Page 12 of A Forgery of Fate

Of course, that story I kept to myself. “My father” was all I said.

“Your father,” repeated Gaari. “Who gave you your blue hair? You never talk about him.”

“He’s dead. That’s all there is to know.” I shoveled another spoonful of noodles into my mouth, punctuating the end of the topic. “Third rule.”

Gaari chuckled. “Well played. You know, Saigas, sometimes I think you have as many secrets as I do.” He wiped his mouth, a tell that he was about to change the topic. “I’ve told you the one behind Luk’s broth, haven’t I? They boil the base with kelp. Just a knot of it, but it adds an oystery flavor. Precious flavor that you’reruiningwith those peppers.”

“Then be glad that it’s my bowl, not yours.”

“Indeed.” Gaari chewed on his noodles, looking thoughtful. “I think I’ll tell Tangyor not to let you in at Luk’s anymore.”

I nearly choked on my soup. “What? Because of the peppers?”

“Because you were careless today,” Gaari said, leveling his gaze with mine. “Did you think I’d let that pass simply because the piece fetched a good price?”

“I thought we were celebrating,” I said with a wince. “Must we talk about such unpleasantries?”

Not a smile cracked his grave composure. “You cannot afford to make mistakes in this business,” he said. “You’re a good forger, Saigas. It isn’t like you to deviate from your assignment. The extra bends along the river, the two catfish in the pond. Thedragon.”

My eyes flew up.

“Yes, I saw it,” said Gaari. “You’d best pray that Jisan doesn’t before the piece goes to its buyer. Lei Wing wouldnever have painted such a thing.” He frowned. “Explain yourself.”

I parted my lips, but what could I say? No story I made up would be satisfactory for Gaari. I knew him. He’d relentlessly ask question after question, until I was forced to tell the truth. And the truth was my secret.

“It won’t happen again” was all I said.

“It won’t,” Gaari agreed. “Because you’re not going to forge any more paintings.”

“What?”

“Your talents are wasted imitating the dead. Give it up. Do your own work.”

I stared at him. “Have you gone senile, old man? I’m no visionary. My skill’s in copying what others have done. That’s why you hired me.”

“So I did.” Gaari looked tired again, the white in his beard suddenly losing luster. “But that dragon had a spark, Saigas. A spark of something special. Where did it come from?”

A muscle in my hand spasmed, and I dropped my spoon as my mind reeled with excuses. “Nowhere,” I said quickly. “Nomi used to make me paint them. I must have done it without thinking.”

“Perhaps you shouldtrythinking.” Gaari leaned forward. “Trypainting your own art. You know what they say about the luck of the dragons. You could make a name for yourself.”

I folded my hands together over my lap, holding them still. “You’re a swindler, Mr.Gaari, and you made good coin today swindling. Should you be questioning me?”

“No one chooses to be a thief,” he said. “If you made your own art—”

“I can’t afford to take a chance with my own art. Mymother—” I caught myself before I shared something personal. “I need to take care of my family.”

“Then do it for your family.” Gaari touched his bandaged eye. “Otherwise, sooner or later, you’ll get caught.”

A shiver raced down my spine. Not for the first time, I wondered whether someone had double-crossed him in the past. Whether that explained his third rule.

Gaari’s cheek twitched again. He rose. “Enjoy your noodles.”

“You aren’t finishing yours?”

“I have another appointment.”

I crossed my arms. “Gardening?”

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