The Blood of Flowers by Anita Amirrezvani

for his commissions. That way, I would relieve some of the burden on him and on your household."
    That idea seemed to please Gordiyeh, but she wasn't prepared to say yes. "There is always more work in the kitchen than there are hands," she replied.
    I was ready with an answer. "I promise to do everything for Cook that I always do. Nothing will change in how much I help."
    Gordiyeh turned back to her bolts of silk. "In that case," she said, "since my husband has given his approval, you may learn from him, but only if you don't shirk your other duties."
    I was so jubilant that I promised to work harder than usual, though I believed I was already doing as much as any maid could.
    All through the next week, I worked long hours alongside my mother, Shamsi, Zohreh, and Cook in preparation for the New Year. We scrubbed the house from top to bottom and aired out all the blankets. We lifted the bedrolls, cleaning and polishing underneath them. We filled the house with vases of flowers and with mountains of nuts, fruit, and pastries. We cleaned what seemed like a field of greens for the traditional New Year's dish of whole whitefish cooked with mint, coriander, and parsley.
    On New Year's Day, my mother and I were awakened in the dark by the bustle in the household. At twenty-two minutes past five, we kissed each other's cheeks and celebrated with coffee and rosewater pastries. Gostaham and Gordiyeh gave their children gold coins and presented every member of the household with a small gift of money. I said a prayer of thanks to God for permitting us to survive the year, and for guiding us to a household with so much to teach me.
    GOSTAHAM'S WORKROOM at home was located in the birooni. It was a simple place with carpets and cushions on the floors and alcoves for paper, ink, pens, and books. He drew his designs sitting cross-legged on a cushion with a wooden desk propped on his lap. I joined him the day he began the design for Jamileh's cushions and watched him sketch a vase of tulips partially encircled by a garland of other flowers. I marveled at how natural his flowers looked and how quickly they sprang from his pen.
    Gostaham decided that the blossoms were to be pink and yellow, with pale green leaves, against a black background. Touches of silver-wrapped silk thread would outline the blossoms, as Gordiyeh had promised. When I commented on how quickly he designed the cushions, he only said, "This is one commission that has already cost me far more than it's worth."
    The following day, he laid out a piece of paper that had been ruled by one of his assistants with a grid. With great care, he drew the finished tulip design on top of the grid and painted it with watercolors. The grid underneath remained visible, dividing the design into thousands of tiny colored squares, each of which stood for a knot. With this guide in hand, the designer could call out the colors or the knotter could read it himself, like a map that tells a traveler where to go.
    When he was finished, I begged him to give me a task to practice on my own. The first thing he taught me was to draw a grid. I took pen and ink to my little room and practiced on the floor. In the beginning, I had trouble managing the flow of ink. It pooled and smudged, and my lines were crooked and irregular. But before long, I learned how to dip the pen exactly, brush off the excess, and make a clean, straight line, usually while holding my breath. It was tedious work; one sheet of paper took me the better part of an afternoon, and when I stood up, my legs were stiff and cramped.
    When I was able to make a proper grid, Gostaham rewarded me with my very own pen. It had been cut from a reed in the marshes near the Caspian Sea. Although it weighed little more than a feather, to me it was better than a gift of gold. From then on, Gostaham entrusted me with preparing the grids he used to make the final designs for private commissions. He also began giving me assignments to improve my drawing