55
The largest imperial garrison in Raíz was situated just north of Colmo along the Advent Road. Curiously, Sonya thought it looked a lot like one of the estates owned by the Great Families. It was a multi-building compound enclosed by a high, thick wall covered in the beige stucco so common to the area. That region of Raíz was largely flat, with only low scrub brush and the occasional palm tree. The approach to the garrison was quite exposed, making a surprise attack impossible. For anyone other than Viajero, at least.
Sonya, Lucia, and a group of Viajero gathered in the dining room of a sympathetic merchant family in the northern part of the city. The large dinner table had been cleared, then plain linen hooded cloaks were laid on top. A small group of painters swept their oversized brushes across the cloaks while Lucia and her group of musicians played a song so quiet that Sonya doubted normal human ears could hear it clearly.
At first, the cloaks seemed unaffected by both the paint and the song. As the Viajero flung their brushes over the fabric, they didn’t even change color. But as the painters continued to work, Sonya watched with fascination as the cloaks began to slowly fade from view.
“They’re invisible now?” she asked Lucia once they had finished.
“Of course,” Lucia said with the deliberately casual air that Sonya had come to realize was her version of bragging. “And once we put them on, we will be, too.”
Lucia shrugged with her exaggerated nonchalance. “I suppose it is amazing. Now we must move quickly. The effects will only last a short while.”
The painters remained in the house, while Sonya, Lucia, and the other musicians donned their cloaks. Sonya looked down at her own invisible body, then over at Lucia, who appeared to be a head floating in the air beside her, and laughed.
Lucia’s eyebrow arched. “Obviously we’ll need to keep our hoods up and our heads down to be completely invisible.”
She pulled up her hood and bowed her head, and disappeared completely from Sonya’s view.
As they left the house, the sun was beginning to set, leaving the sky a dark purple tinged in red. Sonya and the Viajero hurried north through the streets, keeping their heads bowed so as not to terrify the few people on the street with the sight of a group of disembodied heads.
Once they had reached the northern edge of the city, Sonya called for them to stop.
“We should probably move slowly from here. We might be invisible, but we’re not inaudible, especially running.”
“It’s a good time to give you these as well.” Lucia handed Sonya a pair of wax earplugs that would protect her from the effects of the Viajero music. “When I take down my hood, that will be the signal that it’s time for you to move in.”
Sonya fit the wax earplugs into her ears. They had been made specifically for her so they had a perfect seal. As soon as she put them in, the abruptly silent world was disorienting.
They walked slowly across the fifty or so yards of open space toward the garrison. Sonya was keenly aware of all the sounds she wasn’t hearing. The wind that pulled at her cloak, the rocky ground beneath her feet, the breath of her comrades. All of it was hidden from her. She didn’t like that feeling at all, and a nervous energy began to mix with her eagerness for action.
At last they stopped roughly ten feet from the two guards posted at the entrance of the garrison. Or Sonya assumed the others also did so with her. She couldn’t see or hear her comrades, and even their smell seemed to be masked by the cloaks. She just had to hope they all remembered the agreed upon position.
Then she waited.
At first, it seemed like nothing was happening. Since she could not perceive the Viajero, she had no idea if the plan was proceeding, and her mind began to sift through any number of alarming scenarios. Perhaps they had lost their courage and fled. This was, after all, their first real conflict. And if that was the case, Sonya was the only one standing there, stupidly waiting for a signal that would never come until the invisibility wore off and then she would be stupidly standing in front of some very alarmed imperial soldiers with a great many more soldiers only a cry for help away. Could she silence them both quickly enough to prevent them from raising the alarm? Then what would she do? Flee or continue on alone? Could she handle a fortified imperial garrison single-handedly?
But even as her mind rifled through a series of worst-case scenarios, she noticed the guards gradually look sleepier. Their stiff postures sagged, their eyes drooped, and they began to stifle ever-larger yawns. Finally, they leaned back against the gate they were guarding, then slid to the ground. They didn’t seem to be asleep exactly, but in an unnatural state somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness.
Then Lucia’s head appeared beside her. Still singing, she nodded.
Sonya moved forward alone, since the Viajero had to keep singing or the effects of the song would stop. She took keys from one of the guards and unlocked the gate, feeling rather than hearing the bolt shift. She pushed open the large double doors, then let the still-singing Viajero walk slowly into the courtyard as they continued their song. From there, they should be heard by every soldier in the garrison. That meant it was time for Sonya to get to work.
The layout was surprisingly similar to Cassa Estío, which meant she would be able to find her way around more easily. To the right were the stables. She peeked in and saw the horses all in the same unnatural daze. She hesitated for a moment, then moved on. Surely no one expected her to kill horses.
Then Sonya began to quickly but methodically work her way through the imperial compound. Where the Elhuyars had a theater, the imperial garrison had a training area. Where the Elhuyars had large opulent bedrooms, the garrison had dense clusters of bunk beds. She still hadn’t seen any soldiers, however. Could they be out on a training exercise? If so, what could she do? Was the entire plan a failure?
But no, she should have realized: With the setting sun, it was dinnertime. She found them all in the dining hall. Some were seated at long tables, others in the kitchen. All were in that same unnerving semicomatose state. She crept closer to get a better look. To a man, their faces were all slack, almost peaceful. They looked troublingly innocent, in fact.
They weren’t, of course. She knew that. And yet, to kill them when they looked like this…
She caught a glimpse of movement reflected in a metal tankard, and spun around just in time to dodge a clumsy swing from an imperial officer’s sword. The man had taken shreds of cloth and jammed them into his ears. Judging by his befuddled look, it wasn’t a perfect seal and he was suffering the same effect as the others, just to a lesser extent.
She looked down and saw that her cloak was beginning to flicker in and out of view.
He took another swing, and she dodged again. He looked a few years younger than her, about Sebastian’s age. He didn’t have the markings of a captain yet, but that wasn’t surprising. It was probably only her brother’s magic that had allowed him to rise so quickly through the imperial ranks. This poor fool was no Sebastian. Not even on a good day. And this was most certainly not a good day for him.
Yet she couldn’t help admire how he fought on, forcing his slow, lethargic limbs to move again and again, trying in vain to protect the other men. The empire might be terrible, but was this man terrible? How many of them had been bullied or cajoled into service for the empire like her brother? Did they even know what their empire had done to the Raízian and Izmorozian people? They had probably been raised to believe that they truly were making the world better.
These thoughts worked their way through Sonya as she continued to dodge the bumbling swings of the imperial officer. She could see his frustration with his own body, as well as his growing despair.
“Yes,” she told him, though neither could hear. “It is always pointless to fight against death. And yet we must.”
Then she stepped in close and pressed her hand against his back as she slipped her knife between his ribs. There was a strange sort of intimacy to it as she gazed up into his wide eyes. His lips opened and closed a few times. He died in her embrace, and she let him fall to the ground.
She turned to the others, all slack-jawed and vacant-eyed. Like surprised children. Lucia had told her this way would make the risk of losing comrades almost nothing, and that those under the song’s power would feel no pain. It had seemed, intellectually, to be not only the smartest, but the kindest plan.
Yet here she was, staring down at these helpless men, and she did not feel kind. She felt as despairing as the officer she’d just killed. Today she was not the proud death that could be found in battle, but that most dreaded and inglorious death that steals the lives of those weakened by illness or age.
She walked slowly down the length of the table, tears coursing down her cheeks as she slit throat after throat.
They did not even struggle as they died, and for reasons Sonya could not articulate, that broke her heart all the more.