第23部分(第3/7 頁)

　illuminated　manuscript；　which　I’ve　described　as　“secret。”　On

one　occasion；　the　Sultan　forced　the　great　Master　Osman　to　copy　a　portrait　of

His　Highness；　which　had　been　missioned　from　a　Veian。　I　know　Master

Osman　holds　me　responsible　for　having　to　imitate　that　painter；　for　having　to

make that strange painting； which he did with disgust； referring to the

experience　as　“torture。”　His　wrath　was　justified。

Standing in the middle of the staircase for a while； I looked at the sky。

When　I　was　convinced　that　I’d　been　left　quite　behind；　I　continued　down　the

icy　stairs。　I’d　barely　descended—ever　so　slowly—two　steps　when　a　man　took

me　by　the　arm　and　embraced　me：　Black。

103

“The　air　is　freezing；”　he　said。　“You　must　be　cold。”

I hadn’t the slightest doubt that this was the one who’d muddled

Shekure’s mind。 The self…confidence with which he took my arm was proof

enough。　There　was　something　in　his　demeanor　that　announced；　“I’ve　worked

for　twelve　years　and　have　truly　grown　up。”　When　we　came　to　the　bottom　of

the　stairs；　I　told　him　that　I’d　expect　an　account　later　of　what　he’d　learned　at

the　workshop。

“You go ahead； my child；” I said。 “Go ahead and catch up to the

congregation。”

He　was　taken　aback；　but　didn’t　let　on。　The　way　he　let　go　of　my　arm　with

reservation　and　walked　ahead　of　me　pleased　me；　even。　If　I　gave　Shekure　to　him；

would　he　agree　to　live　in　the　same　house　with　us？

We’d　left　the　city　through　the　Edirne　Gate。　I　saw　the　coffin　on　the　verge　of

disappearing into the fog along with the crowd of illustrators； calligraphers

and　apprentices　shoul