Page 71 of The Surviving Sky
Naila shook her head. “Pardon, sir, but it’s not impossible. I’ve checked and rechecked the mathematics. Every trajection releases not just a new consciousness and a raga but an unknown byproduct. I’ve been calling it Nakshar’s Constant.”
“Very dedicated, I’m sure.”
“I’m an architect of Nakshar, first and foremost, sir,” Naila replied stiffly.
“A valuable identity, and one requiring more exploration, if you don’t mind me saying. You can confirm that every trajection releasesthis…Nakshar’s Constant?”
Naila nodded. “I’ve checked it with individual architects. Three things happen when an architect trajects. A plant changes. A raga emerges. And so does Nakshar’s Constant. I thought,” she said, adding tentatively, “that Nakshar’s Constant might be the Resonance you’re seeking?”
Iravan considered her words. He had only felt the Resonance recently. If this Nakshar’s Constantwasa constant, why hadn’t he or anyone else noticed it before? He studied Naila impassively, the way she sat poised on the edge of her seat, her youthful face full of eager anticipation and hope. He noticed now what he hadn’t before: Naila’s lips slightly parted, her hands squeezing her forearms, her fingers trailing to her hair every now and then.
And he remembered the tension he’d sensed between her and Ahilya in the Academy.
A jolt of shock ran through Iravan. He couldn’t believe how blind he’d been.
“Thank you for telling me,” he said quietly. “I’m going to transfer your mentorship to either Airav or Chaiyya. I suggest from here on you bring your ideas to them.”
Naila blinked in shock. Recognizing the dismissal at last, she stood up and hurried out of the alcove. Behind her, the wall closed.
The moment she disappeared, Iravan buried his head in his hands, shaking. The Junior Architect hadn’t come to the library to thank him or share information about her convenient new discovery. She hadn’t come because of a rivalry brought about by the council seat. She had come there to proposition him.
He had a sudden, bizarre need to laugh, but even as he smothered it, he knew it was edged with hysteria. Shame so great engulfed him that Iravan felt sick in his stomach. This was how the ashram saw him, then. This was how far he had fallen. Architects were trained to see opportunity, and Iravan was used to ambitious Maze Architects flirting with him, but to be so brazen? Naila had presumed to do so, despite his long marriage to Ahilya, despite his position, because she had identified a possibility of success. His morality, his scruples, all things that defined him had vanished in light of his treatment of Ahilya.Hehad wrought this behavior.Hehad created it. What a fool he had been.
A great revulsion for himself grew within Iravan. Ahilya had been right all along. He had been blind to his faults. His secrets, hismachinations…He had failed his wife utterly, deeply, by opening up even the possibility for such an action, no matter how inadvertent. His body began to tremble. His vision blurred. The sheer weight of self-loathing threatened to bury him.
The two paths opened in front of him again, but he was trapped on the fork, never knowing if the choice he was making was right.Release me, Iravan thought desperately, a plea he knew not to whom.Release me from this imprisonment.
For a long time, he sat by the desk, holding his head, trying to contain his shivering.
Finally, Iravan took a deep breath and straightened. The alcove had changed again, back to the model he and Ahilya shared, with its low ceiling and jasmine buds on the walls. He gazed at it, his heart beating fast. Archival designs of the ashram retained memory, but memory was a matter of strength and endurance; ashram plants transformed based on a citizen’s desire.
If the ashram remembered the happiness he and Ahilya had once shared, if it was so relentlessly portraying it in the library, then it meant only one thing. Despite their troubles, both he and Ahilya wanted to reconcile.We’re not done, Iravan thought.Not yet.
He turned to the wall behind him, testing. How much did Ahilya trust him? Had she rescinded his permissions?
The foliage separated to reveal a cubbyhole. Iravan’s heart began to race, some of the weight lifting from his shoulders. He still had access to Ahilya’s personal inventory. She hadn’t changed it; she hadn’t forsaken him. Relief burst through his chest like a bird in flight. He gathered his wife’s notebooks and sungineering equipment in his hands, feeling the smooth bark, the rustling pages, these things she valued and trusted him with. How could he have doubted her competence as a potential councilor? Shecaredabout Nakshar. In picking Naila, all Iravan had cared for was his own reputation.
A white cube, smaller than his fist, clinked together with the rest of her paraphernalia. Iravan paused, dropping the other pieces back into the cubbyhole. He turned the opaque glass cube in his hand curiously.
A deathbox. Why did Ahilya own a deathbox?
The dials were positioned at being activated, but he couldn’t see the golden shimmering forcefield. Either the box was damaged, or whatever was inside was small enough to warrant a very tiny forcefield.
On an impulse, Iravan flicked the dials to deactivation. He opened the deathbox.
He had a moment’s glimpse of a leaf shaped like a bubble no larger than the digit of his thumb.
The next second, the plant exploded, expanding to a hundred times its size, overtaking the library alcove.
Iravan’s eyes widened in shock.
Spiralweed.
23
IRAVAN
The alcove reacted instantly.
