An old woman on the train, sitting opposite a young girl, peers up from her religious text, reading, but mostly bored from reciting the same page already from habit. Her interest was piqued by this child since the start of this ride. The old woman was waiting for maybe her guardian, but the young child seemed to be traveling alone. Never found the polite opportunity to cut in and ask, but better late than never.

The young child is reading an untitled book.

Old Woman

Hey there. What you reading there, sweetie?

The child’s eyes dart up from her book, but otherwise, she remained motionless. A brief silence as the child seemed to be calculating and analyzing her. A bit uncomfortable.

Viernes

The Last Rites of the Angels. Are you of Aeloris?

Old Woman

Why yes. An old Scribe, in fact. How did you know?

Viernes

Your broach. It’s the House of the Justicar’s. And you’re recounting the Ordinances, aren’t you?

Old Woman

You are observant, aren’t you? But the Last Rites? There are much more pleasant Rites to read to pass the day. How did you even come by a Last Book?

Viernes

It’s my father’s. I… don’t actually know what it says, but he left comments in the margins.

Old Woman

Oh, what House was your father in?

Viernes

He wasn’t. He wasn’t a Scribe.

Old Woman

Sorry, I just assumed. Not many Ichiss can read the Rites, let alone own a physical copy of the Last Book. I can help you translate—

Viernes

I’m not an Ichiss.

Old Woman

Oh, of course. Excuse an old woman of her habits. Things change too fast when you are my age.

A beat. The old woman is thinking.

Old Woman (CONT’D)

You visiting your father in Whippany?

Viernes

No. My aunt.

Old Woman

Well, she has a very bright niece.

Viernes remains silent.

Old Woman (CONT’D)

Do you know what the Last Book says about strangers?

Viernes

No.

Old Woman begins to talk, rote, in an unknown language, but Viernes listens with unflinching intent. It then ends and, clearing her throat, she begins the translation. But before she can get past the first word—

A loud bang erupts from the back of the train and it begins to tilt off to the side. The train seemed to be charging forward on only one rail— the luggage above are falling over and the passengers screaming and leaning right. Viernes is bracing herself against the window.

Old Woman

What’s happening? Hold on to me child!