Page 73 of The Enduring Universe
And Ahilya remembered how it was Dhruv who had firstdesigned instruments to use Ecstasy. He had created the battery that had incapacitated Airav and weakened the Moment. He had evolved the battery into a bomb to finally shatter the Moment.
She and Iravan had always blamed themselves for using the technology, but Dhruv must surely have felt some level of responsibility. Suddenly, it became clear—his aversion of her, the breakdown of their relationship, the choices that she’d made that had led to his own. He blamed her for so much, but he blamed himself as well. She was the reminder of everything they’d planned together, that had led them both here. He had once encouraged her, and so she was his mistake. No wonder he couldn’t bear to look at her.
Whatever warmth she had felt earlier disappeared. Dhruv worked for a few more minutes, doing his final checks, then cinched an armband tighter, and stepped back in finality.
“You’re ready,” he said, his voice carrying.
The murmurs of the other councilors behind them stopped. Chairs shifted, then people rose, flanking them, patting Ahilya’s shoulders, wishing her good luck. Naila gave her a swift hug. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked. Ahilya gave her a half-shrug, and for an instant, it appeared that Naila wanted to say something more, but when Dhruv came forward again she reluctantly stepped back.
Ahilya turned to the sungineer. “Any last advice for me?”
“Yes,” he said gruffly. “Remember he is your husband.”
The instruction took her aback. For Dhruv to say this, when he had opposed her marriage, when he’d never liked Iravan… She understood what he meant, of course. Iravan was still a man, still just a person. She could not forget that. Ahilya nodded curtly, then turned to face the blank wall. The others retreated, though Ahilya still sensed them hovering behind her. Eyes closed, she probedthe confused tangle of roots in her mind. The rock face separated, opening up again in response to her desire. She held her breath and squeezed inside.
At first, the darkness was absolute, the little drones Dhruv had sent earlier too dim and far to reveal anything.
Then her vision adjusted.
She was in a small cave. No, not a cave. The beginnings of a tunnel. Behind her, the rock had already closed again in gnashing creaks. She was alone with the drones inside the earth, unable to see anything except the slight sprays of mud and glistening rock. Water ran somewhere, tinkling in her ears, and through the shifting light of her headlamp, Ahilya glimpsed hair-thin roots clinging to the wall face.
Her breath came out loud, echoing in her ears. “Still with me?” she asked aloud.
Static stuttered from the devices Dhruv had asked her to embed in her ears. A few garbled sounds, but then the drones hovered closer, perching on her shoulders, and—
“—hear you,” Dhruv’s voice said, clearly. “How does it look?”
Ahilya inhaled deeply. “One step at a time,” she said.
She meant it both literally and otherwise. She only could see one step ahead by the light of the drones, but the path opened with each step she took too, in creaks and shifts of the earth. In a way, it was no different from her last jungle expedition, a nudge of a root in her mind here, a brush of a branch against her arm there. She was still the buffer between the complete overwriting of others and the Virohi. The sooner she found Iravan, the easier all of this would become. Provided, of course, he listened.
Garbled sounds came to Ahilya as someone else spoke. “—safer—jungle—over—?”
“Yes, it is safer,” Dhruv snapped. “Perhaps you did not see theimages of the planetrage?” A pause, then exasperatedly, “Of course, there can be a cave-in. I thought you understood that nothing and nowhere is safe anymore, but, look, she’s fine. Just talk to her yourself.” His voice grew clearer. “Ahilya, tell her you’re fine.”
Ahilya walked on in the darkness. Instinct told her to turn to the right, and as she did another crack opened in the rock with a soft shower of dust. She squeezed through again, continuing her blind trek, until Naila’s voice spoke in her ear.
“Ahilya-ve?” the woman asked. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said, trying not to cough as musty air crept up her nose and throat. “It’s opening a path for me. I can breathe, though it’s stale.”
“See?” Dhruv’s voice again, further away, and then, “Oh rages, not you too. I thought you were in the new city.”
More static and crackling, then Naila’s voice was replaced by another familiar one. “We keep missing each other,” Eskayra said softly, clearly having taken the communication device from Naila.
“You’re back,” Ahilya said, relieved. “Are you safe?”
“Areyou?” Esk replied. “No, don’t answer that—I know why you are doing this, and I know you are not safe. Ahilya, I—” The amusement left Esk’s voice, and Ahilya imagined her trying to calm herself, and bite back any words that would make it worse now. “The migration is happening swiftly,” Eskayra said, deliberately changing the subject. “I thought you’d want to know. The Ecstatics that he sent to the ashram have helped with convincing citizens of Irshar. Given that this lot actually cares for the citizens unlike the rogue ones he sent before, I suppose I should thank him for making my job easier. Maybe you can pass that onto him when you see him.”
Ahilya smiled in the darkness. “You never say his name,” she observed.
“It is not his name that matters to me,” Esk replied. “It is yours.”
The smile froze on her face. Ahilya paused, and her hand drifted to her earpiece. She imagined Esk’s features pinched in pain. The dewdrop face. The rosebud mouth. The kindness in her eyes. “Eskayra,” she whispered. “Please. Not right now.”
“I know,” Esk returned. “I’m not asking for anything. Just be careful.” A soft rustling sound like the device was exchanging hands, then Eskayra’s voice again, this time further away, speaking to someone else. “—suppose you did think this through—”
“—people—no faith—” Dhruv replied irritably, his voice soft then louder. He’d finally taken back the sungineering device from Eskayra, “As if I would send her to her death.”
