the city.”
“I know. I don’t like it, though. Isn’t there another plant that’ll do instead?”
Dhruv replaced his glasses. “I’m not even sure spiralweed will do. I’ve already tried everything else, Ahilya—all the plants you’ve brought the previous times. This is my—our—last shot.”
“It’s just—this is so much more dangerous than anything else I’ve smuggled in. The others were manageable, but spiralweed, it’s the highest level of contraband—”
“There are two layers of protection on the deathbox. Glass itself is the strongest material we have in the city, and the forcefield will block any interaction the spiralweed can have with the world outside the box. Both of those layers would have to stop working for anything to happen, and you’d have to be an utter idiot to willingly meddle with a working deathbox.”
“But—”
“Look, if you find usable results outside with the yaksha, maybe we won’t have to worry about any of this at all. You’d be our hope for the council seat. But Ahilya, you’d have to find incontrovertible proof of survival in the jungle today to beat the architects. That’s… that’s—”
“I know,” she said shortly. “It’s too long a shot.”
In the silence that grew between them, Oam and Naila’s murmurs sounded louder. A light breeze ruffled Ahilya’s hair. Wordlessly, she returned the deathbox to her satchel.
Then Dhruv said, “I’m sorry.”
Ahilya didn’t reply. Her mind echoed with Tariya’s voice, asking her to abandon her childish ambitions. Naila’s condescension dripped from her tone as she explained to Ahilya what an earthrage was. The truth was there was precedence for sungineers on the council. Dhruv had been an ally—he had always been encouraging—but they both knew he had a better chance at the council seat than she did. Yet to be reminded of it now, in such stark terms—
She glanced away to the other two, not wanting to think about it. “Do you think they’re done yet? We’re burning the last of daylight.”
Dhruv didn’t follow her gaze. He squeezed her cheeks together and lifted her chin up as though she were a reticent ten-year-old again and he her constant cheerleader.
“You’ve come far, all right?” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that. We both have an equal chance. A terrible chance, yes, but an equal one. Who knows what you’ll find out there when you study the yaksha? Getting spiralweed back just doubles our—”
Dhruv froze.
His gaze went past Ahilya and his voice faltered. “I-Iravan,” he said, and dropped his hand. “I didn’t know you’d be joining us.”
Ahilya spun around.
Through a curve in the copse, her husband stepped forward. Iravan brushed a few stray leaves from the cuffs of his kurta. His gaze went from Dhruv to Ahilya, an assessing look. Dhruv moved back.
Ahilya stared at her husband, her heart pounding. She gripped her satchel out of instinct, the instruments clinking together. How long had he been standing there? Had he heard them talk? Why was he there at all? Iravan smiled as though he had heard her last question. Ahilya had always hated that particular smile: dark, humorless, heavy with irony.
“I came to see my wife,” he said to Dhruv, though his eyes held hers. “If it’s all right with everyone here, of course.”
Oam and Naila had stopped their chatter to stare at him. Iravan was not the tallest there, yet when he strode forward, his presence dwarfed the copse, making the others insignificant. On Dhruv’s face Ahilya read her own alarm. Had Iravan heard them talk about the spiralweed? It didn’t seem so, unless he was hiding his reaction. But why would he do that? She was being paranoid. Wasn’t she? A hundred thoughts piled in her mind. Ahilya felt Dhruv leave her side.
Iravan wasn’t trajecting anymore—there were no blue-green tattoos on his dark skin—but the copse became smaller the closer he came. He stopped a handbreadth away from her and inclined his head, a wry smile on his face.
Ahilya inhaled, trying to calm herself, but Iravan’s scent assaulted her: firemint and eucalyptus, sharp and spicy. She could almost feel his stubble, like dry brush. She could distinguish the deep brown from the black in his eyes. The copse, the twilight, him—it unsettled her. In her mind, Dhruv and the others melted away, and she and Iravan stood there alone, as though transported back to seven months before. This was how they’d faced off, right before unclothing each other, their haste youthful, almost angry. She felt suddenly, desperately, a desire to cup his cheek, embrace his body, forget their feud. Yet panic paralyzed her.
“Hello, Ahilya,” he murmured. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I was hoping we could talk.”
“I can’t right now. We’re already late.”
“We haven’t seen each other in months—”
“That was your decision, Iravan. I sent you a message.”
His face grew withdrawn. Iravan pressed a hand against the nape of his neck. “I—yes—that’s true. But I’m here now, and we could—I don’t know—sort it out. Perhaps your expedition can wait?”
“It can’t,” she said. “I’m tracking a tagged yaksha for the first time, and it might move any minute. We can talk when I’m free.”
“Or I can accompany you. If you’re heading into the jungle, you need an architect to traject your path outside.”
“We have Naila,” Ahilya said. “She is—”
“A Junior Architect,” Iravan completed. “I know; I assigned her to your expedition.”
“And I accept with gratitude. She’ll do.”
“Ahilya, please—trajection isn’t as easy as it’s always been. My skills can be helpful. And we can—I don’t know—I’ve missed you.”
“No means no, Iravan.”
He drew back at that, shock on his face. They still stood close, and their voices were quiet, but in the tension of his neck Ahilya could sense his hurt and confusion. His eyes traveled to her throat to the tracker locket, then toward Dhruv and the others, and back again to the satchel she gripped.
She released her bag at once, but she knew it was a mistake even as she did it. Iravan knew her too well. Besides, he was an architect, a Senior Architect. No one could traject humans, but his entire job was to detect and maneuver latent states of being. He had asked the sungineers for a battery. How much did he know of Dhruv’s desperation? How much had he guessed about their alliance? How much had he heard? She tried not to swallow.
Iravan’s brows furrowed. “This is unlike you,” he said, his voice becoming reflective. “Why are you being this way?”
“Maybe I’m tired of doing everything on your terms.”
“My terms?” he began, sudden fury in his eyes, but then he breathed deeply and shook his head. “No, you’re deflecting. You’re hiding something. What is it?”
“Go back inside. We can talk later.”
Iravan’s veins blazed blue-green, and the grass by Ahilya turned to thorns. “Tell the truth, Ahilya. Why don’t you want me out there with you?”
“Tell the truth, Iravan. Why didn’t you visit me at all during the earthrage?”
He blinked. He hadn’t expected that. The thorns by her feet receded.
“I was busy keeping the ashram in flight,” he snapped. “There were complications which required the skills of a Senior Architect. It may surprise you, but terrible effort goes behind the comfort and safety you live in. If architects don’t traject constantly, the city falls to the earthrage.”
Ahilya’s own anger rose. She stared at him, unable to believe he would throw her inability to traject in her face.
“Let me come with you—” he began again, but Ahilya stepped back a few paces, increasing the distance between them.
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” she said, and this time her voice was pitched loud enough for everyone to hear.
The other three paused their murmuring.
She took another step back. “I’m sorry, Iravan. You don’t know our expedition, you have not been prepared, and frankly, I’ve no time to explain it to you. Naila is more than capable of trajecting out in the jungle. We can talk about this later. Leave.”
For a moment, Iravan stayed unmoving. His face was calm, but his eyes shone with fury and humiliation. He would never create a public scene, she knew, not Senior Architect Iravan. Shameful triumph rose in Ahilya; rage him for forcing her to behave this way. She turned away, infuriated with the both of them, when from the corner of her eye she saw him cross his arms, straighten his back, and plant his feet firmer on the ground.
“Junior Architect,” he called out. “I believe I gave you a key to the boundary?”
Naila glanced from Ahilya to him. “Yes, Iravan-ve,” she whispered. She unlocked a rudra bead from her bracelet and hurried over to him.
Ahilya’s breath caught in her chest. She stared at the key—it was more precious than any other rudra bead in the world, a means to go outside the city that she had begged and fought the council for. With necessary permissions embedded into it, the key was a physical approval for her expedition. Ahilya might be the expedition’s leader, but the temple always gave the bead to her accompanying architect. She watched in rising horror as Naila’s trembling hand placed it on Iravan’s upturned palm.
Iravan’s hand closed. He crushed it.
Woody flakes and glass circuitry fell gently to the earth.
Ahilya felt Iravan’s cold gaze on her.
For a second, they stared at each other silently, the copse churning with the tension in their gaze.
Then Iravan turned back to Naila. “I have another engagement for you. Something better suited to your talent, I should imagine.”
He withdrew one of his many rudra bead necklaces and detached a single black bead. It looked no different to Ahilya—perhaps a tad larger than most others—but Naila gasped. “I… I’m not ready,” the Junior Architect said.
Over by his sungineering equipment, Dhruv frowned.
“If you’re ready for the jungle, you’re ready for this,” Iravan replied, and smiled.
The kindness in his smile took years off his face. It cut through Ahilya like a knife. She stumbled back a step away from them. Iravan reserved those smiles for when he shared in other people’s joys. When was the last time she’d received such a smile? She couldn’t remember.
Iravan placed the rudra bead in Naila’s palm. He closed his own palm over it, and a tight pattern of interlocking branches grew on their hands. After a moment, the blue-green light dissipated.
“Go,” he said, releasing Naila. “They’ll expect someone at the watchpost soon.”
A smile of disbelief crept onto Naila’s face. She attached the bead to one of her bracelets. Within minutes, she had shucked off the equipment Dhruv had given her. Without as much as an apologetic look, the Junior Architect disappeared the way Iravan had come, still riveted by whatever the rudra bead had meant.
In the silence that grew with her departure, Iravan turned to Ahilya. “It looks like you’re short an architect.”
Ahilya’s heart beat a tattoo in her chest. She shook in cold fury. “You don’t know what you’ve done. Without that key, we have no permission to leave the city. It’ll be weeks before I find another Junior Architect. There would be no point to an expedition. The yaksha will have moved on by then.”
“You might need someone who doesn’t need permission to leave the ashram, then. A Senior Architect.” Iravan spread his hands, the gesture unsympathetic. “As it happens, I’m quite free.”
Ahilya glanced at the others by the knot of trees. Oam was glaring at Iravan, but Dhruv met her eyes unblinkingly. Sweat beaded the sungineer’s forehead. His hands shook as he reached for his spectacles. In his nervousness Ahilya read her own anguish.
It would have been easy to smuggle the spiralweed in with Naila, but with Iravan? Dare they attempt it? Yet without the jungle plant to aid the battery he was building, Dhruv would be forced out of Nakshar’s solar lab. Ahilya herself would have no chance at the council if she postponed the expedition. Her best friend, her research, her pride… with his one action, Iravan had threatened to take everything away.
Iravan’s hands curled by his sides, clean of the rudra bead he had discarded. He stood emotionless, waiting for her to speak.
“Very well,” Ahilya said coldly. “Dhruv will resize Naila’s gear for you. And then we leave.”
5
IRAVAN
Iravan fell in with Ahilya and Oam as they progressed through the outer maze. He didn’t traject; there was no need to yet. All the plants here were still guided by the Disc Architects in the temple who dispersed their trajection energy for citizens to use.
