Eva looked around. She was standing on the deck of her ship and tried not to break down in tears at the scene of destruction that met her eyes. Finn and Leander were busy putting out small fires. Nora climbed up a ladder to join her. ‘So, how bad is it?’ Eva asked her friend. The inventor crossed her arms and took a deep breath. ‘The good news is that I can make us airworthy again. The bad news is that it’ll take me two days to do it. And I’ll need wood.’ ‘You shall have wood,’ replied Eva, pointing to the forest of low, gnarled trees into which they had crashed. ‘The two days don’t include the time to cut down the wood and saw it into shape,’ Nora replied. ’Maybe we’ll find a merchant in Sorrowton.’
So they set off for the village. Eva, Finn and Leander went ahead, while Nora stayed behind to start the repairs to the ship. The cloud island, as barren and desolate as it looked, had a gloomy beauty about it. The muddy ground under their feet was interspersed with stones and roots, so they had to be careful where they stepped. The wind carried the harsh smell of the jagged cliffs, and the fog hung everywhere like a fat sponge that absorbed everything around it. It was a place where nothing wanted to grow except for the scrubby grass and the scrawny trees that stuck out of the ground like twisted figures. No bird was to be heard and the silence was so thick that you could almost grasp it with your hand.
‘I certainly hope they have some good wood,’ Leander chattered, walking behind the other two in an astonishingly cheerful mood. ‘Given the state of the local botany, it could be difficult if we don’t want to repair the ship with a few scrawny twigs.’ ‘Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,’ said Eva absentmindedly, although she wasn’t sure. Her thoughts kept returning to the ruins of Nightshade that they had seen from afar. The journey there still lay ahead of them. The village they were now approaching also looked like a relic from days long gone – weathered huts with roofs overgrown with moss and doors hanging crookedly on their hinges. Occasionally one would open and a villager would step out to stare at them as if they were ghosts. There were hardly any young people to be seen and the few older men and women they met seemed trapped in their own thoughts, as if they were moving through a fog that only they could see. A man trudging across the square with a broken scythe slung over his shoulder turned to them without a word, stopped, and stared at them for several minutes before slowly disappearing down one of the alleys. ‘That’s… odd, isn’t it?’ Eva whispered to the others. ‘I’ve heard that the inhabitants here are strange, but that…’ ‘’Strange‘ is a good word,’ Finn agreed. ‘I have a feeling that we should leave this place as quickly as possible.’ They continued walking, followed by the stares of the villagers, who peered at them from the crooked doors and windows.
In the centre of the village was a small square with a fountain whose water no longer flowed but seeped into the ground in dark rivulets. Two children were playing at the edge, but their movements were mechanical and unnatural, as if they had long since forgotten the game but never lost the habit. Their eyes stared fixedly at the edges of the square without moving. An old man whose grey eyes were half-covered by a headband was crouching at a stand in the corner. He was painstakingly filing a piece of metal, only interrupting his monotonous task to give himself a light blow to the head at regular intervals. Eva looked at her two companions. ‘It seems we’re going to need a lot of luck to find someone who will help us,’ she said. “But we should hurry, because I don’t think we can just stand here.” “Right,” replied Finn, while they noticed an elderly woman who pressed herself under a wooden roof. She looked at them with an expression that was neither friendly nor hostile – just empty.
‘I’ll just ask that woman,’ said Eva, who had plucked up her courage. But Leander held her back. “Don’t you know the customs?” She looked at him in puzzlement. “Customs? Here?” He nodded with an air of importance. ’Oh yes, even a village like Sorrowton has its laws! Have you never heard of the Ritual of the Three Steps?’ He strode up to the woman, who looked at him in shock. Then he performed a semicircle, taking one step each to the east, south and west. “The old ghosts watch over you,” the old woman croaked suddenly. “And the new ones avoid you,” Leander replied. ‘The three steps connect us with the old spirits of the island,‘ he explained to his companions, “and should protect us from the new ones. I learned that on my last trip here.” “He really is quite useful,” Eva whispered to Finn, who nodded.
‘What do you want, strangers?’ the woman asked, looking around nervously. ‘I have to go on.’ ‘Good woman,’ Leander said with a grand gesture, ‘we had an accident with our airship and need certain materials to repair it, more specifically wood. By any chance, you don’t know how we can get hold of it?’ Eva gave Finn a half-irritated, half-mocking look, and he seemed to be thinking the same as her, but remained silent because her companion had apparently been successful. ‘Wood?’ the woman repeated. ‘Ask at the warehouse in the eastern part of the village. Sirin Fralestake is a friend. Say Maeva sent you, and he will listen to you.’
Sirin Fralestake was a sturdy middle-aged man whose hands bore the marks of working with wood – rough, cracked skin and dried-on resin stains. His hair was dark, but already showed the first silver strands. He listened to their story and then invited them to follow him to his warehouse. Eva had expected to see long logs and planks that had been sawn to size, but found a jumble of boards, blocks and small pieces. But what really amazed her were the life-size carved figures lined up against the walls. They were so lifelike that she felt as if they were watching her. Sirin put his hands in the pockets of his dungarees. ‘They want wood,’ he said, and only then did Eva realise that he was talking to the figures. He paused, as if waiting for a reply, then continued. ‘Yes, we actually need it ourselves. I know I said we wanted to expand our family. But they are in need.‘ He turned to another figure. “What do you say? Oh, Valeriana, you have a good heart! Of course you’re right, as always – I have to help!“
Eva gave Finn an alarmed look. Where on earth had they landed themselves this time? But then, as if nothing had happened, the man spoke to them again. ’What exactly do you need for your ship?’ ‘I’m afraid they would have to be longer planks than these,’ answered Eva cautiously, pointing to the pieces of wood lying around. “No problem,” replied the craftsman, and disappeared into the sawdust-scented twilight of his warehouse. A few minutes later, he returned with several planks on his shoulder. ’How about these?’
When they arrived at the ship with the planks, Nora leaped for joy. She didn’t reappear for the rest of the afternoon, and only the sound of her hammer could be heard. That evening, Eva climbed down the rope ladder, balancing the plate of dinner on one hand. Her friend’s curls were white from the wood dust and her cheeks were glowing. ‘Look!’ she cried, pointing to the ship’s hull with a sweeping gesture: ‘It’s all fixed again!’ ‘You did a great job,’ Eva praised her, and handed her the plate, ‘but now eat something. Otherwise you’ll pass out.’
They sat in silence, eating and dangling their feet over the edge of the ship. Nightshade was looming on the horizon and despite the onset of dusk, they could see its ruins and collapsed roofs clearly. ‘Are you a little afraid of tomorrow?’ Nora asked quietly. Eva hesitated, then decided to be honest with her friend. ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘But the three of us will be together, so come what may.’