f.”

    “But you’re not a miniaturist,”  kill  of fear.”

    “You murdered ed to paint as you wis fear.”

    For t time in a long  e intelligent: “I knoo distract me, to dupe me, to get yourself out of tuation,” and   said is trut you to understand, listen to me.”

    I looked into ely forgotten ty customary bet to where?

    “Never fear, I  offend your terly as o face me. “Even no seem to be me. It’s as if to do its evil bidding. Yet I need t t’s t ing, too.”

    “tales about the Devil.”

    “You then?”

    o murder me, so ed me to enrage  lying but you’re not acknoher.”

    “I acknoorments of t o our necks in sin because of you, and now you’re preac hoja’s rabid henchmen will kill us all.”

    t . ould somebody passing doreet ing and enter the house?

    “o buy time t of curiosity. “o meet at t well?”

    “t Elegant Effendi left your o me,” ed desire to confess. “ing. I tried at lengto dissuade  of it. I got o o told ,  better proof t an illustrator is motivated by greed alone? t’s anot sorry. alented, but mediocre artist. the greedy oaf

    o dig into truly   o do ae a miserable co do your gilding. ted  ion  leave a trace…tell me, t is tyle“? today, botalk about ter of a painter’s talent, yle.“ Syle distinguisist from ot?”

    “Fear not,” I said, “a neyle doesn’t spring from a miniaturist’s ole, a seemingly never-ending era ends, a rons. One day, a compassionate sultan  talented refugee miniaturists and calligrapent or palace and b