第66部分(第3/7 頁)

ning within the

picture　a　handspan　away　from　my　weary　eyes；　and　we　were　witnessing　it　with

respect　and　awe。

“What’s　wrong　with　the　nose？”　I　was　able　to　whisper　much　later。

“He’s　drawn　the　nose　oddly；”　said　Master　Osman　without　taking　his　eyes

off　the　page。

“Did　his　hand　slip；　perhaps？　Is　this　a　mistake？”

We　were　still　examining　the　peculiar；　unique　rendering　of　the　nose。

“Is this the Veian…inspired ”style‘ everyone； the great masters of China

included；　has　begun　talking　about？“　asked　Master　Osman　mockingly。

I　succumbed　to　resentment；　thinking　that　he　was　mocking　my　late　Enishte：

“My　Enishte；　may　he　rest　in　peace；　used　to　say　that　any　fault　arising　not　from

lack　of　ability　or　talent；　but　from　the　depths　of　the　miniaturist’s　soul；　ought

not　be　deemed　fault　but　style。”

However it came about； whether by the miniaturist’s own hand or the

horse itself； there was no clue other than this nose as to the identity of the

blackguard　who　murdered　my　Enishte。　For；　let　alone　making　out　the　nostrils；

we　were　having　difficulty　identifying　the　noses　of　the　smudged　horses　on　the

page　found　with　poor　Elegant　Effendi。

We spent much time searching for horse pictures that Master Osman’s

beloved　miniaturists　had　made　for　various　books　in　recent　years；　looking　for

the　same　irregularity　in　the　horse’s　nostrils。　Because　the　Book　of　Festivities；　still

being pleted； depicted the societies and guilds marching on foot before

Our Sultan； there were few horses among its 250 illustrations。 Men were

dispatched to the book…arts workshop； where certain figure books；