An early lesson, in the days when I still pulled at the cuffs of my stiff new butler's uniform:

"Look." He pulled the handkerchief away to show me a lump of translucent golden rock, with what looked like a beetle trapped inside. "Nature can even preserve the past for us."

"But doesn't he want to get out?"

"Perhaps it did." His face was solemn for a moment. "But it knows no different now, and it was never given the choice then."

"Oh." Perhaps I should have found that upsetting. Yet it was logical to me. The beetle had no choice in its fate; no more did I.

No more, I thought later, did Master Belduke.

A late evening, in the first year:

"Master? …Can you make me not be a, a w-witch?"

He didn't answer, but his quill paused above the sheet of parchment.

"Alchemy—it does all these wonderful things—can it do that?"

He was silent for so long that I thought he had not heard me, until he said, "I can only seek to understand the laws of nature. Alchemy… bears many superficial resemblances to witchcraft, but it is something entirely different."

I gathered up his abandoned supper dishes without another word.

"Jean…"

I paused in the doorway.

"I'm sorry," he said. "If I could change this town, knowing the things I know now…"

I turned my head away. "I don't mind, Master."

I did mind, but there was nothing he could do, and that was that. That night I pried up a floorboard in my room and hid my witch's staff underneath.

I hope I never need you again, I told it. I follow the laws of nature now.

Waking up one morning, just barely twelve years old:

My cheek was pressed against the page of the book Master loaned me. I must have fallen asleep on it. Where was I? Willow for fever, aloe for burns, this to be brewed into a strong tea and drunk daily, that to be used in only the tiniest doses…

A knock on my door.

"Master?"

He eased the door open. "Happy birthday."

"Oh!" I'd completely lost track of the days, but there he was, holding one of Aunt Patty's famous sweet pastries. "Master, you shouldn't have!"

"Nonsense." He set the plate in front of me. "I'd like to give you this, as well." He pulled a small broach from his pocket. "Forgive the lack of fancy paper."

"Master, it's beautiful!" For a moment the cake was forgotten; I only fingered the lovely purple stone.

"Amethyst," Master Belduke explained. "It was thought by… alchemists of old to have protective properties. It seemed a fitting gift for my young apprentice."

"I thought I was your butler…"

"And so you are, but I thought, perhaps, you might like to learn some of the more advanced parts of alchemy as well. You're… a very bright youngster, you know."

I did not quite understand, then, that this was his way of saying he'd grown fond of me. Nevertheless, I pinned the broach to my collar at once. "I will wear it proudly," I said.

In a prison cell beneath the courthouse:

"Miss Greyerl."

I started from the wooden bench. "Milord of justice?"

"I thought perhaps you would like this back." He held something out to me through the bars. My amethyst. "Since it was determined not to be a magic gem, I see no harm in returning it to you."

"…Thank you, Milord." I thought for a moment to curtsy, but it had been so long since I'd tried. I bowed instead before taking the gem from his hand.

I expected him to leave, but he did not, merely tugged at his beard.

"…Was there something else, Milord?"

"Ahem. I, er… also wished to inform you to, ah, not to fear being sent to the flames for now."

"Sir?!" I nearly dropped the amethyst.

"There seemed to be… a great deal of merit in Sir Wright's arguments, and I found it interesting that you were willing to abandon your magic so completely, for a great many years. I feel… er, this court feels that some other punishment may be more appropriate."

Merely being a witch is a crime punishable by death. I had known it my entire life—and yet—

"I will need to consider what this punishment might be," Lord Justice continued. "It is a… highly unusual situation. Nevertheless… hmm. Good night, Miss Greyerl."

"Good night, Milord," I whispered. "And—thank you."

When I was alone again I sank back onto the hard bench, turning the amethyst over and over in my hands.

Reveal everything.

The truth about the witch.

But if not me, the truth about what witch?

I wasn't certain Master Belduke would have wanted me to know.

"But, Master," I whispered, "surely it's better for the truth to come out in the end?"

On the dawn of a new day:

The boy who used to travel with Sir Layton arrives with two of the guards to let me out, chattering very quickly about the witch trials being over forever. It's several hours before I am able to learn the full story, mostly from Aunt Patty—and Miss Fey, to my amazement and relief. It seems there was a trick to the fire pit after all, and that this was only the beginning. The Storyteller—Master Belduke—they deceived us all, even as they created our home. There is no true magic—no witches. There are only the laws of nature and a number of very, very powerful medicaments.

I arrive home very late. I've had many offers of lodging from the less shaken of the townspeople, but I wish to be alone for a little. I cannot imagine sleeping with so many new thoughts, and so I take the broom and go to tidy Master Belduke's study at last. It is, all of it, just as it was. I sweep and scrub until it is as orderly as it ever was before Master Belduke… took his own life.

I fall asleep in his chair.

Afterwards:

I will stay in this town.

I will leave for a time, because there is so much I wish to learn that Master Belduke would have been forbidden to teach me, and more still that even he did not know. But I will come back to our house, to our garden and our laboratory. I will arrange for electricity in a room or two, order oddly-styled clothing and Bunsen burners from outside and marvel that such things exist.

I will study as hard as I ever did with Master Belduke, and harder, because this is my town and someone must have the proper training to provide medicaments. Medicines.

The Storyteller will be kind enough to help me get this training, and to pay for most of it. I will never trust him again, but I will allow him to do this because Master Belduke asked him to look out for me, and this is, perhaps, how he intends to do so.

I will, on occasion, go down to Master's secret workroom and polish the gold statue of Mary, and wonder whatever happened to the living, breathing Mary who was never turned to gold at all.

I will continue to go out on cloudy nights and collect specimens from the forest, because it is something that alchemists do and I will not forget.

I will wonder, sometimes, why Master Belduke chose to die instead of telling the truth. I will borrow census records from the archives and try to locate every person who was ever "murdered" by a witch, or "executed" for being one. Many will have left and want nothing to do with Labyrinthia; some will shout about court cases of a different sort than the witch trials.

Others will move into the houses that stood empty when a third of the townspeople chose to go.

Lettie Mailer will appear at my door on the anniversary of Master Belduke's death, and walk with me to the cemetery. We will neither of us say a word for over an hour. When we return home, I will invite her in for tea.

I will put Master Belduke's last letter away in a drawer, but continue to wear the amethyst on my collar.

I will stay, because Labyrinthia needs someone who has studied the laws of nature.