David of Trebizond has spent his days riding about Orvieto, meeting
with the fattori of various trading houses that deal in silks and
spices. Your servant adds a list below. The cardinal sleeps most of
the day and works through the night behind the locked door of his
cabinet on the top floor of the palazzo. Sometimes he mounts to the
roof and studies the stars with the aid of magical instruments. Of
the servant Giancarlo I am unable to make report, having not seen
him all this week.

Lorenzo laughed. "That is the only true statement in this list of lies.
You did not see me all week because I have been constantly at _your_
back."

Sordello spat at Lorenzo's feet. "Ladruncolo! Sneak!" At this Lorenzo
and Daoud broke into laughter, while Sordello glared at them helplessly.
The hoop on which he was splayed turned slowly one way and then back the
other.

"You are indignant at being spied upon?" Lorenzo chuckled. "Then imagine
how we feel. And what is worse, you do not even tell the truth about
us."

"I piss in your teeth," Sordello snarled.

"For instance, what you write about Madonna Sophia," Lorenzo went on,
unperturbed. "You lost her a mere three streets from the cardinal's
mansion. She knew you were following her and took pains to rid herself
of your unwanted attentions. But you could not admit to your master what
a buffone you are, so you made up all that about her buying gloves in
the bazaar and going to church."

Actually, Daoud thought, that was the afternoon Sophia had come here, to
Tilia's house, to see Rachel, and it would have been disastrous if
Sordello had followed her. They would then have had to kill him, which
would have been unfortunate, since this way of handling him was so much
better.

Of course, they might still have to kill him. He already knew enough
about them to send them all to the stake if he ever spoke out. He must
be brought under control, to serve their purposes, or he must quietly
disappear.

"So, you not only spy on us, but you lie about us," said Daoud. "And to
whom do you send these lies? When the Bulgarian woman Ana takes your
weekly reports back to the Palazzo Monaldeschi, to whom does she deliver
them? De Verceuil? De Gobignon?"

"Go peddle your silks and spices, Messer David." The man was so
ill-tempered he had not the sense to try to protect himself by hiding
his anger and defiance.

Daoud gritted his teeth in frustration. Sordello was not br