“What of the other person present?” Mother Lusana asked. “Might I call forth Brother Tristan, servant to the Nine Divines.”
Tristan paled. High Priest Silas beckoned him and, when he still did not move, Kaja shoved him towards the platform. As Aloisia had done moments earlier, Tristan knelt before the judiciaries.
“Would you also consent to giving your testimony before the people of Littlewatch this day?”
“I would,” he answered.
“Then let us hear your account first.” The Modäiti offered a hand. “Come, join us on the platform and tell us what you saw that night.”
Tristan rose and strode up onto the wooden stand where Mother Lusana guided him to her side. Aloisia almost snorted. If she thought she would get a different or more trust-worthy account from him, simply because he was a priest, she would find herself at a loss. They had seen the same thing.
“I swear, in the light of the Nine Divines, to tell the truth and naught but the truth in my account of the events of last night,” Tristan said, colour draining from him as he faced the crowd.
“Tell it true,” Mother Lusana said. “Your account shall be recorded, for evidence as well as comparison to the testimony already given.” She nodded to the scribe off to one side of the platform.
Tristan wrung his hands, searching for the right starting point. “Shortly after the stroke of twelve last night, Huntress Aloisia and I were approaching the street leading up to the Temple from Lower Temple Row…” Tristan recounted how they had gone their separate ways, how the lights had gone out. He detailed the flash of blue light and the grotesque humanoid shadows littering the street in the unearthly glow. And he recalled a scream – Brighde’s scream – which was followed by Fynn’s. Then he described how they had entered their home, how Brighde’s skin had glowed a molten orange and symbols had appeared across her skin in its wake.
The Modäiti gave a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you for your candour.”
They called Aloisia forth next and she gave her own account, almost identical to Tristan’s save for her position closer to the house and that she entered first. Throughout their reports, Fynn had slowly withdrawn, curling in on himself with each word. It couldn’t have been easy to hear everyone speaking of the events in such a cold, removed manner, Aloisia knew. It was hard enough for her to speak of it. And, for Fynn, each word was a blade, forcing him to relive the horror of his wife dying, over and over.
The Modäiti turned to the other two judiciaries, a slight frown creasing between her brows. Aloisia wondered if she had truly imagined their accounts would differ, would deviate from what they had said the night before.
High Priest Silas scratched his beard, leaning closer to the others with concern creasing his brow. “Their stories match what the accused said,” he murmured.
Mother Lusana drew herself taller. “How far can we trust their accounts, as close to the accused as they are?”
Aloisia gritted her teeth. Even with the truth presented before them by the testimonies, this priestess still would not accept it.
“These shadows…” High Priest Silas regarded Tristan. “They did not belong to a person?”
“No,” Tristan said. “They were forms in their own right. No other people were on the street. And the shadows, though humanoid, looked like no person I have ever seen. They were more like imitations of a person, distorted, with elongated limbs.”
“Yet, you saw them for only a moment?” Mother Lusana asked.
“Indeed, during the blast of light.
“Is it possible, therefore, these shadows could have been a trick of the eye?”
Murmurings of agreement rumbled through the crowd.
“I do not know what they were, Modäiti.”
She drew out a long sigh. “Unfortunately, these accounts are not conclusive. There is presently not enough evidence to prove Fynn Smith did not kill his wife.”
“Likewise,” Magistrate Vester interjected, “there is not sufficient evidence to prove he did.”
“I would say there is more evidence to that end than the former.” Mother Lusana folded her hands before her, the image of serenity. “He was the only one present at the time of death. There are no witnesses to say he did not do it.”
“Just as there is none to say he did. Innocent until proven guilty, Modäiti. Such is the way. Until we can prove beyond doubt he committed this crime, we cannot prosecute.” The magistrate swept a palm down his face. “It would seem we are at an impasse. I would implore any of you here present who saw or heard anything last night which may aid in this trial to come forth and report these accounts to my guards after this preliminary hearing has concluded. Even if it seems trivial, I urge you to give testimony. As per the law, we have one week to conclude this trial and deliver a judgement. Your swift action would be appreciated.”
“One week?” Aloisia balked. “That’s no time at all.”
“It is the law.”
Mavka lifted her chin in challenge. “By law, more time can be asked for when evidence is not sufficient. Correct, Asmund?”
Magistrate Vester inclined his head. “Indeed, Lead Huntress.”
