Here they are, two columns, two of the many obelisks that mark this city. But these are the only uneven ones: one taller than the other, and I know to find them in front of the church of San Michele. This church is the glory of the Jesuits, always feared and always cast out from Cagliari, once even with an assault during the 1848 uproars. But they always came back - over the centuries. I know that I cannot go unnoticed entering from the staircase. I get inside and stare at the pulpit named after Carlo V. My target (escaped with his secrets, his ability to swindle, and his thin lips), maybe he took refuge in here, among the church’s wise scholars, whispering with them of sins and rules, subjects he know very well considering that he is a champion in both of them. Under the Sperone Tower I see a circle, with the letter H in the middle. I get it, I know what it means. I have to keep on walking up.