The Mask of Mirrors by M. Carrick; (different e readers txt) 📕

The doors opened, and Mettore Indestor stood to greet him. “Master Vargo. Have a seat.”

No coming around the desk to offer his hand, no courtesies or small talk. Either Indestor was getting right down to business, or he didn’t think Vargo was worth the effort. Probably both.

“Your Mercy,” he said, tasting the irony of the title. “You wanted to see me?”

The office of Caerulet was made to be imposing, with heavy furniture, dark wood, and the banners of the Vigil and Nadežra’s military companies passing as decoration. Indestor even sat with his back to a window, putting his face in shadow while leaving his visitors well-lit. Recognizing the techniques blunted their effectiveness, but didn’t negate it entirely.

Mettore said, “I understand you’re interested in getting a contract for your… people. To legitimize them as a mercenary force.”

Now that I wasn’t expecting. Vargo kept his posture relaxed, but allowed some of his puzzlement to show. “Interested, yes. But such contracts are rarely granted to delta gentry—much less to a simple businessman like myself.”

“If I say it should be granted, it will happen,” Mettore said bluntly. “In exchange, you will do something for me.”

Vargo blinked. Is this actually happening? Alsius?

::… You told me to be quiet.::

Then Vargo’s sense caught up with his astonishment. Mettore wasn’t presenting this as a favor, then working his way around to casually mentioning some favor in return. He’s giving a dog a command and offering a treat if the dog obeys.

::That’s his way.::

Vargo smiled, sharp as a rookery knife. He wouldn’t be here if Mettore had any other option. “That’s very generous, Your Mercy. But what could I possibly do for you that you can’t do yourself?”

If Mettore heard the implicit resistance, he didn’t bother to acknowledge it. “The Night of Bells is in two weeks. I’d like Alta Renata to attend the Ceremony of the Accords at the Charterhouse. You can make certain she does.”

The allure of a mercenary contract glittered less with every passing moment. No surprise that Mettore couldn’t approach Renata—or any of the Traementis—himself, not after the debacle at the betrothal party. Nor was it a surprise that he might come to Vargo, as the person with the most to gain and the fewest scruples.

But “few” wasn’t the same as “none.” “Alta Renata has shown herself to be an extremely competent advocate, but I didn’t think House Indestor lacked for such people. Why do you need her to attend the Accords?”

Mettore’s gaze slid off to the right. He might as well have raised a banner saying, I’m lying.

“The Accords are a time for peace and reconciliation, are they not?” Mettore asked. “It’s time this silly feud ended. But after that nonsense with Mezzan and the Traementis girl—well, they’d hardly accept an invitation from my hand.”

Vargo’s finger tapped twice before he stilled it. Every hook needs a lure…

::You can’t actually be considering—::

Why not? He won’t kidnap her or kill her at the Accords. It’s too public. And the information we have on his ash dealings isn’t nearly enough to sink him—not to the degree our plans require.

“House Indestor’s dedication to keeping the peace in Nadežra is well-known, and Your Mercy’s willingness to bridge this channel is admirable,” Vargo said, painting a conflicted expression onto his face. “But I can’t help worrying that someone might wish to curry your favor by avenging the insults to House Indestor.” He shrugged. “Or perhaps I’ve seen too many theatricals.”

The thinning of Mettore’s lips said he was wearing on the man’s patience. “Anyone who offers her harm will answer to me,” he said. “Does that put your conscience to rest?” His tone questioned whether Vargo had a conscience at all.

Years of smiling charmingly when he wanted to murder someone were all that kept Vargo’s pleasant expression in place. He believed Mettore was being honest… but in that moment, he didn’t care.

As he was tensing to rise, though, Mettore added, with no subtlety at all, “You might gain the right to administer a military charter, rather than being merely contracted to one.”

Vargo sank into his chair again. Now that was the sort of honey that could only come from Caerulet’s hive. With administration rights, Vargo could offer Era Traementis the caravan protection she so desperately needed, and Indestor couldn’t do anything to stop it. At least, not anything overt.

Fuck if he could tell what Mettore was really after, though. Maybe he really does want reconciliation? he thought at Alsius, not believing it for a moment.

::And I want a pony. But maybe you’re right, and we can turn this to our advantage.::

Every night-piece has a price. “Full administration rights?” Vargo asked. “Standard charter?”

“Of course. On behalf of House Coscanum—I wouldn’t want you to alienate your advocate. My secretary will draw up the details. He also has the invitation for Alta Renata.” Mettore stood again, and Vargo bit down on the desire to make any snide parting comments about what a pleasure it was doing business.

But Mettore’s voice caught him as his hand fell on the doorknob. “Naturally this arrangement stays between the two of us. I’m sure you can come up with some story as to how you obtained the invitation.”

As though Vargo had any intention of telling Renata he’d just cast her onto the shoals to further his own interests. “I’m certain I’ll think of something,” he said, and let the door slam behind him as he left.

11

A Spiraling Fire

Isla Prišta, Westbridge: Cyprilun 17

Ren’s jewelry box wasn’t nearly as full as it used to be. Over the months she’d sold off many of the pieces she stole from Letilia before fleeing Ganllech, to extend her grace period with House Pattumo and her forged letter of credit. Lately she’d been doing her best to start a trend for minimalism, in the hopes that Renata’s limited supply of jewelry could be read as elegant restraint rather than poverty, but her income from advocacy and the nascent river charter weren’t enough to replace the missing