Knaves: A Blackguards Anthology (3)
Tales of the Otori #4.9 - Wine, Knife, Sword
by Melanie R. Meadors, Alana Joli Abbott, Maurice Broaddus, Cullen Bunn, Toiya Kristen Finley, Shanna Germain, Lian Hearn, Walidah Imarisha, Mercedes Lackey, Dennis Lee, Cat Rambo, Linda Robertson, Clay Sanger, Anna Smith Spark, Kenny Soward, Anton Strout, Sabrina Vourvoulias, Howard Tayler, Linda Robertson Reinhardt
Why You'll Love This
Nineteen authors take turns asking the same unsettling question: what if the villain is the only honest one in the room?
- Great if you want: morally tangled characters who resist easy categorization as good or evil
- The experience: varied and uneven — some stories hit hard, others feel slight
- The writing: nineteen distinct voices keep the tone shifting — never lets you settle
- Skip if: anthology inconsistency frustrates you — quality varies noticeably story to story
About This Book
Heroes are overrated. Knaves gathers fourteen original stories united by a single, uncomfortable premise: morality is negotiable, and the most interesting characters are the ones who know it. Swindlers, bodyguards with divided loyalties, villains who stumble into conscience, and decent people sliding toward their worst selves populate these pages—not as cautionary figures but as fully realized protagonists whose choices feel genuinely difficult. This is fantasy that refuses clean resolutions and easy alignments, asking readers to root for someone even when—especially when—they probably shouldn't.
What rewards the reader here is the remarkable range of voices assembled. Mercedes Lackey, Lian Hearn, Cat Rambo, Anna Smith Spark, Maurice Broaddus, and a dozen others each bring a distinct narrative sensibility, so the anthology never settles into a single register or tone. Dark wit sits beside moral anguish; swift genre pleasures share space with more literary ambiguity. The short story format suits the subject perfectly—each tale delivers its ethical gut-punch efficiently, without overstaying its welcome, leaving just enough discomfort to linger long after the page is turned.