Asmund sucked in a shaky breath. “Tell us, Forgotten God: Who is your master?”
The creature tilted its head back to face the magistrate. “My Master…” It withdrew from the bars, thrashing wildly in its cage as if it could escape the question. As it settled, it gave another low growl. “My Master… is… Prince Azrul of the Damned.”
Lusana gasped. “That can’t be true.”
“We’ve no reason to think it speaks false,” High Priest Silas said. “If it is true… A Prince of the Damned commands them.”
Aloisia’s heart sank. It couldn’t be right. She peered at Ezra, trying to gauge his reaction. He still perched atop the wall, his elbows resting on his knees, his shoulders tense.
“Can you tell us, Ezra?” she asked. “Can you tell us if this is correct? Were you bound by a Prince of the Damned?”
The muscle in his jaw pulsed. “I cannot. But…” He paused, searching for the right words. “You are not asking the correct questions. The creatures may have a master. That is not to say their master is the one commanding them…” He caught Aloisia’s gaze. “Ask the right question.”
Aloisia spun back to the cage. “Forgotten God, who commands you?”
The creature recoiled, shrinking away from her words and the truth which the serum wrought.
“Answer,” Aloisia pressed. “Who commands you in Littlewatch?”
The Forgotten God stilled once more, lifting its head to look upon her. “Who commands me?” It lifted an arm, pointing with its tendril-like fingers.
Aloisia followed the line of its hand.
“The one who commands me,” the creature continued, “is the Modäiti, Lusana Harteryn.”
Silence fell like a scythe, each of them turning to face the Modäiti. Her mouth hung agape, the weight of the creature’s words settling on her.
“That is preposterous!” Lusana shrieked. “How could I be the one who commands them?”
Aloisia glanced to Ezra again. “Can you confirm it?”
Ezra puffed out a sigh. “Unfortunately, I cannot. The spell has not yet released me.”
“They must be tampering with evidence!” Lusana cried. “Forcing the creature to, somehow, say these things.”
Magistrate Vester scratched his jaw. “I agree it seems beyond the realm of reason to think the Modäiti is the one behind this.”
“Is it?” Ezra raised a brow.
“What evidence is there otherwise? Nothing, so far, has pointed towards her.”
“And if I could command them,” Lusana said, “why would I have brought the accused out to get him to command them?”
“To absolve yourself,” Aloisia countered, echoing her earlier words. “To make it appear as if you could not be the one behind it. And, as you said, there is no harm if you were never in any danger.”
Lusana’s eyes widened. “How dare you?”
“What? Use your own reasoning against you?”
“In that case,” Lusana said through gritted teeth, “why wouldn’t I command them myself to make it appear as if the accused were guilty?”
Ezra rose from the wall. “If you remember, Modäiti, at the last trial, we suggested the one who bound me was losing their power. With the spell binding me to the cave now broken, the power fed to my captor would be waning. Therefore, it makes sense the one behind this would be powerless to stop them.”
“I will hear no more of this.” Lusana shook her head.
“Why?” Aloisia asked. “Are you looking guilty?”
“Enough!” Asmund bellowed. “We must consider this with reason—”
