“I’m not afraid of them；” Enishte said； “because I’m not afraid of death。”
178
Who were “they”？ I nodded as if I understood。 Yet annoyance began to
mount within me。 I noticed that the old volume immediately beside Enishte
was El…Jevziyye’s Book of the Soul。 All dotards who seek death share a love for
this book that recounts the adventures that await the soul。 Since I’d been here
last； I saw only one new item among the objects collected in trays； resting on
the chest； among the pen cases； penknives； nib…cutting boards； inkwells and
brushes： a bronze inkpot。
“Let’s establish； once and for all； that we do not fear them；” I said boldly。
“Take out the last illustration。 Let’s show it to them。”
“But wouldn’t this prove that we minded their slander； at least enough to
take it seriously？ We’ve done nothing of which we ought to be afraid。 What
could justify your being so frightened？”
He stroked my hair like a father。 I was afraid that I might burst into tears
again； I embraced him。
“I know why that unfortunate gilder Elegant Effendi was killed；” I said
excitedly。 “By slandering you； your book and us； Elegant Effendi was planning
to set Nusret Hoja of Erzurum’s men upon us。 He was convinced that we’d
fallen sway to the Devil。 He’d begun spreading such rumors； trying to incite
the other miniaturists working on your book to rebel against you。 I don’t
know why he suddenly began to do this。 Perhaps out of jealousy； perhaps he’d
e under Satan’s influence。 And the other miniaturists also heard how
determined Elegant Effendi was to destroy us all。 You can im