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.”
