39

Once Sonya had said goodbye to Maria, she followed Miguel and his fellow Anxeles Escuros through the streets of Colmo beneath the golden afternoon sun.

The area they walked through was not as clean or luxurious as where the Elhuyars lived, but it didn’t seem like a slum, either. The beige stucco buildings were well cared for, and covered in the large, colorful murals so common in Colmo. The rich, multilayered sound of a Raízian guitar drifted through the air as they walked.

Sonya noticed that when they weren’t escorting a client, the Anxeles Escuros walked quietly rather than marching in strict formation, confirming her suspicion that the task had been as much show as anything else. She also noticed that though they still looked quite formidable in their black leather armor and curved swords, people they passed did not seem frightened of them, or even particularly excited by their presence. Instead they often waved casually, or called out a cheerful hello, to which Miguel responded with a solemn raised hand and a slow nod.

“People don’t seem very intimidated by you,” she said to Miguel.

“Why would they be?” he asked. “We step in to keep the peace now and then, but for the most part, we are merely skilled men and women who work for the big families, just like them. We are the same.”

“They could never fight like you,” said Sonya.

“And I could never throw a pot, or smith a blade, or tan a hide like them. What is so great about fighting? Can it make a bowl to drink from, a hammer to build with, or a coat to wear? Can it feed a child, make a home, or keep someone warm?”

Sonya gazed into Miguel’s large brown eyes.

“No,” she said. “It can’t.”

“It is at times a necessary skill, which is good for those of us who earn a living from it. But it is not better than any other skill.”

There was, she realized, an arrogance in how she viewed herself in relation to everyone around her. Maybe because she’d had to compete with her exceptionally powerful brother for attention throughout her childhood, she’d grown up thinking that strength and worth were the same thing. It was no wonder, then, that when she’d finally been outmatched in strength by Mordha, her sense of worth began to crumble. It had been built on a faulty foundation.

Sonya and the Anxeles Escuros continued to a large, two-story building that took up an entire block. There were few windows on the main floor, but the second-story structure had a number of decks that cut into it. The decks were covered by canvas awnings on top, and dense black netting on the sides, so it was difficult for even Sonya to see inside. She could just make out black-clad figures sitting on benches or at tables drinking beverages. The guild lounge, perhaps?

An Anxeles Escuros stood guarding the front entrance. Miguel held up his hand as they approached.

“Good afternoon, brother. Darkness knows light.”

“And light knows dark,” replied the guard. Then he looked at Sonya. “Who is this you bring into our home, Miguel?”

“She wishes to speak with the Xefe about becoming one of us,” said Miguel.

The guard’s eyes widened. “This one? Are you joking?”

“Here we go…,” Sonya muttered. She thought she’d at least be able to get through the door before they started to object.

“I’m not joking,” Miguel said calmly.

The guard turned to Sonya, his face becoming set as he spoke in a loud, formal tone. “What is your name?”

“My name is Sonya Turgenev Portinari.” She tried to keep the irritation out of her voice and mostly succeeded.

“And you seek to join Anxeles Escuros?”

“I do.”

“Then I, Eduardo Magallón of the Anxeles Escuros, challenge you!”

The low murmur of conversation in the covered balconies above abruptly ceased.

Miguel gave Sonya an apologetic smile. “It is his right.”

“It’s fine,” said Sonya. “I’ll try not to damage him permanently.”

Miguel nodded, then he and the rest of his men stepped aside. Sonya could hear loud whispers above as people began to gather along the balcony railing behind the black netting. Apparently they had an audience.

“Are you sure you want to do this in public?” she asked Eduardo.

“It would not be an official challenge otherwise.”

“I see.” The old Sonya might have made some boast, telling him he was about to be embarrassed in front of his fellow guild members. But the new Sonya, full of questions and doubt, merely squared her stance and prepared to fight.

She was about to ask Miguel if she could borrow his sword, but then Eduardo unbelted his own sword and placed it on the ground. Then he stood before her, looming more than a foot taller, his fists practically double the size of hers and rough with scars and calluses. He wasn’t nearly as big as Mordha, of course, but she was done making cocky assumptions about others.

So she decided to take a defensive approach at first to gauge his abilities. He came at her swiftly, his fists flickering forward and back in a blink, rarely leaving himself open for more than a moment. And unlike a lot of male fighters she’d encountered elsewhere, he did not forget that his feet could be used as weapons as well. In fact, for such a large man who could easily rely merely on brute force, his movements were impressively precise. She threw out a few experimental blows, and while he wasn’t quite as nimble as her, he was able to block her probing attacks quite easily. As they shuffled back and forth before the entrance to the guild, neither landing a substantial blow, she decided that he was actually quite good. She was glad about that, since she had no interest in joining a group of unskilled mercenaries.

Yet in the end, he was still human, while she, for better and for worse, had left much of that behind.

When she struck in earnest, he didn’t even see it coming. Her palm slammed into his nose and his head snapped back, sending an arc of blood into the air. Then, while his balance was off, she swept his legs and he went down. As he fell back, she lunged over him, gripped his head with both hands, and shoved it straight down toward the brick street. It would strike with enough force to knock him out, perhaps even break his skull. She felt the exultant surge of Lisitsa claiming her prey.

But there was still some humanity in Sonya, and she was here to make allies, not enemies. So at the last moment, she planted her feet and stopped his head an inch from the street.

They were motionless for a moment, him lying on the ground, her holding his head. He stared up at her, blood flowing from his nose. Then he let out a single laugh.

“You may proceed,” he said.

As Sonya helped Eduardo to his feet, a chorus of cheers rose from the balconies. She looked up at the outline of figures clapping, laughing, and whooping behind the netting, then turned to Miguel with a questioning look.

“The old retired ones still come to drink here, but they don’t get to see much action anymore,” he said with a hint of embarrassment. “It’s possible you may be the highlight of their week.”

Not knowing what else to do, she waved up at them, which renewed their cheers.

“Shall we go inside?” asked Miguel. “I’d say you’ve earned your meeting with the Xefe.”

The entrance led to a long hallway, with several passages breaking off to the right and left. The other three guards said their goodbyes to Miguel, wished Sonya luck, then walked down one of the side passageways. Miguel and Sonya continued down the main hallway until it terminated at a wooden door that looked like any other, except for the black wings painted on it, and the word XEFE.

“What does it mean?” asked Sonya as Miguel knocked on the door.

“It’s the Raízian word for chief or boss,” he replied.

“I thought Raízians mostly spoke the imperial tongue.”

“We do. But there is no law directly forbidding the use of our ancestral language, and some words have lingered too long in our tradition to ever be forgotten. Besides, these days people find it comforting.”

Sonya wanted to ask him what it was about these days that made people seek that comfort, but then the door opened, and a tall Raízian man with a thick, carefully braided gray beard was gazing down on her. There was a mixture of surprise and wonder in his eyes.

“Is this a fabled Ranger of Marzanna you have brought me, Miguel?” he asked in a rich baritone.

Miguel looked at her. “Are you?”

“I… was.” Sonya felt a mixture of surprise and relief that this Xefe instantly recognized who and what she was. If nothing else, she didn’t have to explain everything. “But I have fulfilled my vow to the Lady Marzanna, and I am no longer in Izmoroz, so… I don’t know what I am now.”

“An unaffiliated Ranger? Very interesting,” said the man. “Come in and let us talk.”

He gestured with one hairy hand, then turned and stumped back into his room, displaying a noticeable limp. The room was cramped, with far too much furniture for such a small space. Even so, it was difficult for Sonya to find a place to sit, because the majority of the furniture was covered in precarious stacks of parchment, bedraggled books, and half-rolled scrolls.

The man picked up a glass decanter filled with wine and poured a little into three glasses.

He held one out to Sonya. “In my opinion, wine is one of the few good things the empire has given us.”

She laughed and accepted the glass. “I agree.”

“I’m called Javier Arzak, or Xefe if you prefer. What about you?”

“My name is Sonya Turgenev Portinari. I am called Strannik by the people of Izmoroz, and Lisitsa by the Lady Marzanna and my fellow Rangers.”

“Ah, a fox, is it?” he asked.

Her eyes widened. “You know Old Izmorozian?”

He chuckled. “I am old enough to remember a time when it was merely called Izmorozian.”

“I see.” She had thought him around the same age as her parents, but apparently he was even older.

Javier continued to look at her with great interest as he took a sip of his own drink. “So, little fox, why are you in Colmo?”

“I’m here because my friend asked me to come,” she said.

Javier looked questioningly at Miguel, who sat nearby nursing his own drink.

“Jorge Elhuyar,” he told Javier.

Javier nodded. “Impressive friends, little fox. So what do you plan to do now that you are here?”

“Honestly, I’m hoping you’ll give me a job. Cassa Estío is nice, but I realized I can’t just sit around, or I’ll go crazy. I need to get stronger so I can take Izmoroz back from the people who have it.”

“I thought Izmoroz was just liberated from the empire.”

“Yeah, and now it’s occupied by the people who helped liberate it.”

“Ah.” Javier nodded. “One must always be cautious about forming alliances.” He held up his glass and stared at the ruby liquid for a moment. “With that in mind, the Rangers of Marzanna are of course renowned for their fighting prowess. The most powerful ones are also known for succumbing to a… savagery that cannot always distinguish friend from foe on the battlefield.”

“Oh.” He really knew a lot about Rangers. Sonya wondered if he might have encountered some in the past. “Yes, that can be true.”

“So my question, little fox, is how far along are you in your goddess’s process to transform you into a pure killing machine?”

Sonya stared at him, outrage slowly building inside. But what if he was right? According to Anatoly, that might indeed be the Lady’s whole purpose for the Rangers. She was, after all, the Goddess of Death, and they were her servants—or tools. Thinking of Anatoly, who had likely died by then, grieved by none, brought a sudden pang of sadness to her heart, and her outrage deflated beneath its weight.

“There was a moment back in Gogoleth,” she said quietly, “right after my most recent… change, where I blacked out for a moment and the beast took hold. But I have it under control now.”

“And do I only have your word on that?”

“No, Xefe,” said Miguel. “Eduardo challenged her at the door. She could have easily dashed his head against the street, but repaid his antagonism with only a bloodied nose.”

Javier gazed carefully at him for a moment, tugging on his braided beard. “So you vouch for her, then?”

Miguel considered a moment. “I do.”

“I see.” Javier took a sip of his wine. “What brought her to your attention in the first place?”

“She was out shopping with Señorita Elhuyar and stopped to defend a little girl from imperial soldiers.”

Javier let out a low chuckle. “That explains your fondness for her then. A fellow champion of the weak. I’m sure her proximity to the Elhuyars didn’t hurt, either. What happened to the soldiers?”

“She killed them,” said Miguel.

“Ah,” said Javier.

“Sorry,” said Sonya. “I didn’t realize it would be such a big deal.”

Javier gave her a stern look. “Killing imperial soldiers on what is technically imperial soil is indeed a big deal and will require a great deal of work on my part to smooth over. If I were to allow you into the guild, you would have to restrain your anti-imperial impulses. At least for the time being.”

She perked up. “For the time being?”

He smiled and drained his glass. “That is a conversation for another time. Meanwhile, as long as you promise not to go around killing imperial soldiers on a whim, I believe I can offer you some work.”

“Really?” She hesitated. “But I don’t think I could march around in perfect formation.”

“I don’t think you could, either,” he agreed. “But that is not all Anxeles Escuros do. Some jobs require more discretion, and more danger. Some require people who do not flinch from death.”

“As you know, Xefe,” she said, “Death is my mistress.”

He nodded. “Then I think we have a place for you here, little fox.”