spirit us far far aer miniaturists depict ty,” I told Black, “t if you sa once, you’d knoraig text ougo be. Poetry and painting, o eacher, as you well know.”

    For a old myself not to be taken in by  attention and o elope ill, I could rely on nobody else to finish my book.

    Returning togetest of innovations manifest in tings of tian masters. “If,” I said, “end to make our paintings from tive of pedestrians excries and regarding t is, if end to illustrate from treet,  for—as t is, in fact, most prevalent there: shadows.”

    “ shadow?” asked Black.

    From time to time, as my nepened, I perceived impatience in o fiddle  . At times, ake up toke tove. No ed to lo poker onto my o move t of illustrating aray ters of  and tire tradition of painting; because I’d duped Our Sultan into already doing so. Occasionally, Black  dead still for long stretco mine. I could imagine o tried to explain to , about trees, about t falling onto t ting snoake: It proved only t our former

    filial relationsient sufferance of tings of a demented old man aken ty and passion for kno an old man  of Black’s love. tries and cities t my nepraveled tired of me, and I pitied  only because I  alloer all, t because I dreamed of paintings ransgressed ts of ters of . Furt tion, I imagined my deat his hands.

    I , rary, I tried to frig fear e to ting I’d requested of ures,” I said, “one ougo be able to situate oneself at ter of trators brilliantly depicted Death for me. Behold.”

    t