A shroud of silence suddenly descended on the cell. Several long moments passed before the prisoner realized what was wrong. He had spent many nights alone in this place, and he could always hear some sort of noise: moaning from one of the neighboring cells, the screeching of rusty hinges, the murmur of the guards, muffled cries from the basement, the rustling of mice and rats, the creaking boards on which he lay, distant sounds of the outside world. Now all of that had mysteriously disappeared.

"Who are you?" he said, finally mustering the courage to break this silence of the tomb. The darkness did not answer; suddenly, once again the prisoner felt the stab of the piercing eyes that had followed him out of his dream. "The tempter?" The words were almost inaudible, so that he didn't know whether he said them or only thought them.

"Why should that bother you?" The voice remained just as gentle. "If I am the tempter, then we are on the same side. We have the same opponent."

"Why ... why are you here? What do you want from me?" He had a strong urge to cross himself but at the last moment thought it somehow inappropriate.

"I don't want anything from you. On the contrary, I have a gift for you. Sort of a token of our alliance. A trip."

"A trip?"

"Don't worry, you won't leave this cell, and you will get back on time, before they come for you."

"What kind of a trip will it be if I stay here?"

"The only one possible under the circumstances: through time."

The prisoner blinked. This was not really happening. He was still asleep. However, there was no awakening that necessarily followed such a realization. He brought his hand to his face and pinched his cheek hard. The pain was real. Even too real.

"I don't want ... to go ... anywhere."

"But you'll like it there. I'm quite sure. The future has pleasant surprises for you."

"The future?"

"Yes. Almost three hundred years from now."

"Why would I want to go ... to the future?"

"Out of curiosity, above all. Aren't you interested in checking whether you really succeeded in outwitting the church? Even though you certainly appear self-confident, there must still be a shadow of doubt inside. What if your sacrifice is in vain?"

"But you said it isn't. That my students ..."

"A moment ago that did not sound convincing to you. In any case, can you believe in the word of the tempter, even when you're on the same side as he is?"

"What would the future corroborate? What would I see there?" As he asked these questions, he felt completely foolish. He had easily let himself be drawn into a crazy, impossible conversation. Where was the common sense he was so proud of? Had he gone out of his mind? He had heard that this sometimes happened to people waiting to be burned at the stake. Fear twisted their minds.

"A better question would be what you won't see. First of all, you won't see a monastery on the top of this hill. Its walls will still be there, but it will no longer contain dark, humid cells, corridors all sooty from torches, or a torture chamber in the basement."

"The monastery will fall to ruin?"

"No, it will be remodeled."

"What can you remodel a monastery into?"

The answer was preceded by brief silence that seemed to indicate a certain hesitation, indecision. "I suppose that in the end you would recognize it without my help, although it will certainly look ... strange. But I would do well to prepare you. You will not have much time, and the future can have a stunning effect. At the time of your visit, instead of a monastery this will be an astronomical observatory."

He knew that he should say something in return, that it was expected of him, but he could not utter a word. His vocal cords were vibrating, forming confused questions, but his throat had closed completely at the top and no sound came out. He stared straight ahead blankly, his mouth empty.

In the infinite silence that reigned once again, a white-gloved hand put the cane between the knees, then disappeared in the folds of the black robe. The hand took a moment to find something there, then appeared with a round, flat object on the open palm. Golden reflections shone from its engraved curves. The dark figure's thumb moved along the edge of the object, and the lid popped open.

The hand extended toward the prisoner, but he remained stock-still. It was not indecision; the spasm that had closed his throat had now spread to his entire body. He wanted to move, do something, anything, he couldn't stay there motionless forever, but his muscles completely refused to obey.

"Yes, before you leave, there is one more thing you should know. It will please you, I believe. The observatory will be named after you."

The movement with which he accepted the watch had nothing to do with his will. It seemed to him that someone else received the tempter's gift, that he was just an observer who should indeed warn the incautious sinner not to do it, that it was insane. He wouldn't have listened, anyway, his soul was already lost, so it made no difference; actually, nothing could help him anymore.

The watch face radiated with a bright whiteness. In the dark cell it was a lighthouse summoning sailors, the flame of a candle attracting buzzing insects, a star luring the glass eye of the telescope. And over it were two ornate hands at a right angle, forming a large letter L.