Page 85 of The Enduring Universe
“Why, are you going to provide us an explanation?” Tariya said. “Are you going to save us, Ahilya?”
The words were caustic, but Ahilya did not rise to the bait like she might have once. She simply studied her sister, and though color bloomed in Tariya’s cheeks, her sister smiled, her expression satisfied. Tariya’s eyes glowed as if she had won something. She might as well have been skipping.
“You’re in a good mood,” Ahilya observed.
“You are in so much trouble,” Tariya replied, shaking her head. “They are livid.”
Ahilya didn’t need to ask who she meant. She could well imagine Dhruv rushing to the other councilors to discuss what he’d overheard, the rest of them panicking and helpless, fearing an attack on their consciousness.
“They tried to cut down the vriksh,” Tariya told her, the mirth leaving her.
An act of desperation, Ahilya knew. She could not blame them. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened. Theytried.People were complaining of terrible symptoms of illness—dizziness, forgetting their names, unsure of what life was like in the airborne ashrams, sometimes unable to recall even what they did hours ago. The infirmary wasfull until the council decided to axe the tree, but the tree didn’t let them—or perhaps their minds fought it. Everyone knows we are all tied to it.” Tariya fell silent, and Ahilya chewed her lip.
So Tariya knew enough about the vriksh to know how everyone’s minds were connected to it. Was it simply knowledge she’d picked up as Bharavi’s wife, or had she felt something of Ahilya’s battle with Iravan? Or—most likely—the council had been forced to share the danger of overwriting, especially with those who worked in the infirmary, so as to better help the patients.
There were no real secrets between the council and the citizens anymore. Tariya was influential in her own way, and she would have objected to the assault on the tree, simply as a matter of principle, to oppose the council. Ahilya could well imagine it—her sister standing in front of the vriksh demanding an explanation. The council would not have found it easy to push her aside. Either way, if the citizens already knew of their connection to the vriksh, it made Ahilya’s job easier.
“They sent you to speak to me?” she asked.
“I am the least threatening, according to them,” Tariya replied scoffing. “They don’t know better, do they?”
Fierce pride radiated from Tariya, warming Ahilya’s skin as if a soft warm fire lived within her. Pride for herself or for Ahilya? With Tariya, it could be either, but Ahilya didn’t probe, and nor did she ask for an explanation of her words. Tariya was not threatening to her. She was Ahilya’s vulnerability, and Ahilya would not change that for the world. The two continued on in silence until they reached the city.
Tree roots splayed out everywhere, widening to become as thick as a limb. The ground was uneven, shifting constantly, if slowly, so that Ahilya finally took Tariya’s hand in hers, despite her sister’s squawk of protest. She could see gaps in the floor closing, knitted over byroots that plunged below, while the canopy of the vriksh waved far above the spires of the buildings. In the time it had taken for the two of them to come here, the tree had already wrapped this new city into whatever had remained of Irshar and the Garden, returning all that was separated to the same source. Soon, the canopy would enclose them in a dome too; Ahilya could feel the tree’s intention.
She hastened the two of them, weaving past the people milling about, exclaiming at the tree. Tariya pointed them to a low building with a stone courtyard, outside which Umang stood sentry. He waved Ahilya and Tariya in hurriedly. Green had erupted over the stone slabs of the courtyard, and right in the center, a solarchamber blinked—perhaps the same one Ahilya had left from.
The two sisters entered to see the councilors seated around a table. Several architects stood about too, as Chaiyya and Eskayra delivered instructions to them. Hands full of parchments and solarnotes, the architects pushed past Ahilya, until only the councilors remained, intent on their discussion.
“Well,” Tariya announced. “I brought her.”
The others jumped, then stared, shocked that she had actually managed to lead Ahilya there. Their gazes swept to Ahilya, shock giving way to fear and alarm.
Basav stood up, his whole body trembling. “What have you done?” he shrieked. “What have you done, you foolish girl?”
Dhruv looked at her like he’d never seen her before. Chaiyya and Kiana drew back, their mouths trembling. Eskayra’s face was unreadable. Pranav was ashen faced, huddled within a shawl. Only Naila gave her a slight nod, while Airav simply appeared as though he had known they would come to this instant all along.
Ahilya took a chair. She studied all of them, her gaze lingering on Pranav who had fainted after Iravan’s subsummation of his yaksha. Then she turned to Dhruv.
“So you told them?” she asked.
“That you mean to kill our species? That you mean to overwrite us all.” Dhruv uttered a snort of disbelief. “Yes, Ahilya. I told them.”
“Overwriting cannot be stopped,” she said. “It’s not possible.”
“You did not even attempt it,” Basav began. “You wanted this all along.”
“You are corrupted beyond recognition,” Weira cried, pointing a finger at her.
The others began to murmur too, and Chaiyya clutched Airav’s hand, her eyes shining with silent tears. In the solarchamber, the buzz compounded, as if sounds were bouncing off the glass screens, multiplying. Ahilya felt her mind tighten as though pinched—their fear cascaded into her, rippling—and she saw the vriksh balk, its roots weakening and shrinking, reacting to their desire. Her eyes met Eskayra’s over the din, and Eskayra put two fingers to her mouth and released a shrill whistle.
Everyone silenced, gaping at her, then back to Ahilya.
Ahilya did not wait for them to begin murmuring again. She spoke, her voice sharp. “I won’t lie to you. Overwriting is not going to be easy, and it’s not preferable. But this is the only way to survive dissolution.”
“Iravan-ve,” Airav began, but she cut him off, raising a hand.
