Page 29 of The Enduring Universe
“Ahilya has trapped the Virohi in the vriksh,” Iravan began tiredly. “Anything I attempt to do to the Virohi now would damage the vriksh, and the core tree is a part of Irshar. I cannot perform such a direct act of war against the ashram. It will defeat any purpose of making amends to the complete ones. I’m open to suggestions.”
It was what had stopped him from initiating war with the Virohi until now. Iravan’s fist thumped on his knee, an action from Bhaskar within him. He regained control and smoothed his hand out, slowly, deliberately.
“You changed the permissions of the trees once,” Kamal said. “Couldn’t you do it again with everpower?”
Iravan had not tried to meddle with the vriksh using the everpower. The vriksh was an amalgamation of all the core trees of the landed Conclave, and when he had changed the permissions of the core trees before, he had done it using Ecstasy.
Even then, it had been tricky. He recalled laying back in a bed next to a sleeping Ahilya, while she recovered from losing their child. His grief and pain were still fresh, and inside him the falcon howled in agony. Iravan had changed the permissions of the core trees in his fury and vengeance, but had not expected the vriksh to form. What might the everpower do to Irshar if he meddled again? What if he accidentally destroyed the tree altogether? Now when it was rooted so deeply into the planet, such a thing could be calamitous. The truth was he did not know the limitsand consequences of his power, and a part of him shirked from attempting too much.
“It’s a possibility,” he began—but then paused, raising his head.
A commotion emerged from the corridor. There were no raised voices, no shouts, but strains of consternation, questions, and dismay.
The architects around him began to glow without being told. None of them were trajecting Ecstatically yet but somehow, to Iravan’s surprise, the architecture began to change. The grass grew lusher, the damage to the slender trees knitting. Along the walls, the dark leaves changed, almost as though it were a veristem garden blooming into a lie, except instead of those flowers, the walls bloomed with intoxicating jasmines.
Ahilya, Iravan thought.
His heart skipped a beat.
He had expected her to come.
He was surprised it had taken her so long.
How had she fared? Was she hurt? He had wanted to find out, but each time he had tried, Bhaskar or Agni or the falcon had gripped his mind until the intention passed. It meant something—this control of them over him, unto making his very body still. His past lives were telling him he could not succumb to the temptation of her material bond. Still, relief bloomed in him. She had come. She was all right. His hands shook with how much he had needed to know this.
Wearily, Iravan rose from the staircase and approached his chair. Though he did not command it, though he barely desired it, the rest of his council took their places as well. Dhruv stood by his right shoulder, crossing and uncrossing his arms nervously. The others arrayed themselves on Iravan’s left, their gazes watchful. Reyla and Darsh guided Manav to stand by them, and the excised architect met Iravan’s eyes, his stare startlingly astute for one second.
Black-uniformed Ecstatics began to pour into the hall, taking up room around the chamber. Nearly a thousand architects found their place, muttering and murmuring, filling up the space in a few minutes. A ripple of movement occurred between them and a lone figure strode in, her head held high, eyes trained forward, straight toward Iravan.
Ahilya had clearly just arrived from the jungle, despite the days that had passed since the battle. She no longer wore her expeditionary equipment, but she was dressed in a plain kurta, severely muddied and crumpled. Her hair was in disarray, curls falling loosely around her shoulders, dark eyes proud and angry. She looked tired, and determined, and utterly glorious.
Iravan stirred, his fingers dancing, an action from Mohini. He wanted badly to meet Ahilya halfway, to submit to her, to kiss her, be kissed by her, but she walked through the gathering Ecstatics with deep disdain.
Iravan flexed his hand, trying to stay present.
“Ahilya,” he said, his voice carrying. “Welcome.”
She stopped in front of him.
Her gaze took in all of them, his council behind him, the muttering Ecstatics, the sungineers peppered here and there, the glass of their instruments glinting in the phosphorescence. Her eyes passed over the glowglobes, and her lips thinned.
Then she stared directly at Iravan.
He returned her look unflinchingly.
With a wave of his hand, Iravan drew her a chair next to him, the same one he had trajected when she had last visited him in the Garden. That time, he had only just subsumed the falcon-yaksha. The two of them had been alone, and the Moment had been unbroken. His trajection now was a waste of resources, taxing an already shattered Moment, but he would be damned if he treatedher like an enemy. He could not afford to disdain Ahilya, not if he wanted themallto make amends. The rage grew in him suddenly, at how little he had achieved, at how little time he had. The falcon roared, and Agni shrieked, and Iravan clenched his teeth and tamped them all down.
Ahilya did not take the seat.
“You owe me a debt,” she said, stonily.
The chamber grew silent, each person listening intently now that she had spoken.
Iravan sat down, and the chair he had created for her dissolved. “You have suffered,” he said quietly. “Irshar needs help. This I already know.”
“Do not mistake me for a petitioner, Iravan. I am here to claim what is rightfully mine, what is rightfully ours in Irshar.”
“And what is that?”
