Butterfly and Black arrived in t; tures on to tell tration. It reminded me of turban” o play ary and try to mat on ots.

        I told told its story to toryteller. I said t geterfly, , must’ve dra of tly. I remembered t Olive aory irely by ted storyteller. I’d started tree    nigory as    oo: Some red ink tered onto a page and tingy storyteller asked if ure of it. e dribbled some more red ink onto tcold tory of oryteller mig it. Olive made te alent—and I t terfly terfly removed t and told Black t, yes, ributed to t of Kalenderis e t’s sacred book 250 years ago, revealing in verse t ion maed iiful faces.

        I asked ter artist bretate of our        coffee nor s es because my ill asleep in t barge in t    clots and dolmans in ts and trunks ts and cused pages I’d prepared for various books, and he pages of bound volumes.

        fess t it gave me a certain pleasure to behem. An

        artist’s skill depends on carefully attending to ty of t moment, taking everyto test detail seriously ime, stepping back from takes itself too seriously, and as if looking into a mirror, alloand eloquence of a jest.

        Accly, upon t, yes,    forty in tant illustrators, ts ice of unsurpassed beauty, oto t of poets, drunks, s and dervisor into alloo join tty group. I explained or for some baertai began to leave in a panio oo mount a defense of tablis or of toryteller dressed as a y? “Yes! I, Mustafa ter, also knoork,“ ed my entire life to illumination, find it necessary, eac, to sit togetist brets, recite poems and speak in innuendos,” I fessed, looking directly into tted Butterfly, s-eyed boy plagued by envy. Even as an appreerfly of ours, y.

        Again, upon t toryteller, may y and neigrade in turists, perure on to be amusing; toryteller took notid, as a joke of ure,    success; t io feature pictures draer miniaturists and to tell ty tales to    t once exed tists, omers to tor from Edirne enced the performances.

        terpretation of tures toryteller , ty    terpretation because tor, like Olive c Effendi, terrified of ations, and especially of one Friday sermons, must’ve plained of to t o stop in tor and Olive, botemperament, spired to cruelly do aed gilder. ted by Elegant’s murder, and per Effendi e’s book to te responsible for t’ve raided to plete their revenge.

        tention erfly and grave Black () paying to ing every lid and leaving not a stourned? s, armor and    trunk, a look of

        envy blossomed on Butterfly’s c everybody already knee    Muslim illustrator to set out on campaign    to carefully study a nessed in various victory Coles, the order and charge of armored cavalry!

        terfly asked me to s embarrassment took off my overs, my black rabbit-fur-lined unders, my trousers and my underc of tove, I pulled on my    long under of red broadclots of yelloers. Removing it from its case, I    on my breastplate, turned my back toterfly and as if    a pageboy, igo attaces. As I ting on my vambraces, gloves, t and finally t t I    tle ses ed as t is no longer permissible to depict ttern as a guide and simply flipping it over to dratle ses made in ttomans umult of armies, horses, armor-clad warriors and bloodied bodies!”

        Seized by envy, Butterfly said, “tor dra w    w Allah sees.”

        “Yes,” I said, “ed Allaainly sees everything we see.”

        “Of course, Alla     perceive it tterfly as if g me. “ttle se t , wo opposing armies in an orderly array.”

        Naturally, I ed to say, “It falls to us to believe in Allao depily     quiet because Butterfly ating tlessly striking one end of    my    and back, supposedly to test my armor, but because I calculated t only if I restrained myself and ty-eyed oaf could we deliver ourselves from Olive’s scheming.

        O find old me er. ture t t my , t certainly ure    did trils and an ed Master Osman rils, Blae, looking straigo my eyes, er Osman, analyzing them

        to Olive, alted me even more, being ner to my ambitions.

        At first, it appeared to believe t I o find proof of it, but in my opinion, t t. t my door out of loneliness and desperation.    Butterfly poi me s only errified, t tity t sucover, migly cut ts, t Master Osman migan and treasurer to turn to torturer—not to mentios,    Master Osman illed iion. It    obligation to ser Osman aken, hey’d hoped for deep down anyway.

        Simply declaring t t master aken and t terfly’s enmity. For in tery eyes of tor,    ill make out t for t master, er and appreare into eagt of everybody; later still, Master Osman actlessly t Butterfly    agile pen and t mature color brusion—often quite true—became turists using pens, bruss and pen boxes in vulgar allusions, devilis metap t Master Osman s Butterfly to succeed ood from talks to ot my belligerence, inpatibility and stubbor t t master ifiably, t I tend far more toterfly, and could never resist Our Sultan’s ne masters of old    this way.”

        I kneo cooperate closely ’ve ed to plete e’s book, not only to quer beautiful S and s    also, most probably, to ingratiate an by t means possible.

        troduced tter quite uedly by saying t Enis equal in terpiece ed, in keeping an’s decree and te Enistoman Sultan’s poalent, elegand ability of us, er miniaturists. Not only lessness, tole from ters,    buoyant colors a of details; and ultimately, terror    intelligent sultans uood: t uated botings and far far aers.

        Butterfly riking me all along, first like a co determine , like a friend o test its streo do me rutood t I ale Master Osman kneoo. italent, Butterfly er, arengt by er’s, and I se I could force o accept my superiority.

        Raising my voice, I explained iful it    ted to undermine Our Sultan and te Eniser Osman o us all; , after trag tan’s treasury, for some unknoer Osman tried to ceal ion t Olive ain t Olive,    ed Kalenderi dervise. tan’s grandfat because it ion and immorality, but rat of time     trust me, suspeg some ruse beo mete out my punis there.

        Butterfly la armor could not ood. uro Black, old t    my armor-plated arm around Butterfly’s ned dree struggling, nor irely playing. I reted a similar, little-knohe Book of Kings.

        “On tatiouranian armies fully equipped in armor and    t of Mount uraniao to learn tity of a mysterious Persian uranian ly in ternoon sun, ced breatal si uranian s arroerious Persian felled turanian after catcail of eed. er Srying to escape, and grabbed aking ed , turanian, still curious about tity of terious     everybody o you,“ replied terious ell me then, my friends, who was he?”

        “tem,” said Butterfly h childlike glee.

        I kissed rayed Master Osman,” I said. “Before es out ,    find Olive, rid ourselves of t and e to an agreement so and strong against ternal enemies of art and to send us directly to dungeons of torture. Per Olive’s abandoned dervis t even one of our lot.”

        Poor Butterfly uttered not a sound. Regardless of alented, fident or ed    be, just like all illuminators e tual loat alone in to hell.

        Oo te, t above us, but it    t of t, ttime appearance of Istanbul prised of cypress trees, leaden domes, stone s ravaged by fire aken by an unfamiliarity suc be caused by an enemy fortress. As ance    burned somewhe Bayazid Mosque.

        In t oy ing    docwo raindrops fell upon my .

        After a long journey, as o be abandoned. Alt lamps one o our clamor, it    opeo us, and a man in skullcap, gaping at us by t of ions to ted dervis even stig    into t os.

        In ted by t to teng leaves. I brougo one of ter, to tter of a small ending, for our sake, to pray.
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