The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

Prayer

Driver and Red exchanged glances with one another before returning their attention to the barrel pointed at the head of the former.

"What are you doing, Plaudit?" Driver sounded on the tamer side of annoyed.

"Aiming a loaded firearm at you and asking what you are doing," Lark huffed, "and don't you move, Red—or Resilience, or whatever. Just don't."

Red had been lowering the lantern she was holding but seamlessly became a statue.

Driver set her own lantern down and rubbed her hands as if from cold. "Houser's with you?"

"That was a question, not an answer." It was strange to see Lark like this without the Shadow voice nor the disguise nor the playfulness in his eyes. He flicked a sharp glance to Red to ensure she still hadn't moved before glaring at Driver again.

Maybe Able wasn't visible, hidden behind Lark and the door as he was. The lanterns were brighter than the fire which was only getting dimmer as the cold air rushed it from the entrance. He quietly rolled the coats around his arms in case Lark meant for them to make a break for it. Had Chessie left his pony?

"Look here." Driver spread her hands and offered an unpracticed attempt at a conciliatory tone. "When Red saw who was riding up to your door, all she did was fetch me. Only me. So here we all are, yes? We can talk."

Able's guts tied themselves in knots as if that would protect them. Red had been watching him and Chessie. Maybe even stalked them. But Chessie had accepted Lark saying they were alone, hadn't she? She wouldn't have left Able behind if she'd known—what, did he trust in her prescient powers? Should he?

"So talk." Lark's aim had yet to waver and both his voice and stance were increasingly impassive.

"We can't go inside where it's warm?" Driver faked a pleasant smile. It wasn't warm inside, not anymore, so she needn't have looked disappointed when she scoffed, "What are you so desperate to know? That I'm not going to have your foolish sweetheart killed?"

Lark did not flinch at that, though his eyes flashed. "You're going to Stalach, aren't you? Just leave everyone here to die. You've started a fire here and you're going to let it burn while you go start a new one in Stalach."

Driver raised her chin. "Well, I can't really do anything about the Empire coming here now, can I? All thanks to you."

"You wanted this to happen," Lark's voice was eerily cool now. "It was your plan all along."

"There was never going to be any other way!" Driver heaved a contemptuous sigh. "I don't know what naive nonsense your ivory tower spawn has been telling you, but Larbantry is as Larbantry does. Conquest and destruction are the only tools they have and they take it to every problem. Your father will do it again and again until someone stops—"

"I swear to god, Red." Lark's voice cut sharply enough that Driver stopped and glanced at her sister. Able hadn't seen Red move. Driver nodded once, and Red took a step back. Now or never.

"W-what—" And of course Able's tongue would feel like lead and his throat like paste now! He swallowed and managed, "What use is perpetuating that cycle, then?" Lark's left palm found his chest, ready to push him back, but he persisted, "They took your sister from you, yes? Like they were going to take my brother from my father. Like they'll do over and over, as you say, whenever you engage that lever in the machine. So why not break that cycle—stop the wheel from turning?"

"You're going to lecture me, Houser?" Driver sneered without meeting his gaze, so she must not see him. "All your father wanted was to shelter you from this reality, yet here you are, posturing like an expert."