Page 116 of The Familiar

“If this is all the prisoner can offer, there is nothing we can do for her. It’s clear she isn’t prepared to unburden her conscience fully.”

They wanted new people to blame, new prisoners to fill their cells. But who was she meant to doom?

“Señores,” said Víctor, his wet green eyes fixed on Luzia. “Did I not tell you she is slow-witted? She will need more guidance.”

Don Pedro steepled his fingers. “Tell us what happened beneath the Ordoños’ roof.”

“I already have,” Luzia replied.

“You told us of when you went to mass and when you fasted, but what of your masters?”

Then she was meant to denounce Marius and Valentina. They were the sacrifice Don Víctor wanted her to offer. Luzia thought of the smell of cocido, of Valentina unbraiding her hair, of the sprig of rosemary tucked into her sleeve, the barest scrap of protection, the barest scrap of kindness after years of slaps and punches and disdain.

“They prayed as good people do,” Luzia said.

“They met with Antonio Pérez,” Víctor prodded.

Luzia allowed herself a small, embarrassed laugh. “Oh no, señor. They did not keep such company as that. They were not fashionable people.”

Don Víctor’s hand flexed on the hilt of his ornamental sword. He gestured to Santángel. “This is my servant. He helped her prepare for the torneo and can attest to how stupid she is, how easily led. He can encourage truth from her.”

Luzia saw the men of the tribunal blink. The notary frowned and sorted through his pages, his face confused. Luzia knew they would say nothing, but that each of them would wonder how they had failed to notice the stranger in their midst.

“State your name that it may be entered into our record,” said Don Pedro.

“Guillén Barcelo Villalbas de Canales y Santángel.”

“And what role did you play at Casa Ordoño?”

“I acted as a kind of tutor to Señorita Cotado.”

“So you had cause to spend time with Don Marius and Doña Valentina.”

“No.”

Víctor pressed his lips together.

“Then what good are you to this tribunal?” asked Don Pedro.

“In the years I have served my master, I’ve done all I can to protect his good name. I have seen many people attempt to harm and defame him, and I have learned that the most dangerous attacks are never direct. It is the arrows shot from the flanks or from behind that find their targets.”

“I fail to see what—” Don Pedro began.

But Santángel wasn’t looking at Don Pedro. His opal eyes were trained on Luzia when he said, “Sometimes his critics have even attempted to aim at me in their attempts to do him harm.”

Luzia remembered standing by the lake’s shore before the third trial, full of rage and love, threatening to kill Víctor de Paredes. Santángel had warned her that his luck would ensure her failure. I have seen countless enemies seek to strike down De Paredes, he’d told her. They’d be better served by harming me. But if they can’t see a target, they can’t take proper aim.

Luzia saw him clearly. She always had. And now he was telling her to attack him, but why? What was his plan?

Don Pedro said, “That’s all very well, but how does it relate to the prisoner?”

“I have testimony to offer,” said Luzia. All she could do was pray Santángel knew what he was doing.

Don Pedro waved his hand impatiently. “Then we will hear it.”

“The man called Santángel did witness my time with the Ordoños. He visited me there nearly every day. I didn’t understand what I was being asked to do. I was told I would be given money, and food, and pretty gowns. So many pretty gowns.” Let them believe she was a fool so long as they believed her. “I was seduced away from the Church and to the devil’s side. By Guillén Santángel.”

Víctor released a surprised croak.