ivateGarden,whichreferredforinterrogation,tortureandstrangling.

    Ayouth,whoseemedtooelegantandpolitetobeoheander’smen,authoritativelyplacedthreesheetsofpaperonaworktable.

    MasterOsmantookouthismagnifyinglensandmyheartbegantopound.Likeaneagleglidilyoveratractofland,hiseye,whichhemaintaiastantdistanthelens,passedeversoslowlyoverthethreemarveloushorseillustrations.Andlikethateaglecatgsightofthebabygazellewhichwouldbeitsprey,heslowedovereachofthehorses’nosesandfocusedonitilyandcalmly.

    “It’snothere,”hesaidcoldlyafteratime.

    “Whatisn’there?”askedtheander.

    I’dassumedthegreatmasterwouldworkwithdeliberation,scrutinizingeveryaspectofthehorsesfrommaohoof.

    “Thedamnedpainterhasasirace,”saidMasterOsman.“Wewon’tbeabletodeterminewhoillustratedthechestnuthorsefromthesepictures.”

    Takingupthemagnifyinglenshe’dputaside,Ilookedatthehorses’nostrils:Themasterwascorrect;therewasnothingihreehorsesresemblingthepeculiarnostrilsofthechestnuthorsedrawnformyEnishte’smanuscript.Justthen,myattentionturhetorturerswaitingoutsidelement

    whosepurposeIcouldn’tfathom.AsIwastryingtoobservethemthroughthehalf-openeddoor,Isawsomebodyscuttlequicklybackossessedbyajinn,seekierbehihemulberrytrees.

    Atthatmoment,likeahereallightthatillumiheleadenm,HisExcellencyOurSultan,theFoundationoftheWorld,eheroom.

    MasterOsmanfessedtoHimthathehadn’tbeeodetermihingfromtheillustratioheless,hecouldn’trefrainfromdrawingOurSultan’sattentiontothehorsesinthesemagnifitpaintings: