“Platitudes, Grzesiu, platitudes. You parrot the Good Book like a village priest. I said, leave Grellenort alone and leave me alone. Cast the beam out of thine own eye. Or perhaps you’d prefer another biblical quotation? From the Letters to the Corinthians, maybe? Ye cannot drink the cup of the Lord, and the cup of devils: ye cannot be partakers of the Lord’s table, and of the table of devils. Reinmar of Bielawa, does that name ring any bells? A heretic, whom you saved from a painful interrogation in Frankenstein by a personal intervention and sheltered until he managed to escape? You gave protection to an old friend. For he is your comrade, your companion, your mate from the varsity. Reynevan Bielawa, an excommunicated heretic and criminal, sorcerer, necromancer, a persona turpis indeed. You partake of the table of demons with a necromancer, O Inquisitor. Judge a man by the company he keeps. It may interest you to know that Bielawa was in Wrocław a month ago.”

“Reinmar of Bielau?” asked Grzegorz Hejncze, unable to conceal his astonishment. “Reinmar of Bielau, in Wrocław? What did he want here?”

“How should I know?” said the bishop, observing him under half-closed eyelids. “It is an Inquisitor’s job—not mine—to track Jews, heretics and apostates, to know what they are plotting and with whom. For I believe, Grzesiu, that you know why Bielawa came here. And what—or rather whom—he was seeking.”

From the nearby Church of Peter and Paul came a dreadful, annoying clatter. During the three days preceding Easter, the bells were silent and the faithful were called to church using wooden clappers.

“Hejncze didn’t know,” said Grajcarek, cringing obsequiously. “He didn’t know Bielawa had been in Wrocław. Or why he was here, to what end. Grellenort was in the residence, hidden, eavesdropping, and after the Inquisitor left, he argued with the bishop. The bishop claimed that Hejncze was dissembling, that he is a cunning fox and sly devil, well versed from the Roman curia in intrigues and scheming. Grellenort, on the other hand—”

“Grellenort,” the rosemary-scented woman with the alto voice interrupted pensively, “Grellenort was inclined to believe that Hejncze was really and genuinely astonished.”

“He was really and genuinely astonished,” repeated the Wallcreeper emphatically. “I’m absolutely certain of it. I cast a spell on him from my hiding place. He had a blockade, naturally, some kind of protective talisman, so I didn’t manage to read his mind, but if he was dissembling and trying to deceive, my spell would have uncovered him. No, Kundrie, Grzegorz Hejncze didn’t know about Reynevan, the news astonished him, he was surprised that Reynevan had been searching for somebody here. Thought it’s hard to believe, Hejncze doesn’t appear to know about Miss Apolda. Which would suggest it wasn’t the Inquisition that abducted her after all.”