Hain Chaudron

Vaster took another sip of water. “After I’m done with them, they’ll all be taking your beautiful forgeries back home, though.”

Chaudron elbowed Vaster in the ribs. “Are you still drunk? Don’t say that out loud!”

Vaster laughed. “It’s not like anyone’s listening to us. Don’t be paranoid.” He took another sip of water. “You did excellent work. Nobody will ever be able to tell which paintings are original Gaspar Ceils and which ones are actually Hain Chaudrons.”

“It wasn’t easy. It took forever to find a supplier for the right weave of Valbaran linen. And some of the pigments he used are hard to get around here.”

“It was worth it. People are going to be lining up past the opera house to see these ‘newly discovered’ masterpieces.”

“About that…” Chaudron took a bite of his sweet bun. “What’s the story on how these were ‘discovered?’”

Vaster smirked. “I got access to the Ceil Estate archive as part of my ‘research’ in putting this show together.” He took a sip of water. “I forged sales records and provenances for each of the fakes and slipped them into the archives.”

Chaudron snorted, nearly choking on his sweet bun.

“There’s a difference between forging and counterfeiting, Chaudron. What you’re doing is totally honest. You’re just making paintings that happen to resemble the work of a dead artist.” Vaster sipped his water. “I’m the one lying about their origins and faking a paper trail.”