"I promise you, Messere." Sordello's voice was a hoarse croak. "Whoever the escremento is, I will deliver his life into your hands."
Sordello stood up, then turned to Sophia and bowed.
"Madonna," Sordello gasped. "My eternal gratitude—"
"Just get out," Sophia snapped.
Was there a suggestion of a leer in Sordello's lumpy face as he stared at Sophia? But pain spread from the wound in Daoud's leg in great ripples through him, and he lay back and concentrated on the Sufi exercise that detached him from his body.
The heavy oak door closed behind Sordello. They were all three silent for a moment. Then Lorenzo jerked the door open and looked out into the corridor. He nodded, indicating Sordello had truly gone.
"It might have been wiser to strangle him," said Lorenzo. "He has all our lives in his hands."
Daoud held up his hand. "What he said was true. He could have delivered us to our enemies before the attack. I believe he is still in my power."
When alone with Sophia, Daoud lay back on his cushions. She stood looking down at him, and he wondered if that was pity he saw in her face.