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brighter day than usual, as one of the larger maples had started losing its leaves early. All the children who’d been kept back from the fields were defying their parents’orders to stay inside. They’d collected on the green to play a game of catch-the-light, a sport that was strictly forbidden, and often played. They were so exuberant that the small figure in the middle of the square wasn’t noticed right away.
    It was Amaria Hale who spotted him first. Every able-bodied villager helped in the fields at harvest time, but Amaria often avoided the heavy work by pleading female pains and headaches, and her husband Walram, son of Rab, was too dull to catch her lies. Thus, Amaria was the only adult about to scold the children for their mischief and noise. She was doing just that, her voice rising above the chatter, when she saw a small boy sitting calmly by the well, his dark curls waving slightly in the breeze. A beam of sunlight fell directly onto the child, making him glow. His bronze skin was of a hue like caramel, and as he blinked at Amaria in the brightness, his eyes shone like gold.
    A meeting was called.

Chapter Two
    Shallah knew the meeting would be held at Old Brice Blighton’s place. Trallee had no official leader, but Old Brice headed the village council, and his opinion held the most sway. When a family came upon hard times, they always went to Old Brice for advice, and more times than not they came away feeling better about their woes. Most importantly, Old Brice’s home was the largest in the village, the only one to boast a second storey, for he’d seven children still living at home. His table was large enough to seat a dozen adults, and there would be plenty of seats for the crowd, though many would bring their own stools and line them along the walls, pressing close so none would be left without a place.
    Normally Shallah abhorred attending such events, but she found herself considering the prospect as Raulf slurped his ale. Something about his description of the child intrigued her.
    “His skin is entirely brown,” Raulf said, “quite a bit darker than yours or mine. And he has the strangest eyes, like little flames peering out at you. Some are saying he’s a sign of good times to come. Do you think that’s so?”
    She smiled and patted the boy on the arm. “I don’t think I know enough to be making any assumptions, Raulf,” she confessed.
    “You’ll come tonight, won’t you, Miss?” he asked as he rose to leave. “It’s sure to be quite an affair. You wouldn’t want to miss it.”
    Shallah wasn’t so sure about that, but she smiled at Raulf as she saw him off, and promised to consider it. It amused her to notice that Raulf, who usually preferred playing pranks on his sisters during town meetings, had taken such an interest. But then, the situation did seem to have the whole village stirred up.
    Shallah wiped her fingers on her apron as she thought about the mysterious child. It surprised her that Maude hadn’t mentioned a word about him when she’d stopped by, for what a juicy bit of gossip it was to tell. But Maude had always been offended by Shallah’s reluctance to mingle with the villagers, and never hurried to bring her news, as though she hadn’t the right to hear it. Likely more than one villager would think her similarly unwelcome at the meeting tonight. Nevertheless, she found herself lacing up her shoes and catching up her walking stick from behind the woodpile. She was nearly out the door when she remembered her apron, and paused to untie it.
    In that moment she felt herself hesitate. She’d made no commitment, and could easily stay home, avoiding the drama and noise of the meeting. She wouldn’t be wanted there anyway, and she’d have to suffer through their whispers, their silent stares. It would be so much easier to stay away. Then the urgency in Raulf’s voice came back to her and she recalled how, at another town meeting, Malcol Klink had accused his neighbour