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