Page 42 of The Enduring Universe
Predictably, the man did not respond.
Iravan opened the book to a familiar page, with creases borne out of constant use. He did not need to read the words.Two roads in sleep, he thought, but his tongue skipped to the last few lines of Manav’s poem.
“We continue to live,” he quoted softly. “In undying separate illusions. The everspace. That’s what this means, doesn’t it?”
He had excised Manav nearly six years ago now, but when a few months ago the man had twice come to his rescue during the fight with the falcon, Iravan had concluded Manav had multiple yaksha counterparts. He’d concluded that Manav had united with one beforehis excision, which had made it possible for him to retain some measure of his trajection.
Did that mean his capital desire had manifested in some form too? What kind of capital desire would make Manav and his other yaksha save Iravan, of all people? Did such consideration extend only to architects, or perhaps to Senior Architects? Senior Architects once were the most important people of an ashram, meant to inhabit all of an ashram’s potential. Iravan knew how deeply those protocols were embedded into their culture. Thousands and thousands of years had cemented this legacy of the ashrams. It was not an unreasonable thought that Manav had inadvertently saved him because of a capital desire to serve the floating cities.
But the timing of it… If Manav had more than one yaksha, could it be that he had subsumed one already for his capital desire to manifest? Iravan’s own desire to make amends had bled into him only after the falcon had become a part of him. It had formed during unity, then cemented in him after the falcon’s subsummation. Before the subsummation, he had only wished to make reparations; but after that, the destruction of the Virohi had taken shape as his capital desire. He could hear the falcon’s voice in his head, goading him into utter destruction.
If Manav had saved him because of his allegiance to the ashram structure, then Manav’s capital desire was in direct opposition to Iravan’s. Iravan had been flirting with a vague idea of finding the man’s second yaksha and helping him unite with it—perhaps that would heal Manav now, and more importantly, give Iravan the support he needed in the Garden—but if this were true, then he could not take such a risk. What if Iravan helped heal Manav, only for him to defy him? His capital desire pulled him inexorably foward—and his past lives railed in him to fulfill it soon—Bhaskar,Agni, Askavetra, Nidhirv—always Nidhirv, who had chosen their material bonds, but now wished him divorced from his own.
Images cycled from one life to another within the Etherium, and Iravan waited until one arrived from Nidhirv’s life. In that life lay a secret he needed to decode, and idly, he projected the memory outward. Dust and earth churned in a soft breeze, creating the shape of the man. Bark moved like arms and legs, and leaves flickered like eyes. Nidhirv stood in front of them, a smile on his face.
Manav jerked up, his gaze widening and suddenly alert.
His mouth fell open, nearly childlike, and he watched as more earth rose to form Vishwam’s burly shape. Vishwam put his arm around Nidhirv, who chuckled, his posture pleased but embarrassed—but before the memory could play out, Nidhirv froze. He wavered as if being wrenched away, then straightened, a strange smile glinting cold.
Iravan grunted in frustration. Still the same wavering, as if his past lives could not fully decide whether they wanted to love their material bonds or have him hate his.
Manav uttered a soft cry, hand to his mouth.
Like Darsh had been startled to see the projections before, the excised architect began shaking his head with a soft keening sound. His hand extended to touch the projection—and Nidhirv’s cold smile disappeared, as he huddled into Vishwam again, before the smile flickered back into vengeance.
The Etherium cycled again, and Iravan allowed the projection to change into another past life—Askavetra, whose shape limned the grass and earth. He watched her pad toward the jungle, tracking a tiger-yaksha.
Askavetra’s tall frame nuzzled the tiger-yaksha, her expression peaceful, before she flickered into standing ramrod straight, the chips in her eyes sharpening into silver. The projection flashed—changedinto Mohini, embracing her spouses—flicker—it changed again into cold silvery eyes. What did this mean? What were these images trying to tell him? Why could they not decide? Or was this just an indication of his own undetermined mind?
Manav’s keening grew louder. Iravan extended him a sidelong glance and sighed. These projections were eerie, though he’d gotten used to them. There was no use in punishing Manav and himself right now. He ended both their agony and stood up. It was clear his past lives were as torn as he was, speaking a message of vengeance before proclaiming the importance of material bonds. For three months after the Virohi were embedded within Irshar, Iravan had remained steadfast, unwavering. Something had occurred after that that was changing him. It had all started on the day of the Virohi’s bombing, and if he tracked his thoughts, he could see this change had come about because of Ahilya.
Going there today had been a mistake; he should have listened to his intuition that had kept him alienated from the ashram for the last few months. He would not make this mistake again.
Iravan waved a hand and all the projections dissolved. Manav still shuddered, though his cries became quieter. With a last glance at the excised architect, Iravan left the chamber.
23
AHILYA
It’s a workable city,” Eskayra said grudgingly. “We’re still checking to see if the foundation is strong, but initial reports suggest we could move the citizens there as soon as tomorrow if we needed to.”
“There is no need to rush,” Airav said. “Conduct your assessments. Irshar can still hold us until you’re ready. Isn’t that right, Ahilya-ve?”
Ahilya nodded. “I don’t feel anything from the Virohi, if that’s what you’re asking. They will no longer interfere.”
Eskayra grunted, and made a small notation on the map in front of her.
The three of them were in the builders’ chambers within the assembly hall—a narrow, wide room littered with books and rolls of parchment that functioned often as a makeshift library for the council’s needs. A few doors down were the council chambers, and the solar lab, where much of the debris had been cleared. Here, in the builders’ chambers, evidence of the ashram’s upheaval still remained. Boulders the size of Ahilya’s head stood as silent sentinels in one corner. Green stone chipped off the walls, flaking every nowand then. Roots slithered everywhere, though several had been axed and tamed. The floor slanted, so Airav had to navigate carefully as he wheeled himself out of the chamber. No matter his words about patience, Ahilya could see that living in Irshar was a terrible adjustment for him.
Eskayra began to fold up the maps she had laid on the table, and Ahilya picked one up to help her. It was an accounting of the jungle that Eskayra had done using Dhruv’s drones. The Garden had sent aid as promised, and its Senior Sungineer had spent the last few weeks in Irshar more than he had in his home.
Between the Garden’s and Irshar’s resources, all the streets had been cleared, and the roots of the core tree pushed back to create wider pathways more accessible to the general populace. Sungineering devices were given to all of Irshar, from streetlamps and glowglobes, to medprobes and heat shields. Even now, Dhruv was likely hunched over some diagram or another within the council chambers where Airav was headed. Kiana and Chaiyya already waited there to discuss the logistics of distribution.
Ahilya had not dared to join them. What could she contribute there? At least here she could help Eskayra with her knowledge of the jungle and archeology.
“For a council that was so intent on finding new cities only a few weeks ago, this lot does not want to move that quickly,” Eskayra observed.
“Airav wants to prepare the citizens,” Ahilya murmured. “Now that we’ve begun to take stock, we are finally returning to some sense of normalcy. To uproot everyone again without great need would be irresponsible. Who knows, only a few might wish to leave Irshar. Here and in the new city—we might rebuild civilization on more than site.”
