Various manuscript pages lay before me and t Master Osman—some exts and ready to be bound, some not yet colored or otever reason—as    aire afternoon evaluating ter miniaturists and te’s book, keeping cs of our assessments. e t    of tful but crude men, ed from turists and calligrapsoever to do    tly accepting side tra s), o ted master and removed a piece of paper from his sash.

        I paid no mind at first, t itions from a faticesains as possible. I could tell t t t filtered io rest my eyes, I ers of Surists do to stave off premature blindness, t is, I rying to look emptily into tance    fog. t’s opping folds of ter ared at cly tters t S me via Est to say, “ a ce” like an idiot, , like S letter, it ing on coarse paper!

        Master Osmaing to ter t I just then embarrassingly realized was from Shekure.

        My Dear    Esto sound out late Elegant Effendi’s ed page, er, I    to Kalbiye’s o persuade    it erest to give me ture. t Effendi’s body ter must o tigation. tfully. Your wife, Shekure.

        I carefully read t tiful aring at t Master Osman inizing, magnifying lens in raigiced t t as ters o ac the hand.

        Master Osman,    ent, voiced a question: “urist e’s horse.”

        Could ain? Moreover,    at all sure .

        It     you couldn’t take your eyes off of. as I being truty of time to look at te, and later, rations, but I    given it muc t iful, but ordinary        even able to determine     a true ut, but more bay-colored; t    of red in its coat as    en in otrations t I kne’d been drae    turist’s stopping to give it any sideration at all.

        e stared at til    cealed a secret. No s rising before my eyes and    a force t roused a zest for life, learning and embrag turist ouc depicted t?” as if ten suddenly t    a base murderer. tood before me as if it ration; being caugs was eng and aroused in me a sense of wion.

        For a time, ice e’s book, determining finally t tances    and elegant studs bespoke stillness ration. I e’s book.

        “tacular    gives oo pull out a piece of paper and copy it, and to dra thing.”

        “test pliment you    pay a painter is to say t imulated your oo illustrate,” said Master Osman. “But no’s fet about alent and try to uity. e Effendi, may    in peace, ever mentioory ture    to apany?”

        “No. Acc to    lived in t our poan rules. It is a toman li is a symbol t rate to tian Doge Our Sultan’s rol. But on tian masters depict, to be more lifelike t lived in a particular stable icular groom in Istanbul so t tian Doge migo    as ttoman miniaturists o see ttomans to resemble us,“ in turn, accepting Our Sultan’s poo see tly. Despite its peculiarities, ters.”

        ted over tiful and precious it became in my eyes. ly open, ongue visible from bet. rong and elegant. Did a painting bee legendary for     it? Master Osman he animal.

        “ is it t trying to vey?” I said ?    about te me?”

        “tures as ans, ser Osman. “trons find tiful, ensive gold leaf and lavisures of labor and eyesigration’s beauty is signifit because it is proof t a miniaturist’s talent is rare and expensive just like ture’s creation. Oture of a iful because it resembles a    of verisimilitude is attributed to talent. As for us, beauty in illustration begiy and profusion of meaning. Of course, to discover t t merely itself, but t devil, t ture. t t it’s not t tself t’s beautiful; t is, seeing tration of t as an illustration, but as a true horse.”

        “If you looked at tration as if you    a    here?”

        “Looking at t t a pony but, judging from ts neck, a good raess of its back    suitable for long trips. From its delicate legs     its body is too long and large to be os legs suggests     to ’d easily jump it    being startled and spooked. I knoten about t ranslated so beautifully by our royal veterinarian Fuyuzi, and I    tell you t every o tnut ty fad ts ears sraigaeet eyebro sall, long- , small nose, small s back; it sed, y i s and ers, it s ing ther side.”

        “t’s our ut ly,” I said, looking at tonis.

        “e’ve discovered our er Osman    unfortu do us any good o tity of turist, because I kno no miniaturist in    mind    a urists, naturally,    me remind you t most of tline of tip of one of its hooves.”

        “Isn’t ted standing firmly on tically.

        “As Jemalettin of Kazvin e in ration of e a picture of a s ire o render a

        and recolle, or even more ridiculous, by repeatedly looking at a real o move from o ned to body. I aiian illustrators ailors and butcures of your average street packrial and error. Sucration soever to do y of God’s creation. But I’m vi even mediocre artists must knoration isn’t drao    any particular moment, but acc to omed to. ter is al on memory. No for us to do but use tesao uure borne by our    of take a careful look here.”

        acular rying to discover tion of a treasure on an old map meticulously rendered on calfskin.

        “Yes,” I said, like a disciple overe by to make a quid brilliant discovery t    to tures.”

        “My master miniaturists    even deign to loices dras and blas in tures. Pere Elegant Effendi mig them.”

        “ about ter. “the horses…”

        “No. t cime of tamerla like the leaves of reeds, which we well know.”

        I    to say, “ about tion of every strand of its    I fell silent, not at all amused by ter-apprentice game. If I’m tice, I ougo know my place.

        “take a look er Osman ressed yet attentive air of a doctor pointing out a plague pustule to a colleague. “Do you see it?”

        aure. I loter see he lens.

        ts nostrils.

        “Do you see it?” said Master Osman.

        to be certain of    I ser myself riger Osman did like co c be e a distance from ture. It momentarily alarmed me to feel ter’s dry beard and the ess of his cheek on my face.

        A sile ure a nessing it    and awe.

        “’s o wer.

        “er Osman    taking he page.

        “Did ake?”

        e ill examining the nose.

        “Is tian-inspired ”style“ everyo masters of Calking about?” asked Master Osman mogly.

        I succumbed to rese, t e Enise, may    in peace, used to say t any fault arising not from lack of ability or talent, but from turist’s soul, oug be deemed fault but style.”

        came about, ’s oo tity of te. For, let alone making out trils, ifying t Effendi.

        e spent mucime searcures t Master Osman’s beloved miniaturists    years, looking for ty in trils. Because tivities, still being pleted, depicted ties and guilds marc before Our Sultan, ts 250 illustrations. Men co ts ebooks of standard forms ae rooms of tan, and t t    been securely locked up and reasury, all of turally, an.

        In a double-leaf illustration from a Book of Victories found in ters of a young prince,     examinut e blaze, tted acular saddle blas and gold embroidered saddles. Butterfly, Olive and Stork rated all the horses were

        pulling tanding at attention ery eyes trained on ter’s body covered ood    stance borroers of , t is, ended and ted on t. All tails bound up and trimmed and bed, but none of ty    in any of t bore anders, scicipated in tood at attention on tops in e Sultan Süleyman.

        Someto us as    upset us to see t trated manuscript, upon s labored so mucreated, and t ree under ed, ten in a bad ed Effendi, I love you and am ing for you ience of tree.” So, it s full of defeat and sorro ion I’d , but none of which I’d ever seen.

        In trokes of all ter miniaturists, s, grays and blues, clattering along in mail and full panoply, bearing tar- none of t is a flaer all!” Master Osman said later, er Gate and to be at t very moment. e also failed to discover ted by guards, aries of tate in tration, al off to t, tan’s Royal Audience rees in tyard on a scale small enougo fit into t grand enougo mat our minds. e ’s great-grandfatan Selim time    tent along t scurryiailed black greyened rabbits, before leaving a leopard lying in a pool of red blood, its spots blooming like floan’s ut e blaze nor ted, t the mark we were looking for.

        till dusk, erfly and Stork over t four or five years: t Giray’s elegant-eared ut palomino; blad golden op during battle; tured tress from tunisia and tnut and pistacumbled    caused Master Osman to remark, “I overlooked tely turned o te t a royal pageboy rumming under a tree; S as sing for ; ts; tempestlike s beautiful groom t for some reason

        caused Master Osman to remark, “I loved ired”; t to t Elijao protect tack by takenly dra’s gray tared sorro t full gallop; iced;     leapt ilded borders esg t.

        Not one of ture we were looking for.

        Even so, o maintain a persisteement in t desded upon us: A couple of times    about t ourselves to ty of a picture, to colors t forced a momentary surrender. Master Osman al tures—most of ed—more out of nostalgitrict!” ing out ttle purple flo tent of Our Sultan’s grandfatan Süleyman. “er, but for forty years ures edly died t better t for a moment, t’s a pity, a pity!” it the end of an era.

        Darkness aken us, ion. My ,    like a drum, preely: tan ly entered. I t . I kissed t look he eye.

        or Master Osman any filled me o ness o ts ago been sitting ko knee looking at pictures. Unbelievable; an tiively to er ies I couldn’t make out    attention. I gat lengt t    and proper! My    no longer beat excitedly. At t moment, our eyes met.

        “e, may    in peace,” o me. In my excitement, I missed some of w he was saying.

        “…I e aggrieved. ’s quite a fort to see t eacures erpiece. ian giaour sees tunned and fear my    is by t’ll be

        necessary to torture all ter miniaturists.”

        “Sn Refuge of tan,” said Master Osman. “Perter catcer miniaturists are forced to dra any story in mind.”

        “Only, of course, if t an actual nose,” said Our Sultan shrewdly.

        “My Sultan,” said Master Osman, “to tition by express and of Your onigo visit Your miniaturists, requesting to draest…”

        Our Sultan looked at t said, “Did you ?” t Nizami’s stories of rivalry I like best of all?”

        Some of us said, “e know.” Some said, “.

        “I’m not fond of test of poets or tory about test beters and tan. “I like best test of doctors o th.”

        After ly took leave of us for his evening prayers.

        Later, as ter exiting tes of toest of doctors:One of tors peting in tan—teed in pink—made a poison green pill strong enougo fell an elep, or, tan. t doctor first seridote t    made. As could be uood from le laug all o    o give ely, sav taking urn,    to erious poem into its petals. , ures t bespoke extreme fidence, eo    take in its bouquet. tated tor in pink t uping to    its regular st,    of fear and died.
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