There, just above the kidney, was the mark.

A three-pronged scar, like a poorly balanced trident. Or a bird’s claw.

‘Another reminder of the infernal pact,’ Christophor said. ‘Lest she forget.’

She laughed at this, causing the mark to pull and stretch. ‘Forget? As if it were laundry still on the line? Or bread about to turn?’

The mayor held his head in his hands. ‘She has been marked so since we were married. But how, Inspector, did you know of it?’

He cleared his throat. ‘My day-brother and Rebecca. They have grown close.’

Oh, I’ve played my part. That was no dagger to me, no unwelcome revelation. But my part was not over, not yet.

Christophor re-laced the dress as best he could manage. Then, he guided her to the bed and made her sit.

‘Why, Margarete?’ Mayor Eder asked. ‘Why bring this upon us all?’

She looked at her husband. ‘What is still to come, despite this,’ she said, holding up her shackled wrists, ‘it will be an undoing. Of everything. But our family will have a place in the world that follows. Because of my choices.’

‘You… you speak madness.’ He would not look at her again.

‘I speak of things beyond your small understanding, both of you. Even now you cannot see that all this is happening by his design. As he wills—’

‘The gag again, Mrs Eder,’ Christophor said. After so many years, my brother was numb to the words of the condemned. But I was not.

‘Is it really necessary?’ she said.

‘In my experience, yes.’

Christophor locked the cell behind him. The mayor was keen to be away. He had experienced quite the range of feelings already that night, but evidently Eder was a man quick to turn to pragmaticism. He was considering, weighing, wondering how events might be handled – massaged even.

‘What exactly has Margarete done?’ the mayor asked, at the entrance to the constable’s office. ‘What are the charges?’

‘Foremost, the murder of Constable Webber by witchcraft.’

The mayor visibly paled, but nodded for Christophor to continue.

‘The inflicting of pox on a regiment of King’s Dragoon Guards. In other circumstances this could be a martial matter. It may well become such if she is found not guilty.’

‘Might she?’

‘It will be a trial, sir. And, lest we forget – the evil that began my involvement: the harming of Gregory and Jan Harsson through sorcery.’

‘That poor boy. I should never have… Well, yes, thank you, Inspector.’

‘For what, sir?’ he said. That gave the mayor pause.

‘Doing your duty, I suppose.’

Christophor sat with her all night, there in the old constable’s office. Soon there would need to be a new constable, either chosen from the local populace by Magistrate Channock or a man sent at the King’s discretion from further afield. It was unlikely that man, whoever he was, would share Webber’s interest in history. Neither did my night-brother – except when it was relevant to his work. He left Webber’s shelves of ledgers and scrolls undisturbed. He didn’t open any drawers. He simply sat there as the candles burned lower. He was too dull a man to be bored.