He purses his lips but doesn't correct the assumption. Malcolm probably won't recognise his attire as from the future, either, just as weird. "It would be ideal if as few people as possible heard about my presence here or interacted with me at all, so if there's any way to minimise the chance anyone will, er, interrupt, I think you will in hindsight agree that this precaution should be taken."

He raises an eyebrow, but agrees. "There's privacy to be had if you need it. Long-term secrecy's harder, but if you follow me to my study no one'll overhear anything."

"That should be enough, I'll leave long-term secrecy up to you and your—expertise." He sips from the juice to make use of hospitality, and follows.

Once they're both there and seated, Malcolm skips directly to business.

"You knew to come find me, but not to recognize me, that's interesting on its own. What's the issue?"

"I'm from the future, got brought here by some Other, Laird Behaim is the head of the Behaim family when I'm from."

"I don't know a Laird, must be a ways out. Nineteen forty-three."

"Two thousand three."

"Sixty years, that sounds big. It wasn't us that did this?"

"No, it was some creature that disguised as a circle of rocks. A goblin ambushed me and we both fell into it."

"I'll ask you to show me what and where, after.

It'd be possible to send you back, but I can't spend the family's reserves lightly. I'll try and work something out."

"Thank you. My biggest concern here is avoiding paradox—I'm sure some people I've met—will meet?—are already—still?—alive nowadays."

"You don't need to be too worried. Time doesn't like to change, you won't avert the future you knew with one misstep. Just don't do anything that you'd expect to change things. If the universe has to go too far out of its way to right things, you're the obvious person for the wrongness to rebound against.

If Laird were born yet and you met him, I'd tell him that in the future he should act around you like this never happened and that would be enough."

"Yeah, there were only a couple of people old enough I actually saw—Rose Thorburn and the Crone Mara—and I guess the fae might count, too."

"Fae are definitely old enough, but there aren't any here. Yet, I should say. I'll keep an eye out.

Rose is about your age. Apprenticed to her mother Elizabet, and both of them are the kind of dangerous you're familiar with. Mara's the same as she has been for human history."

"—she's immortal? How did this never come up. How is she immortal. Why is no one else. Is it a terrible immortality or something."

"Did that never come up? That has to have come up.

I don't know the details, but she kills a child whenever she rejuvenates."

"Oh, so it's a terrible immortality," he sighs.

"She's also very powerful, which is why no one takes exception to all the murders."

This is not the face of someone who has just resolved to destroy Crone Mara when he returns to his timeline.

"What about other people, though? Unless I literally live hidden in your house or something like that—and while I am thankful for your hospitality I wouldn't want to impose like that—I will invariably interact with other people."

Malcolm shakes his head. "That's only really dangerous on a large scale. Don't try to change the course of history, don't be so memorable anyone will recognize you sixty years later, consider introducing yourself with a less unique name. You don't need to worry about accidentally making your parents never meet or the equivalent unless you go out of your way to find them."

"Not being memorable is almost against my nature," he says, with a smile. "But alright, I guess my name's Sam for now."

"Metaphorically speaking.

You knew to come to the Behaims for this, I take it that means we're still a power in 2003? Not something I'd try to avert, obviously."

"Yeah, you are, and dealing with chronomancy meant that, well, you were the obvious people to ask."

"I'd have come to us, too.

Sixty years is a lot of time. Would you mind showing me where you last saw the Other that got you?"

"Sure. Right now?"