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conscience　about　denying　all　this　foul　slander。”

174

“Why　is　it　that　you　feel　guilty？”　he　asked。　“What’s　gnawing　at　your　soul？

Who　has　caused　you　to　doubt　yourself？”

“…to worry that one has attacked what he knows to be sacred； after

spending　months　merrily　illustrating　a　book…to　suffer　the　torments　of　Hell

while　living…if　I　could　only　see　that　last　painting　in　its　entirety。”

“Is　this　what　troubles　you？”　he　said。　“Is　this　why　you’ve　e？”

Suddenly　panic　seized　me。　Could　he　be　thinking　something　horrendous；　like

I　was　the　one　who’d　killed　the　ill…fated　Elegant　Effendi？

“Those　who　want　Our　Sultan　dethroned　and　replaced　by　the　prince；”　I　said；

“are furthering this insidious gossip； saying that He secretly supports the

book。”

“How many really believe that？” he asked wearily。 “Every cleric with any

ambition　who’s　met　with　some　favor　and　whose　head　has　swollen　as　a　result

will preach that religion is being ignored and disrespected。 This is the most

reliable　way　to　ensure　one’s　living。”

Did　he　suppose　I’d　e　solely　to　inform　him　of　a　rumor？

“Poor old Elegant Effendi； God rest his soul；” I said； my voice quavering。

“Supposedly；　we　killed　him　because　he　saw　the　whole　of　the　last　painting　and

was convinced that it reviled our faith。 A division head I know at the palace

workshop told me this。 You know how junior and senior apprentices are；

everyone　gossips。”

Maintaining　this　line　of　reasoning　and　growing　increasingly　impassioned；　I

e。　I　didn’t　know　how　much　of　what　I　said　I　myself

had indeed heard； how much I fabricated o