Page 45 of The Surviving Sky
“No one needs to know an architect was out there in the jungle,” she’d said pointedly when he’d raised the idea of making a personal apology.
Iravan had sat up despite his aching limbs. He had not been able to shake the image of what he’ddone—ofhow he’d let go of Oam, how he’d pushed himself into Nakshar with the last of his energy. The guilt was toomuch—itwas affecting his recovery, he knew.
“This isn’t about thereputationof the architects, Bha,” he’d said. “It’s about the right thing to do. I had a duty of care.”
“What do you think will happen, Iravan?” Bharavi shot back. “You think broadcasting your role in this will relieve your guilt? No one knows except the council andNaila—”
“So, your solution is to let Ahilya carry this burden alone? To let the boy’s parents think his death is her fault?That’syour advice?”
“Airav gave you three weeks,” Bharavi said, unfazed. “You’ve spent one of those recovering, and let’s not overestimate the progress you can make in the other two. Laksiya will provide the council’s condolences to Oam’s fathers. You need to forget what happened in the jungle and focus on your investigation.”
They had argued for nearly an hour, the both of them becoming more and more agitated. The guilt had grown in Iravan, along with a fury at himself and Bharavi and all the council, but Bharavi had been relentless. Eventually, Iravan had grown tired, his will to fight her depleted. He had reluctantly agreed to her demands, but his headache had become much worse, and the burden on his chest had only grown heavier.
“Your being there would have helped,” Ahilya said quietly now, glancing at him. “Perhaps his fathers would not choose to leave Nakshar.”
“I—Iconcur. But for now, the fewer people who know about the investigation and the expedition, the better it isfor…the both of us.”
She scoffed, a soft sound. “Is this where you cleverly ask for my silence?”
“Rages,Ahilya—I’mnot—That’snot—”Iravan took a deep breath to calm himself. A dull fury throbbed in him. “You can only do what you think is right. I’m trying the best I can, to make things better between us, but I can’t do it alone. And I can’t do it if you suspect everything I say.”
She studied him for a long moment. “It won’t be easy. We’re angry with each other.”
“Anger is honest, at least. But suspicion? That givesme—itgivesus—no chance.”
“We might find a limit to the effort.”
“Or maybe we’ll find that’s how we are. We’ve always returned to each other no matter what. Ahilya, we’ve alwaysreturned.”
Her eyes grew thoughtful. Perhaps she was remembering those other times they’d argued, how they had become stronger for it. Rages, he hoped she was remembering it like he did. He hadn’t trajected for a week, his mind bereft of the comfort of theMoment—butat least trajection was available to him now, if not advisable. With the Examination ofEcstasy—withexcision—
Iravan gripped the arms of his wheelchair, breathing hard. They’d cut him away from the Moment completely, denying him his natural state within a second vision, denying him any power, leaving him to be less than ordinary. He watched Ahilya, his breathing shallow.If there are signs, any at all, another indication of a failed marriage—
Ahilya glanced at him, then nodded once. Iravan trembled slightly, exhaling, and released his chair.
The field narrowed into a tunnel of rose bushes, then opened into one of Nakshar’s main thoroughfares. Iravan had taken the same path toward the library, but where there had been emptiness only an hour before, a bazaar had now emerged. Tall, multistoried trees stretched in all directions, thin and weak-looking. Simple wooden bridges connected the heights of one tree to another. Vendors and artisans had arranged their wares on flat branches and between roots, shouting about sarees and carvings and pottery.
In the tight, narrow clusters of the stalls and the weak selection of the plant species, Iravan recognized Airav’s hand. The man had compromised space for efficiency, security for architect welfare, but had not taken into account the effect it would have on the citizens. Shopkeepers hailed Iravan, calling out questions regarding room for their wares, for stronger wood to balance on.
He waved but didn’t stop, his helplessness rising. He could hardly tell them trajection was becoming difficult. Even the youngest architect knew what the combined panic of the ashram could do to the architecture. Trajection tapped into the desires of consciousness: without the desire of the non-architects to sustain the power, constellation lines could grow weaker; the ashram could lose its very structure andcohesion—adangerous consequence in flight that could affect everyone’s survival.
Already, this structure was flawed. Undoubtedly, the citizens’ unease would only weaken the construction, sending the architecture into an infinite loop of destruction. It was another thing the council had to navigate carefully so as not to jeopardize the design, but this, here,now—Airav’sdecision to usetheseplants for citizen spaces would only antagonize the citizens, change their desire for safety into one of resentment. It would give rise to a hundred Ahilyas; it wouldcontributeto the difficulty in trajection. What was the man playing at?
Iravan pursed his lips, frowning. He could already see what his absence in the council was doing to thearchitecture—thiswas exactly the kind of design he would have opposed vehemently. He ran a hand through his hair in silent frustration. He and Ahilya zigzagged through the chaos, their silence loud in the clamor.
Finally, Ahilya broke the silence between them, her voice toneless. “Where are we going?”
Iravan glanced at her. “The Architects’ Academy. To speak to Naila.”
“You think this is her fault?”
“No. The trajection required to sound the alarm is extremely simple. Even a beginner architect should have been able to do it.”
Ahilya nodded at a vendor selling sarees. “Why don’t you just traject a direct path to the Academy instead of going through the city?”
“An architect isn’t supposed to traject when off duty.”
She glanced at him, opened her mouth, then closed it again. In his mind’s eye, Iravan saw Bharavi, warning him of the consequences of too much trajection.
