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迪文小说>我的名字是红色 > 第92部分(第1页)

第92部分(第1页)

its strength; and finally; like an incorrigible and jealous foe who wanted to do

me  harm。  In  truth;  he  understood  that  I  was  more  talented  than  he;  even

worse; he probably sensed that Master Osman knew this too。 With his God…

given  talent;  Butterfly  was  a  superb  master;  and  his  envy  made  me  prouder:

Unlike him; I became a master through the strength of my own “reed;” not by

holding  my  master’s;  and  I  sensed  that  I  could  force  him  to  accept  my

superiority。

Raising my voice; I explained how pitiful it was that there were men who

wanted  to  undermine  Our  Sultan  and  the  late  Enishte’s  miraculous  book。

Master  Osman  was  like  a  father  to  us  all;  he  was  everyone’s  superior;  we

learned  everything  from  him!  Yet;  after  tracing  the  clues  in  Our  Sultan’s

Treasury;  for  some  unknown  reason;  Master  Osman  tried  to  conceal  his

realization  that  Olive  was  the  despicable  murderer。  I  said  I  was  certain  that

Olive;  who  couldn’t  be  found  at  home;  was  hiding  away  in  the  deserted

Kalenderi dervish house near the Phanar Gate。 This dervish lodge was closed

during  the  reign  of  Our  Sultan’s  grandfather;  not  because  it  was  a  den  of

degradation  and  immorality;  but  rather;  as  a  result  of  the  endless  wars  with

the Persians; and; I added; there was even a time when Olive boasted that he

was keeping guard over the forbidden dervish lodge。 If they didn’t trust me;

suspecting  some  ruse  behind  my  words;  the  dagger  was  in  their  hands;  they

were free to mete out my punishment then and there。

Butterfly  landed  two  more  heavy  blows  of  the  dagger  that  most  armor

could not have withstood。 He turned to Black; who believed what I told them;

and screamed at him childishly。 I came up from behind; put my armor…plated

arm around Butterfly’s neck and drew him toward me。 Bending his other arm

back  with  my  free  hand;  I  made  him  drop  the  dagger。  We  weren’t  quite

struggling;  nor  were  we  entirely  playing。  I  recounted  a  similar;  little…known

scene in the Book of Kings。

“On the third day of a confrontation between Persian and Turanian armies

fully  equipped  in  armor  and  weaponry  and  arrayed  at  the  foot  of  Mount

Hamaran;  the  Turanians  sent  the  wily  Shengil  into  the  field  to  learn  the

identity of a mysterious Persian who’d killed a great Turanian warrior on each

of the previous two days;” I began。 “Shengil challenged the mysterious warrior;

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and he accepted。 The armies; their armor glimmering brightly in the afternoon

sun;  watched  with  bated  breath。  The  armored  horses  of  the  two  warriors

engaged each other with such speed that sparks flying from the clash of metal

singed the hides of the horses which gave off smoke。 The fight was a lengthy

one。  The  Turanian  shot  arrows;  the  Persian  maneuvered  his  sword  and  horse

skillfully; and finally; the mysterious Persian felled the Turanian after catching

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