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

dangerous: A sound, a smell, the feel of old leather can summon memories of a place and time when there nothing existed but the beckoning road.
    From across the water I heard the pilot’s mate call the mark and I had to heave back a sob from the need to be going. I thought — your travels are done, Amalric Antero. There’ll be no more adventuring. You’re too old, my friend. Too damned old.
    Quatervals shouted for the crowd to make way and my matched blacks drew my creaking carcass into the yard where the Anteros had gathered with our friends and employees for the blessing and the feast.
    Strolling musicians serenaded the celebrants. Enormous roasts turned on spits over fires made of alder. There were tables of food everywhere and scores of servants ducked in and out of the crowd bearing trays of liquid refreshment. Everyone was costumed in their best, which in that month meant the most glorious colors to compliment the flowers springing up all over Orissa. The smells and sounds and colors infused me until I was almost looking forward to the remainder of the day.
    So many milled around to greet me that I exited with difficulty. My son, Cligus, broad-shouldered his way through to help. He was dressed in his finest uniform with three heavy chains of gold slung from his neck to call him general, lest someone miss the gleaming badges of rank on his shoulders and breast plate.
    “Father Antero!” he cried in his booming, crowd-pleasing voice as he bounded forward to take my arm. “We feared you might not be well and be unable to honor us with your presence.”
    I glanced at Quatervals who gave me a sardonic grin, shrugged and turned away. I shook off my son’s hand, suddenly irritable.
    “Sick?” I said. “What makes you think I’m sick? Why, I’ve never felt better in my life.”
    My son beamed, patting me affectionately and announced to the crowd: “Did you hear that? Father Antero says he’s never felt better in his life.
    “We should all take inspiration from his words. By the gods, a man is only as old as he acts! And there’s the proof standing before us, my friends. The great Lord Antero, knocking on the doors of seventy, and still feeling alert and vigorous.”
    He embraced me. It was all I could do not to draw away from his rich man’s musk and humiliate him in front of the others.
    I loved my son. I truly did. But in adulthood he had formed habits that grated on my sense of rightness. Cligus was in his forties and had made his mark in the military. I didn’t know if he was a good soldier, although he’d had his victories. He had crafted a public face he believed would make all love him: a magnificent speaking voice, an arsenal of pleasing phrases and a willingness to boast of his abilities and deeds. Also, it seemed to me he overused the Antero name; calling me Father Antero when others were present, as if he believed the name itself trumpeted honor.
    The result was some feared him, some respected him, but from what I could gather few liked him. His own father, I’m ashamed to admit, hovered near the edges of that final crowd.
    Feeling like a traitor to my only child — fruit of my happy marriage to Omerye — I turned my sourness to a smile and took his arm again. Cligus beamed with pleasure.
    “It’s good to see you, my son,” I said. Then I raised my voice so the others could hear. “Now, shall we get these festivities started? There’s a ship that needs blessing, food that needs eating and a whole river of drink to be drunk.”
    My remarks were greeted with much cheering and loud praises for the merry Lord Antero. Now where do you suppose Cligus had learned his manner?
    As we made our way to the blessing platform, Cligus leaned close to me. “Your promised we’d talk soon, father,” he whispered. “About my future and the future of our family.”
    Cligus was alluding to the status of my estate. He and others in my family had been after me for many months to name my successor as head of