in   brings you here now?” upon his face.

    “Enishis morning.”

    “May God ly. ed myself by tacking to my statement? I dropped anoto ical to terday. I requested t e t o go around announcing to tire neighborhood.

    “My brotoget at carrying out tions of the deceased,” he said.

    could be more suitable t o  tual funeral prayer ernoon and t notables and crotending. I didn’t attempt to explain tate of Enistered  tter needed to be addressed at a higher level.

    Since Our Sultan rusted t e to treasurer, I o report to o t

    out an uperer, a relative on my late fatailors’ alls opposite Coldfountain Gate ever since I led  I needed to see treasurer.  among ices icolored silk spread over tailor’s assistant o take measurements. o tain Gate I kneo avoid passing te to turists.

    tle noy to me. t a single person at titioner’s Gate, before ioners  ing from ters’ e (ed my sense of alarm to te of Salutation, or Second Gate, ime in my life.

    At te, I could neittention on t o be ever at tation from te  of upery cloting my tailor-cum-guide.

    As soon as ered t my  pounding even in ten described by my Enised ty. Yet, I didn’t feel tion of a man repidation and pious reverence; I felt myself to be a simple servant of Our Sultan, ion of tared at to splasains and to move about  touc t t I e Our Sultan’s secret book, ions I carried under my arm. it knoly railed beailor, my eyes fixed on to its proximity.

    Accompanied by a royal page ly, as in a dream, p