The realm's most feared swordsman, Sir Wolf has earned his name, the "King's Killer," well. Unlike many of his brother Blades, however, Wolf detests his sworn duty to do the bloody bidding of a liege he can never respect. But when an impregnable fortress is breached and a former royal mistress is abducted by brazen assailants, Wolf must leap into the fray.Burdened with the company of his disgraced brother, Sir Lynx-the only Blade ever to lose his ward and live-and shadowed by a mysterious Inquisitor with a secret agenda, Wolf must make his way across a landscape of nightmares vivid and terrible enough to chill any fearless heart. For somewhere in this dark, unfamiliar world, the fate of all Chivial hangs in the balance-and it is the destiny of one reluctant Blade to tip the scales to salvation . . . or doom.

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The Jaguar Knights

Chapter One

The master first lets slip his best hounds

Something was up. The Royal Guard liked to think it knew all thenews and heard it before anyone else did, but that day it had been shutout. The morning watch had been on duty for two hours already, butCommander Vicious had not arrived to hold the daily inspection andthe graveyard shift had not yet been stood down. They were supposedlyattending the King, who was meeting with senior advisors in the councilchamber. Absurd! Even during the worst panics of the ThencasterConspiracy, three years ago, Athelgar had never summoned his cabinetin the middle of the night.

Deputy Commander Lyon must have some idea what was going on,but he refused to admit it. Infuriatingly, he just sat behind his desk in theguardroom, reading a book of poetry—Lyon not only read poetry, hewrote it too, yet he was a fine swordsman, subtle and unpredictable.Thehalf-dozen Blades sustaining the permanent dice game under the windowwere doing so halfheartedly, grumbling more than gambling. Sir Wolf was polishing his boots in a corner—Wolf never read poetry, wasnever invited into the games, and cared not a fig what folly the King waspursuing this time.

The park beyond the frost-spangled panes was all pen-and-ink, starkwhite-and-black, sun-bright snow and cadaver trees under a sky of anemicblue, for this was Secondmoon of 395, the coldest winter in memory.Nocare, with its high ceilings and huge windows, was a summerpalace, impossible to heat in cold weather. The King had moved thecourt there on some inexplicable whim and could not return it to pokyold Greymere as long as the roads were blocked by snowdrifts. Courtiersslunk around unhappily, huddled in furs and muttering under theirsmoky breath.

Innumerable feet shuffled past the guardroom door: gentry, heralds,pages, porters, stewards,White Sisters, Household Yeomen. No one paidany heed until a rapid tattoo of heel taps raised every head. Blades knewthe sound of Guard boots, and these were in a hurry.

Wolf went on polishing his left one.

In marched Sir Damon, still wearing his sash as officer in charge ofthe night watch. The kibitzers by the window exchanged shockedglances.The matter was much more than routine if Sir Vicious had senta senior Blade as messenger, instead of a junior or just a page.

Damon glanced around the room, then bent to whisper somethingto Lyon. Lyon turned to Wolf.

"Leader wants you."

Wolf put foot in boot and stamped. "Where?"

Damon said, "Council Chamber. He's still with the Pirate's Son."

At the dice table, eyebrows rose even higher. The Pirate's Son wasKing Athelgar. It was common knowledge that Vicious preferred tokeep Sir Wolf out of the King's sight, so if Wolf was wanted now, it wasbecause the King had called for him by name.

Wolf was the King's Killer.

Ignoring the rabble's surprise, Wolf strode across to the mirror andlooked himself over with care. Like all Blades he was of middle height,slim and athletic, but he was invariably the best-turned-out man in theGuard—boots and sword belt gleaming like glass, not a wrinkle in hishose nor speck of dust marring his jerkin. He adjusted the feather in hisbonnet an imperceptible amount and turned away. He did not examinehis face. No one looked at that horror unless they must.

Exchanging nods with a lip-chewing Lyon, he strode out into thecorridor, and Damon fell into step beside him. Together they marchedalong marble corridors, past statuary and tapestries. Courtiers staredwith interest at two senior members of the Royal Guard moving at anurgent clip. Word that the King had sent for the infamous Sir Wolfwould spread like fire in dry grass.

So what was up? The last time Wolf had been summoned to theroyal presence, Athelgar had named him—over Leader's objections—tolead the Elboro mission, which had required him to kill two brotherBlades. It had not been the first such filthy job the Pirate's Son had givenhim, either, and Wolf 's written report afterwards had let AthelgarRadgaring know exactly what he thought of his liege lord. Moreover,since Leader had not ordered him to rewrite it, it had warned HisMajesty that others shared those opinions.The Guard had been shorthandedback then, else Wolf might have been thrown in a dungeon forsome of the comments in that report. In the two years since,Vicious hadkept him well away from the King.

What had changed? Well, the Guard was up to strength now, so onepossibility was that Athelgar was going to award him the Order of theRoyal Boot. That was highly unlikely. Knowing how Wolf felt abouthim, Athelgar was more likely to keep the King's Killer bound to absoluteloyalty forever—safer that way.

Another possibility was that the Pirate's Son wanted someone murdered.Blades were bound by oath and conjuration to defend their wardfrom his enemies, not to commit crimes on royal whims, but defensecould cover a multitude of nasty situations.

Wolf saw anger in Damon's tightly clenched jaw. Damon was a decentman, not one of those who carried grudges against the King'sKiller.

"Any hints, brother?"

"Dunno anything. Huntley and Flint rode in about four hours ago."

"Ah! And Leader wakened the Pirate's Son?"

"They've been in council ever since. No one's allowed in or out exceptinquisitors. A plague of inquisitors!"

That news merely deepened the mystery. Sir Flint and Sir Huntleywere typical examples of Blades who failed to find a real life after beingknighted and discharged from the Guard. Both men were in their fifties,idling away years at Ironhall, instructing boys in fencing and horsemanship,yet still hankering after the sins of the city . . .

Excerpted from The Jaguar Knights by Dave Duncan
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.