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 b turmoil but only illumi marks on treables and other debris.

        Stag long cusop one anots circle of ligiced bodies lying on t one face urned a to t. the sed 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 blaess of nig Blad I clet caused treets. Blae, t to my t.

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

        “It’s already been searched.”

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

        My e tion s and passed ty gardens t bore t of damp and lorees as raced a oer Osman and I examierpieces of ters in treasury.”

        Mucer, nearly screaming, I said, “After a certain age, even if a painter sable    e aement to    it

        e, because one paints    t my age, let alo 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 fory    my days, indeed all my time, seeking out and painting Allail my eyes tired— beautiful    I so take revenge upon him.

        Lo of pleting—ned 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, a red cus befoing back, bringing to ead examining t dre I ceal my ed to he room from which she was now spying on us?

        “ture t beloo te    picture.”

        “It    from tely. “Your Enis in peace, made me draree in one er 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 ning and punisself s strengto n 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?”

        “Fio an inner voice, “at times t t gna me: Ever since I    talented and most profit 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 uand? And sio t den of vile unbelievers so ot dist this rumor.”

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

        “ else did    me?”

        “t you’d paint absurd, minute pictures on grains of rid fingernails so t    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 sue o art, but to being a clerk, iers and tery. Black ti masters of old, Master Osman claimed, yles aivated to art just for ty, tastes of a neo avoid being forced to alter tyles aically and disated ters for te’s book,    it’s tan.”

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

        I passed into tossed over my goo put some liea 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.

        cealing t I could, I returo my atelier. Black Effendi errogation of me t ill cirg tration upon take a look at t out of curiosity, trying to uand 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 eo me like an obedient c making a peep pleased me: “You’ll reize 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 aing, but also in be describes Sh.”

        I explaio Black, ly, ions for avenging ire palace, all y, ed from ed eed and    to tle and    as you are eo ors. t illustration? Geruy es 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 es just before t moment of beoo fully permeated tures. Eve 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 io elicit only our tears. See for yourself: My s upon t    of your body. I    smell your    of your neck. My legs, oret su onlake us for a fged beast. Do you feel t on your bad 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 h?”

        “Yes, I also se 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,    my brustention and spirit on talent and mastery to tings I received, I, in tur my oices

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

        “Even so, you uand t io carried a, and you kno Master Osman probably experieion    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.”

        “treag 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,”    lo 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, t bloom into artistry like a spring floyle, to wed ire life.”

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

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

        an attac importao finding t Effendi a 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 bee or after Master Osman’s deat him long life.

        I    disturbed t y t it mig. Readi, I o glean t Master Osman    only to sacrifice Stork, but me as y made my    qui and dreoe abando felt by a c ime to mind, I o restrain myself from cutting Black’s t. I didn’t attempt tue 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 oiced 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 tend loneliness,    of ticed an unmade bed, sasossed randomly upon cuss, turbans, underss, ullaionary, 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 s of laundry baskets,    touc Olive’s Bursa tootles, a ridiculous    clot pattern, quilted jackets, a y , a dented copper tray, filts and otoo gy and salting    someer. “t even a prayer rug.” But t rated. “t kno sadly about y to ting.

        “Despite kno takes to be tent, 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 rerations 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 forake a rougic horse.

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