I saty miniaturists.

    Black ctack. I saer seeing tablis cruelly en mercilessly as tried to leave. Later, anot torches and fled.

    t trance of tepped on ttered cups, plates, glasses and bo during turmoil but only illuminated t marks on treables and other debris.

    Stacking long cusop one anots circle of ligiced bodies lying on t one face urned a to t. the second body was moaning, and upon seeing my lamp, made a childlike noise.

    Someone else entered. At first I  o  ed: toryteller.

    trace of blood on  tered, and judging by tled.  back difficult to figure out t one of t rangling  out ongue so  about doing so?

    “Bring tove, t of truck broken coffee grinders, sieves, scales and pieces of broken coffee cups lying in toryteller ures eac, Black ures and aken from me to my face: Yes, of course I’d dra of a sense of fraternity. e could find not t tly shaved head.

    Seeing no one else, ed into t t led aists  ters and bags of coffee stre truggle here as well.

    t t ter storyteller murdered, coupled errifying blackness of nig Black and I closer toget caused treets. Black o me, t to my t.

    “e’re going to your  to searc so I can put my mind at ease.”

    “It’s already been searched.”

    Rato tease  Black’s belief in t me simply prove  much confidence.

    My e tion s and passed ty gardens t bore t of damp and lonely trees as raced a oer Osman and I examined terpieces of ters in treasury.”

    Mucer, nearly screaming, I said, “After a certain age, even if a painter sable  entment and excitement to  it

    enalent, because one paints  t my age, let alone at Master Osman’s, does not easily learn nehings.”

    Assured my beautiful ing for me, I spoke at top of my voice to let  alone so s  t I took tic dagger-wielding fool seriously.

    e passed tyard gate, and I t I sa of a lamp moving in t t o force o my  my days, indeed all my time, seeking out and painting Allail my eyes tired— beautiful  I so take revenge upon him.

    Lo of completing—condemned prisoners pleading to tan to be relieved of t and receiving s, my ables, my knives, my reed-cutting boards, my brusing table, my papers again, my burnisones, my penknives and t one of my paper scissors, and beneat red cus before going back, bringing to eac and examining t dre I conceal my ed to he room from which she was now spying on us?

    “ture t belonged to te  picture.”

    “It  from tely. “Your Enis in peace, made me draree in one corner of to be someone’s picture, probably a portrait of Our Sultan. t space, quite large if I miging its picture. Because ts in to be smaller, as in tyle, ed me to make tree smaller. As ture developed, it gave tration at all. It  in a picture made ival metook the place of a window frame.”

    “Elegant Effendi he gilding.”

    “If t’s old you I didn’t murder him.”

    “A murderer never admits to  I  the raid.

    beside ted, in a  e

    my face along ing.  the dark.

    Besides telling  I’ve told you, t I actually  visitor to t o be passing by, I also repeated t I made tures  t of painting only ends up condemning and punisself s strengto condemn and puniser’s oo embrace Alla’s tan ’s denounced. More importantly, if t coffee targeted t mig onight.”

    “Even so, you ch.

    “Yes, because I enjoyed myself t I e kno. And I’m embarrassed to say I ertained by trations, tories about Satan, toryteller told crudely  meter or rhyme.”

    “Even so,  in t den of unbelievers?”

    “Fine to an inner voice, “at times t t gna me: Ever since I  talented and most proficient among ters of t only by Master Osman, but by Our Sultan as o be so terrified of t I tried, if only at times, to go o befriend to resemble t turn on me in a sudden fit of vengeance. Do you understand? And since to t den of vile unbelievers so ot discount this rumor.”

    “Master Osman said you often acted as if apologizing for your talent and proficiency.”

    “ else did  me?”

    “t you’d paint absurd, minute pictures on grains of rice and fingernails so t ot. rying to please ot gifts Allaowed upon you.”

    “Master Osman is on Biy. “ else?”

    “ed your faults  test ation,” said tch.

    “Let’s s then.”

    “ despite your prodigious talent, you painted not for t but to ingratiate yourself. Supposedly,  motivated you ed for ting itself.”

    It singed my  t Master Osman so brazenly revealed  me to a man of suc, one o art, but to being a clerk, ing letters and tery. Black continued:“t masters of old, Master Osman claimed, yles and metivated to art just for ty, tastes of a neo avoid being forced to alter tyles and metically and disated ters for te’s book,  it’s tan.”

    “t or Master Osman most certainly meant no evil by to put some linden tea on t.”

    I passed into tossed over my goo put some linden tea on t,” and placed her hand on my cock.

    I took out te-ed ss at ttom of t on t our roll-up mattress, s ss edge ossed a silk , t t; if you placed a s of gold leaf upon it, ting pieces raig h a ruler.

    Concealing t I could, I returned to my atelier. Black Effendi errogation of me t ill circling tration upon take a look at t out of curiosity, trying to understand ture.

    I stepped beion lo.  to tened out Black’s delicate body and pressed o pus nearly touc of ty o te skin of . isely,  move at all, because I could o o t’ve invited an insulting slap at anotime—and to raint to keep

    from doing aant,” I wo .

    t ened to me like an obedient c making a peep pleased me: “You’ll recognize t of o , Persia, to Iraj, t. tur, bent on revenge, dupes s Iraj’s t,  as I am doing noop of . Do you feel t of my body?”

    from ared blankly like tell t ening, and I ruck ion: “I’m not only faito Persian styles and meting, but also in be describes Sh.”

    I explained to Black, ly, ions for avenging ire palace, all y, ed from ed eed and  to tle and  as you are no betened to ors. t illustration? Geruy comes up beo you, gets on top of s  ful of s . Your red blood, soon to flo rise from ter still, a flower will bloom.”

    I fell quiet and from distant streets side at once brougop of ther, closer.

    “But in all tures,” I added, pulling y of elegantly drareactle t comes just before t moment of beoo fully permeated tures. Even test masters of Kazvin op of eacidy and elegant.”

    “tting,” he whimpered.

    “I’m muce  it’s doing no suce careful. I  do anyto ruin ty of our pose. In t masters of old rendered interto elicit only our tears. See for yourself: My s upon t  of your body. I can smell your  of your neck. My legs, on eitretc in suc an onlooker migake us for an elegant four-legged beast. Do you feel t on your back and buttocks?” Anot I didn’t press the sword

    up  going to speak, I migo bite your ear,” I said,  very ear.

    iced in  o speak, I asked tion again: “Do you feel t upon your body?”

    “Aye.”

    “Do you like it?” I said. “Are iful?” I asked. “Are iful as terpieces of ters?”

    “I don’t kno see us in the mirror.”

    cast by ting on t distance a I migually bite Black’s ear out of excitement.

    “Black Effendi, you, errogate me,” I said, “do you norength?”

    “Yes, I also sense t you’re truly in t.”

    “to ask me  to know.”

    “Describe er Osman would caress you.”

    “As an apprentice, I iful t me ted you.  times  me, but because I  and strengt oo love art, colors, paper, ty of painting and illumination and everyt ed, and to love tself and God. Master Osman is more to me.”

    “ould  you often?” he asked.

    “In t me e sense of justice; as a master,  me painfully so t I mig. to tter and faster t grab me by my  tice, I’d never spill paint, never e akes of ter limner, clean my brustention and spirit on talent and mastery to tings I received, I, in turn, beat my oices

    a guilty conscience. ’s more, I kno even a beating given  just cause, if it doesn’t break t of tice, imately benefit him.”

    “Even so, you understand t ice, no carried a, and you kno Master Osman probably experienced tion  you?”

    “Sometimes ake a marble burnisone and strike me  my ear imes  for inual tears to my eyes. I s, yet I still love my mentor.”

    “Nay,” said Black, “you ook revenge for t silently accumulated deep rations for my Enisation book.”

    “te is true. tings t a young miniaturist receives from er bind o er  until the day he dies.”

    “treacting of ts of Iraj and Siyavuso me, arose out of sibling rivalry, and sibling rivalry, as in t father.”

    “true.”

    “t fater miniaturists, t you at eacs, is noo betray you,”  is cutting,”  longer. t on, “true, cutting my t and spilling my blood like a sacrificial lamb  tant, but if you do t listening to  to explain—I don’t t anyo say. Please, move tly.” I did so. “Master Osman, calent bloom into artistry like a spring floyle, to wed ire life.”

    “I recounted to you t Effendi so you miging tyle“ truly is.”

    “tories pertained to a miniaturist’s individual style,” said Black carefully, “yle of tire workshop.”

    an attac importance to finding t Effendi and e,  t treasury to ter Osman was

    using tunity to sabotage e’s book and punisrayed ating t based on style, Master Osman suspected Olive rils, but as or, ork’s guilt and urn o tioners. I could sense elling trut like kissing o  of t I’d become or after Master Osman’s deat him long life.

    I  disturbed t y t it mig. Reading bet, I o glean t Master Osman  only to sacrifice Stork, but me as y made my  quicken and dreoe abandonment felt by a c ime to mind, I o restrain myself from cutting Black’s t. I didn’t attempt to argue t  t ions inspired by European masters loo traitors? Once again, I t t be’s deatood Stork and Olive and t me. I removed t.

    “Let’s go to Olive’s oget from top to bottom,” I said. “If t picture is  least , ake  and go on to raid Stork’s house.”

    I told o trust me and t  even ea. As I lifted tared meaningfully at ttened old  cut on  would be a mark of our friendsly.

    tion made by till be reets, but no one noticed us. e o arrive at Olive’s yard door, tiently upon tters. Nobody ain  sleeping. Black gave voice to hinking: “Shall we go inside?”

    I ted tal loop of t edge of Black’s dagger, ting it into t ,  by tenc and loneliness,  of ticed an unmade bed, sasossed randomly upon cuss, turbans, underss, Nimetullaionary, a urban stand, broadclote a ferimmed an paper, and ted pages on  I restrained myself botic ter

    miniaturist  bad luck if  talented miniaturist. Olive is not as talented as is assumed, ries to cover up for alent ion of ters. tist’s imagination; it’s t does ting.

    As Black s and boxes, going as far as to ctoms of laundry baskets,  touc Olive’s Bursa tootles, a ridiculous  clot pattern, quilted jackets, a y , a dented copper tray, filts and otoo cingy and salting  someer. “t even a prayer rug.” But t rated. “t kno sadly about y to ting.

    “Despite kno takes to be content, a man migill be unhappy,” said Black.

    ures dras, udied tures: a deligan all t ree, a beautiful ure of Deatrations t toryteller  old one of ories. Prompted by Black’s question, I pointed out ture of Death I had drawn.

    “tures are in my Enishte’s book,” he said.

    “Botoryteller and tor of turists render trations eac. toryteller ion on one of ts, ask us a little about tory and about our in jokes and terial, art the evening’s performance.”

    “ure of Deat you made for my Enishte’s book?”

    “Upon t of toryteller, it  I didn’t dra tention and effort te’s book; I dre quickly, t like dra. too, perrying to be ty, dreoryteller in a cruder and simpler manner  secret book.”

    “ nostrils?”

    Loc resembled te’s book, but it ered to a simpler taste, as if somebody  only paid trator less money and made er, but also forced o make a rougic horse.

    “Stork   a day  listening to turists, t’s . Yes, most certainly, Stork drehis horse.”