Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #15 June 2015 | Page 67

her before. No, it’s not time to meet her yet.> and
was awaiting a reply. Once he’d got the three Righ’s
agreement to attend the Fouryear celebrations, a ritual
courtesy, he’d have to travel to the One, the Fair
Lands, to get the agreement of the Fair Ambassador.
Now though, he needed to get Cahal’s agreement. Via
his proxy.

isn’t it? Where are my brothers? My scouts tell me
that a war-band approaches, I don’t know which. Fairn
was supposed to be visiting Lir’s holding on an official visit, since my father is… indisposed.” Ceowulf’s
face took on a vulpine grin at this word, which passed
swiftly like a cloud across the sun. “And Maelgwn
was supposed to be on patrol in the south.”

Phelan surprised a maid, cleaning a section of the
polished wooden floor of the house and swept into a
well-appointed room. There was a young warrior, in
the process of having his toughened leather armour
being strapped upon him by his squire. He seemed a
boy on the eve of becoming a man, his dirty straw-coloured hair unfashionably long.

Phelan’s eyes narrowed. “And you are getting armoured because one of your bothers is approaching
with a war band? Your father’s not yet passed onto the
Wheel, and already you three are squabbling over his
domains like crows on a corpse?”

“What the…” the young man said looking up.
“Ceowulf,” Phelan said in greeting.
“Heirophant. I did not expect to greet you in my
rooms!” Ceowulf endured the attentions of his squire
who was pulling hard on the laces that tied up the
cuirass he was fitting.
“Your father is indisposed—”
“Hah!”
“Your father is indisposed, the Heirophant is in the
Lands of the Fair, Champion Slone claims ignorance
of politics.” Again Ceowulf made a scoffing sound.
“The Laureate is concerned only with her competition—”
“That your boy is entered in?”
Phelan nodded. “Weylyn is the proxy, yet he is not to
be found.”
There is silence. Ceowulf cocked an eyebrow.
Phelan sighed. “Where is the Magister, Ceowulf? And
where are your brothers?”
Ceowulf held his arms out and his squire started
putting on the arm greaves. “Well that is the question

Ceowulf had the good graces to wince. “I was left in
charge of the Holding.”
Phelan shook his head in surprise. “… that it has come
to this.”
“My father was many things, Phelan, but he was not
clear on who he wanted to succeed him. He played
us off against each other, always with that possibility, that one of us would be the Righ one day, without
telling us which of us it was. Since his, er, attack, it’s
not clear who is in control. I was left in charge of the
Holding.”
“Your Majesty…” the squire said.
Both Ceowulf and Phelan’s attention was drawn to the
squire who was pointing out of the window. Phelan’s
gaze was drawn to the window and, in the distance,
the war band coming out of the woods and onto the
grounds.
“Padraig!” Phelan said and wheeled about to dash
through the door.
***
Padraig took his boots off and dipped his feet in the
small pond at the Bard’s Hall. It had been a long
walk from Cahal’s Holding and his feet were hot and
sweaty. There was a buzz of conversation coming
from the hall, through the door he could see a number
of other men and women wearing the traditional bard’s
white.

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