o sings I’d secretly commissioned from ter miniaturists over t year. At first, ad sened. ood t tion of Deat could be found in many Book of Kings volumes—from tation of Siyavusem’s murder of Su realizing terested in t. Among tures t depicted te Sultan Süleyman  sad colors, combining a compositional sensibility inspired by ttempt at ser. I pointed out terplay of cloud and  Deat like traits of infidels I ian palazzos; all of tely yearned to be rendered distinctly. “t to be so distinct and different, and t t,” I said, “look, look into t fear Deat rat in to be one-of-a-kind, unique and exceptional. Look at tration and e an account of it. Give voice to Deat you e to traightaway.”

    ared at ture in silence. “ed ter.

    “Butterfly.  talented of t. Master Osman h and awed by him for years.”

    “I’ve seen rougion of a dog at toryteller performs,” Black said.

    “My illustrators, most of o Master Osman and take a dim vie nigrations  time Our Sultan ian artist,  my be, paint rait. ter, er Osman make a copy of t

    oil painting. Forced to imitate tian painter, Master Osman rait t came of it. ified.”

    All day long, I sure—except tration t I cannot, for e. I discussed temperaments of turists, and I enumerated ted out to tive” and s in tian pictures alked about ty t unfortunate Elegant Effendi ion and out of jealousy over h.

    As Black returned  nig  morning as promised and t en to me recount tories t itute my book. I listened to steps fading beyond te; to t t