Page 46 of The Enduring Universe
“What is your name?” Iravan asked softly.
“Rana,” the man said, thrusting his chin out. “And making amends is your capital desire, not ours. I intend to—”
Iravan struck with the everpower.
It wasn’t difficult, just a casual flick of his mind, and the air around the three architects warped for a brief second, squeezing just enough to make them all dizzy. Rana gurgled, clutching his throat. One by one, the three rogue Ecstatics collapsed, falling unconscious. The lingering silence was so loud that Iravan could hear leaves rustling in a swish of wind.
He gestured to Dhruv. “Keep them contained in one of your solarchambers until I decide what to do with them.”
He began to turn away, toward the courtyard from where he would ascend to the jungle, but Dhruv seized his arm. “Aren’t yougoing to address the rest?” the sungineer hissed. “You cannot just leave after doing this.”
Iravan gazed at him coldly, and Dhruv let go, stepping back. He had spoken only for Iravan’s ears, but it was obvious what he had said. Iravan saw the others staring at him, edging back. Within him, Bhaskar laughed hoarsely.
“You’d like me to address them?” Iravan said. “Very well.” He turned to the Ecstatics, and raised his voice. “Listen well, Ecstatics,” he said, barely keeping his fury. “Your only reason for existence is to make amends to complete beings. That is why you’re here. Leave, if that does not suit you, but remember you won’t get very far, not in this jungle that you cannot traject, not with me pursuing. I will find you in the Deepness, and I will find you in the first vision. Anyone else who makes trouble for Irshar will have to answer to me, and that—” He waved at the prone forms on the grass. “—is the least of what could befall you.”
Iravan saw the mixed anger and exasperation on Dhruv’s face. This was not what the sungineer had expected him to say, but Iravan was done being subtle. Humanity faced a very real danger if the Ecstatics got out of hand. He shouldered his way past the architects, striding away outside to the courtyard.
To his annoyance, Dhruv followed, heeled by Naila and Darsh. Iravan turned to face them.
“That was well handled,” Naila drawled.
“You’ve only made it worse,” Dhruv said.
“Are you going to excise them?” Darsh asked.
Iravan clutched his hair, dropped his hands, then inhaled deeply. “No, it wasn’t. Maybe I did. Yes, I might—excision is the least they deserve after this stunt.”
Naila, Dhruv and Darsh exchanged a glance. Darsh’s face was a picture of fear and excitement at the idea of excising the roguearchitects. It was the same expression he’d had when Iravan had killed Viana. In truth, Iravan did not know what he would do with those Ecstatics. He could not afford to start excising them—there was no easier way to alienate the rest than with that one action. But Darsh, of all people, needed boundaries. Darsh had not gone rogue, but he was headed that way. If a little fear tamed the boy, then so be it.
What he needed was a better society within the Garden, but except for the sungineers there were no complete beings in his city. In Irshar, they had schools, hospitals, a whole civilization. But in the Garden, each Ecstatic was trained to be a weapon toward the Virohi, and little else. Maybe that is what he ought to do, give them a higher purpose. But what higher purpose could an architect have other than self-destruction, when it was at an architect’s hands that the world was destroyed repeatedly? If there was another role for them, Iravan could not see it—and worse, he could not afford to. Giving Ecstatics any identity beyond the one they had was a path to creating more rogue Ecstatics, each intent on their capital desire.
It did not mean that the Garden could not be improved. Darsh was only one architect Iravan had taken under his wing—he could not do that with everyone. He’d attempted to convince Darsh’s parents again to build their home in his city. It should have been easy; the two were architects, once of Nakshar, no less. But Darsh’s father had sent his apologies with one of the sungineers, saying it would not be possible, and Darsh’s mother had said they would not be able to welcome Iravan in their home.
Their message was clear. They wanted nothing to do with him, or with their son. Short of dragging them to the Garden with the everpower, Iravan did not know what else he could attempt. If this is how they treated their only son, no wonder Darsh’s loyalty to Iravan was unquestioned. He was starved for affection—and withIravan, he’d found a chance to be something other than what was dictated for him. Iravan had to create a Garden to allow that for Darsh. Find a way to keep the peace between these last two cities of humanity somehow. That was Dhruv’s appointed task, but yet again, it had come to him. He ground his teeth, willing himself not to take it out on his lead sungineer who clearly had his hands full.
“How is Irshar?” he asked reluctantly, forcing himself to calm his voice.
“After this?” Dhruv made a face. “The council has demanded new architects from us. Someone whose amity to Irshar can be guaranteed. They’ve asked to vet the architects we send, and they wish for those architects to livewiththeir families, and arrive for shift duty. Just like in an airborne ashram.”
To tie them with material bonds, Iravan thought. Would this ridiculous fight with the Irshar and its history never end? He was attempting to free the Ecstatics, but freedom came at a cost. Nearly all the architects who had come to him had done so by leaving their children and spouses back in Irshar. His promises and power—and the truth of their origins—had prompted their arrival, but his hold over them was loosening. If he fulfilled this demand from the ashram, then whatever he was building in the Garden was forfeit. Ecstatics would return to Irshar, live with their families, rebuild civilization in the manner of an ashram, and forget all about destroying the Virohi. Irshar would find a way to bind them back into trajection—especially now that they had his sungineers working with them—and the Garden would diminish. Yet he could not deny Irshar’s demand, not after what happened. The councilors would insist on it for their safety, and if he wanted to make amends, he would have to stand aside.
I need something else, he thought.Something else to bind the Ecstatics to me so they do not wander away.But what else was therebeside the yakshas? He was already losing this delicate fight. He needed the Virohinowto end them, but he had given Ahilya a heartpoison bracelet. If she was not here, giving him information yet, it meant that she had nothing to give. His pressuring her would achieve nothing.
“Make it happen,” he said harshly. Before Dhruv could embroil him in the details of how, Iravan took two steps away from them, then launched into flight, leaving behind a dust storm.
Frustration gave him speed. The jungle blurred underneath him. In the distance, he could see the vriksh’s trunk, so massive that no matter how fast he flew, he still felt close to it. Iravan put on another burst of speed, scowling.
He was supposed to be building new systems, but he had never been adept at those—that part of Nakshar’s councilwork had resided with Chaiyya and Airav, two architects Iravan had invited over and over again to the Garden, only to be met with polite refusal. Once upon a time he’d thought to collect Ecstatic Architects in Irshar to end the earthrages, but to make amends was the only reason for Ecstatics to endure now.
He had tried to condition the Ecstatics to desire it, with the culture he’d created in the Garden and the force of his personality, and no Ecstatic had yet united with their yaksha. How long would that remain the case? After all, corporeal yakshas were missing, but he still did not know what form the incorporeal ones took. For all he knew, they were invisible sources of desire like Kiana said, attuned toward each architect, already turning them. Perhaps that is why the three rogue Ecstatics had done what they had.
It was the reason he was here today again. He needed to find the yakshas before any of the Ecstatics did. Iravan descended, spotting a clearing, his feet light on the grass, the cloak closing in around him. Here in the jungle a dim light pierced the trees, andfor a moment, he stood inhaling the scents, so alien yet so familiar.
The jungle was motionless, an anomaly he still found himself unused to, but if he focused, he could hear the small creatures hiding in the undergrowth—creatures that had once belonged to the airborne ashrams, the squirrels, the mice, the crackling and buzzing insects.
Iravan thought of Oam. The boy had known nothing about how life worked in the jungle and the ashrams; he’d thought these small creatures were present out here too, even during the time of the earthrages. If he’d been alive, would he find the return of life in the jungle as marvelous as Iravan did? The human species had kept to their dwellings, but other animals had spread, finding their paths on landing, though there was a hesitation to their life as if these creatures could not accept this new jungle fully.
Iravan desperately wished to see them now, as if the movement of a rabbit or a squirrel would make up for the stillness of the jungle. Seeing life here would be a confirmation that everything that had happened—despite the loss humanity had suffered—had been for the best.
