that one should not；

without　justification；　take　the　life　of　another　whose　murder　God　forbids？　All

right　then：　The　miscreant　I’ve　sent　to　Hell　was　not　a　believer；　whose　murder

God　had　forbidden；　and　besides；　I　had　excellent　justification　for　shattering　his

skull。

This　man　had　slandered　those　of　us　who’d　worked　on　that　book　Our　Sultan

had　secretly　missioned。　If　I　hadn’t　silenced　him；　he　would’ve　denounced

as unbelievers Enishte Effendi； all the miniaturists and even Master Osman；

letting　the　rabid　followers　of　the　Hoja　of　Erzurum　have　their　way　with　them。　If

someone succeeded in announcing that the miniaturists were mitting

blasphemy； these followers of Ezurumi—who are looking for any excuse to

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exercise their strength—wouldn’t just be satisfied with doing away with the

master miniaturists； they’d destroy the entire workshop and Our Sultan

would　be　helpless　to　do　anything　but　watch　without　a　peep。

As　I　did　every　time　I　came　here；　I　cleaned　up　with　the　broom　and　some　rags

I　kept　hidden　in　a　corner。　As　I　cleaned；　I　was　heartened　and　felt　like　a　dutiful

servant　of　Allah　again。　So　that　He　wouldn’t　deprive　me　of　this　blessed　feeling；　I

prayed　for　a　long　time。　The　cold；　which　was　enough　to　make　a　fox　shit　copper；

drove　into　my　bones。　I　began　to　feel　that　sinister　ache　at　the　back　of　my　throat。