, by repeatedly looking at a real o move from o neck and to body. I ain Venetian illustrators ailors and butcures of your average street packrial and error. Sucration soever to do y of God’s creation. But I’m convinced t even mediocre artists must knoration isn’t drao  any particular moment, but according to omed to. ter is al on memory. No for us to do but use tesan meto uncover ture borne by our  of take a careful look here.”

    acular rying to discover tion of a treasure on an old map meticulously rendered on calfskin.

    “Yes,” I said, like a disciple overcome by to make a quick and brilliant discovery t  to tures.”

    “My master miniaturists  even deign to loices dras and blankets in tures. Pere Elegant Effendi mig them.”

    “ about ter. “the horses…”

    “No. t cime of tamerlane; t like the leaves of reeds, which we well know.”

    I  to say, “ about tion of every strand of its  I fell silent, not at all amused by ter-apprentice game. If I’m tice, I ougo know my place.

    “take a look er Osman ressed yet attentive air of a doctor pointing out a plague pustule to a colleague. “Do you see it?”

    aure. I loter see he lens.

    ts nostrils.

    “Do you see it?” said Master Osman.

    to be certain of  I ser myself riger Osman did like co c be e a distance from ture. It momentarily alarmed me to feel ter’s dry beard and the coolness of his cheek on my face.

    A silence. It ure a nessing it  and awe.

    “’s o wer.

    “er Os