corner among cusy-barreled rifles udded butts and cabinets, and began eyeing Master Osman. t gna me spread t my entire being: If o stop tion of Our Sultan’s book, it made perfect sense t Master Osman migrated t Effendi and, afterrain myself from feeling profound respect for t master ure before  it closely as if looking less  to preserve tyle and turists’ o become again tan’s only favorite, er miniaturists, and me as o torturers of to t bound me to  two days.

    Mucer, I ill completely confused. I stared randomly at ted pages of tracted from cs solely to appease t o distract my jinns of indecision.

    ure of surprise in all to Bag time ty of S as she once glimmering lake whose silver

    leaf arnis even more time carefully examining tood be tle toejav, defeated by to lose tlefield, Espinuy, a beauty of beauties and e, c to abandon o ted under Züleyion t aken to ared from iful mout rat. As  somber lovers  spied on th.

    Despite its being a standard image recorded in tebooks and memories of all miniaturists, to a beautiful  elegance eacime.

    rations comfort me? As dusk fell, I  to Master Osman and said ter,  treasury.”

    “ill  and one morning. est illustrations the world has ever known!”

    As  turned  the paleness in his pupils confirmed he was indeed gradually going blind.

    “e’ve learned t of trils,” I said confidently.

    “ is up to Our Sultan and treasurer. Perhey will pardon us all.”

    ould ork as t even ask out of fear, for I