The Jaguar Knights

by Dave Duncan

  “Pray be more specific, Grand Inquisitor. How do we do this?”

  “That is up to you.”

  “Until yesterday about this time, I had never even heard of Tlixilia. Baron Roland was helpful, but I know nothing of the current political situation.”

  Chief Snoop shrugged impatiently. “The bats will brief you. In summary, the Distliards are actively arming the peripheral states for a combined assault on the Tlixilian Empire, but the Tlixilians know this and have learned the advantages of horses and steel weapons. Consequently, there is a huge trade in armaments. The Distliards are arming their allies: Yazotlans, Tephuamotzins, and others, mostly coastal states. Chivians, Isilondians, and various other Euranians are trading with the Tlixilians. Baels, as usual, are seizing any cargo they can get and selling it to anyone who wants it. The seas run with blood. Sigisa seethes with intrigue.”

  Also, according to Baron Roland, cannibals, snakes, and tropical fevers. “You believe we can achieve something worthwhile in such a snake pit?”

  “Dolores will, if anyone can. Her grasp of conjuration theory is unmatched. Cherish her and keep her from swimming too near the sharks.” Grand Inquisitor drained his goblet and set it down as a signal that the interview was over.

  “It sounds like total insanity with very little hope of success,” Wolf said brutally. “And for what? What wages do you offer?”

  The snoop laughed. “That seems such a strange question! We reward success, Sir Wolf. You are aware of the Cumberwell conjurations, of course? Queen Malinda heard of those rituals, devised by a school of brilliant Fitanish conjurers, and decided Chivian women would benefit from them. We dispatched Inquisitor Cumberwell. He went to Fitain, obtained the formulae by devious means, and is now a baron with extensive landholdings. If he has prospered just by reducing the supply of unwanted babies, imagine what terms you could obtain from the kingdoms of Eurania if you had the ability to move armies halfway around the world.”

  Wolf became aware that he was gaping like a dead fish. The one thing no Blade ever expected was wealth, unless he could snare an heiress around Court. Perhaps Dolores was not quite so foolish, after all.

  “If we discover the rituals you’ll let us keep them?”

  Grand Inquisitor smiled cynically. “Dolores would hardly be true to her training if she did not retain at least one copy.”

  “Fortune if we succeed and nothing if we fail?”

  “Fortune if you succeed and most likely death if you fail. No one offers riches for nothing.”

  His words were harmless but his smile threatened. The prospect was El Dorado, but Inquisitor Schlutter’s death still lurked in the shadows and always would. The Blade witnesses had lied brazenly to defend brother Wolf. Remembering Neil’s cold dismissal as he returned Diligence that evening, Wolf realized that those days were over. Grand Inquisitor knew that, too. Wolf was vulnerable now. He did not ask if he had the option of refusing the mission.

  And he was starting to feel excited. Adventure? Earn a great fortune?

  Find Lynx!

  “So my wife will be the brains of the investigation and I will be the brawn?”

  Grand Inquisitor shrugged. “I hope you are man enough to endure that situation. We need a team whose members’ skills complement each other. Men are physically stronger than women, but they are rarely more ruthless or as effective at gathering information.”

  “You say the Tlixilians are desperate for steel weapons, yet they took none from Quondam.”

  “That’s another Why for you to answer.” He moved as if to stand up.

  “I wonder if their conjurations won’t move iron?” Wolf mused. “We saw no weapons discarded down on the beach, but Sir Alden said a couple of pikes were found in the barbican, as if dropped during the withdrawal.”

  Instantly the inquisitor had his glassy-eyed mask on. “You did not mention that in your report.”

  “Like so much else, it seemed trivial at the time. I will discuss your offer with my wife and we shall have more questions in the morning. But explain to me, Grand Inquisitor, since I am only a stupid swordsman—why all the underhand dealing? Why not just ask the King to release me from the Guard and appoint me his agent in the Hence Lands?”

  The old man stared at him without a blink. “The King is too erratic. He might refuse to spend the money or insist on appointing the wrong person. If he asks we answer. Otherwise we do what is required without adding to the royal burdens. Remember the stories of the Tlixilians’ eagle knights and jaguar knights? The day hunter and the night hunter? Does that not remind you in some way of the Dark Chamber and the Blades? We supply the crown with information. The Blades defend it.”

  “Blades do what the King wants, not what they think he should want.”

  Grand Inquisitor sighed. “Let me tell you what happened tonight, after you broke the news of your marriage. Commander Vicious went straight to the King and demanded that you be dismissed from the Guard. The King refused. Vicious divested himself of his silver baldric and proffered it to His Majesty. The King refused to accept it. Vicious laid it at his feet and asked leave to withdraw. He was told to send in Sir Lyon, his deputy. Lyon, when he arrived, both declined promotion and resigned his commission also. Athelgar, faced with two baldrics on the rug, sent for Sir Martin.”

  Now Wolf understood. “Who also refused, of course? None of them would be seen taking my part against Vicious.”

  “Exactly. So the King was forced to reinstate Vicious and release you. He refused to take Lyon back, though, and appointed Damon in his stead. The distinction between Sir Vicious’s mutiny and Sir Lyon’s is subtle, but defensible. You see my point, Sir Wolf? The senior Blades of the Guard were not doing what His Majesty wanted at all. They were doing what they thought was best for him. Are our two orders so very unalike?”

  “But…how do you know all this?” Did the snoops have spies behind the paneling in the King’s quarters?

  Grand Inquisitor smiled mockingly. “We know because it is our business to know, Sir Wolf. It is also our business to keep watch on the King’s enemies, both here and abroad. The sack of Quondam revealed a foe who has struck at us from halfway around the world! Will he strike again? How big an army can he field at such a distance? What does he want of us and how can we defend ourselves? These are not trivial questions, Sir Wolf!”

  “No, Grand Inquisitor.”

  “So, whatever your opinions of the current sovereign, I hope that you are truly loyal to your country, because the Dark Chamber is. Lead our new friend to the party, please, Flicker.”

  Crystal shattered, but even before the goblet hit the floor Wolf was on his feet and turned around. He could have been long dead. Dolores’s surly young friend was standing behind his chair, calmly paring fingernails with his elephant-sized dagger. Wolf had not heard him come across that gritty floor and had no idea how long he had been there.

  3

  The party was informal, just a dozen people standing around while grinning youngsters circulated with trays of goblets and sweetmeats. The bride looked ravishing and half the age she thought she did in a gown of gold and cobalt brocade, which was obviously borrowed, because it was both too short and too large for her. Her cobalt velvet cap was trimmed with a coronet of what seemed to be genuine rosebuds, impossible though that was in Secondmoon.

  The guests, about a score of them eventually, were friends of the bride. Most were her contemporaries, but they ranged up to a motherly woman of extreme antiquity—meaning about ten years older than Wolf. They were all snoops, and he was disturbed to recognize the Lord Chamberlain’s latest mistress and one of the King’s junior valets. That told him how Grand Inquisitor had learned of Vicious’s attempted resignation.

  Several senior black robes dropped in to pay their respects. All of them he had at least seen around the palace and a few he had worked with professionally, but they soon left so they would not spoil the fun. The arrival of the Gruesome Twosome stilled the hubbub as if they were the King himself.
They were relaxed and pleasant, and their feat in kissing the bride in mirror-image simultaneity was obviously intended as humor. So, perhaps, was their joint speech:

  Left began, “It is our great pleasure to—”

  “—announce,” Right continued without a break, “that Inquisitor Hogwood—”

  “—has begun her professional career with a highly successful—”

  “—independent investigation, whose details must unfortunately remain—”

  “—confidential for the time being. But her success extended so far—”

  “—beyond merely catching a notable husband that we are—”

  “—happy to promote her two grades, to the rank of—”

  Dolores uttered a squeal of joy. The others all cheered. Most seemed genuinely pleased, but Flicker and others of his age must be straining a little. A two-grade jump on top of a doctorate in conjury would be a coup in the battle for eventual Grand-Inquisitor-ship. The incumbents departed soon after, bidding everyone enjoy the evening.

  The food and wine were superb, the merriment convincing, the cold dark firmly shut outside. Many of the guests had brought lutes or shawms and took turns providing music for minuets, gavottes, and pa-vanes. The bride seemed genuinely happy showing off her new husband, and her friends were too polite to ask if he was the best unemployed baboon she could find. Even so, Wolf felt very much a stranger and was glad when bride and groom could make their excuses and withdraw upstairs to resume what they had begun at the Pine Tree. Not all of Thirteen Amber Street was palatial. Even the so-called bridal suite was modest by palace standards, although it was better than the rainy streets for a homeless, unemployed swordsman.

  The moment they had the door closed, the bride demanded, “What did Grand Inquisitor tell you?”

  “I never discuss business on my wedding nights. Later.”

  Somewhat later, she asked drowsily, “So what did Grand Inquisitor say?”

  “I’m asleep.”

  “You will waken in extreme agony if you don’t tell me.”

  “He wants you to lead an expedition to the Hence Lands.”

  Her reaction was everything Wolf had feared. “Shush!” he said, pulling her back into his embrace. “You’ll waken the whole city.”

  It was a tremendous compliment, she said when he let her speak again, a chance at a huge promotion, the opportunity of a lifetime. Wasn’t it?

  “It’s exciting,” he admitted. “The journey worries me. Months of danger and hardship and—”

  “Stop it!” She pummeled his chest. “Don’t baby me! I’m not a child.”

  “I do know that. But—”

  “Tlixilia? To discover Why and How they sent an army to Quondam?”

  “Right. We’re a natural team, you see. You handle the conjuration and I do the human sacrifices.”

  She sniggered, which was quite an experience in such intimacy. “And you were worried about money? This could make us rich beyond dreams, Wolf! Like Cumberwell! If we can learn how to transport people by enchantment, we’ll put every post house in the country out of business!”

  Maybe, but she had married a lifelong cynic. Wolf knew that Athelgar’s Parliaments had been quietly nibbling away at the “petticoat” laws Queen Malinda had forced through during her brief reign. He had heard much talk that Cumberwell and similar elementaries would soon be made illegal and shut down as contributing to public immorality. The Blades disapproved of many of the petticoat laws but were generally in favor of public immorality. Cumberwell had provided an enchantment that the Queen wanted made available. How would Athelgar feel about Isilond or Gevily teleporting armies onto his shores at will? What about thieves or assassins materializing inside the palace? Dolores would have serious marketing problems.

  “And that’s only a start,” she said. “There may be hundreds of new things we could learn. Let the horrible Distliards have the gold from El Dorado, I’ll take their spell books.”

  Marketing and production problems both. “Listen, my beloved. According to the Baron, the Tlixilians use beating human hearts in their conjury. Parliament may disapprove if you try to introduce this practice into Chivial.”

  “Oh, we wouldn’t!” she said. “Sacrifices shouldn’t be necessary. Grand Inquisitor saw that. The eight elements are universal. The Tlixilians are summoning the spirits in a different way, that’s all. What we want to learn is how they control and direct the elementals after they’re assembled. Tlixilians have glass swords, we have steel, but they’re both swords.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it.”

  “And what did you mean,” his bride said indignantly, “about me leading? You will lead!”

  “You’re a trained inquisitor, I’m not.” Wolf knew he would lose this argument. She was much too proud of her brand-new husband to risk slighting him in her friends’ eyes by taking away any of his manly authority. It would be easier for him to keep the title and then just do whatever she suggested.

  Later still, when there seemed to be no chance of any sleep at all, he said, “Tell me about Flicker.”

  She shrugged in his arms. “One of the boys I grew up with. Why?”

  “Why is he called Flicker?”

  “He’s so fast on his feet.”

  And quiet on them. “He has a doctorate in sprinting?”

  “No! He’s an incredible all-rounder. He was first in line for the Tlixilia mission. Even if I’m a grade or two ahead of him now, he’s much more likely to become Grand Inquisitor one day than I am.”

  “Does he have chips on his shoulders?”

  “One or two, maybe. Why?”

  “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

  Dolores snickered all over. “Flicker? Don’t worry about Flicker, beloved! We grew up together. There were six in our pod at Waltham—Bert, Spat, Kate, Quin, Flicker, and me. We shared a room until we were twelve. He’s like a brother to me. Girls are not interested in their brothers!”

  Wolf kissed her to change the subject. She might look on Flicker as a brother but Flicker did not look at her the way boys looked at sisters. At least one of his chips had a new name on it now. No matter! The newlyweds would soon be far away, seeking their fortune.

  4

  First let’s discuss my wife’s rank,” Wolf said. “She was promised a promotion of three grades if she completed the Quondam mission successfully, so why did you only give her two?”

  The Gruesome Twosome were four glassy eyes on the other side of a paper-littered table, and last night’s camaraderie had gone with the morning dew. They occupied the only two seats in the room. Left-hand had just asked if Sir Wolf and Lady Attewell accepted the Sigisa posting.

  “That offer was not explicit,” said Right, “and she did not complete the mission successfully, because she did not question Sir Lynx’s obsession with the jaguar plaque. Also, had she enlisted you as instructed, you would be more respectful now.”

  “Blades give respect where it is due,” Wolf retorted. They also resented attempts at intimidation. “I will accept the mission provided Dolores is put in command. She is trained to the work. I am an outsider—helpers you call us, I understand. She must be in charge.” They had argued this problem half the night, and Dolores had only grudgingly agreed that he could put the matter to Grand Inquisitor.

  “When the two of you went to Ironhall,” Left said, “you told her to pretend that she was in charge and you were her tame thug. When she asked why, you evaded the question. But His Majesty’s Office of General Inquiry often appoints a nominal leader to distract the opposition and attend to time-wasting ceremonials so the real head can observe undisturbed from the sidelines. You learned this technique from us in the field, did you not?”

  “I…well, yes.”

  “We did not expect,” Right continued, “that we would have to stoop to spelling out that arrangement in this case, when the need for it is so obvious.”

  Lady Attewell emitted a small snigger.

  “On that basis,” Wo
lf said, “we are both happy to accept the posting to Tlixilia.”

  “Good. Dolores, you are promoted to third grade effective when you sail.”

  “Now go to Edgewyrd and the bats.”

  “And in future stop your helper from wasting our time.”

  Two heads bent in unison as they returned to their paperwork.

  “Edgewyrd! Edgewyrd!”

  Dolores bubbled with excitement as she led the way through the embrangled Dark Chamber warren. Like any Blade, Wolf hated not knowing where he was, and Number Thirteen had spread outward from the original building of that name, malignantly invading its neighbors. He was constantly being introduced to new people, all of whom hailed his wife with joy and felicitations on her marriage, making him feel like a new gown being shown off, but she was obviously well loved in this bizarre outsized family, and for that he was happy. He felt that only his grip on her hand kept her feet on the floor.

  “Where is Edgewyrd?” he asked when they had a moment alone.

  “Not where, love. Who! Edgewyrd is our chief strategist! A logistical genius! Only the very biggest missions merit Edgewyrd’s attention.” She peered at him and laughed. “You’re not upset just because the old grumpies snapped at you, are you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “They do that to everyone! It means you’re accepted!”

  “It’s all right! I’ve been gnawed on by experts.”

  “Well, what’s wrong, then? Aren’t you excited about this marvelous honeymoon they’re giving us?”

  Cannibals? Jungle? Ships? “I’m suffering from lack of sleep. I haven’t slept in five years and you didn’t give me a moment’s peace all night, you sex-crazed wanton.”

  “Me?” his bride squealed. “You call me wanton, you insatiable satyr, you lecherous glutton? You debauched…er…”