The Thin Part of the Stairs
Faye heard a drum, far down and far away, and stopped to listen. It came again, low and round, rolling up through the soles of her feet. She knew that sound. She lifted her chin and sniffed the air. It smelled cold and green, like a washed stone, like a garden before anyone is awake. Rain was climbing up from below to meet the cloud kingdom. All around her the vapour stairs turned pale and soft at the edges. Faye pulled her sleeves down over her hands and began to climb, slowly, the way she always climbed when the sky was thinking something over.
Up on the wide landing, the kingdom was making room. The wind came through and folded itself small, so the lanterns could swing without tangling their cords. The mist-lanterns were lowered until they hung at knee height, glowing like dropped moons. Three cloud sheep walked in under a ledge and sat down in a row, shoulder against shoulder against shoulder. Faye carried a basket of loose feathers out of the open and tucked it behind a step. Then she looked up, and remembered. Her kite was still tied to the top rail, high above her, striped and small against the grey.
A grey bird landed beside her with all her feathers standing on end. "The wet makes me heavy," the bird said. "I only want somewhere out of it." Faye knelt and showed her the hollow under the second stair, where the cloud was packed thick and dry and smelled faintly of warm wool. The bird hopped in, turned around twice, and settled. Faye stayed a moment longer than she needed to, watching those feathers go flat and calm. Then she stood up and looked at the stairs going up, and up, to where the kite shivered on the rail. The top flight was the thin part.
Faye was afraid of the thin part. That was the true thing, and she let herself know it properly. Up there the steps went narrow and almost see-through, and you could watch the whole wide blue turning under your shoes. The drum rolled again, nearer now. The rain-smell came stronger, cold and green and almost sweet, the way the air smells just before a window is opened. Faye set one foot on the first thin step. It held her, firm as a kitchen floor. She said the words out loud, to keep herself company. "One step, then stop, then one more step."
So that was what she did. One step. Stop. Four slow breaths, in through her nose, full of rain. Another step. Stop. A seed went drifting past her ear, travelling up instead of down, turning over and over. Below her the cloud sheep had become three grey smudges, tidy and patient. The stairs did not wobble. They never had. Her hand slid along the rail and the rail was cool and a little damp. Halfway up, the first drop landed on the back of her neck, warm as bathwater. "One step, then stop, then one more step," said Faye, and took another one.
The top rail came to her all at once, the way a thing does when you stop expecting it. Faye held on with one hand and worked the knot loose with the other. The kite came free and folded against her chest like a bird going quiet. Then the rain arrived in earnest, warm and soft and smelling enormously of itself, and the clouds all around her opened out and let it through. Nothing broke. Nothing blew away. The kingdom simply made a space, the way you shuffle over on a bench. Faye stood in the middle of it, wet-haired, breathing the green smell in.
Going down was faster, because she already knew the stairs would hold. She tucked the kite under the ledge with the feather basket. The grey bird had made room in the hollow without being asked, so Faye sat on the dry step beside her and watched the rain come down in long grey threads. The cloud sheep steamed gently. The lanterns swung at knee height, lighting the underside of everything. The whole landing smelled of wet wool and washed stone and rain, and Faye found she liked that smell better than any smell in the kingdom.
The drum moved off somewhere over the edge of the world and grew small. Faye lay back on the thick packed cloud with the kite folded under her head. Above her the stairs went up and thinned out and disappeared, and she did not mind them at all now. The bird shuffled closer. The rain kept on, slow and even, like something very large asleep. "One step, then stop, then one more step," Faye said, quieter this time, mostly to herself. Then she let her eyes close, and listened to her own breathing, in and out, in and out, warm under all that gentle grey.
