Read Kingdoms of the Night (The Far Kingdoms) for Free Online

it became a dense cloud hanging over the godform’s head. Sparkling lights danced in the smoke, which swirled and columned upward into a funnel.
    “Behold, O Great Te-Date,” Palmeras roared. “Gaze upon thy daughter. We pray you find her fair.”
    The smoke shot toward the huge cloth pavilion that hid the ship. It hovered over it for an instant, then a hole opened and the smoke hissed through. Palmeras thrust upward with his hands and the tent quivered from the magical force of the smoke inside. Then stakes burst, lines ripped free and the giant tent lifted up and up until we could glimpse the bright painted timbers of the new ship.
    Palmeras shouted: “Away!” And the pavilion filled like a sail and was swept off to the side, completely baring the vessel.
    I’ve seen many such a thing before — although I must admit Palmeras’ unveiling was easily the most spectacular — and I knew what to expect. Still, I caught my breath. There are few things as moving as a newly born ship.
    Palmeras whispered to me. “Quick, what’s to be her name? I forgot to ask.”
    The naming of a new ship is always important and those of us who can claim parentage — and even those who can’t — spend long hours considering and discussing the options. Like a human child, the ship’s birth-name seems to affect its future. Ask at any dockside tavern and you’ll hear many a tale of ships with awkward names or unlucky names that came to misfortune. Some are even true. A large list had been presented to me, all, as I’d requested, of water-dwelling birds. I’d reduced the list to my favorites: Shearwater, Petrel, Tern and... Ibis. I’d seen whole flocks of that graceful, heron-like creature fishing a marvelous lake in a distant land I’d once visited. The Ibis, with the subtle beauty of its black and white plumage, is worshipped in that land and once you’ve seen one with its spear-like beak stalking the shallows on its long, slender legs, or soaring on the midday breeze, you understand why. So that is the name I chose and that name is the name I whispered -
    “Ibis.”
    “Quite fitting,” he said and turned back — his position as Chief Evocator forgotten for the moment — to gawk like the rest of us.
    The Ibis was a lovely thing to look upon. She didn’t have the efficient carnivore lines of a ship of war, nor was she as fast. She was a shallow-drafted merchantman — ninety feet long and twenty abeam — built to take any seas and carry people as well as cargo in comfort. When she was completely rigged for sea she’d carry a single mast, but just now there were flag poles mounted for the ceremony, flying colorful banners.
    There was a quarterdeck at her stern with the wheel, a maindeck forward, then the small-decked forecastle where the sailors would sleep. There were big cabins in the stern whose interiors would be lit by large, square, many-paned windows.
    This was a ship ideally suited for exploring new seas to win new friends for Orissa and customers for the Anteros. Besides her sails she could be powered by six large sweeps. She’d roll some at sea, but with her shallow draft and maneuverability she could sail up rivers, or hug any coast line, and still have grace enough to impress a savage king. Although she could carry twenty five men and women with ease, she’d need no more than six or seven to crew her. I like my ships to have a bit of flair so I had her painted in bright, eye-pleasing colors that at the same time did not detract from the bright skies and sparkling seas she’d soon sail.
    The only decoration still missing was the figurehead, which required not only much artistry but magic as well. It wouldn’t be finished for some days yet. The family who had created such masterpieces for several generations was notoriously precise — some said picky — and besides it was bad luck to mount a figurehead until the ship sailed.
    Someone shifted at my side, and I noticed Kele inching forward to sneak a better