Page 13 of The Surviving Sky
“Few people have,” Ahilya murmured.
Yakshas had been a part of the world almost as long as humans, yet a regular citizen learned little about the creatures. All records glossed over the yakshas, mentioning them in happenstance, typical of architect histories that focused only on flight and matters of architect welfare. Even people who couldn’t traject were rarely mentioned, except as bystanders, and then only to indicate how architects were superior in comparison.
She gestured for Oam to turn so she could adjust the clasps on the front. He obeyed, his brows slightly furrowed. This close, she could feel his barely contained nervousness hidden behind the bravado of youth, the twitch by his eyes, the fast breathing, the beads of sweat.
“It’s all right to be scared, you know,” she said softly. “It can be a disorienting experience.”
“I’m not scared,” he said at once, stiffening. Then, betraying his words, he added, “So, these yakshas. They’re huge, aren’t they? You ever see a small one?”
“No, they’re always gigantic. The last time I saw the elephant-yaksha, it was twenty feet tall. The architects think that’s how these creatures survive the earthrages, but of course, there’s more there than that.”
“My fathers said that a bird-yaksha nearly attacked the ashram when they wereyounger—”
“Not attack,” Ahilya said, shaking her head. “Collided. I remember when that happened; the architects had to change the flight path of the city abruptly, and Nakshar ended up avoiding the collision. But it happened because these creatures don’t notice us at all, not even our cities. Whatever plane of existence they are on, we have no part in it. In and of themselves, they’re truly passive.”
Oam bit his lip, nodding slowly.
“Don’t worry,” she said, her voice gentle. “I’ll keep you safe.”
“Maybe I’ll keepyousafe,” he said, straightening. He winked at her, rolled his shoulders back, and returned his attention to the solarnote.
Ahilya didn’t attempt any more placation. Oam had much to learn about personal boundaries, but she couldn’t deny his knack for stumbling into practicalities. The only reason the council entertained her excursions was because she had convinced them of the benefits long before. With her data, they could avoid crashing into the aerial incarnations of the yakshas. They could judge changes in jungle plants after an earthrage. They could discover the best places to land during a lull.
Ahilya had urged Nakshar’s council time and again to use her research for these very matters, but if their response to her latest requests was any indication, most of her reports were languishing in some unseen part of their communiques. They were losing patience with these trips to the jungle, she knew. This time, it was a last-minute concession. Next time, they might not allow her out of Nakshar at all. The urgency grew within her to leave the city already, to dawdle no longer. Her fingers worked faster, securing one clasp after another.
“It says here you didn’t really expect these expeditions to work,” Oam murmured.
Ahilya crouched and adjusted the brace along his waist. “There’s always an element of uncertainty to these things.”
“But this seems more than that,” he said. “It says here you thought the expedition needed luck.That”—andhe quoted—“archeology is a joke. Until I present an alternative, everyone will be content to believe the architects’ inadequate explanations.”
“Their explanationsareinadequate. The yakshas have adapted to the junglesomehow—beyondwhat the architects say. If we find out how, then our civilization will no longer need to fly. Our dependence on the architects could end.”
Oam paused, a nervous laugh escaping him. “You really don’t like the architects, do you?”
Ahilya glanced at him, meeting his uncertain gaze. “Architectsare…necessary,” she replied carefully. “I’d be foolish to deny that. We need them in the city and I need them in the jungle. Who else would traject a path outside?”
“But what you wrote here,” he persisted in a low voice. “What did you mean?”
“I only meant there might be other ways to survive,Oam—betterways. And if you and I find them, then maybe we could changesomething.”
“That’s not our problem, though. Survival is the council’s concern. Sungineers and architects, they can worry about that.”
“We’re part of the city too. Isn’t it our concern as well? If we found something useful to contribute to survival, maybe one day an ordinary citizen like us could get a seat on the council.”
“But people like us, we don’t know anything about flight andarchitecture—”
“If we offered another solution, maybe we wouldn’t needto—”
“But if architects bothered you so much,” Oam said, his voice serious, “why did you marry one?”
The question was so innocent, so obvious, that Ahilya recoiled, momentarily stunned. She opened and closed her mouth, sudden hot tears burning the back of her eyes.Because Iravan is different, she thought, but couldn’t bring herself to utter the words. Iravanhadbeen different, once, a long time before. He’d been passionate about changing the old ways of the council. Arrived from Yeikshar at Nakshar, he had been willing to look at her and the world differently. But his promotion had changed him so much. Her throat tightened. Blood heated her face. In her mind’s eye, she watched him walk away from her again.
Ahilya stepped back from Oam, tugging her solarnote back from his hands. “I think we’re done here,” she said quietly. “Your harness is ready.”
She turned away from Oam’s startled eyes and toward Dhruv.
“Are you finished? The yaksha could move away any minute.”
