Night of Knives

There is a note at the start of Night of Knives, written by Gardens of the Moon author Steven Erikson, stating categorically that the work of Ian C. Esslemont is not to be considered simple fanfiction for taking place in the same rich universe introduced by his series of novels: Esslemont’s “the Malazan Empire” series is a canonical, integral part of the overall story, as the author participated in the process of developing the characters and conflicts of that world since its inception. Erikson describes their books as a dialogue between friends – one made special by the opportunity we have of partaking in it. Indeed, in Night of Knives, Esslemont proves to be well-acquainted with the world of Malazan, never betraying its most fundamental traits, even though the novel offers a less rich and complex narrative.

Much of the story in Night of Knives takes place in the course of a single night. The setting is the City of Malaz, a small island that once gave birth to the Empire, but now, with no political and economic importance, lies decadent and forgotten. It is in this old place full of history that the old but imposing warrior Temper has decided to take refuge, escaping the persecution commanded by the regent Surly. After many years of exile, however, he identifies a mysterious Empire vessel anchoring in the harbor and begins to suspect that his whereabouts have finally been discovered. Meanwhile, a young and extremely nosy rogue, Kiska, wants more than anything to escape from that decrepit island and so tries to show her value to the new arrivals, hoping to be recruited by them.

Already in the prologue, we can easily see that Esslemont maintains several elements present in the Gardens of the Moon’s narrative. It follows a captain struggling to keep his vessel afloat during a massive storm while being surrounded by strange humanoid sea-creatures. The death of ordinary people in the Malazan universe is customarily portrayed as a terrible side effect of big moments in history; an idea that’s here conveyed in the movement of the scene: first, the captain believes that the creatures came for him because he failed to make the usual sacrifice to satisfy them – as the crew were entirely composed of members of his family. He believes it is personal. But soon the image of the monsters stretching for several leagues in the ocean is revealed, forming an army marching to war, completely oblivious to the captain’s torments.

Early on, however, we can also spot where Esslemont’s narrative differs from Erikson’s: while reading the latter’s books is like putting together a puzzle, with elements of the plot and worldbuilding gradually falling into place, Night of Knives is a bit too straightforward, repeatedly giving us what we need to understand the story’s main events.

In an early scene, for example, Temper thinks about the ship docked in the city, classifying it as a “man-of-war” and so already providing us with enough information to get that it’s… a warship. However, Temper then recalls the chaos and bloodshed that ensued the last time ships of that type anchored in the city and, not satisfied, even concludes with the following line, in which he’s basically turned into a dictionary: “A man-of-war. Front-line vessel. Built for naval engagements, convoy escort, blockades. Not your usual troop transport or merchant scow.”

Another good example is the first time a group of mercenaries named “The Crimson Guard” is mentioned. If in Gardens of the Moon their intentions were a bit obscure, here they are revealed without any reason (“The mercenary company sworn to destroy the Empire. The force that handed Malaz its first major defeat by repulsing the invasion of Stratem, and which now opposed the Empire on four continents”), since the group doesn’t even properly appear in the story. Exposition in Night of Knives, in other words, is far from being smooth, both telling and showing what might have been only hinted at.

The book’s narrative structure, on the other hand, is excellent. The main elements that will make up the events of its single, fateful night are gradually revealed in the first chapter, preparing the ground for everything that will follow. The villagers warn both Temper and Kiska that as soon as the sun goes down, for example, a mystical moon will arise, allowing various creatures of the Shadow Realm to wander momentarily through the streets, and advise them to stay indoors. They don’t believe in local superstitions, so we know they’re in danger. It also doesn’t take long for Temper to understand that, like that captain surrounded by monsters in the storm, he’s not the center of attention and that much more important forces are about to decide an old dispute in the city: rumors say that the late founder of the Malazan Empire, Kellanved, will even resurface to take advantage of the unique conditions of that night to try to ascend to the Shadow Realm, and that Surly intends to do everything in her power to prevent that and maybe even assassinate him.

Several groups, then, gather in the city to guarantee their interests. The narrative follows the Talons, the Claws, the Shadow Cultists, and even the army of creatures at sea as they march toward the city, each one in pursuit of their own goals, whether they are to defeat Kellanved, to kill Surly, or to claim the Throne of Shadow for themselves. Night of Knives works brilliantly with the concept of “convergence of power” presented in Gardens of the Moon, contextualizing each of the parties involved while explaining that the reason for them being there is somehow precisely because the others are as well.

The book also builds suspense by positioning the two main characters, Temper and Kiska, on opposing sides in the battlefield. First, it gives the warrior are more prominent narrative position by constantly showing his past in detail and building a clear parallel between the city and him: both were once important and influential, but now are just relics of the past. Afterwards, it creates clear oppositions between the two characters: while Kiska is young and naive, Temper is old and experienced; if she promises herself never to risk her life to help the common people, he does it without hesitation; if, because of his past, Temper is inclined to fight for Kellanved, Kiska repudiates all that the old emperor means, and so prefer to fight alongside the also young Surly. There’s a certain scene in which we follow the same events from both their points of view, being able to easily see the difference between their worldviews by the way they understand and judge the unfolding events. Esslemont has some fun with this scene, too, making Kiska believe that the warrior, completely armored and filthy with blood, is a long-extinct monster – although it doesn’t take ten pages for a character to explain the meaning of this image to us.

But even if the book falters a little when it comes to exposition, its world still manages to remain fascinating with its great number of mysteries and surprises. That army of sea creatures, for example, is constantly prevented from entering the city by a solitary fisherman who uses magic and song to block their advance. A lady who takes care of Kiska also seems to know much more than a mere spice merchant would, leaving us intrigued. Esslemont understands that some elements must remain hidden in the narrative to remain effective – since mysteries are usually far more interesting than their solutions – and constantly inserts small puzzles into the story.

The book also succeeds at developing some of its many secondary characters, with Kellanved and Surly clearly standing out. Both have their characterizations formed by the contrast between the image that other characters have of them and how they really appear physically in the narrative (spoilers about their appearance): Kellanved, for example, is described as a great and fearsome emperor, a malignant genocidal being and the greatest mage in Malazan – one of the characters even calls him an ogre – but when he finally appears… Kiska sees a small, gray, fragile little man who looks more like a gnome, rests on a cane, and giggles a lot – a contrast that actually reinforces the danger he represents. Meanwhile, Surly, who is constantly seen as an extremely ambitious woman who has always dreamed of having the Empire all for herself, appears wearing humble clothes and walking barefoot – indicating that her desire is not for wealth, but simply power.

Another well-developed character is one of the antagonists in Gardens of the Moon, who here appears protecting one of the main characters, revealing himself to be more courteous and just than one would have thought, and even fighting to save the city. Despite his good deeds, however, the character’s intentions in performing them are not exactly altruistic, which makes him a fascinating, unpredictable figure.

Conducting with a steady hand the chaos that follows during the climactic confrontations, Esslemont only slips up regarding the resolution of a specific conflict, preferring to conceal from us the final clash involving the sea creatures, only informing its result: since the monsters open almost every chapter of the book, there is an expectation for the resolution of their plotline… that is eventually frustrated. It is true that there are already too many fights during the climax and that one more would probably hurt the pacing, but the solution being this anticlimax is nonetheless problematic.

Night of Knives may not reach the same highs as its companion series by Steven Erikson, stumbling when it comes to handling exposition and one particular anticlimactic plotline, but it still manages to develop fascinating characters and tell an intriguing story that rapidly advances to a memorable ending.

November 11, 2025.

Review originally published in Portuguese on June 20, 2016.