flesh he is also vulnerable in the way a man is.'
'How will I know him?'
'You won't. But he will attack the Crown. That will be part of his plan. To bring it down. He will seek to destroy first the royals and then seize power.'
'Why would he want to?'
'Because he can,' Fynch said in a weary tone, handing Cassien a linen, signalling it was time for him to clamber out of the tub. 'Because he is bored. Because he enjoys stirring trouble, bringing problems. He sees an unsettled people and he wants to spice up the discontent. And because he has reason to destroy a single region of the empire that I will not, cannot permit.'
'And where is that?'
'It's called the Wild. It is our bad luck that his attention has been attracted and focused on our empire but it's no good bleating. We must act.'
'Surely an army is better than a single man?' Cassien stood with the linen wrapped around his lower body, water pooling around his feet. He knew Fynch's story sounded far-fetched, and yet because Romaine trusted him Cassien felt compelled to follow suit.
'An army against another army perhaps,' Fynch replied. 'But an army is no match against a foe it can't see, or doesn't know is there. What's more, I have no desire to give Cyricus warning that we know of his presence. Right now he believes himself unknown - and to most he is. But I know him. I feel him. I smell him. I taste him and his hungry interest on a bitter wind. One day I may hear his cries for mercy or touch the dead body he chooses to inhabit, but right now surprise is my only defence ... and you and I the only people who stand in his way.'
'Has our world faced a demon before?'
'Not to my knowledge, although Myrren's curse on Wyl Thirsk could be viewed that way. But, while I might be old, this demon is as ancient as the Razors, maybe older. He comes from the east, I believe.'
Cassien pulled on the ill-fitting pants and shirt, posing for Fynch, who made a face of amused resignation. 'That will have to do for the moment.' As Cassien continued dressing and tidied his hair, Fynch finished what he could of the story.
'Cyricus was astonished, excited by the power of the Wild when he discovered it, and sought to use it. The magic within the Wild repelled him, bouncing his acolyte, the sycophantic Aphra, out of our plane to another, trapping her and weakening Cyricus. This is very ancient history, mind you,' Fynch warned, 'long before my time. Cyricus did nothing until the scent of the magic of Myrren reached him centuries later, stirring him from whichever depths of thought he lived in.'
'And being cautious now he simply watched?'
'Exactly,' Fynch said. 'Ready?' Cassien nodded. 'Then it's time to call on the tailor,' Fynch said, looking up as they departed Wife Wiggins's barn.
'How do you know all of this information about Cyricus?'
'I told you I'm old. I've mentioned I've travelled - and not just in this plane. On this you must trust me. I've had a talent since childhood for gathering, memorising and being able to collate vast amounts of what might appear to be unrelated pieces of information. And the beasts of the world are far more attuned to the natural order of things, especially if they are disrupted in any way. They know he is coming.'
Fynch guided Cassien to a small lane that dipped down and led to the centre of the town. 'We don't have to go all the way in. Just a few doors down is Master Zeek.'
'You said he needs a host,' Cassien wondered aloud.
'He will inhabit a mortal to gain power before he begins to lay waste to the forests and the Wild as well as its creatures.'
Fynch had his hand on the door-knob of a shop doorway.
'This is the tailor. We must stop our discussion now. I know you have more questions but there are only two points that matter in all that I've said.' He raised a finger. 'Your role to protect the new queen with your life.' He raised a second finger. 'And to find a way to slay Cyricus when he presents himself ... and he will.'
The door was opened and Cassien had to bite back the flood of new thoughts because a smiling, rotund man emerged from behind a small curtain.
'Master Fynch, welcome back. And this