d back to Sordello. How to work with this provoking
spirit?

"To send you into the enemy camp as he did, Count Simon must have great
confidence in your ability."

Sordello laughed angrily. "Confidence? That high and mighty French fop?
He was probably hoping you would catch me. Sia maledetto!"

He curses de Gobignon. Excellent. Or is this merely for my benefit?
Daoud peered at Sordello, wishing the room were lit by more than a few
torches burning in cressets. The flickering light was impressive, like
this gilded throne, but if Daoud could get closer to Sordello and see
better, he could be more sure of what the man was really feeling.

Daoud said, "He who is loyal to me is never cast out, no matter how
foolishly he behaves."

"Does he who is loyal to you get to go to paradise often, Maestro?"
Sordello's voice was thick with yearning.

It was time for the final step. Daoud beckoned. The nearest hooded
figure on his right, who was actually Lorenzo, came forward with a green
earthenware cup. He bent and held it before the kneeling Sordello.

"More of your stregoneria? Or have you finally decided to poison me?"

"Would I have showered you with wonders, as I have tonight, only to kill
you? No, I have one final wonder to show you. Drink, Sordello."

_This wonder probably will be the death of you, but not for a while._

After a long hesitation, the old bravo lifted his head and swallowed the
liquid Lorenzo poured down his throat. He made a sour face. "Paugh! It
tastes bad!"

Daoud said nothing and waited. After a few moments of silence Sordello
sat back on his heels. His gray head began to nod. His eyes closed.

Daoud arose from the throne and went down to him, holding a candle in
one hand.

"Look at me, Sordello." The prisoner's head lifted, and his brown eyes
stared fixedly into Daoud's. Daoud bent and passed the candle flame
before Sordello's face, but his eyes remained motionless.

"Do you love Simon de Gobignon, or do you hate him?"

"Hate. I hate him," Sordello said in a dull voice. "I have suffered much
on his account."

"Would you kill him if you had the chance?"

Even in his trance Sordello's eyes seemed to glow, and his face flushed.
"Yes. Oh, yes, Maestro. Gladly."

That was good. The will must already be there. Then it remained only to
shape the deed. Daoud reached inside the collar of his tunic and pulled
out the silver locket Blossoming Reed had given him. It was, he had
decided, better than a