Page 69 of The Surviving Sky
Iravan stretched his legs, jogged on the spot, then stretched his legs again. “This will do,” he said, appreciatively.
The two healer architects on duty, Geet and Raksha, nodded silently. They were Chaiyya’s wards, Maze Architects in competition with each other for the vacant council seat. Chaiyya had undoubtedly assigned them to Iravan’s recovery to test how they would restore even the worst trajection injuries. As far as Iravan was concerned, each of them deserved to win. It was too bad Ahilya was going to get thatposition—ifhe had anything to do about it.
“Take care, Iravan-ve,” Geet said softly. “Any overexertion might bring you back to the sanctum.”
The words were laden; for a second, Iravan wondered how much of his investigation and the looming threat of the Examination of Ecstasy was really a secret from Maze Architects. But there was no ill intent in Geet’s face, nothing to indicate duplicity. He nodded, bade them return his things to his temple suite, and made his way out of the sanctum on a slow jog.
His legs still felt wobbly. He had started the morning on his healbranch chair, but several hours later, Geet and Raksha had finally pronounced him ready. As he picked up his stride, the strength returned to his muscles and lungs. What would the council make of his recovery? Chaiyya would receive immediate reports, that was certainly what Geet’s comment had been about, but Iravan hadn’t seen any of the other councilors for three days, not even Bharavi.
A part of him still froze in terror when he remembered what he’d said, what he’d done in the Ecstatic ward. Had Bharavi told the others of his uncontrolled trajection? Had they voted for an Examination? As the Examinee, Iravan’s presence was unnecessary to their vote, but so far, none of his rudra beads had flashed, commanding him to the architects’ orchard. He had been careful not to traject ever since then. He hadn’t even entered the Moment. Apart from what the action would indicate to the council, it horrified him to think of how the Resonance had been waiting for him. Iravan still remembered how it had flung him outside the Moment; how merging with it had allowed him to ascend from the jungle. The memory sent a chill down his spine.
He lengthened his stride as the temple gave way to one of Nakshar’s wide tree-lined boulevards. His recovery in the sanctum, the outburst in the Ecstatic ward, even the failure of trajection in theAcademy—allof these were distractions. Iravan had mere days before his presentation to Airav about his theory of interference, a presentation that would decide his future as a Senior Architect. He had collected as much information as he’d needed, from Naila and the sungineers, but now it was time to assimilate what he had, and for that he needed Ahilya.
A smile tugged at his lips as he thought of his wife, the sheer intelligence of her, the uncanny manner in which she could piece together disparate data. Last night’s apology had hardly been adequate, but something had healed between them. A deep desire to be with Ahilya, to hold her and kiss her, filled Iravan. He dashed through the city in the gray drizzle, past the forest bazaar, and the rose bushes. Ahilya was likely in their library alcove, either there or the solar lab. He would wait for her. He would ask permission to return home. She had suggested it that day in the Academy, and they would mirror the days they had once lost, find the happiness they had once inhabited.
Rain had begun to pour in earnest by the time Iravan reached the library. Iravan sprinted through it, his clothes soaked with heavy droplets. He took the stairs up the fig tree two at a time. The library’s main hall had covered itself with bark to keep out the deluge. Iravan strode past children building patterns out of the foliage, past beginner architects hunched over wooden desks, and non-architects thumbing through shelves, all the way to the heights of the tree. He found a young woman pacing the short platform outside his alcove, wringing her hands nervously.
“Naila,” Iravan said, startled. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at the Academy?”
The Junior Architect jumped and turned. “I was hoping to talk to you, sir.”
Iravan tapped his citizen ring and waved a hand in front of the doorway. The wall parted. “Come in, then.”
Ahilya wasn’t in their shared alcove, but the chamber had retained its low ceilings and sparkling phosphorescence, appearing terribly intimate. Iravan willed the architecture to change.
As Naila followed, the ceiling grew higher. A window opened overlooking the rainy playground, and a carved wooden desk grew in the center with loud cracks. Iravan circled the desk and sat down behind it. He gestured Naila to the seat on the other side and fixed her with an enquiring look. Was the Junior Architect there to speak about the council seat he had trained her for? Iravan hadn’t voiced his intention to nominate Ahilya yet, not even to Ahilya herself. Yet the grapevine flourished in architect circles. He studied Naila, unsure of how to break the news to her, how she would take it, how it could affect her trajection.
The Junior Architect came straight to the point. “I wanted to thank you, sir. You saved my life.”
Surprised, Iravan tilted his head.
“I know I did the right thing at the watchpost,” she continued. “Everything worked how it should have. And I saw how you trajected from the jungle. It was an accident with Oam. You tried to save their lives. Just like you did at the Academy.”
Not knowing how to answer this declaration, Iravan remained silent. He had spent months mentoring Naila, yet this was the most personal she had ever been. Besides, he didn’t deserve the gratitude. He’d let go of Oam. His dispassion at the time still frightened him.
Naila shivered, evidently remembering. “I could never have done that kind of trajection. Trajection was hard for meinsidethe ashram.”
Iravan leaned forward. “Trajection was hard for you? When did that begin?”
“It feels like forever. At first, I thought it was just me, but then the lastearthrage…”
Iravan considered this. Here was proof, incontrovertible and firsthand. Would Airav believe him? If Iravan asked Naila to report on his behalf, would the man think it underhanded? Bharavi had already stressed how little his theories mattered, and Kiana had confirmed that only proof from other ashrams would suffice. What discussions were occurring between the councilors? After the last time, Iravan hadn’t dared set foot in the council chambers, angry and humiliated. Even if he passed the Examination of Ecstasy, would he ever earn back their respect?
He looked up to see Naila watching him. He had forgotten her. “Thank you,” he said. “Is there anything else?”
The Junior Architect fiddled with her rudra beads. She had grown very quiet, perhaps feeling his anxiety.
“Naila?” Iravan asked gently.
“That wasn’t the only reason I’m here, Iravan-ve.” The Junior Architect glanced up, held his gaze, then dropped her eyes back down.
“Yes?”
“The thingis…Right before you arrived before the expedition, I’d mentioned to Ahilya that trajection was becoming harder. But I don’t think she understood the implication. Pardon me for saying this, Iravan-ve, but she doesn’t appreciate architects very much, and I don’t think she understands your position.”
Iravan’s entire body stiffened. Was this rivalry? If Naila had somehow learned he was planning to nominate Ahilya to the council seat, perhaps this was her way of ensuring he didn’t carry his plan through. Still, regardless of her motivation, if Naila thought it was appropriate to seek him out and utter these criticisms about hiswife, he had been a far worse husband to Ahilya than he’d feared.
The Junior Architect blinked at his silence.
