depressiofdampandloreesaswetracedawidearcbacktowardmyhouse.We’dcoveredmorethanhalftheroute,whenBlackstoppedandsaid:“Fortwodays,MasterOsmanandIexamihemasterpiecesofthelegendarymastersireasury.”

    Muchlater,nearlyscreaming,Isaid,“Afteracertainage,evenifapaintersharesaworktablewithBihzad,whatheseesmaypleasehiseyesandbringteaementtohissoul,butitwon’t

    enhaalent,becauseonepaintswiththehand,nottheeyes,andthehandatmyage,letaloMasterOsman’s,doesnoteasilylearhings.”

    Assuredmybeautifulaitingforme,IspokeatthetopofmyvoicetoletherknowIwasn’talonesoshemighthideherselffromBlaotthatItookthispatheticdagger-wieldingfoolseriously.

    Wepassedthroughthecourtyardgate,andIthoughtIsawthelightofalampmovinginthehouse,butthankGodallwasindarknessnow.Itwassuchamercilessrapeofmyprivacyforthisknife-wieldioforcehiswayintomyheavenlyhome,whereIspentmydays,indeedallmytime,seekingoutandpaintingAllah’smemoriesuntilmyeyestired—whereuponI’dmakelovetomybeloved,themostbeautifulwomanintheworld—thatIsworetotakerevengeuponhim.

    Lthelamp,heexaminedmypapers,apageIwasinthemidstofpleting—nedprisonerspleadingtotheSultantoberelievedoftheirsofdebtandreceivingHisbenevolence—mypaints,myworktables,myknives,myreed-cuttingboards,mybrushes,everythingaroundmywritingtable,mypapersagain,myburnishingstones,mypenknivesandthespacesbetweenmypenandpaperboxes;helookedinets,chests,behcushions,atoneofmypaperscissors,ahasoftredcushionandacarpetbefoingback,bringingthelampcloserandclosertoeachobjedexaminingthesamepla