s　apprentice　who　worked

on　the　ground　floor；　but　this　was　an　old　story。　And　there　were　those　who　were

annoyed by Elegant’s dignity； his refinement and his erudite feminine

demeanor； but this had to do with another matter entirely： Elegant was

slavishly bound to the old style； a fanatic about the coordination of color

between gilding and illustration； and in the presence of Master Osman； he

would；　for　instance；　point　out　the　nonexistent　faults　of　other　miniaturists—

mine in particular—with gentle conceit。 His last quarrel had to do with an

issue about which Master Osman had； in past years； grown quite sensitive：

royal miniaturists who moonlighted； secretly accepting trivial missions

outside　the　auspices　of　the　palace。　In　recent　years；　after　Our　Sultan’s　interest

had begun to wane and； along with it； the money ing from the Head

Treasurer；　all　the　miniaturists　started　paying　visits　to　the　two…story　houses　of

the　crass　young　pashas—and　the　best　of　the　artists　would　go　late　at　night　to

visit　Enishte。

I　wasn’t　at　all　bothered　by　Enishte’s　decision　to　stop　working　on　his—on

our—book or his excuse that it was ill…omened。 He had； of course； guessed

that　the　murderer　who　did　away　with　brainless　Elegant　Effendi　was　one　of　us

who　were　embellishing　his　book。　Put　yourse