It was the middle of the night. Katharyn woke up, alone in the room. She had that feeling again--that something was about to drop from the sky. At any moment, the blanketing night would be replaced by a flash of white light. The light would grow like a star exploding. It would eat up the darkness, the trees, the house, and Katharyn herself.

"No, no!" she screamed, pulling the sheets over her head.

Even the sheets could not keep out the feeling that the sky was about to fall. The worst part was waiting for it to happen.

"Katharyn," the nursemaid said as she lifted one corner of the sheet. "Get out from under there! Little girls need fresh air. And nursemaids need sleep. Why are you screaming again?"

"I woke up . . . with that feeling again," Katharyn explained. The terror began to fade now that nurse stood in the room holding a candle. Its small yellow light seemed ordinary and safe. The threat of a sudden white flash moved farther away. But it did not leave.

"You thought the sky was falling again? Katharyn, you've got to stop being so silly. The sky is not going to fall. You're eleven years old, and you know from your astronomy lessons that your fear is impossible. Now go back to sleep," nurse said, trying her best not to raise her voice. This was the seventh night in a row that Katharyn had kept her from getting a good night's rest.

"But it is going to fall. I know it is. In my dreams, in my mind, in the middle of the night, I see this giant light that eats up everything. We've got to stop it, nurse! We've got to stop it!"

The nursemaid sighed and sat down on the bed. She took one of Katharyn's cold hands and cooed,

"Katharyn, you're not afraid of this candle, or the fire in the hearth, or even the sun. Why are you so afraid of this other light?"

"Because it's not like the lights we know, that help us find our way through the hallway, or cook our food, or cause the flowers to bloom. This light wants to burn up everything, in seconds. When it comes, there will be no place to hide!"

The terror in Katharyn's words and eyes seemed so real that even the sensible nurse became afraid. She almost looked out the window to check if the sky really was about to fall.

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now, child. Go to sleep. I'll talk to your parents about this in the morning," the nurse admonished, her momentary terror slacking in the face of common sense.

"But they'll only think I'm imagining again. They won't understand! Nobody believes me!" Katharyn protested, almost starting to cry.

"Go to sleep, Katharyn," nurse said, pushing the girl gently back against her pillow. She arranged the blankets over Katharyn carefully, kissed her on the cheek, and left.

It was dark again. Even though she was tired, Katharyn could not close her eyes. She kept watching, waiting. Only when the dawn's first orange light touched the window could she fall asleep.

Vincent shifted his back a little, but his shoulder blades still stuck uncomfortably into the stone wall. It was well past dawn, and he hadn't slept much during the night. But he was awake now, and the birds outside the shed made such a morning racket that he knew he would get no more rest.

He stood up slowly, careful not to hit his head on a low rafter, and dusted himself. His clothes, which had been new when he started his journey, were now little more than rags. He stuck his thumb into a large hole in his trouser knee and sighed. If mother could see him now . . .

For a moment he saw an image of her face, her skin white with worry, her eyes tight with weariness, her blonde hair sticking uncombed from beneath her morning cap. She sat at the breakfast table, her toast untouched, the tea growing cold in the pot. He could smell the aroma of the eggs as the day-waiter brought them out on a platter. Mother waved them away, staring through the window.

She could not see Vincent, as he could see her. He held the lenstranser near his eyes, its glowing round shape spilling light into the shed. Light from his own safe dining room, from the sunlight out his window, from his mother's eyes.

"I wish I could tell you I'm well, Mother," Vincent whispered. "But the lensetranser works only one way. Perhaps you'll receive the feeling that I'm well. I'm very near the goal. I must continue; for your sake, for the sake of us all."

The image faded from the small lens. Just before it disappeared completely, Vincent thought he saw his mother's cheeks relax, and her lips slide into the beginning of a smile.

Darkness filled the shed again, except for a few rays of sunlight that slid through cracks. Vincent strung the lenstranser back on the silver chain he wore around his neck. He covered it up carefully with his ragged tunic.

"Time to find breakfast," he said to himself. He could not forget the smell of those eggs, or the sight of toast and tea.

Katharyn slept late, as usual. Her father left early on business, so she was lucky not to be scolded. Her mother went to the market with friends. Since the nursemaid also slept late, nobody really noticed that the cook snuck out for a walk through the fields, leaving the kitchen door ajar.

Katharyn tiptoed past nurse's room, still in her yellow nightie that matched her curly hair. Her blue eyes had smudges under them that stood out like bruises against her pale skin. Katharyn paused in front of the hall mirror and frowned. Maybe she could sneak some of nurse's powder to cover up the smudges, so mother wouldn't notice.

A noise sounded from the kitchen, and Katharyn smiled, looking less tired. Cook stayed late to make me breakfast, she thought as she skipped down the hall, her hair bobbing behind her like a pony's tail.

She opened the door to the kitchen, then shut it again in surprise. A stranger was in the house.

Before she could think what to do, he opened the door again, grabbed her arm, and pulled her into the kitchen.

"Don't scream," he said, one hand pinching shut her mouth.

Katharyn nodded.

"Promise?" he asked.

She nodded again.

The stranger removed his hand from her mouth but still held her firmly by the arm.

"Don't hurt me," Katharyn pleaded, trembling so badly that her curls bounced up and down. "I'll show you where the gold is, and where mother keeps her jewels."

The stranger frowned.

"I'm not here to rob you," he said.

"Then what are you doing here in our kitchen, with blueberry from cook's pie all over your face?" she asked.

The stranger wiped his mouth with the back of his arm and blushed. His skin, under several layers of dirt, was as fair as Katharyn's. She guessed that his hair, beneath the bits of straw and grass, was also blond. Even his eyes were blue--but not as light a blue as Katharyn's, which held white specks like clouds. His eyes were dark like deep water--almost black.

Could eyes get dirty too?

"Why, you're just a boy!" she exclaimed, twisting free of his grasp and backing toward the door. "You can't be much older than me! I'll bet you're a thief running from jail--why else would you be so dirty, and dressed in rags?" "I told you I'm not a thief!" the boy yelled. "I pay for what I use."

With those words he took a pouch out of his pocket and emptied its contents on the table. The morning sunlight dazzled on a heap of precious gems. He picked out a small ruby and pressed it into Katharyn's surprised hand.

"Thank you for breakfast," he said, putting his pouch away and turning to leave.

"Wait," she said, grabbing him by his thin shoulder. "You have paid me too much. Cook's pies are the best in Lyton, but they're not worth a ruby. Besides, you look as though you need a rest. Sit down at the dining table. I haven't had my breakfast yet. Would you like some real eggs with toast and tea?"

The boy smiled despite himself. He had been travelling in secret for too long. When was the last time he had a real meal, in a real house, with company other than rats or the birds?

"I suppose I could stay for a little while," he admitted. "But I'm on important business, so I mustn't stay long."

Katharyn smiled in return, making her face look fresh as the morning, despite her difficult night.

"Good. Cook is off walking, and I doubt that nurse will awaken for awhile. Let me run and get dressed; then I will fix us both a grand breakfast. I may only be eleven, but I can cook! You need to wash and change, though--we should have a proper meal."

As she chattered, Katharyn led her new guest to the wash room and fetched him some clean clothes. Then she ran to change and fix breakfast.

In half an hour the two children sat at the long dining room table, chatting together like cousins. Sunlight sparkled on white china, silver, and crystal. The stranger rubbed his eyes as if he were looking into the lenstranser; the setting reminded him so much of home.

"What is your name?" Katharyn asked as she passed him a bowl of fruit.

"Vincent," he replied.

"That's a nice name. I have a second cousin named Vincent. I am Katharyn."

"You look like a Katharyn," Vincent stated. "That is . . . my mother's name. Katharyn."

Katharyn paused with an apple halfway to her mouth. She had never seen such a look as passed through Vincent's eyes as he mentioned his mother's name.

"You miss her, don't you? Why did you have to leave her? Are you very far from home?"

Vincent absently took out the silver chain he wore around his neck. On the end of it dangled a round crystal lens edged with rainbow colors, like you see when looking through a prism. The lens suddenly lit up, glowing like white fire in the sunlit room. A woman's face appeared in the middle of it--not flat, like a painting, but round and alive. It even moved, as the woman reached one long-fingered hand to her blonde head.

Fascinated, Katharyn leaned toward the lens. She reached out one curious finger to touch it. At that moment Vincent realized what he had accidentally shown her. He cupped the lens in both hands, so its light and image faded. Then he put lens and chain back under his borrowed shirt.

"Magic," Katharyn whispered.

"No, an invention," Vincent stated. "Made with Knowledge, by a man. It's called a lenstranser. It shows me what I want to see."

"Your mother?"

"Yes."

They both were silent for awhile. It seemed like the sunlight dimmed, the birds stopped singing, the ticking clock ceased. They looked at each other across the breakfast table, and the world changed.

"Whatever you may say, there's magic in this room," Katharyn whispered as if in church.

"Magic," Vincent admitted. "But it's not caused by the lenstranser."

Katharyn raised her water goblet so that it caught a ray of sun from the window. Bits of light danced around her head--a miniature galaxy of stars, scattered by cuts in the cyrstal.

"Tell me, quickly, what you think of when you see the sky," she said, her voice calm as though reciting a chant.

"I think of blue, like your eyes. I think of clouds, chased across by wind. Trees waving, reaching toward it. Hills touching it with their tips, the sun, space going on forever, angels, Heaven."

"And the night sky?" Katharyn asked.

"The stars--millions of them, for wishing. The moon--a sliver, or a full round ball so bright it casts shadows. And sometimes, when clouds are low, nothing but darkness like a great blanket. . . "

"And?" Katharyn urged, setting down her goblet so hard that its water spilled over the white lace tablecloth.

"And a great flash of light, suddenly falling down, burning up everything in an instant!"

"I knew it!" Katharyn cried, rising from the table, eyes glowing like the lenstranser. "When I saw that thing around your neck, and the way your eyes looked, and the way I felt magic in the room, I knew it. You have seen the sky falling too! That's why you've journeyed far from your home!"

"You're right," Vincent replied softly, rising to stare at Katharyn across the table. "And I think I've found what I was looking for."

Katharyn glanced around the room.

"You have?" she asked.

"Yes. You."

"Me?" Katharyn gasped. "But I'm only a girl. How could I help you?"

The two of them still sat at the breakfast table, the tea growing cold, the toast forgotten.

"You pointed out yourself that I'm not much older than you--thirteen, to be exact. If I can be any help, I'm sure you can too."

"You've been sent to stop the sky from falling," Katharyn declared, amazed that anyone could be given such an important task--especially a boy.

"You know we must do something."

"So I told my sleepy nurse last night," Katharyn admitted. "My parents think I'm crazy."

"I couldn't even tell Mother where I was going," Vincent stated, reaching for the lenstranser again and holding it under the shirt. "That is the worst part--knowing she doesn't understand."

"Who sent you?" Katharyn asked, reaching up to brush a stray curl out of one wide eye. "Was it the Lady?"

"So you have seen her too. She told me to find someone who could help."

"Me." Katharyn could still not believe it. Wasn't she just an ordinary child, who lived in an ordinary house, who never travelled further than the Lyton town gates? "What are you supposed to do now that you've found me?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. The Lady will tell us both. I do know one thing, though. We must leave this house before your parents return."

"Oh." Katharyn's mouth made a circle as she said the word. She had never gone as far as the park without her nursemaid. "You mean, run away?"

"Not run away," Vincent replied. "Run to."

A few minutes later, the two children snuck out the back door. Each carried a small sack over their shoulder, each wore a woolen travelling cloak.

"Hurry, I see cook skipping across the field," Katharyn warned as she shut the door behind her. They crouched low like foxes and slinked toward the trees. Katharyn brushed under the willow, her favorite, which trailed its boughs around her like lace curtains. Then the children ran across a field to the forest's edge. Katharyn paused for a moment to look back at the willow tree.

Vincent took her hand and pulled her along so quickly that she nearly stumbled, dodging tree branches, bushes, thorns. After a few scratches and a bruise, the children arrived at the river. The town of Lyton, where Katharyn was born, lay far behind them.

Vincent removed some bushes by the shore to reveal a boat, complete with a cabin just big enough to shelter them. He raised the slender mast and attached a blue sail.

"Get in," he said as he lept aboard.

Katharyn hesitated on the muddy bank. From behind the forest the village church bells struck the hour of noon. Katharyn counted all twelve chimes, one after the other.

"I . . . I . . . " Katharyn stammered. She could not seem to move forward or look back. She thought of her sunny house by the garden, of her nursemaid just waking up, of her mother returning in the carriage with presents from the market. She always brought something pretty for Katharyn--a new bonnet, a piece of ribbon, some lace.

How could she leave them? She had not even written a note . .

"Get in!" Vincent commanded, moving toward her. "I have good reason to hurry. They are after us. I didn't want to frighten you, but I suspected they followed me to your house."

"They?" Katharyn gasped. She heard a scuffling sound in the bushes behind her. Vincent reached out his hand. Katharyn took it and jumped into the boat.

Vincent had the boat in the middle of the river before Katharyn could catch her breath. He raised the sail--it caught the wind and pulled the boat along with the current. Vincent leaned against the tiller, reached down into a compartment, and pulled out a sailing cap. He handed it to Katharyn, saying,

"Wear this. The sunlight gets strong on the water and gives you a headache if you're not used to it."

Katharyn covered her curls with the cap, wishing she had brought her new yellow bonnet instead.

"Th-thank you," she whispered, the wind catching the words and pulling them over the water back toward her home. "I didn't mean to hesitate, but--"

"I understand," Vincent said, motioning for her to lean back against the cabin door. "Don't you think it was difficult for me to leave my home? It was a day such as this . . . Hard to believe there could be anything dangerous in it."

They stayed silent for awhile. Vincent steered the boat, reaching over occasionally to trim the sail. Katharyn leaned back against the cabin, tilting her face to the sun. It felt toasty on her white skin. Perhaps it would give her cheeks color again.

"Careful, you'll get sunburn," Vincent warned. Katharyn jumped. Apparantly she had fallen asleep with her face to the sun. She reached up and touched her nose. It felt tender. She turned around to look at the water, trailing her hand over the boat's side. The water felt surprisingly cold, despite the sunlight that danced circles on its surface.

"Who are they--the ones you said were after us, who made noises in the bushes as we left?" Katharyn asked, deciding that she had enough of sun and water, and that she wanted to talk.

"I'm not sure," Vincent answered, shifting to the other side of the tiller as the wind and sail changed. "I call them Watchers, because they've followed me ever since I left home. They haven't bothered me yet, but I don't let them get too close. I've never seen them, but I hear them, and feel them."

Katharyn shivered, reaching for her supply sack.

"How do you keep them away?"

"I don't know," Vincent admitted. "Sometimes I feel the urgency to run. Then I lose them. For awhile."

"Perhaps the Lady watches over you," Katharyn suggested.

"Yes," Vincent agreed. "Especially at night."

"Do you think she watches over me?" Katharyn asked. "Sometimes I'm so afraid, when I wake up and . . . "

"I think she watches, even when you are afraid. You've seen her, haven't you?"

Katharyn nodded. "I've seen her dimly, like a dream."

She reached in her sack and pulled out the cloak, draping it around her shoulders. They had been sailing on the wide river for a long time. The shadows of trees from the shore stretched toward them over the water like long black fingers.

"The sun will set soon," Vincent observed.

"Where will we . . . spend the night?" Katharyn asked.

"In the boat. It does get cramped, though. I slept in your shed last night."

Suddenly Katharyn had a million questions. Her brain seemed to have gotten over the shock of meeting Vincent and leaving her home.

"Do you know who put the . . . Terror in the sky?" she asked first.

"Not for certain," Vincent replied. "But I have a good guess. And I think we will find out before long."

"Do you know where we're going?" Katharyn asked next.

"Not precisely. The Lady told me to follow the river north."

"Well, here's a question for which you must know the exact answer. Where is your home?"

Vincent picked up his own cloak and put it over his shoulders. He adjusted the sail and moved the tiller. Katharyn thought he was avoiding the answer.

"I come from the city of Nolog," he finally said.

"Never heard of it," Katharyn replied. "Is it near Lyton?"

"No. In fact, it is not in Lyonesse at all. It's across the sea, in Negmandy."

Katharyn gasped and stood up, almost causing the boat to capsize in the middle of the river. She backed toward the cabin, face white despite her sunburn.

"Negmandy?" she asked, stumbling on the dreaded word. "Our enemies? But how can it be? You look and talk like me. Father said the people of Negmandy are grey as ash, and live like animals! Father said they want to come over in boats and kill us all in our beds, then drink our blood under the full moon. Negmandy! Father said that once there was a great war, and grandfather was killed, and thousands of others! You can't be from Negmandy!"

Vincent calmly looked at Katharyn, speaking in a soothing tone, so she wouldn't tip the boat and drown them both.

"But I am from Negmandy, Katharyn. And I have a mother with your name, and a house like yours. We are not animals. We do not want to kill you. The threat in the sky waits for us as well. Don't you see? Someone from both Negmandy and Lyonesse should try and stop the sky from falling."

Katharyn sat down, starting to cry.

"Was father lying, then? About your people, and what they wanted to do?"

"Perhaps he simply did not know us," Vincent replied. "Had he ever met a person from Negmandy?"

"I suppose not," Katharyn admitted. "No one in the village has. Until now."

For a few moments Katharyn sat with her back to the cabin wall, keeping her eyes on Vincent as if she expected him to turn into a monster any minute. When she was convinced that he would remain the same blond-haired boy she had eaten breakfast with that morning, she moved next to him and took his hand.

"I'm sorry I called you an enemy," she said. "I don't really believe you are one."

"That's all right," Vincent replied. "You have no idea what I expected to find when I first saw your coastline. We in Negmandy have heard a few strange tales about the people of Lyonesse."

"Do they say we live like animals and drink blood?" she asked.

"No. But they say you never sleep, that you have green skin, and that you fly like mist through the night, hunting unsuspecting Negmandy children."

Katharyn could not help but giggle.

"And have you found us different?" she asked.

Vincent held up one of his arms, which was scarred from elbow to wrist. "Yes. But I might have had a better welcome at times. People in Lyonesse don't always like 'vagrants.'"

"I'm sorry," Katharyn whispered. "And to think I called you a thief!"

"Well, I did have blueberry on my face."

They both giggled.

"Your welcome was very nice once we got to know each other. I hadn't eaten a real breakfast in weeks."

"I'm glad," Katharyn said. "Speaking of breakfast, when do we eat dinner? We seem to have skipped lunch."

The sun took that moment to disappear over the treetops. Vincent turned the boat toward the far shore.

"As soon as we land and settle in for the night," he informed her.

Katharyn looked at the shore they were rapidly approaching. It was covered with very tall pine trees, and even taller hills behind them. No church spire or castle tower could be seen. Even the air seemed different--thinner, colder, translucent with blue evening light.

"Where do you suppose we are?" she asked.

"North," Vincent replied as he beached the boat on the muddy bank.

"Yes. I see the Evening Star!" Katharyn exclaimed, pointing. "It looks very low and bright."

Vincent looked northward.

"I don't think that's a star," he said as he watched the light grow.