A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

Bolkando Kingdom
and the Saphinand State – he had treated with or crossed
blades with them all, years ago, and none were as these
soldiers here.
    Pale-skinned, hair the colour of straw or red as rust. Eyes
of blue or grey. And ... so many women.
    His gaze settled upon one such soldier, a woman near the
hill's summit. Mangled by sorcery, her armour melded with
the twisted flesh – there were sigils visible on that
armour ...
    Dismounting, he ascended the slope, picking his way
round bodies, moccasins skidding on blood-soaked mud,
until he crouched down at her side.
    Paint on the blackened bronze hauberk. Wolf heads, a
pair. One was white-furred and one-eyed, the other furred
silver and black. A sigil he had not seen before.
    Strangers indeed.
    Foreigners. Here, in the land of his birth.
    Behind the mask, he scowled. Gone. Too long. Am I now
the stranger?
    Heavy drumbeats reverberated through the ground
beneath his feet. He straightened. His companions were
returning.
    So, no vengeance after all.
    Well, there was time yet.
    The mournful howl of wolves had awakened him this
morning, their calls the first to draw him here, to this place,
as if they sought a witness, as if indeed they had summoned
them. While their cries had urged him on, he had not
caught sight of the beasts, not once.
    The wolves had fed, however, some time this morning.
Dragging bodies from the press.
    His steps slowed as he made his way down the slope,
slowed, until he stood, his breath drawn in and held as he
looked more closely at the dead soldiers on all sides.
    The wolves have fed. But not as wolves do ... not like ... like
this.
    Chests torn open, ribs jutting ... they had devoured
hearts. Nothing else. Just the hearts.
    The drumbeats were louder now, the rake of talons hissing
through grass. Overhead, the ravens, screaming, fled in
all directions.
    Read the complete book –
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NIGHT OF KNIVES
    A Novel of the Malazan Empire
By Ian C. Esslemont
    'Night of Knives marks the first installment of the shared
    world that we had both envisioned' Steven Erikson
     
    The small island of Malaz and its city gave the great
empire its name, but now it is little more than a sleepy,
backwater port. This night, however, things are a little
different. This night the city is on the edge and a hive of
hurried, sometimes violent, activity, its citizens bustle
about, barring doors, shuttering windows, avoiding any
stranger's stare. Because this night there is to be a
convergence, the once-in-a-generation appearance of a
shadow moon - an occasion that threatens the good
people of Malaz with demon hounds and other, darker
things...
    It was also prophesied that this night would witness the
return of Emperor Kellanved, and there are those prepared
to do anything to prevent this happening. As factions
within the greater Empire draw up battle lines over the
imperial throne, the Shadow Moon summons a far more
ancient and potent presence for an all-out assault upon
the island. Witnessing these cataclysmic events are Kiska,
a young girl who yearns to flee the constraints of the city,
and Temper, a grizzled, battle-weary veteran who seeks
simply to escape his past. But this night each is to play a
part in a conflict that will not only determine the fate of
Malaz City, but also of the world beyond ...
    Drawing on the events touched on in the prologue of
Steven Erikson's landmark fantasy Gardens of the Moon,
Night of Knives is a momentous chapter in the unfolding
story of the extraordinarily-imagined world of Malaz.
    9780593057810
    NOW AVAILABLE FROM BANTAM PRESS