“Similarly, two days past, another of these creatures chased me in the Dead Woods. A report which should have also reached your ears, as guards were stationed at the treeline.”
The Modäiti turned to Asmund with a raised brow.
Magistrate Vester cleared his throat. “I received such a report, from Watchman Klaus Thomsen. And there is indeed guard presence along the edge of the Dead Woods.”
“I was not the only one present, in either case. You can ask Brother Tristan or Huntress Kaja for their accounts if you wish. The shadow monsters are here. They have not left. And whilst you do nothing about them, the people of Littlewatch will be in danger.”
The fears of the people boiled over at her words, many shouting of what the magistrate was doing to protect them, others calling upon the Divines to save them.
“Fear not!” Asmund bellowed. “These are the accounts of one.” His dark gaze turned to Aloisia. “Do not put too much stock into the words of one person.”
“Then by all means, Magistrate, ask the others for their accounts,” Aloisia continued. “Then it would be the words of three. Furthermore, I have seen these creatures several times in the Dead Woods across the days between the last trial and this one.”
“That is your account and no one else’s, I suppose?” Lusana asked.
“I followed their tracks. They were very real prints. I can show you, if you like. If you would dare follow me into the Dead Woods.”
Lusana narrowed her eyes.
“And I am not the only one who saw them. A certain shaman by the name of Inari was present. We were both chased through the woods. You could ask him if you like. He can tell you more of these creatures, named the Forgotten Gods.”
Lusana winced as she named the creatures.
“There is no need,” Magistrate Vester said. “We shall take you at your word, Huntress.”
Fynn was silent throughout the exchange, watching each of them carefully. Of course, he was completely unaware of it all. Even last night, Silas had halted her from speaking of anything regarding the trial.
“While you’re at it,” Aloisia pressed on, “you could ask the shaman to translate the markings on Brighde’s body. He was doing a fair job until he was arrested.” She produced the pages from the pouch on her belt, scrawled in his native language.
Lusana moved to the edge of the platform. “The shaman was arrested for questioning regarding the markings on his own body. One marking in particular, a hawk upon his chest, was identical to the same marking on Brighde’s. If there is any possibility of the shaman being involved, it is better he is in our custody.”
Mutterings of agreement surrounded Aloisia, the disdain for shamans and witchcraft clear in the voices of the townsfolk.
“He is also the only one who can provide answers,” Aloisia continued. “The priests cannot translate any of the markings, correct High Priest?”
Silas inclined his head. “I am afraid so. It is no language we have seen. The shaman made far more progress in but a few hours than we did in several days.”
“The shaman even told us it is no language. He could tell us more, if you would let him.”
Lusana’s amber eyes flashed in anger, which she restrained quickly. “The shaman’s connection cannot be discounted. Maybe he can read it because he was the one who put it there.”
“The marking on his chest is almost a decade old,” Aloisia argued. “As are most of the markings he bears. How can you connect it to a death so recent as five days past?”
“Again, he may be the one who put it there.”
“Yet he was not the one who placed his own markings. A seer did it. The coincidence is strange, true enough, though it is not evidence proving he is responsible.”
Lusana’s brows crinkled, and she gave a chilling laugh. “I wonder why you defend this shaman, Huntress. If he is the guilty one, then your brother goes free.”
Fynn tensed.
“Switching one for the other does not mean we have found the true culprit,” Aloisia said. “Why don’t we call upon the Scholars of the Mage’s Guild? These things are their remit, after all. If you do not believe the shaman, perhaps you would believe them?”
“The Mage’s Guild?” Lusana raised a brow. “I think that a little extreme. We are yet to establish just what we’re supposed to fear, Huntress. Once there is more solid evidence—”
“More solid evidence? What would you have us do? Bring back its head?”
Lusana turned to the crowd, ignoring her protests. “Speaking of evidence, I have an item to bring forward.” She waved her hand, and a priest hurried onto the platform, carrying a book with him. Lusana smiled her thanks and dismissed him, the tome now in her own grasp. “This was found in the accused’s home.”
