"I dislike intensely being made to waste time," said d'Ucello, drumming his fingers on his knee. "Listen carefully: Every time you force me to tell you something we both already know, I will prolong your suffering another hour." Daoud allowed a note of fear to creep into his voice. "Suffering? I beg you, Signore, believe me. Even if you torture me, I still cannot tell you anything different from what I will freely tell you. Ask me whatever you want." The Mask of Clay was useless with this man, Daoud saw. The podesta's mind had pierced it. How had he been able to do that? Because he was a man who observed much and thought much, unlike most men Daoud had met in Orvieto, who let their passions rule them. Yet d'Ucello had passions. He was a proud man, who must hate standing by helplessly, holding the supreme office in Orvieto, watching the two great families bespatter his city with blood. If he could not stop the Filippeschi and the Monaldeschi from murdering each other, at least he could do _something_. D'Ucello had seen enough of Daoud's comings and goings to make him suspicious. Like a hawk soaring above a plain, the podesta might be too high up to know exactly what he saw below, but he knew when he sighted prey. And perhaps d'Ucello saw that this prey, if hunted rightly, would lead him to others. D'Ucello leaned forward, out of the shadow of the window recess. "There was a man in black who tried to kill the Tartars the night of the Filippeschi uprising. What do you know about him?" "I know little about the uprising, Signore, since I was not here. I was in Perugia." "Why Perugia?" "To speak with several silk merchants." "Are there those in Perugia who will vouch for you?" "Certainly," said Daoud, feeling uneasily that d'Ucello was not deceived. "I will write to the podesta of Perugia and ask that your witnesses be examined," said d'Ucello. "Give me their names." Daoud had a struggle to remember the names of the witnesses. Lorenzo had given them to him months before, members of the Ghibellino network who were willing to perform this service for Manfred. The clerk's pen scratched rapidly as he haltingly brought out the names of five men. "When did you return from Perugia?" The clerks, Daoud recalled, had been removed from the town gates at the end of May. "Sometime in June," Daoud said. "Forgive me, I did not think to bring my journal with me, and I cannot tell you the exact date." He tried a weak smile. "Where is your man Giancarlo?" _On his way here from Siena with an army, Insh'Allah._ "I sent him on from Perugia," Daoud said. "He travels to Rimini, then Ravenna, eventually to Venice, looking for those who would be interested in receiving shipments of silks and spices from Trebizond. He had not been punctilious about writing to me, or perhaps his letters have been lost, so I do not know exactly where he is now." "I thought you were in competition with the Venetians."