The Emperors Soul

impeccable, masterful even. The style is a perfect match. If you could manage that, why would you have made such errors as putting the moon too low? It’s a subtle mistake, but it occurs to me that you would never have made such an error—not unintentionally, at least.”
    Shai turned to get another seal.
    “The painting they think is the original,” Gaotona said, “the one hanging in Frava’s office right now . . . It’s a fake too, isn’t it?”
    “Yes,” Shai admitted with a sigh. “I swapped the paintings a few days before trying for the scepter; I was investigating palace security. I sneaked into the gallery, entered Frava’s offices, and made the change as a test.”
    “So the one they assume is fake, it must be the original,” Gaotona said, smiling. “You painted those mistakes over the original to make it seem like it was a replica!”
    “Actually, no,” Shai said. “Though I have used that trick in the past. They’re both fakes. One is simply the obvious fake, planted to be discovered in case something went wrong.”
    “So the original is still hidden somewhere . . .” Gaotona said, sounding curious. “You sneaked into the palace to investigate security, then you replaced the original painting with a copy. You left a second, slightly worse copy in your room as a false trail. If you were found out while sneaking in—or if you were for some reason sold out by an ally—we would search your room and find the poor copy, and assume that you hadn’t yet accomplished your swap. The officers would take the good copy and believe it to be authentic. That way, no one would keep looking for the original.”
    “More or less.”
    “That’s very clever,” Gaotona said. “Why, if you were captured sneaking into the palace trying to steal the scepter, you could confess that you were trying to steal only the painting. A search of your room would turn up the fake, and you’d be charged with attempted theft from an individual, in this case Frava, which is a much lesser crime than trying to steal an imperial relic. You would get ten years of labor instead of a death sentence.”
    “Unfortunately,” Shai said, “I was betrayed at the wrong moment. The Fool arranged for me to be caught after I’d left the gallery with the scepter.”
    “But what of the original painting? Where did you hide it?” He hesitated. “It’s still in the palace, isn’t it?”
    “After a fashion.”
    Gaotona looked at her, still smiling.
    “I burned it,” Shai said.
    The smile vanished immediately. “You lie.”
    “Not this time, old man,” Shai said. “The painting wasn’t worth the risk to get it out of the gallery. I only pulled that swap to test security. I got the fake in easily; people aren’t searched going in, only coming out. The scepter was my true goal. Stealing the painting was secondary. After I replaced it, I tossed the original into one of the main gallery hearths.”
    “That’s horrible ,” Gaotona said. “It was an original ShuXen, his greatest masterpiece! He’s gone blind, and can no longer paint. Do you realize the cost . . .” He sputtered. “I don’t understand. Why, why would you do something like that?”
    “It doesn’t matter. No one will know what I’ve done. They will keep looking at the fake and be satisfied, so there’s no harm done.”
    “That painting was a priceless work of art!” Gaotona glared at her. “Your swap of it was about pride and nothing else. You didn’t care about selling the original. You just wanted your copy hanging in the gallery instead. You destroyed something wonderful so that you could elevate yourself!”
    She shrugged. There was more to the story, but the fact was, she had burned the painting. She had her reasons.
    “We are done for the day,” Gaotona said, red faced. He waved a hand at her, dismissive as he stood up. “I had begun to think . . . Bah!”
    He stalked out the door.

Day Forty-Two
    Each person was a puzzle.
    That was how Tao, her first trainer in Forgery, had explained it. A Forger wasn’t a simple scam artist or trickster. A Forger was an artist who painted with human perception.
    Any grime-covered urchin on the street could scam someone. A Forger sought loftier heights. Common scammers worked by pulling a cloth over someone’s eyes, then fleeing before realization hit. A Forger had to create something so perfect, so beautiful, so real that their subjects never questioned.
    A person was like a dense forest thicket,