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