you."

D'Ucello slid off the window ledge. "I am the sort of man who would
rather spend hours picking a lock than break it open." The smile that
stretched his thin mustache was genuine. "But, as we both know, the
Ghibellini of Siena may be upon us at any moment, and I must break you
open quickly. So now I will sleep. And while I am restoring my strength,
my men will prepare you for our next talk."

Daoud tried to keep the Face of Steel firmly in place while with the
Mask of Clay he feigned helpless terror. But his defense against feeling
seemed to have flaws. Genuine terror of what he was about to suffer kept
seeping through. When d'Ucello's guards untied him and forced him to
stand, his knees nearly buckled under him.

The steps Daoud descended must have been hollowed out by the feet of
hundreds of hapless prisoners and their guards. The wall of the circular
stairwell, which Daoud brushed with his fingertips to steady himself,
was of rough-hewn black stone.

His heart was thudding heavily as he descended the stairs, preceded by
one guard, followed by the other and by d'Ucello's clerk. The thought of
hours, perhaps days, of pain he must undergo made every muscle in his
body tremble. The stairwell, lit at long intervals by torches held by
wrought iron cressets, went down so far it seemed to have no bottom.
Many a prisoner must have felt the temptation to throw himself down from
the stairs and escape suffering.

The chamber he entered through a door of thick oak planks had been
carved from the yellow-gray rock of Orvieto's mesa. The room smelled of
fire, blood, rot, and excrement.

A man slid down from a chair when Daoud entered with his guards.
Standing, his head would have come to Daoud's waist. But he was bent
double and held his arms out from his sides to keep his fingers from
touching the ground, so his head was not even as high as Daoud's knees.

Memories flashed through Daoud's mind: The woodcutter who had blessed
himself when Daoud was arrested at Lucera. The executioner who had
tossed the heretic's cod into the air to the delight of the crowd before
Orvieto's cathedral. Daoud had always wondered how the little man had
come to appear in two such different places. The skin crawled on the
back of Daoud's neck. This creature was uncanny.

"You are to keep him awake all night, Erculio," said the guard who had
followed Daoud into the room.

"Did I not sleep all day today, so that I would be able to properly