Page 77 of The Familiar

Luzia was confused by the way he addressed her directly when he should put his questions to the Ordoños. They might not be her patrons, but they were her employers and of far higher status.

“Forgive me, señor, but there’s no mystery to my answer. You are a man of great power and influence. I am a servant with neither. How could my answer be any different?”

“She is a diplomat, our scullion! And she makes a fair point. I would be sad indeed if people didn’t tremble just a little in my presence. Please,” he said, gesturing to the wider room. “Let us all be comfortable, if we can. Shall I have refreshment brought? No, I see you are well provided for. Good.” He spoke as if enjoying each word in his mouth, stacking another, then another to compound that enjoyment.

Marius took the seat closest to Pérez, while Valentina and Luzia shared a small cushioned bench. Luzia’s eyes sought Santángel, and she realized that no one was looking at him or speaking to him. It was as if they’d forgotten he was there, when to her he seemed to be glowing in the murky light of the room. Was this how he slipped past soldiers and outwitted patrols of guards? Had he mastered a kind of invisibility even she couldn’t guess at?

Pérez settled in his chair. “I have just come from speaking with Fortún Donadei and his patroness, Doña Beatriz. In a demonstration of wisdom and courage—and I daresay foresight—they have agreed that the torneo should continue.”

Marius made a show of nodding sagely. “You feel this is the best course?”

“I fear it is the only course, my friend. The king demands a third trial, and what a king wishes is as good as done.”

Valentina glared at Marius and he cleared his throat. “Even in the wake of such violence?”

“Dreadful, I know. But that was the work of Teoda Halcón and her heretic family. Such perfidy, such wickedness. And brought beneath my roof in the guise of holy innocence. They follow a Calvinist sect, and it was Teoda who sabotaged the second trial.”

Luzia kept her face expressionless. In Perucho’s shop, she had seen the look that Hualit exchanged with the tailor when he mentioned Teoda’s father traveling to Germany and the Netherlands. Were there whispers of her heresy even then? Luzia had been standing beside her when the shadows began to move on the stage. The girl might have feigned her fear and surprise, but she didn’t have the ability to create such monsters. Like Gracia, she’d prepared a magic lantern to get through the second trial. I have no talent for miracles or illusions. Maybe that was a lie too.

“What will become of her?” Luzia asked.

“Luzia,” Valentina chastised, “it is not for you to pose such questions.”

But Pérez merely leaned back and said, “We needn’t stand on protocol after such a night. She’s being taken to Toledo to face the tribunal. No doubt she will have interesting neighbors.”

He must mean Lucrecia de León. The girl who dreamed and the girl who spoke to angels, both locked away and facing torture.

“As for Gracia de Valera,” Pérez continued, “she had quite a lot to say about you.”

Marius startled as if someone had poked him with a pin. “About Luzia?”

“She claims you saved her life,” said Pérez.

Luzia forced herself not to look to Santángel. This could be a trick. Had Gracia said that Luzia saved her through some strange or demonic means?

“I may have?” she ventured.

“She has left the torneo and is returning to Sevilla. She said she would keep you daily in her prayers and give alms in your name for the rest of her days. She went on like that for quite a while.”

Luzia stared at him, then sputtered, “I will do the same for her.”

“We all will,” added Marius.

“Now, Luzia of the scullion’s hands, savior of beautiful maidens, are you prepared for a third trial?”

“Does it matter?” The words slipped out, her defenses eroded by a night spent blissfully without sleep and a morning whiled away in terror.

Pérez only laughed. “Not at all, child. It was a matter of courtesy.”

“Don Antonio,” said Valentina, her voice thin as broth. “Forgive me. I … I hesitate to ask, but even with the heretic under lock and key, can we be certain such a trial will be safe?”

“No,” Pérez admitted. “But the king has insisted and offered his own guards as protection. You see, I am just the clockmaker; the king tells us the time.”

“Then we will go to El Escorial?” Marius asked.

For the first time Pérez looked uneasy. “A worthy question. And who wouldn’t wish to see its splendors? Alas, I do not yet know where the third trial will be held. That is for the king to decide.”

Luzia had understood Philip would never come to La Casilla. Not even the prospect of a holy champion with whom to put down Dutch revolts and cow the English queen could lure him to make such a gesture. The world came to the king, and it would be too great an honor for Pérez. But she had thought, maybe hoped, that they would visit the Alcázar or El Escorial. What did it mean that the king would offer them no such invitation?