By Ian C. Esslemont
The small island of Malaz and its urban gave the good empire its identify, yet now it truly is little greater than a sleepy, backwater port. this night, in spite of the fact that, issues are assorted. this night the town is on part, a hive of moved quickly, occasionally violent task; its electorate bustle approximately, barring doorways, shuttering home windows, keeping off any stranger’s stare. simply because this night there's to be a convergence, the once-in-a-generation visual appeal of a Shadow Moon – an get together that threatens the great humans of Malaz with demon hounds and different, darker issues … It was once additionally prophesied that tonight could witness the go back of Emperor Kellanved, and there are these ready to do whatever to avoid this taking place. As factions in the higher Empire draw up conflict strains over the imperial throne, the Shadow Moon summons a much more historic and powerful presence for an all-out attack upon the island. Witnessing those cataclysmic occasions are Kiska, a tender lady who yearns to escape the restrictions of town, and mood, a grizzled, battle-weary veteran who seeks just to break out his previous. each one is to play a component in a clash that won't merely ensure the destiny of Malaz urban, but in addition of the realm past … Drawing on occasions touched on within the prologue of Steven Erikson’s landmark myth Gardens of the Moon, evening of Knives is a momentous bankruptcy within the unfolding tale of the terribly imagined global of Malaz.
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Additional resources for Night of Knives: A Novel of the Malazan Empire
Thus the end of the last Holy Falah’d of Ubaryd. Temper rubbed the sickle moon scar that curved down his left temple to his chin and breathed deeply to calm himself. He forced himself to think of what Chase must see when looking at him: a broken-down veteran too incompetent or sodden to have passed corporal’s rank in a lifetime of soldiering. This was, after all, exactly the role he’d created for himself. ’ Chase stared, unsettled by the emotion in Temper’s voice, then scowled at the implied criticism of the Imperial Throne.
Stretched out on cold ship planks, the memory of those grand dreams so alive just days ago made Kiska once again feel the heat of shame at her cheeks and throat. How childish she’d been! What a fool! Most of all she recalled her idiotic shock, her befuddled, dumb surprise when at the entrance to the Hold another bodyguard – a Claw, no doubt – took her aside by her arm – by her arm! – like a child. Play elsewhere. We won’t be needing your services. Recounting it over and over was almost enough to make her slam her fist against the decking.
This was, after all, exactly the role he’d created for himself. ’ Chase stared, unsettled by the emotion in Temper’s voice, then scowled at the implied criticism of the Imperial Throne. He pointed to a corner barbican. ’ Off-duty, Temper hung his spear, surcoat, and regulation boiled-leather hauberk in the barracks armoury. He adjusted the rag swathings at his legs, then rewound the leather straps of his military sandals over them. He searched for his single extravagance, a lined and brushed felt cloak from Falar.