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We were herded, mugs and all out into the yard. It was a lovely sight to see Harry and Gerald wander off together both clutching my mother's favourite mugs with the delicate matching pattern of peonies on them.

Kiniun tapped me on the shoulder and led me to my father's study.

'Let's talk in here.' He said.

I followed him inside. Dad's study had barely changed since he died. It wasn't that my mother was being sentimental; just that, because the staff in the study wasn't in the way, she felt no need to move it. Kiniun settled himself into the arm chair in front of the desk and I wheeled Dad's old office chair around to face the lion. I sat down and Kiniun looked past me. I shifted round in the chair to see what he was looking at.

'My old mask,' He said, 'Ben kept it all these years.'

'It was my favourite thing.' I said. 'Dad used to let me wear it when I was a puppy. He said that it was possessed, is that true?'

'Indisputably. I watched as Ben cast that Demon out of the mask. It is because of Ben that I was trained as an exorcist.'

'You're an exorcist?' I interrupted.

'Yes, and your mother tells me that you also followed Ben into that line of work.'

'I did, but up until now I've only had academic work and a few souls that were sadly quite ill.'

'Up until now?' Asked Kiniun, his whiskers twitching.

'Yes, there is something strange happening in my parish. I think there is some form of possession involved. What happened did put me in mind of Dad's story about your mask.'

'Ah, yes, but I think that Ben did not know the entire story. You know that possession of inanimate objects has to be controlled?'

I nodded. Kiniun pressed his paws together and looked to me in the eye, his faded tribal scars crinkling as he thought.

'So, if there is control, therefore there must be something or someone controlling it. If there has been something that was possessed, I would fear that whatever is happening in your parish is not merely strange, but very sinister indeed. That mask, in fact all En-gal shamans' masks allowed us to control the tribe, but in turn we were controlled by the powers we falsely honoured as gods.

'The so-called shaman-mages kept the entire Wildcat Tribes in thrall, but at the cost of their souls. When Ben met me, he didn't just convert me; he saved me from a living death.

'Those animals who meddle with powers such as these never come out unscathed. There are some who can contain this power, old families, but they are worse still. They have lived with this unholy power for generations, yet they are never truly in control of it.'

There was nothing I could think to say. I scratched at my muzzle and stared at Kiniun. There was something about the way in which he said "in thrall" that chilled me. I was put in mind of the crowd yesterday evening - how they moved with a single purpose, a purpose not of their own. "Thrall", an ancient word that echoed through the history of the Kingdom of Ironmont: until the first war with Menefwy some hundred years ago, there were still animals in thrall, owing their lives and their service to local lords. It was a blight on our history that, or so I had always thought, had been eradicated. It now seemed that my parish was still in thrall.

'What can be done?' I asked quietly.

Before he responded, Kiniun stood up and carefully removed the mask from its hook on the wall. He sat down again, his tail swishing and turning the mask around in his paws - just as my father used to do when telling his story.

'These powers of which we speak are much too great for us to combat. They truly are a little lower than the angels, but they have a weakness. They cannot bring their power to bear in this world without help, without a portal. They need an animal who is desperate for power, or a family that has historically based its power on these demons.

'For example, among the En-gal the shaman-mages were all of the same family - a tribe-within-the-tribe. They would recruit others, such as me, as shamans for the villagers to ensure that they could keep the rest of the tribe under their control.

'If this is the case in your parish, Francis, there will be one who is of the portal and that one will have his or her underlings. A high priest and lesser priests, if you will. If there is a family in control, the portal will not be able to relinquish their connection to the demon; even if they should so wish. To end the demon's power, the connection must be broken - the portal animal must be exorcised. The power that controls must be cast out of the world, its link to here _must_be severed.

'One priest cannot bear this alone; it is too great a burden. How many exorcists does your diocese have?'

'Just me.' I said.

'That is very poor.' Continued Kiniun, a worried look crossing his face. 'If you are to defeat this evil, you will need the support of your brother and sister priests. Usually the evil is content to lurk, exerting subtle control, but if the possession of an object has been broken, there will be an imminent danger.

'You see, these entities are easily angered, when they are angered they will attempt to attack with all the earthly force they can draw together.

'If you are to go against this evil, this demon: do not face it or its portal-being alone. You must find others to aid you. You must find the place where this false godling is being worshipped. For it is there, and only there, that it will be possible to overcome the power.

'Take the true light to where the darkness is deepest.'

Kiniun fell silent. He handed the mask to me. I shivered as I took it, my fur rising across my body. Kiniun sighed.

'You have no choice but to fight it. Discover its name, gather those priests you trust implicitly and free your parish from its clutches.

'You have to fight, we En-gal know about fighting; and, if you truly are your father's son, you will triumph.

'There is a saying I told to Ben and now tell to you:

"O-ta qo'al-ahn ka'en-gatal, o-ta na-ahn fahl-alta kza-tan."'

I repeated the En-gal phrase to myself.

'He who fights with honour, he shall have victory.' I translated.

'Indeed,' Said Kiniun, 'The evil one will try to trick you, but you cannot even think of trying to trick it. Fight with honour, Francis.'

Kiniun stood again and picked up a small leather bound journal from Dad's desk. He passed it to me. I ran my paw over the cracked and rough surface. Kiniun watched me with approval as I untied the thong around the covers. There was a quiet crackling and rustling as I opened the little book.

'It was Ben's.' Said Kiniun. 'He never showed me its contents, but he started keeping this journal during his time with the En-gal. In his letters he called it his "manual". It will help you, I think.'

I looked at the fly-leaf and the inscription left there in my father's neat script:

To my beloved son, Francis.

Should you follow my route in this life, use this book well.

Sing with gladness and shout among the nations

publish ye, praise ye and say, o Lord, save thy people, the remnant.

The inscription was dated just two days before he died.

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, even after all these years, my father was still able to surprise me. I looked to Kiniun and he craned to read the inscription. He patted me on the shoulder. He was just opening his mouth to speak when a ringing shout echoed across the farmyard.

'Francis, Kiniun! Dinner! Harry and Gerald are already waiting!'

Kiniun's jaw snapped shut and he ran a paw through his mane. He sighed and then burst out laughing.

'Theresa, she has the worst timing!' He gasped between laughs. 'Come, Francis, let's eat - we have had too much serious discussion for one morning!'

We made our way back across the farmyard to the kitchen door, where my mother was standing with her arms folded across the green apron that made to look like she had been transported from some stately home about seventy years ago. As we neared my mother began to tap her foot paw on the threshold.

'Come on, you two, we are all waiting.'

She turned aside and let us into the kitchen. Harry and Gerald were sitting the far side of the scrubbed wooden table. The table was covered with plates and pots of food. As I had predicted, my mother had laid on a sumptuous meal; in fact, she had surpassed herself.

I took my seat next to Kiniun and my mother began to remove lids and covers. Once she had sat down, Kiniun prayed a short grace. For a space there was only the sound of cutlery on china as we helped ourselves. Once we had built a place, I introduced Harry and Gerald to Kiniun.

'Harry, Gerald, this is Father Kiniun who was a friend of my father's. Kiniun, this is Gerald Vulpes who Mum is kindly putting up - he's a lad from my village who has had to move out for a short while.'

Gerald waved a paw.

'And this,' I continued, 'Is Reverend Harry Cormack, I trained with him and he's staying with me as a house guest at the moment.'

'Nice to meet you, Father.' Said Harry.

'Kiniun, Kiniun, please. You Ironmonters are all so formal!'

Lunch passed in a happy, convivial atmosphere. It rapidly became apparent that Kiniun was a master storyteller. He spent most of lunch telling us of the history of the Wildcat Tribes and his life on the Savannah.

We spent at least an hour over our lunch, and I wished that it could have been two. As the last plates were cleared away I caught hold of my mother's shoulders and planted a kiss between her ears.

'What do you want, cariad?' She asked.

'I've got to go, Mum. I do have a parish to get back for.'

'Yes, dear. Do you mind dropping Kiniun at the railway station in Coombe Dare on your way?'

'Not at all. We'll set off as soon as you're ready, Kiniun.'

Kiniun nodded and went off into the hall to collect his luggage. I waited outside while Kiniun brought out his bags. I helped him to load his belongings into the boot of my car. That done, I slammed the boot lid closed and looked over at the house as Gerald and Harry rounded the corner, paw in paw. They shared a tender, lingering moment as they made their goodbyes. I thought it sad that Gerald had to be moved away from the village, as Harry seemed more alive around him. Harry walked slowly over to the car; just before he reached us, he turned and waved to Gerald. The fox waved back and watched as Harry climbed into the rear seat.

As I set to the car moving, I beeped the horn and waved to my mother and Gerald. We bounced away down the drive and joined the valley road. As we neared the junction for Coombe Dare, I looked across to Kiniun.

'What time train do you have to catch?' I asked.

'No time, I will buy a ticket at the station. I wish to visit the cathedrals at Newton and Ironmont City.'

'Perhaps,' I said, 'I could save you some time and hassle. I live near Newton, so I'll happily give you a lift. I would also consider it a great honour if you would visit my parish, I would appreciate your advice about what we talked over earlier.'

'Very good.' Said Kiniun. 'I thank you.'