The Lantern Stairs

Suri held a round glass float in both hands. Inside it, one small spark turned like a sleepy fish. Mo had carried it up from the sea that morning, balanced on his olive-tan shell. Now the two of them stood at the bottom of the cloud stairs. The steps were soft white vapour, warm under Suri's feet. The spark leaned toward the top, the way a flower leans at a window. "Hold it gently, it's still warm," Suri said. Mo blinked slowly. Then they began to climb.

Halfway up, Suri found a lantern made of folded cloud. It hung on a stem of vapour, grey and dark inside. Suri tipped the glass float toward it, slow as pouring milk. A thread of light slipped out and settled in the lantern. The lantern glowed, soft and round, like a small moon. The float still held its spark. Nothing had been lost at all. Suri laughed, very quietly, so the quiet would not mind. Mo breathed out, pleased.

"Your turn," Suri said, and set the float on Mo's shell. Mo climbed one step, then another, slow and steady. The light rolled along his shell and lit the ridges like little hills. A cloud lark came to look, then flew up to tell its friends. At the next lantern Mo leaned, and the light leaned with him. Another thread slipped out. Another lantern woke. "Hold it gently, it's still warm," Suri said, lifting the float back into her hands.

A wind came down the stairs, soft as a blanket shaken out. It lifted the float right out of Suri's hands. Suri watched it go up and up, turning as it went. The wind set it against a lantern too high to reach. That lantern woke, bright and yellow, and the whole stair turned gold. Then the wind brought the float back down, slow and careful, and laid it in Suri's hands again. It was still warm. Mo waited beside her, not hurrying anyone.

Higher up, three cloud larks sat in a row on a stem. Suri held the float out flat on her palms. One lark dipped its beak in the light and carried a thread away. The second did the same. The third was shy, so Suri waited and kept her hands still. Then it came and took its thread too. Off they all went, lighting the small lanterns along the high ledges. The kingdom glowed like a bowl of warm milk.

At the top step stood the last lantern, bigger than the others. Suri tipped the float, and the light slid in and went out. She tried again. Out again. The lantern was damp with cloud. So Suri cupped her hands around it and held her breath. Mo leaned close and warmed the other side with his slow breathing. The third thread of light stayed. It sat inside, small and steady, like something deciding to stop travelling. They watched it settle.

Suri sat down on the top step with Mo beside her. Below them, every lantern they had lit hung in a long curve. It looked like a necklace someone had laid down for the night. Inside the glass float, one last spark turned, slower now. "Hold it gently, it's still warm," Suri said, and she did. Mo rested his chin on the step. The high quiet came and sat down with them, taking up no room at all.

Suri turned the float over in her hands one more time. Then she held it against the front of Mo's shell and waited. The last spark slipped out and settled there, warm as a small sun. Mo would carry it down in the morning, all the way back to the sea. The empty glass went cool and clear in Suri's lap. She did not mind. The light was still somewhere. So was Mo, and so was she.

The wind came back and folded itself around them like wool. One by one the lanterns settled into a sleepy orange. Suri lay down with her cheek against the soft step. Mo moved a little closer, slow as always. "Hold it gently, it's still warm," Suri whispered, almost asleep. She put her hand on Mo's front flipper and held on. The spark under his shell glowed quietly on, all night, keeping the stairs company.