urned  nigo act like my motered myself in my room and lay on my mattress, giving myself over to visions of Shekure.

    Allo of describing te’s

    after tain of being, someinually under cure inually able to see ter able to understand Ibn Arabi’s notion t love is ty to make to feel t.

    I could infer t Sinually cening to to ts  one point, I ely certain s room, eroom; I could ried to quiet tures, tening glances and knit brourally, not as one urbing someone’s ritual prayers, but affectedly, as one ing in a fit of laughter.

    Anotime, as to me t and s and Orered tures obviously reray and served us coffee. t soon become t to S: “ nice eyes you ely turned to   gro, I placed a faded red carnation petal, o tray and kissed eacer still, I er and giggling from hin.

    Frequently, I greo knoaring at a crack, knot or ook to be a uated just be. Suddenly, suspecting anot, and to determine  t toand up. Affecting all ttentive disciple, quite ente lost in t, in order to demonstrate ent I  suspicious black spot on the wall.

    o find Sing in o be a peepment, and trange feeling of loneliness, by tience of a man uncertain urn next.

    No and intense feeling t Scely convinced I  I’d start posing like a man trying to sronger and more capable to impress ter, I’d fantasize t Sy of famous Venetian illustrator about ece . I longed to be like these newly

    famed painters solely because S trators yrdom in cells like saints, or ty arm and a sar, as t absent  on account of a manuscript transcribed or a page ted. I tried very o imagine t pictures created by ted illustrators, ery and its visible blackness. I tried so o visualize terpieces my Enistempting to describe to one  only more dejected and demeaned.

    I looked up to discover t S  male cain Arab tribes in transoxiana and among Circassian tribes in tains—t  only kiss a guest’s  t, but also  left. Cauged my o kiss. At t moment, from someoo far aered and to remedy tuation, I grabbed S and kissed  ed of me. t my Eniso apologize for interrupting o assure  I meant no disrespect, ime I understood t to my urned ance tohe door.

    I clutc like a je te from S of elation I could scarcely keep from grinning stupidly at my Enis t Sely desired me? Suddenly, I imagined us engaged in a mad frenzy of lovemaking. So profoundly convinced  t I’d conjured  t my manely began to rise—te. nessed tently on  my concentration.

    Mucer, o srated plate from ly unfolded te,  s it completely blank. I couldn’t believe my eyes and senselessly turned t.

    “A ec is t you are holding?”

    “It’s note Effendi,” I said.  to my nose and deeply ins scent.

    After an afternoon meal, as I did not  to use my Enis, I excused myself and  to t ter cold. I o my concern  freezing my buttocks too muc S ly appeared before me, blocking my he

    outer me and emptied t. ed and fixed ty eyes on mine as  ill y pot.

    “?” ly like cters ed second-floor window in w seen Ser so many years.

    “Nay.”

    “S in the hanged Jew?”

    out to treet  ing for my response. I folloy paces along tering an unkempt garden.  smelled of  and rotting leaves, and faintly of mold. itaking firm, reps, ered tood before us almost rees.

    tely empty, but it here.

    “his?” I asked.

    “t to ter over by t-sellers’ quay. t into a corner of turned. ”t’s gone, it’s disappeared,“ he said.

    “ go?”

    “My grandfathe dead wander.”

    “Not ts wander.”

    “ tig his lap in all seriousness.

    “I just know. Do you always come here?”

    “My mot nig I’m not afraid of this place. have you ever killed a man?”

    “Yes.”

    “how many?”

    “Not many. two.”

    “ith a sword?”

    “ith a sword.”

    “Do their souls wander?”

    “I don’t knoo ten in books, t wander.”

    “Uncle ’s so s’ll cut you if you just touc. And udded her?”

    I nodded indicating neit your father is dead?”

    “My moterday.  be returning. She saw him in her dream.”

    If presented unity, er goal o do for t t burns  breaks our s; and so, I resolved once more to become turned to tened more intently to S’s grandfatext and illustrations I o complete.

    Let me begin rations t my Enisy; even so, I couldn’t say it ing of a  it  t tepped off to tyle. tely apparent from ts of nobility: Maybe, a man  t to appear beside teed.

    It  Eniser illustrator rator, arriving at nigencil—only if it ension of a story, t’s exactly e. As imes in scenes of love and ers, ructed trator; for example,   about tree t dra in the background, on a smaller scale.”

    trator, e, eagerly draure t didn’t resemble any of to

    s ce, after a or could no longer determine ration ended to ene.  my Enised of me  I examine trations made in ian, e a story suitable to accompany te page. If I o get Sely o e tories, but all t came to mind ories toryteller told at the coffeehouse.

    I ILL BE CALLED A MURDERERticking aold me it  to be called, but long before, I’d lit ting beside my folding able. I quickly completed dra from memory, o black ed it over  to treet as it did every niged. I ermined not to go, but to stay at ried nailing my door s for a time.

    tily completing erpreter and guide, tuttered, ed me doraveler ed a “book of costumes” and engaged me in a bout of vicious bargaining.  morning upon a lesser-quality book of costumes for a price of ty silver pieces, I proceeded to illustrate a dozen Istanbulites in a single sitting around time of ticular attention to tail of tfits. I dreioners in t of torture sold quite . I’d done so many of t to earn a fera silver pieces t I began to invent games for myself to figo dra lifting my pen off to drah my eyes closed.

    All brigands, poets and men of constant sorro ed and rebellious, urging in unision: “Out! Outside!” tless inner voice demands, “Seek t my time appeasing ted pictures,  for seven days noer dusk, since I murdered t disgrace, I’m no longer able to control t I tell myself t calm do for a while.

    After saying so, as al knoreets, muddy passages, icy slopes and deserted sideop. As I o t, into t remote and abandoned parts of ty, I’d ever so gradually leave my soul bereets, my

    footsteps econe inns, schools and mosques, my fears would subside.

    Of t brougo treets of tskirts of ty,   t  ill-omened, but I don’t believe sucition. tragedy t er on account of ty years ago because it ed of he enemy.

    I meandered berees,  idiousness, I straigs dilapidated sters. I entered and dre of one-o my lungs. It made me so blissful to be  tears would fall from my eyes.

    If I  already said so, I’d like to say t I fear not Alla meted out in t orments t murderers like myself  Day, as is clearly described in terion” cer, for example. In t books, t I quite rarely lay  in all its colors and violence, recalling t terrifying scenes of rated on calfskin by turists, or, for orments of demons depicted by Cer artists, I can’t keep myself from dras logic:  does “t Journey” cer state in its ty-t not ten t one s,  justification, take t t I’ve sent to  a believer, ification for stering his skull.

    t book Our Sultan ly commissioned. If I  silenced e Effendi, all turists and even Master Osman, letting t turists ting blaspo exercise trengt just be satisfied er miniaturists, troy tire  c a peep.

    As I did every time I came  ened and felt like a dutiful servant of Alla  deprive me of time. to make a fox s copper, drove into my bones. I began to feel t sinister ac t. I stepped outside.

    Soon afterrange state of mind, I found myself in a completely different neig kno beted neighborhood of

    t know rees.

    ering t  leave me be, and it ate at me like a ell you it’ll ease t Effendi”—eit’s t time before ted gilder  t accusations against our Enis  t affected by ion t Enisival tec beast divulged ture. In t picture Enises everyt  to religion, it’s pure blasper tion by t scoundrel, Enisually asked me to illustrate a number of unrelated ts on a page and in sent scales; indeed, it  of a Frankising. Enisook trouble to cover large portions of tion of ted me to illustrate as ed Elegant Effendi ed to conceal someturists.

    I  to ask Enis rating in ting, but t t I murdered Elegant Effendi and make o all. But t unsettles me as  Effendi  justified in ell myself I sending as if t passed to me from Elegant Effendi, but o me. In t’s no comfort either way.

    My legs, o Enisreet. I crouc, and for a long time observed t I could in tcime: Nestled among trees ory  tell on ures made in tabriz during taion—as if it  in ried to illustrate in my mind’s eye wter.

    te gazed at ion from beyard gate for a moment before closing it.

    Even my mind, o idiotic fantasies, quickly, and painfully, dre I had seen:

    One: Since Black was ce Effendi would e our book.

    tiful Shekure would marry Black.

    t tunate Elegant Effendi rue, and so, I’d killed .

    In situations sucellects drater conclusion t our s refuse, tire body rebels against t first, ly opposed ted t I  t of murderers. My legs, once again, acting quicker and more rationally t me in pursuit of Black Effendi.

    e’d passed doreets o murder entedly and self-assuredly  t tablis  Effendi’s skull for no reason at all. Noen paces, catco Black and land a bloo , everyte Effendi e me to finis mean fear?) and prudent side continued to tell me t ter I’d murdered and tossed into a ruly a slanderer. And if t killed , and Eniso  to t certainly invite me back to his home.

    As I cmost certainty t none of t  o us all: In reaction to being overly logical asies for fit, a  our dreams rue; to understand t a particular maiden  be permitted to marry us or t ion in life.

    I c ep  to tred t coiled cozily around my . Men like Black, free from pangs of conscience and ures before t tire an entering able and immediately belittle to grab a stone and run up be too great to resist.

    e  of me and completely unaurning and ting streets of Istanbul, climbing and descending, raveled like breted streets given over to battling packs of stray dogs, passed burnt ruins yards rees murmuring to teries cros, just out of sigrangling tims, passed endless sables, dervisone  I  follo rat I ating him.

    I AM DEAt you needn’t be afraid, I’m just an illustration. Be t as it may, I read terror in your eyes. t I’m not real—like children who give

    to a game—you’re still seized by ually met Deat me, you sense t you’ll soil yourselves out of fear  moment is upon you. trol of tions—particularly ty of to be brave-ed. For tretlefields t you’ve depicted times reek not of blood, gunpo of s and rotting flesh.

    I kno time you’ve seen a depiction of Death.

    One year ago, a tall, terious old man invited to er miniaturist e me. In tory e cup of silky, amber-scented coffee to ter,  sed ter miniaturist by flaunting t paper from an, brusies of gold leaf, all manner of reed pens and coral-ing t o pay handsomely.

    “Nohe old man said.

    “I cannot draure of Deat ever, not once in my entire life, ure of Deaturist, , end up doing the drawing.

    “You do not alo ration of someto depict t ted tic old man.

    “Yes, per,” said ter illustrator. “Yet, if ture is to be perfect, ters of old , it ougo be dra least a times before I attempt it. No matter erful a miniaturist migs an object for t time,  as an apprentice . I cannot put my mastery aside ing Deat to dying myself.”

    “Suc put you in touc matter,” quipped the old man.

    “It’s not experience of subject matter t makes us masters, it’s never  t makes us masters.”

    “Sucery ougo be acquainted hen.”

    In tered into an elevated conversation endre, allusions, puns, obscure references and innuendos, as befit miniaturists ers as alent. Since it ence t ened intently to tion, tirety of s among us in this good coffeehouse.

    Let me just say t t wouche following:

    “Is turist’s talent ty to depict everytion as t masters or ty to introduce into ture subject matter  illustrator, and alto tion, e reserved.

    “tians measure a miniaturist’s proo discover novel subject matter and tec ed tly.

    “Venetians die like Venetians,” said trator who would soon draw me.

    “All our deathe old man.

    “Legends and paintings recount inct from one anot rator. “ter miniaturist earns ery by depicting unique legends as if hem.”

    In tion turned to tians and Ottomans, to ted by tistry of ter aring at me iful eyes in our dear coffeeurbed by ty , o depict me, yet  kind of entity I was.

    ting old man o beguile ter caug of t of to ter.

    “Deatians depict in o us an angel like Azrael,”  like Gabriel, and, don’t you?”

    I realized t ter, , ient and ed to illustrate me, because t ially  is to drao us in all its s somets illumination.

    “I am not, in t, familiar urist.

    “e all knohe old man.

    “e fear it, but  kno.”

    “t falls to you to dra fear,” said the old man.

    to create me just t master miniaturist’s nape ingling; ensing up and , because  genuine of great masters, rained  tension ing in his soul.

    tood ion of me, ed before long, o read passages about me from ti.

    And so, as ter miniaturist oucrait, o  point in t to t point in t.  comfort to truly fait for sinners and rebels as painful as a spike ty of you miniaturists are bound for ed me laden ened to  to you by Allao take your lives  of deat arrives, a leaf falls from tree located beneaturist depicted me as a terrifying being, but tful, too, like one s. tinued to read: ime on Eart reminiscent of t of turist depicted me bat, for  t  be visible to t ancient grave robbers en lead. rator, listening intently to sucs, depicted me in a manner t errify whoever laid eyes on me.

    Later, ted o terror ure, but because o make tration at all. As for me, I feel like someone . urist ed  rated me?

    1. Because I, ture of Deat been draery. As you can see, I am not as perfect as  Venetian masters or ters of  dreoo, am embarrassed by my c master  depicted me in a style befitting ty of Death.

    2. Upon being cunningly duped by ter illustrator ating tives of tuosos. It disturbed

    ful and,  time, oddly disoers.

    3. It must’ve even daired of me and are smiling: Deatter.

    ter miniaturist s endlessly eac in fits of regret; like certain Cers,  he has drawn.

    I AM ESt and Blackcat ing from to satc I’d fill up and tie into a bundle. I removed t ly arrived by uguese trader but  selling, substituting tent snoer, I carefully folded plenty of colorful socks, ts, all of er of t a bouquet of color o make even t indifferent , I packed some lig, but expensive, silk  to make a purc to gossip. I lifted tote. My goodness, too ’ll break my back. I put it do. As I stared at it, trying to determine o leave out, I  t and called to me.

    It  concubine ter in her hand.

    “S it,” sered t you’d ted to get married.

    itter. I  to return  being seen by anyone and s. Nesim cast a questioning eye at me. I took up t ligc delivering my letters.

    “Ser of Master Enis of he poor girl.”

    I cackled and stepped outside, but t. If trutold, I longed to sear for Sead of making ligiful s dark-eyed melancholy girl of mine!

    I ever so quickly strode past ted and pitiful in ter, reet, I sed as loud as I could, “Clothierrr!”

    “Fat c sed I steps.”

    “You good-for-noted tatar! Blind men like you are scourges forsaken by Alla you deserve.”

    In t, suc  aken tleman and polite.

    “Let’s   ime?” he said.

    “Is t slotill asleep?”

    “ing, expecting news from you.”

    t eacime I visit, I feel as if I’ve entered a tomb. S to, but I al of carping about t even consider returning to t. It’s o imagine t lovely Sress of t s smelled of sleep and deatered t room, moving farto the blackness.

    You couldn’t see your  even o present tter to  of tc from my  o read tter and satisfy y. he page.

    “Isn’t te,” s to our  I’ve  you  ten even a single line of my fat get your  first completing t manuscript.

    Letter in o my eyes, as if all t. I’m not fond of this house.

    “turning from t,” he said. “hy?”

    “ tes tters.”

    “Sometimes I  t,” ter along een silver.

    “Some men groingier t t way,” I said.

    ting, intelligent side to t despite all raits, one could see  ters.

    “ is ther?”

    “You knoan is funding t they say.”

    “Miniaturists are murdering eacures in t book,”  for tes our religion? t its pages is enougo bring on blindness.”

    I kneake any of it seriously. Even if it ter to take to , at t, to take seriously about me taking tter seriously. Like many of tter courier and mediator,  at me  of my job, pretended to be upset to en rary, .

    “You’re an intelligent e. I’m curious about t fool’s response.”

    For a moment, I felt like saying, “Black is not so foolisuations, making rival suitors jealous of eacc I rum.

    “You knoatar beggar at treet?” I said. “ one.”

    to avoid getting into it reet and to pass t early in t Muslims eat t of crange! My grandmot in peace, ell me   shem for food.

    At Kemeraral 1k, I saing bolt upriger. I sig been so absentmindedly devoted to books, if urned from t’ve lived like ty .

    urned onto Black’s street, my  quickened. Did I  So marry t time, in keeping t.

    But  to  on ts except o his love for Shekure.

    “Clothierrrrr!”

    trade for tters to lovers addled by loneliness or tain of receiving t neo read tter, a shem.

    By not mentioning anyt urn, by tying  get your o one condition alone, S cause to be  pleasure, I cter. raugo e c a dark money purse, ed to sell to Black’s nosy landlady.

    “t Persian velvet,” I said.

    “My son died at ers do you deliver to Black?”

    I could read from  so set up er, or ed Black. “No one’s,” I said. “A poor relative of he Bayrampasha sickhouse and needs money.”

    “Ounate man?”

    “ubbornly.

    e began to glare at eacility. S’ve been quite difficult. If you ever o become a clot only  and legendary romances stir people’s curiosity. Everyt ion, jealousy, loneliness, enmity, tears, gossip and never-ending poverty. Suc like ts t furnising on an empty baking s, tongs and an asing beside tove, turban stand maintained to conceal tary life and an old so scare thieves off.

    Black ily returned o take t to our suffering patient. If ing. You can find me at Master Enis of the day.”

    t like Black to ory

    maneuvers, tters  of a maiden. Or does ruly er? At times, I didn’t trust Black at all and  erribly.  t, despite spending ire day he same house, he’s incapable of giving her a sign?

    Once I side, I opened t contained tter. I  tter t I nearly ran to able-sellers  cabbage, carrots and t in front of t I didn’t even  in me to touc  to me to fondle them.

    I turned onto treet, and sa tatar ing to u in ion; t ing cold freeze ts to death?

    As ly read tter, I could barely maintain my patience. Finally, unable to restrain myself, I suddenly said “Yes?” and he began reading aloud:

    My Dearest Sed t I complete your fatain t I  your  to pester you, as you’d earlier indicated. I’m quite a my love for you is my o, due to to take up my pen and e ed for o your fatensively and t one cause: After te fear losing t vision. If I could once more see you close-up, I’d erday, S brougo today, at ime you see fit, I’ll go t for you. Yesterday, S mentioned t you dreamt your husband had died.

    ter mockingly, in places raising cing trembling supplication of a lover en o see you just once” in Persian.  So negotiate. Suc somet to.”

    “h Shekure,” I said naively.

    “t proves t you’ve taken Black’s side,” ten t s my older brot means ss h.”

    “t  a dream,” I said like an idiot.

    “I knooget aken Black to thinks

    serribly mistaken! My older brotill alive and urn from the war.”

    Before o conclude,  into t room o lig succeeded only in burning  out a  t beside a folding able. s case, dipped it into an inking on a small piece of paper. I sensed  my co s I  afraid, I smiled exaggeratedly.

    “ know?” he asked.

    “Just beyond t Mosor of tan and t of men, ress from Amasya and er, people claimed t rangled so unleavened bread could be made from nesses or iful er tan died,  find tiful  ther, who’d been living alone.”

    “If S  for my broto come back from t, tters.

    No anger or  tune and sorroicular to tricken. I suddenly saoms  made  all. After all s, it da  once again ask me  o becoming t s evil—and rejection in love is a significant cause for doing so—cruelty follos and t terrible red salked about,  toucion to leave, in a near frenzy, I stumbled outside onto treet.

    tting victim to tatar beggar. But I immediately pulled myself togetly dropped a small stone I’d picked off to atar.”

    it laugcone  was a coin. Ignoring oward one of my “daugo a good husband.

    t s “daugover, but still crisp. For ternoon meal se t. So as not to disappoint ed and ate th fresh bread.

    Se of ste any ation, I requested some rose-petal jam, a spoonful of o te before topping off my meal. After on to deliver tters to my melancholy Shekure.

    I, S of folding and putting a  to dry yesterday o tell you. But  peepiently ing for tters from Black and  as I sensed t my fatified, I also kneerest in me  eternal. ed to be married, and because ed to be married,  me,  me, aking care to fall in love h her beforehand.

    In tc Ester s, as sy look. I realized t since ress, s be reporting to  the case.

    “My black-eyed girl, my dark-fortuned beauty, my stunning beauty of beauties, I s of nonsense,” said Esthis.”

    Sook out tters; I snatco a corner  could still  passed bet be able to see my expression, I turned my back on ter first.  about t. “Don’t be afraid, Suation,” I said to myself and began reading ter. he verge of madness:

    S I kno in t concerned. In my dreams, I see myself ced ops. Every time you leave one of my letters—t I kno. I’m ing in  you’ll respond time. t, everyone’s spreading t: You’ve dreamed t your  you’re free. I cannot say ’s true.  I do kno you’re still married to my older broto t my fatified, o to urned  your fat your to come back to tely.

    After reading tter a second time, I pulled myself toget Estioning eyes, but sold me not hasan or Black.

    I pulled out t I kept ry, placed a s of paper on t to begin ing a letter to Black when I froze.

    Someto mind. I turned toer s  seemed ridiculous to me t s hrough my mind.

    “See ly you’re smiling, my dear,” s . Istanbul is rife lemen and paso be o a stunning beauty, possessed of so many talents like yourself.”

    You understand alking about: Sometimes you’ll say somet no sooner do tedly, even t t was w he following:

    “But Est to marry a wo kids, for heaven’s sake?”

    “A y, a slew of men,” sure.

    I looked into  like  t s going to give ter and even t it ter if s. After Esto my o it—in my soul.

    Leaning on tood still in t of myself, of  and Ortering upstairs.

    “And you’re as timid as a girl,” said S. “You only attack from behind.”

    “My tooth is loose,” said Orhan.

    At time, anot of my mind rating on ranspiring bether and Black.

    ter beraits of tian masters, , in painting, eyes can no longer simply be  must be just like our o as paper, but must be nodes of expression—eac ss est contraction or relaxation. Our noses can no longer be a kind of  divides our faces, but ratruments o each of us.”

    as Black as surprised as I  my fato tlemen  I arily alarmed. My dark beloved, my troubled o sleep for t? Is t w your face?

    Per a Black is a tall, trong, straig nose. As in tery and agile. ands straigall,  not as broad as ter carrier.  yet settled. ter,  tained a kind of perfection.

    Noo t plagues  at once guilty and proud t . Black listened to ration made for tely innocent and c t edly felt, yes, like putting my breast into it. itangled in s, and as my oanding t only tely bound to me.

    I perspired faintly and imagined Black marveling at ts ensity—ratudying tration of t my fatually s only my breasts, but as if drunk  my  all of me. tracted to me t o t not summon as a youted patiently and bravely for my y of tter I’d ten him.

    I felt anger toting t be able to marry again. I rations urists make in imitation of ters, and I was sick of ions of Venice.

    my os, Black ly t in t rong  secure. My nape tingled, my nipples iffening. It seemed as if to me. My  was Black’s like? I wondered.

    At times in my dreams, my o me. I come to t my ruggling to keep   as  sadly, te bank, covered

    in blood and suffering terribly, I notice t . If it’s true  truto  gro large,” t so big. If Black’s is bigger, if t enormous t y piece of paper I’d sent by S yesterday; if t ually it—and it surely  pain, if it even fits inside me at all.

    “Mot is mocking me.”

    I left t, quietly passing into t from t and put it on. t my mattress and .

    “Didn’t I   to s, did I not?”

    “Mama,  red vest on?” S asked.

    “But Mot was mocking me,” Orhan said.

    “Didn’t I tell you not to mock ’s to there was a piece of animal hide.

    “It’s a carcass,” Or found it on treet.”

    “Quick, take it and t back w, now.”

    “Let S do it.”

    “I said now!”

    As I  my lo catch cold.

    Of all turists, I liked Black t. ood ook out pen and paper, and in one sitting,  o te the following:

    All rig you at ther’s book as soon as possible.

    I did not reply to ually going to today, I didn’t believe t tely. If o take sucion  ing a letter or aing my reply. ing my

    response, and,  arrive, it’ll drive o abduct me. Don’t t afraid of  all. But, I’m counting on Black to protect me. Any me tell you  no so afraid of hasan because I love him as well.

    If you object and to yourselves, “No?” I’d find you justified. It’s not t I failed to notice during ted under turn, iful,  Estells me  of money—and I can alell  self-confidence, ty t attracts me to ters ubbornly sent to me.

    Botraveling for t me letters every day, in trated birds and gazelles. At first I er, I loved to read ters again and again.

    As I   everyto do  surprised t  I suspected  Estting ters I’d sent to Black. t’s o Black by ter tified.

    “o turned.

    tood t I  really angry. Discreetly, I pulled S aside, to t. I lifted o my lap. I kissed he nape of his neck.

    “You’re cold, my dear,” I said. “Give me tty hem up…”

    I didn’t comment. Pressing o my bosom, I gave  time ten, sly meh pleasure.

    “So te a lot, don’t you?”

    “Ummmhmmm.”

    “Is t a ”yes“?”

    “Yes.”

    “More than anybody else?”

    “Yes.”

    “to tell you somet. “But you  tell anyone, all rig?”

    “More than Orhan, even?”

    “More t understand anyter, you’re able to understand.” I kissed and smelled o ask you a favor. Remember ly brougerday? You’ll do today, all right?”

    “her.”

    “?”

    “erday in the hanged Jew.”

    “ did he say?”

    “”I killed your faty of men,“ he said.”

    Suddenly somet slid doo cry.  t’ve been unable to control myself just t  anyone to ted. But  a man I’d been making arrangements to marry—and t, hese boys in mind.

    My poor little fatill crying, and all at once, t me greatly. I, too, ears. e  so mucroked his hair.

    t all began: told my fat I’d dreamed my ually, as e frequently over turned from battling tingly, and t o me.

    Dreams are alo otugal, from  seems dreams o prove ics met  torturers of tuguese Corture to describe to confess t take. In

    ted over to s people were o accuse and condemn Jews.

    Dreams are good for things:

    ALIF: You  somet you just can’t ask for it. So you’ll say t you’ve dreamed about it. In t you   actually asking for it.

    BA: You  to  to slander a  sucting adultery or t suc, you’ll say. In t believe you, tion of t never forgotten.

    DJIM:You  somet you don’t even kno is. So, you’ll describe a confusing dream. Your friends or family ely interpret tell you  are never tually see in our sleep. ,” t is “dreamed” during t ly as erpret takes real dreams seriously, including tell, do you?

    t I edly recounted, I ed t my  truly be dead. t first  accept tion of truter returning from t my  only believed t my ually immortal t four years,  ain of  been officially announced. It  truly realized t t fat  truly began to grieve.

    “Do you ever .

    “Yes,”  return home, and I end up marrying you.”

    y t I  able to pass on to my cher’s high, broad forehead.

    “Go on ther.”

    “Can her’s old sword?”

    “Yes.”

    For some time, I gazed at tening to triking eacruggled to quell ty t  doo tco e some time noo Galleon  you take a ferips of t dried fruit pulp t S likes out of its  the kids have some.”

    ing in tc upstairs. I lifted o my lap and kissed his neck.

    “You’re covered in s,” I said. “ happened here?”

    “S  me h our uncle’s red sword.”

    “It’s bruised,” I said and touc. “Does it ? less our S is. Listen to  and sensitive. I  to make of you. If you do ell you a secret t I  tell S or anyone else.”

    “ is it?”

    “Do you see to go to your grandfat letting o place tand?”

    “I understand.”

    “ill you do it?”

    “’s t?”

    “Just take ly. And ’s been so very long since aken to t gone since S’s to rise in front of tell you t later.” I kissed  and very pretty. S’s a nuisance. y to lift a  her.”

    “I’m not going to deliver ther.”

    “S told you t airs and tell o come here.”

    Orerrified,  of tly pleased t S rouble. A urned flus  in one her.

    “You’ve told your brot Black  ever  you to say suc and affection to Black. Do and eac alloo live your entire lives  a father.”

    “I don’t  urn to our  for my fat said brazenly.

    te t I slapped  put t fell from his hand.

    “I  my fatears.

    But I han he was.

    “You  be coming back,” I said tearfully. “You’re fat you understand, you bastards.” I hin.

    “e aren’t bastards,” said S, crying.

    e all cried long and ened my  and I sensed t I  made me a better person. In our communal fit of tears, ress. S s as if to nap. Sometimes, uck toget I could sense t  sleeping. I mig t my mind  airs. I could smell t aroma of boiling oranges. I abruptly sat up in bed and made suc the boys awoke.

    “Go doairs, omachs.”

    I o fall outside. I begged for Allaer once again reading tion in ter ed t ttle,  ease o my deceased an’s as yet unfinisrait? My fat trait

    of fear, as o tried to look directly into Our Glorious Sultan’s eyes.

    I called for Or lifting o my lap, kissed  lengt being scared, and  letting your grandfato give to Black. Do you understand?”

    “My tooth is loose.”

    “ back, if you , I’ll pull it out,” I said. “You’re to sidle up to  a loss for o do and ly place to ood?”

    “I’m afraid.”

    “to be afraid of. If it  for Black, do you knoo become your fatead? Uncle  Uncle o become your father?”

    “No.”

    “All rig’s see you go, my pretty and smart Or, c, I’ll be really angry…And if you cry, I’ll get even angrier.”

    I folded my letter several times, tuck it into retc in ion. Allao my aid so t t left to fend for ted o t t me fearfully one last time.

    I cook ain steps toopped, and momentarily ated—unsure o do.  to cry. But  o Black’s lap. Black, clever enougo  to be fato my c panic to find Orably on o see if the boy’s hands.

    Orurned beneatartled gaze of my fato meet ook o my lap, kissing  lengt airs to tche raisins he liked so much.

    “ake to Galleon  suitable for soup from Kosta’s place. take t roasted cmeat sausage s. alk to o go until t be careful t catch cold.”

    After t, t in t upstairs and took out ttle mirror t my fat. I kept it  smelled of lavender. I  up. If I looked at myself in tance, and moved oely, I could see my ed me, but I also ed to don my mot of rousseau. I took out tacried it on, but it didn’t please me. As I rying it on under t a crembled  all, of course, I o reet robe, but at t

    minute I cly crossing t my mot it on. Just t to a panic: Black  on t igline, but I liked it. I test and  veil, lo over my face.

    Black Effendi  left yet, of course; I’d let my appre noell my fat I  to buy fisairs like a cat.

    I closed t. I quietly passed tyard and reet, momentarily turned and looked back at t seemed as if it  our  all.

    treet, not even any cats. Flakes of snoered t never fell. It smelled of rotten leaves, dampness and deat,  as t jinns meet  nig tove and make merry. I artled to steps in ty ed, stock-still. I  t I couldn’t place this one.

    During t silence I sensed t tood dead still so  steps. Strangers talked as treet. I t of o God t t catc follo. Black  coming. I’d made a mistake, and I ougo return errified, I imagined t c in the door opened.

    I abruptly cion. I didn’t knoo t of t ligering, I realized t Black o see me, to borroening to steps.

    Black passed took a feeps and stopped. e stood five paces apart and beronger there was a silence.

    “Remove your veil,” he said in a whisper. “Please.”

    “I’m married. I’m aing my urn.”

    “Remove your veil,” one. “Your  ever come back.”

    “o meet me o tell me this?”

    “Nay, I’ve done so to be able to see you. I’ve been t me look at you just once.”

    I removed it. I udied my face and stared at lengto ths of my eyes.

    “Marriage and motiful. And your face irely different t I remembered.”

    “how had you remembered me?”

    “it of you, I couldn’t  t  you but a fantasy. In our co discuss er seeing images of eac you?  t S fallen in love  sure ree branc o see t image times before falling in love? You used to say t in fairy tales everyt love ougo  saure. But  salked about t trait of your matc have suffered so.”

    e lovely tories of looking at an illustration and falling in love and of ely for me. I noticed tted ted some at time my appreciation of t  bound me to  guilty for  c t rust him.

    e embraced. t I felt no guilt. I let myself be borne a emotion. I ig  ire le t love o be like t ongue into my moutent  I  ; I could thing bad.

    Let me describe for you ’ve been depicted by ter miniaturists of , if tragic story of mine ain amazing illustrations t my fat’s flocation is ecchless wings

    piercing ture’s border suggests tion of tormenting eacive ped so small, so far in tance, t for a moment it’d seem like tory  about t all, but o do arry nigrees, te palace s courtyard and its ention to t symmetry of turist could only convey otal resignation to , and to terious ligire painting, tely see t t berations is t ted by love itself. It’s as if a liging from tration. And whe very same manner.

    to kno sucs for long. Black sly took my large breasts into  good and, forgetting all, I longed for o suck on my nipples. But  quite manage it, because  all t sure of y didn’t prevent ing more. Gradually, fear and embarrassment came bet omac at first; I  embarrassed. I told myself t an embrace sucurally lead to anoturned my  take my s size.

    Later still, ried to force me to perform t vulgar act t even Kipcell stories at t do, I froze in astonis and indecision.

    “Don’t furrow your brow, my dear,” he begged.

    I stood up, pusing at  paying test mind to ment.