. God forgive me for
the pain I have caused this man._

The two men in red untied the condemned man and heaved him to his feet,
his face and body so running with blood that he, too, seemed dressed in
red. The crowd began to back away from the scaffold, and Daoud felt
himself irresistibly carried back with them. The executioners tied the
limp form of the heretic to the stake jutting up from the center of the
platform.

The black-clad dwarf scuttled like a monkey to the edge of the platform,
and someone handed him a flaming torch. He danced with it. He whirled it
in great circles around his head, and Daoud heard it hissing even over
the cheers of the crowd. He swung the flame between his legs and leapt
over it. He threw it high in the air, the torch spinning under the thick
gray clouds that hung low over Orvieto. Erculio neatly caught it when it
came down. For a man so badly deformed, his agility was eerie.

Erculio turned toward the cathedral, holding up the torch. Daoud
followed the dwarf's gaze and saw d'Ucello, the podesta, his face a
white mask, give a wave of assent.

Spinning on his heels, the dwarf scurried to the ladder, scrambled down
a few rungs, and threw the torch into the tinder piled under the
platform. Then he turned and leapt out into space. The other two
executioners had left the platform and stood at the bottom of the
ladder, and one of them caught Erculio and swung him down.

The flames shot up with a roar, a red and gold curtain around the
heretic. Daoud heard no more cries of pain. Perhaps he was already dead
of his wounds. Daoud prayed to God that it be so.

The smoke did not rise in the hot, moist air, but coiled and spread
around the scaffold. People coughed and wiped their eyes and drew back
farther from the blaze. Daoud was close enough to feel the heat, and on
such a sweltering day it was unbearable. But now, he discovered, he
could move. The crowd was dispersing. There was nothing more to see. The
heretic was surely dead, and the smoke and flames hid the destruction of
his body.

Daoud looked up at the cathedral steps. There were no red or purple
robes there, and the papal banner was gone. The Count de Gobignon had
reappeared and was staring at the fire. As Daoud watched, the count
stumbled down the steps, his arms hanging loosely at his sides.

Daoud turned to go back to Ugolini's.

"Well, Messer David, do they do as thorough a job on heretics in
Trebizond?"

Daoud's path was blo