Circulos overheard the conversation and moved soon after. He gathered up his straw and plodded, like a bald old pelican, to the opposite wall, where he made a new pallet, far from the others. Soon, the wall and floor were covered in hieroglyphics and ideograms. Signs of the zodiac, pentagrams and hexagrams predominated, but there were also spirals and tetrads, and the mother letters—Aleph, Mem and Shin—were a recurring feature. There was also something resembling the Tree of the Sephiroth.

“What do you say to that devil’s work, gentlemen?” Tomasz Alpha nodded towards Circulos.

“The Inquisitor will take him first,” stated Bonaventure. “Mark my words.”

“I doubt it,” said Scharley. “I think, on the contrary, he’ll soon be released. If they really are releasing the dimwits, then he fulfils the conditions perfectly.”

“I think you’re wrong in his case,” countered Koppirnig.

Reynevan thought so, too.

Herring was the prevailing feature of the fast-time menu and soon even Martin the rat was eating it with visible reluctance. Reynevan, meanwhile, had made his decision.

Circulos paid no attention to him and didn’t even notice when he approached while he was busy painting Solomon’s Seal on the wall. Reynevan cleared his throat. Once, then again, louder. Circulos didn’t turn his head.

“Get out of my light!”

Reynevan squatted down. On the circle surrounding the seal, Circulos had evenly scribbled the following words: AMASARAC, ASARADEL, AGLON, VACHEON and STIMULAMATON.

“What do you want?”

“I know those sigla and spells. I’ve heard about them.”

“Oh, yes?” Circulos only now looked at him, and said nothing for some time. “And I’ve heard of spies. Begone, snake.”

He turned his back on Reynevan and resumed his scribbling. Reynevan cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

“Clavis Salomonis…”

Circulos froze. He remained motionless for a while, then slowly turned his head, causing his goitre to bob.

“Speculum salvationis,” he replied, his voice still suspicious and hesitant. “Toledo?”

“Alma mater nostra.”

“Veritas Domini?”

“Manet in saeculum.”

“Amen.” Only then did Circulos grin to show the blackened stumps of his teeth and look around to check that no one was listening. “Amen, young confrater. Which academy? Krakow?”

“Prague.”

“Mine was Bologna.” Circulos smiled even more broadly. “Then Padua. And Montpellier. I also spent time in Prague… I knew doctors, masters, scholars… They didn’t fail to remind me of that during my arrest, and the Inquisitor will want to know the details… But you, young confrater? What will the Defender of the Catholic faith hastening here want to learn from you? Who did you know in Prague?”

“I didn’t know anyone.” Reynevan recalled Scharley’s warning. “I’m innocent. I ended up here by accident. It was a misunderstanding—”

“Certes, Certes.” Circulos waved a hand. “Of course. If you are convincing in your saintly innocence, you’ll get out alive, God willing. You have a chance. Unlike me.”

“What do you—”