Page 53 of The Surviving Sky
“The constellation lines,” she gasped. “They’re all broken.”
“Maze Architects?”
“There are none here, sir.I—Idon’t see any other dust motes,at—atleast not near the Academy stars.”
Iravan swallowed. He had known this already. The citizens had been sucked in, but no architects were hurt, because the rudra tree had reverted to its base permissions. Until there were strong, active, unbroken constellation lines, the citizens would not be able to mold the architecture to their desire. Ordinarily, Disc Architects would have been patrolling the maze, repairing old constellation lines. The fact that this accident had happened atall—itindicated the absence of those architects.
“All right,” he said, jaw tightening. “You’re going to rebuild.”
Shocked cries echoed around him. The children gazed at each other, flustered. They had never done anything as complex, not outside the protection of the practice Academy, not without careful supervision.
“Sir,” Naila said quietly. “Won’t you help?”
A deep shame seized Iravan. He imagined the Resonance flapping behind his eyes, terrifying. He saw himself tumble through the Moment, watched his Two Visions merge, watched as he trajected better than ever before with an ability that wasdangerous.
Naila’s question carried among the crowd. Scared faces regarded Iravan. They were so young. Some had their eyes closed; they had to have their eyesclosedto focus on their second vision. That’s how untrained they were.
I could do it, he thought desperately.I could rebuild it alone without breaking a sweat. The two paths opened behind his brows again, wavering in and out of each other for the first time, like they had been a single path all along. His hands trembled.You don’t have three weeks, Bharavi said.You have until your next mistake.
“I’m right here,” he said, swallowing. “You can do this. You’re gifted and brave, and I’m counting on you.”
Some of them stood up straighter. They nodded at each other.
“Ready, architects,” Naila called out, pushing back her sleeves.
Iravan shifted his attention to the Moment. He didn’t enterit—hedidn’t haveto—heknew Nakshar’s universe intimately.
“Generate your constellation lines. Don’t traject them into any stars yet, but be ready. Naila,” he added in a quieter voice. “Some of them won’t be able to traject more than short lines. Make sure those are strong, then bind them together and wait for my command.”
She nodded grimly. Simple vines grew over the brown skins of all the children collected.
In his mind, Iravan floated in the Moment. Citizens lay buried underground, potentially injured. He’d have to build around them without knowing where they were, a blind trajection liable to go awry. He’d have to brace the earth first, interlace roots bottom to top, lest all of the debris come crashing down. What if the plants attacked the citizens under his instruction as he did this? He was using untrained architects. Their constellation lines would not be as strong as a Maze Architect’s. Even if the citizens used their desire to keep themselves safe, there was no telling if the roots would respond, not with weak constellation lines. It would take a concerted strength of will by the citizens to aid this amateur trajection.
The architects were waiting. Water pooled deeper into the crater.
“All right,” Iravan said, taking a deep breath. “Naila, find the rudra star. Thirty-five degrees right ascension; the banyan exists in a state of tangled roots. Tie the first lines to it in a half-hitch pattern, but leave at least nine ends open.”
She nodded, the tattoos on her arms articulating. Iravan tensed as a thick root grew from the edges of the bowl. His breath resounded in his ears, but curt instructions continued to pour out of his mouth.
16
AHILYA
Ahilya screamed, tumbling through darkness, but came to rest almost immediately. She gasped, and a paroxysm of coughing gripped her. Dust blinded her, entered her nose. Debris fell from above, hit her shoulder; she spasmed in pain and squeezed her eyes shut, throwing her arms over her head. Someone cried out; she heard more debris fall. She was back in the earthrage. She was going to die. This was her punishment for leaving Oam. The ground shifted under her, undulating, and she curled into herself, whimpering.
Eventually—itseemedhours—thesounds settled.
Ahilya wrenched open her eyes.
The dust had thinned. Far above them, an earth roof blocked any chance of escape. Others had tumbled in, most of them the citizens she had seen climbing down the ramp to the Academy, all coated in dust, coughing and sneezing. She had been far from them aboveground, but somehow the cave-in had rearranged itself. Now they crouched only a few feet from her.
“Is—iseveryone all right?” Ahilya coughed, her tongue thick with dust.
They nodded in shock. Some said yes. A trickle of blood ran down Vihanan’s forehead. A person Ahilya didn’t know touched their scalp gingerly. Undoubtedly, they were allbruised—Ahilya’sown elbow twinged, but there seemed to be no large injuries. Heart pounding, Ahilya searched Tariya’s face. Her sister looked stricken though unhurt.
“Are there any architects with us?” Vihanan called out.
They all listened, their ears straining.
