Page 7 of A Forgery of Fate

Fal stabbed a feather into my wig. Hard. As I winced, she replied, “Still rich. Everyone rich tries to look like they’re of the first rank.”

“Everyone rich also doesn’t wear shoes like that,” said Nomi, glancing up from her book to nod at my feet. “Should’ve kept to being a monk.”

My eyes flew down. Demon turds, she was right. Noblewomen didn’t wear flat straw shoes that could pass for a horse’s breakfast. They wore silk slippers with embroidered peonies, and little upturned toe caps whose purpose I had yet to understand.

“Can you let out the hem on my dress, Fal?” I asked.

“It’s notyourdress,” she replied. “It’s the tailor shop’s, and I’m going to get fired if I’m late again—”

“I can’t go out like this. Unless you want to spend the rest of this year’s wages getting me out of prison.”

With a grumble, my sister set to work. “Just don’t get the dress dirty,” she warned when she’d finished. “Mrs.Su’s already suspicious about the tear I stitched up for you lasttime.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“And, Tru?” Fal crossed her arms, but the worry in her eyes was genuine. “Try not to get robbed—or killed.”

Oh, I was trying.

Sometimes I wishedFalwere the one who had to do all this playacting. If there was one good thing about my younger sister, it was that she could charm a sparrow into a snake’s nest. I’d bet she could get the scoundrels behind me toescorther to the auction house—and pay for her palanquin ride home too. But deals were dangerous, and I wouldn’t put my sisters in danger. Mama did enough of that already these days.

I cut diagonally across the south market, shouldering my way through crowds of shoppers. Thank Amana, the auction house was just ahead.

A tremble shivered down my spine, and I threw a last glance back at the thieves, letting my eyes linger an extra beat on the one with long ears. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen him.

Then I burst through the auction house gates. Inside was a long and serene courtyard with a large bronze tank in the center, the water within mirroring the heavens. As I passed my reflection, the effect of Fal’s wig and my makeup made me beam. I was practically unrecognizable. A proper ladyof the eighth or ninth rank, so long as you didn’t look at my shoes.

I scanned the length of the courtyard for a hunched man with white hair. Gaari was always easy to see but even easier to hear. My ears picked out his deep and gravelly voice to my left, where he chatted garrulously with two art appraisers.

I tapped his shoulder, interrupting what sounded like an intense quarrel about where to get the best noodles in Gangsun. “I’m here.”

“Lady Vee?” said Gaari, squinting his one eye. He took a moment to recognize me. “Praise the Sages! I was worried you might have lost your way.”

He bowed, but under his breath, so I alone could hear, he muttered, “You’re late.”

“There were thieves,” I muttered back, pairing my response with a glare.Told you I should’ve been a monk.

Gaari didn’t waste a second. “Thieves?” he repeated, loud enough for all to hear. “Thieves,you say? No wonder you look so harried, Lady Vee.” He made a show of gesturing at the open doors. “Guards, be on the lookout for riffraff trying to infiltrate this fine establishment. Come, Lady Vee, let us find Mr.Jisan. He’s been waiting.”

Never one for subtlety, my friend Gaari. But it worked for him. The guards immediately straightened, and their attention flew to the street rather than lingering over my straw shoes and lack of identification papers. Swiftly—and Gaari’s legs were so long I almost had to skip to catch up—he led me down the corridor into the office where the art authenticator waited.

Like all government officials, Mr.Jisan was dressed inblue so dark it was nearly black. His face was long like that of a mantis, and he stooped over his desk, commanding a neat tower of pamphlets and scrolls, a myriad of glass disks for examining art at a close angle, and a hefty red seal for authentication.

I’d met him twice before, but he didn’t recognize me. Ironic, since his life’s work was to tell whether something was true or false. But to a man like him, it’d never occur that a woman might be clever enough to cheat him. That was the beauty of the scam Gaari and I had cooked up, and gods, it was satisfying.

“There, there,” Gaari said, patting the air above my shoulder as we entered the office. “You mean to say, they attacked your palanquin? The brazenness of those rascals!”

The act was on, and I bit down hard on my cheek to summon a nice, rosy flush. “The thieves followed me all the way from Hansun Park,” I said, lifting my voice an aggrieved octave. “I had to cut through the market to get here! And my poor maid…she was so terrified. She tried to lead them astray, but—”

“They still trailed you,” Gaari finished for me. “How terrifying. Were there many?”

I glanced at Mr.Jisan. His head was still bent over his work, but his hands weren’t moving anymore. He was listening. Considering.

Thieves meant there was interest in my scroll. Interest meant there was profit to be had, and who didn’t love profit?

“At least five,” I finally replied, voice shaking. “Maybe more. They’re still outside—dressed as scholars.”

“Ban Nu’s reprobates, I’d say.” With a harrumph, Gaariturned to Mr.Jisan. “Your Honor, will you send your guards to take a look? We cannot have thieves loitering about Gangsun’s oldest and most reputable auction house—”

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