The Return of the Witch by Paula Brackston

know which surprises me more,” Erasmus said, retrieving his knife, “that your skill is so impressive, or that you choose to bring a rodent with you.”
    â€œHe belongs to Tegan. He may be of assistance.” When this remark was met with raised eyebrows, I went on, “He is no ordinary mouse.”
    Erasmus laughed loudly at this. “I fear his singularity may be lost on the family of cats that patrol the mill!”
    â€œWe will be on our guard for predators,” I assured him. “And we would appreciate your not using him for target practice.”
    â€œForgive me … Aloysius, was it?” He made a solemn bow to the mouse. “I rarely fling knives at my guests. I promise not to do it again. You are most welcome here.” He poured us both a little more ale. “Now, to matters of business,” he said, leaning forward in his seat. “I have to tell you there are certain conventions concerning Time Stepping which will be required of you.”
    â€œI had expected as much.”
    â€œFirst, you cannot discuss how you come to be here with anyone. Our work is protected by secrecy, you would quite probably be thought a lunatic, and, given the year…”
    â€œIf anyone did believe me I would likely be accused of witchcraft. Trust me, that is a charge over my very long life I have become adept at avoiding.”
    He looked at me thoughtfully. “Yes,” he said, “I imagine it must be. Good. Second, and this goes with the first, on no account is the Time Stepper to impart knowledge of the future, whether it be events, developments, discoveries, or expertise in any guise whatsoever. Which is to say, no telling someone something about things from beyond their possible lifetime, no writing it down, painting a picture of it, nothing of that sort.”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œAnd third, you must have a name and a position fitting for the society and time to which you have journeyed. In your particular case we must be particularly careful. As I understand it you were born and raised in the area and lived here into your teens. There is a chance you may be recognized.”
    â€œAnd, as I left fleeing the local gaol under charge of being a witch, I certainly don’t wish to remind anyone of who I am or why I disappeared.”
    â€œPrecisely so. You need to have a new name. I am unknown here, and so can use my own, and as such I have already established my identity as a cousin of the miller whom I have replaced.”
    â€œCan I ask what happened to him?”
    â€œDo not concern yourself on his account. I do not function under the same ethics as the somewhat single-minded Mr. Masters. He was approached by a Time Stepper already resident in this time and paid for his temporary absence and permanent silence.”
    â€œYou must have to be very certain of the loyalty of a string of people whom you do not know well.”
    â€œOur continued existence is testimony to the belief that every man has his price, Mistress…? Well, what am I to call you?”
    â€œCarmichael,” I said, “Mistress Carmichael.” The name brought a familiar tightening to my chest even after so many years. I had loved deeply only once in my life. If there had ever been anyone’s name I would have happily taken, it would have been dear Archie’s. At least now, for a short time, I could remember him this way. We had met in the midst of another war. While death marched across the battle-scarred land and Archie led his men from the trenches and I nursed the wounded, we found each other. And for the briefest of times I allowed myself to love. Yet again, it was not I who paid the price for that. A price that Gideon exacted.
    â€œExcellent!” Erasmus brought me back from my memories. “You are my widowed sister, come to visit. I must caution you to be on your guard. What age were you when you fled, and in what year?”
    â€œI was sixteen.