NINETEEN - LYRA AND HER DEATH
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Here and there, fires had been lit among the ruins. The town was a jumble, with no streets, no squares, and no open spaces except where a building had fallen. A few churches or public buildings still stood above the rest, though their roofs were holed or their walls cracked, and in one case a whole portico had crumpled onto its ns. Between the shells of the stone buildings, a mazy clutter of shacks and shanties had been put together out of lengths of roofing timber, beaten-out petrol s or biscuit tins, torn plastic sheeting,scraps of plywood or hardboard.
The ghosts who had e with them were hurrying toward the town, and from every dire came more of them, so many that they looked like the grains of sand that trickle toward the hole of an hlass. The ghosts walked straight into the squalid fusion of the town, as if they kly where they were going, and Lyra and Will were about to follow them; but then t<mark></mark>hey were stopped.
A figure stepped out of a patched-up doorway and said, "Wait, wait."
A dim light was glowing behind him, and it wasnt easy to make out his features; but they knew he wasnt a ghost. He was like them, alive. He was a thin man who could have been any age, dressed in a drab and tattered business suit, and he was holding a pencil and a sheaf of papers held together with a clip. The buildiepped out of had the look of a s post on a rarely visited frontier.
"What is this place?" said Will, "And why t we go in?"
"Youre not dead," said the man wearily. "You have to wait in the holding area. Go farther along the road to the left and give these papers to the official at the gate."
"But excuse me, sir," said Lyra, "I hope you dont mind me asking, but how we have e this far if we ent dead? Because this is the world of the dead, isnt it?"
"Its a suburb of the world of the dead. Sometimes the living e here by mistake, but they have to wait in the holding area before they go on."
"Wait for how long?"
"Until they die."
Will felt his head swim. He could see Lyra was about tue, and before she could speak, he said, " you just explain what happens then? I mean, these ghosts who e here, do they stay in this town forever?"
"No, no," said the official. "This is just a port of transit. They go on beyond here by boat."
"Where to?" said Will.
"Thats not something I tell you," said the man, and a bitter smile pulled his mouth down at the ers. "You must move along, please. You must go to the holding area."
Will took the papers the man was holding out, and then held Lyras arm and urged her away.
The dragonflies were flyibbr></abbr>ng sluggishly now, and Tialys explaihat they o rest; so they perched on Wills rucksack, and Lyra let the spies sit on her shoulders. Pantalaimon, leopard-shaped, looked up at them jealously, but he said nothing. They moved along the track, skirting the wretched shanties and the pools of sewage, and watg the never-ending stream of ghosts arriving and passing without hindrao the town itself.
"Weve got to get over the water, like the rest of them," said Will. "And maybe the people in this holding place will tell us how. They doo be angry anyway, or dangerous. Its strange. And these papers... "
They were simply scraps of paper torn from a notebook, with random words scribbled in pencil and crossed out. It was as if these people were playing a game, and waiting to see wheravelers would challehem ive in and laugh. A all looked so real.
It was getting darker and colder, and time was hard to keep track of. Lyra thought they walked for half an hour, or maybe it was twice as long; the look of the place didnt ge. Finally they reached a little wooden shack like the oheyd stopped at earlier, where a dim bulb glowed on a bare wire over the door.
As they approached, a man dressed much like the other one came out holding a piece of bread and butter in one hand, and without a word looked at their papers and nodded.
He hahem bad was about to go inside when Will said, "Excuse me, where do we go now?"
"Go and find somewhere to stay," said the man, not unkindly. "Just ask. Everybodys waiting, same as
you."
He turned away and shut his dainst the cold, and the travelers turned down into the heart of the shanty towhe living people had to stay.
It was very much like the main town: shabby little huts, repaired a dozen times, patched with scraps of plastic or cated iron, leaning crazily against each other over muddy alleyways. At some places, an anbaric cable looped down from a bracket and provided enough feeble current to power a naked lightbulb or two, strung out over the nearby huts. Most of what light there was, however, came from the fires. Their smoky glow flickered redly over the scraps and tatters of building material, as if they were the last remaining flames of a great flagration, staying alive out of pure malice.
But as Will and Lyra and the Gallivespians came closer and saw more detail, they picked out many more figures sitting in the darkness by themselves, or leaning against the walls, athered in small groups, talking quietly.
"Why arent those people inside?" said Lyra. "Its cold."
"Theyre not people," said the Lady Salmakia. "Theyre not even ghosts. Theyre something else, but I dont know what."
The travelers came to the first group of shacks, which were lit by one of those big weak anbaric bulbs on a cable swinging slightly in the cold wind, and Will put his hand on the k his belt. There was a group of those people-shaped things outside, croug on their heels and rolling dice, and when the children came near, they stood up: five of them, all men, their faces in shadow and their clothes shabby, all silent.
"What is the name of this town?" said Will.
There was no reply. Some of them took a step backward, and all five moved a little clether, as if they were afraid. Lyra felt her skin crawling, and all the tiny hairs on her arms standing on end, though she couldnt have said why. Inside her shirt Pantalaimon was shivering and whispering, "No, no, Lyra, no, go away, lets go back, please ..."
The "people" made no move, and finally Will shrugged and said, "Well, good evening to you anyway," and moved on. They met a similar response from all the ures they spoke to, and all the time their apprehension grew.
"Will, are they Specters?" Lyra said quietly. "Are we grown up enough to see Specters now?"
"I dont think so. If we were, theyd attack us, but they seem to be afraid themselves. I dont know what they are."
A door opened, and light spilled out on the muddy ground. A man, a real man, a human being, stood in the doorway, watg them approach. The little cluster of figures around the door moved back a step or two, as if out of respect, and they saw the mans face: stolid, harmless, and mild.
"Who are you?" he said.
"Travelers," said Will. "We dont know where we are. What is this town?"
"This is the holding area," said the man. "Have you traveled far?"
"A long way, yes, aired," said Will. "Could we buy some food and pay for shelter?"
The man was looking past them, into the dark, and then he came out and looked around further, as if there were someone missinbbr></abbr>g. Theuro the strange figures standing by and said:
"Did you see ah?"
They shook their heads, and the children heard a murmur of "No, no, none."
The man turned back. Behind him, in the doorway, there were faces looking out: a woman, two young children, another man. They were all nervous and apprehensive.
"Death?" said Will. "Were ning ah."
But that fact seemed to be the very thing they were worried about, because when Will spoke, there was a soft gasp from the living people, and even the figures outside shrank away a little.
"Excuse me," said Lyra, stepping forward in her best polite way, as if the housekeeper of Jordan College were glaring at her. "I couldnt help notig, but these gentlemen here, are they dead? Im sorry for asking, if its rude, but where we e from its very unusual, and we never saw anyone like them before. If Im being impolite I do beg your pardon. But you see, in my world, we have daemons, everyone has a daemon, and wed be shocked if we saw someohout one, just like youre shocked to see us. And now weve been traveling, Will ahis is Will, and Im Lyra, Ive learhere are some people who doo have daemons, like Will doesnt, and I was scared till I found out they were just ordinary like me really. So maybe thats why someone from your world might be just a bit sort of nervous when they see us, if you think were different."
The man said, "Lyra? And Will?"
"Yes, sir," she said humbly.
"Are those your daemons?" he said, pointing to the spies on her shoulder.
"No," said Lyra, and she was tempted to say, "Theyre our servants," but she felt Will would have thought that a bad idea; so she said, "Theyre our friends, the Chevalier Tialys and the Lady Salmakia, very distinguished and wise people who are traveling with us. Oh, and this is my daemon," she said, taking mouse-Pantalaimon out of her pocket. "You see, were harmless, we promise we wont hurt you. And we do need food and shelter. Well move on tomorrow. Ho."
Everyone waited. The mans nervousness was soothed a little by her humble tone, and the spies had the good seo look modest and harmless. After a pause the man said:
"Well, though its strange, I suppose these are straimes.. .e in, then, be wele ..."
The figures outside nodded, one or two of them gave little bows, and they stood aside respectfully as Will and Lyra walked into the warmth and light. The man closed the door behind them and hooked a wire over a nail to keep it shut.
It was a single room, lit by a naphtha lamp oable, and but shabby. The plywood walls were decorated with pictures cut from film-star magazines, and with a pattern made with fingerprints of soot. There was an iron stove against one wall, with a clotheshorse in front of it, where some dingy shirts were steaming, and on a dressing table there was a shrine of plastic flowers, seashells, colored st bottles, and audy bits and pieces, all surrounding the picture of a jaunty skeleton with a top hat and dark glasses.
The shanty was crowded: as well as the man and the woman and the two young children, there was a baby in a crib, an older man, and in one er, in a heap of blas, a very old woman, who was lying and watg everything with glittering eyes, her face as wrinkled as the blas. As Lyra looked at her, she had a shock: the blas stirred, and a very thin arm emerged, in a black sleeve, and then another face, a mans, so a it was almost a skeleton. In fact, he looked more like the skeleton in the picture than like a living human being; and then Will, too, noticed, and all the travelers together realized that he was one of those shadowy, polite figures like the ones outside. And all of them felt as nonplussed as the man had been when hed first seen them.
In fact, all the people in the crowded little shack, all except the baby, who was asleep, were at a loss for words. It was Lyra who found her voice first.
"Thats very kind of you," she said, "thank you, good evening, were very pleased to be here. And like I said, were sorry to have arrived without ah, if thats the normal way of things. But we wont disturb you any more than we have to. You see, were looking for the land of the dead, and thats how eo e here. But we dont know where it is, or whether this is part of it, or how to get there, or what. So if you tell us anything about it, well be very grateful."
The people in the shack were still staring, but Lyras words eased the atmosphere a little, and the woman ihem to sit at the table, drawing out a bench. Will and Lyra lifted the sleeping dragonflies up
to a shelf in a dark er, where Tialys said they would rest till daylight, and then the Gallivespians joihem oable.
The woman had been preparing a dish of stew, and she peeled a couple of potatoes and cut them into it to make it go farther, urging her husband to offer the travelers some other refreshment while it cooked. He brought out a bottle of clear and pu spirit that smelled to Lyra like the gyptians jenniver, and the two spies accepted a glass into which they dipped little vessels of their own.
Lyra would have expected the family to stare most at the Gallivespians, but their curiosity was directed just as much, she thought, at her and Will. She didnt wait long to ask why.
"Youre the first people we ever saw without a death," said the man, whose heyd learned, eter. "Since we e here, that is. Were like you, we e here before we was dead, by some ce or act. We got to wait till our death tells us its time."
"Your death tells you?" said Lyra.
"Yes. What we found out when we e here, oh, long ago for most of us, we found we all brought our deaths with us. This is where we found out. We had em all the time, and we never knew. See, everyone has a death. It goes everywhere with em, all their life long, right close by. Our deaths, theyre outside, taking the air; theyll e in by and by. Grannys death, hes there with her, hes close to her, very close."
"Doesnt it scare you, having your death close by all the time?" said Lyra.
"Why ever would it? If hes there, you keep an eye on him. Id be a lot more nervous not knowing where he was."
"And everyone has their owh?" said Will, marveling.
"Why, yes, the moment youre born, your death es into the world with you, and its your death that takes you out."
"Ah," said Lyra, "thats what we o know, because were trying to find the land of the dead, and we dont know how to get there. Where do we go then, when we die?"
"Your death taps you on the shoulder, or takes your hand, and says, e along o me, its time. It might happen when youre sick with a fever, or when you choke on a piece of dry bread, or when you fall off a high building; in the middle of your pain and travail, your death es to you kindly and says, Easy now, easy, child, you e along o me, and you go with them in a boat out across the lake into the mist. What happens there, no one knows. No ones ever e back."
The woman told a child to call the deaths in, and he scampered to the door and spoke to them. Will and Lyra watched in wonder, and the Gallivespians drew clether, as the deaths, one for each of the family, came in through the door: pale, unremarkable figures in shabby clothes, just drab and quiet and dull.
"These are your deaths?" said Tialys.
"Indeed, sir," said Peter.
"Do you know when theyll tell you its time to go?"
"No. But you know theyre close by, and thats a fort."
Tialys said nothing, but it was clear that he felt it would be anything but a fort. The deaths stood politely along the wall, and it was strao see how little space they took up, and to find how little notice they attracted. Lyra and Will soon found themselves ign them altogether, though Will thought: Those men I killed, their deaths were close beside them all the time, they didnt know, and I didnt know...
The woman, Martha, dished the stew onto chipped enamel plates and put some in a bowl for the deaths to pass among themselves. They did, but the good smell kept them tent. Presently all the family and their guests were eating hungrily, aer asked the childreheyd e from, and what their world was like.
"Ill tell you all about it," said Lyra.
As she said that, as she took charge, part of her felt a little stream of pleasure rising upward in her breast like the bubbles in champagne. And she knew Will was watg, and she was happy that he could see her doing what she was best at, doing it for him and for all of them.
She started by telling about her parents. They were a duke and duchess, very important ahy, who had beeed out of their estate by a political enemy and thrown into prison. But they mao escape by climbing doe with the baby Lyra in her fathers arms, and they regaihe family fortune, only to be attacked and murdered by outlaws. Lyra would have been killed as well, and roasted aen, had not Will rescued her just in time and taken her back to the wolves, in the forest where he was being brought ,; up as one of them. He had fallen overboard as a baby from the side of his fathers ship and been washed up on a desolate shore, where a female wolf had suckled him a him alive.
The people ate up this nonseh placid credulity, and even the deaths crowded close to listen, perg on the bench or lying on the floor close by, gazing at her with their mild and courteous faces as she spun out the tale of her life with Will in the forest.
He and Lyra stayed with the wolves for a while, and then moved to Oxford to work is of Jordan College. There they met Roger, and when Jordan was attacked by the brickburners who lived in the clay beds, they had to escape in a hurry; so she and Will and Roger captured a gyptian narrow boat and sailed it all the way dowhames, nearly getting caught at Abingdon Lock, and then theyd been sunk by the ing pirates and had to swim for safety to a three-masted clipper just setting off for Hang Chow in Cathay to trade for tea.
And on the clipper theyd met the Gallivespians, who were strangers from the moon, blown down to the earth by a fierce gale out of the Milky Way. Theyd taken refuge in the crows , and she and Will and Roger used to take turns going up there to see them, only one day Roger lost his footing and plunged down into Davy Joness locker.
They tried to persuade the captain to turn the ship around and look for him, but he was a hard, fierce man only ied in the profit hed make by getting to Cathay quickly, and he clapped them in irons. But the Gallivespians brought them a file, and...
And so on. From time to time shed turn to Will or the spies for firmation, and Salmakia would add a detail or two, or Will would nod, and the story wound itself up to the point where the children and their friends from the moon had to find their way to the land of the dead in order to learn, from her parents, the secret of where the family fortune had been buried.
"And if we knew our deaths, in our land," she said, "like you do here, it would be easier, probably; but I think were really lucky to find our way here, sos we could get your advice. And thank you very much for being so kind and listening, and fiving us this meal, it was really nice.
"But what we need now, you see, or in the m maybe, is we o find a way out across the water where the dead people go, and see if we get there, too. Is there any boats we could sort of hire?"
They looked doubtful. The children, flushed with tiredness, looked with sleepy eyes from one grownup to the other, but no one could suggest where they could find a boat.
Then came a voice that hadnt spoken before. From the depths of the bedclothes in the er came a dry-cracked-nasal tone, not a womans voiot a living voice: it was the voice of the grandmothers death.
"The only way youll cross the lake and go to the land of the dead," he said, and he was leaning up on his elbow, pointing with a skinny fi Lyra, "is with your owhs. You must call up your owhs. I have heard of people like you, who keep their deaths at bay. You dont like them, and out of courtesy they stay out of sight. But theyre not far off. Whenever you turn your head, your deaths dodge behind you. Wherever you look, they hide. They hide in a teacup. Or in a dewdrop. Or in a breath of wind. Not like me and old Magda here," he said, and he pinched her withered cheek, and she pushed his hand away. "We live together in kindness and friendship. Thats the ahats it, thats what youve got to do, say wele, make friends, be kind, invite your deaths to e close to you, and see what you get
them to agree to."
His words fell into Lyras mind like heavy stones, and Will, too, felt the deadly weight of them.
"How should we do that?" he said.
"Youve only got to wish for it, and the thing is done."
"Wait," said Tialys.
Every eye turo him, and those deaths lying on the floor sat up to turn their blank, mild faces to his tiny, passionate one. He was standing close by Salmakia, his hand on her shoulder. Lyra could see what he was thinking: he <mark>藏书网</mark>was going to say that this had gooo far, they must turn back, they were taking this foolisho irresponsible lengths.
So she stepped in. "Excuse me," she said to the maer, "but me and our friend the Chevalier, weve got to go outside for a minute, because he o talk to his friends in the moon through my special instrument. We wont be long."
And she picked him up carefully, avoiding his spurs, and took him outside into the dark, where a loose piece of cated iron roofing was banging in the cold wind with a melancholy sound.
"You must stop," he said as she set him on an upturned oil drum, in the feeble light of one of those anbaric bulbs that swung on its cable overhead. "This is far enough. No more."
"But we made an agreement," Lyra said.
"No, no. Not to these lengths."
"All right. Leave us. You fly on back. Will cut a window into your world, or any world you like, and you fly through and be safe, thats all right, we dont mind."
"Do you realize what youre doing?"
"Yes."
"You dont. Youre a thoughtless, irresponsible, lying child. Fantasy es so easily to you that your whole nature is riddled with dishoy, and you dont even admit the truth when it stares you in the face. Well, if you t see it, Ill tell you plainly: you ot, you must not risk your death. You must e back with us now. Ill call Lord Asriel and we be safe in the fortress in hours."
Lyra felt a great sob e building up in her chest, and stamped her foot, uo keep still.
"You dont know," she cried, "you just dont know what I got in my head or my heart, do you? I dont know if you people ever have children, maybe you lay eggs or something, I wouldnt be surprised, because youre not kind, youre not generous, youre not siderate, youre not cruel, even, that would be better, if you were cruel, because itd mean you took us serious, you didnt just go along with us when it suited you... Oh, I t trust you at all now! You said youd help and wed do it together, and now you want to stop us, youre the disho oialys!"
"I would a child of my owo me in the i, high-handed way youre speaking, Lyra, why I havent punished you before...”
"Then go ahead! Punish me, since you ! Take your bloody spurs and dig em in hard, go on! Heres my hand, do it! You got no idea whats in my heart, you proud, selfish creature, you got no notion how I feel sad and wicked and sorry about my friend Roger, you kill people just like that,” she snapped her finger, "they dont matter to you, but its a torment and a sorrow to me that I never said good-bye to him, and I want to say sorry and make it as good as I , youd never uand that, for all your pride, for all yrown-up cleverness, and if I have to die to do roper, then I will, and be happy while I do. I seen worse than that. So if you want to kill me, you hard man, you strong man, you poison bearer, you Chevalier, you do it, go on, kill me. Then me and Roger play in the land of the dead forever, and laugh at you, you pitiful thing."
What Tialys might have dohen wasnt hard to see, for he was ablaze from head to foot with a
passionate anger, shaking with it; but he didnt have time to move before a voice spoke behind Lyra, and they both felt a chill fall over them. Lyra turned around, knowing what shed see and dreading it despite her bravado.
The death stood very close, smiling kindly, his face exactly like those of all the others shed seen; but this was hers, her very owh, and Pantalaimon at her breast howled and shivered, and his ermine shape flowed up around her ned tried to push her away from the death. But by doing that, he only pushed himself closer, and realizing it, he shrank back toward her again, to her warm throat and the strong pulse of her heart.
Lyra clutched him to her and faced the death directly. She couldnt remember what hed said, and out of the er of her eye, she could see Tialys quickly preparing the lodestone resonator, busy.
"Youre my death, ent you?" she said.
"Yes, my dear," he said.
"You ent going to take me yet, are you?"
"You wanted me. I am always here."
"Yes, but... I did, yes, but... I want to go to the land of the dead, thats true. But not to die. I dont want to die. I love being alive, and I love my daemon, and ... Daemons dont go down there, do they? I seen em vanish and just go out like dles when people die. Do they have daemons in the land of the dead?"
"No," he said. "Your daemon vanishes into the air, and you vanish uhe ground."
"Then I want to take my daemon with me when I go to the land of the dead," she said firmly. "And I want to e back again. Has it ever been known, for people to do that?"
"Not for many, many ages. Eventually, child, you will e to the land of the dead with no effort, no risk, a safe, calm journey, in the pany of your owh, your special, devoted friend, whos been beside you every moment of your life, who knows you better than yourself...”
"But Pantalaimon is my special aed friend! I dont know you, Death, I know Pan and I love Pan and if he ever, if we ever...”
The death was nodding. He seemed ied and kindly, but she couldnt for a moment fet what he was: her very <mark></mark>owh, and so close.
"I know itll be an effort to go on now," she said more steadily, "and dangerous, but I want to, Death, I do truly. And so does Will. We both had people taken away too soon, and we o make amends, at least I do."
"Everyone wishes they could speak again to those whove goo the land of the dead. Why should there be an exception for you?"
"Because," she began, lying, "because theres something Ive got to do there, not just seeing my friend Roger, something else. It was a task put on me by an angel, and no one else do it, only me. Its too important to wait till I die iural way, its got to be done now. See, the angel anded me. Thats why we came here, me and Will. We got to."
Behiialys put away his instrument and sat watg the child plead with her owh to be taken where no one should go.
The death scratched his head and held up his hands, but nothing could stop Lyras words, nothing could deflect her desire, not even fear: shed seen worse thah, she claimed, and she had, too.
So eventually her death said:
"If nothing put you off, then all I say is, e with me, and I will take you there, into the land of the dead. Ill be yuide. I show you the way in, but as fetting out again, youll have to manage by yourself."
"And my friends," said Lyra. "My friend Will and the others."
"Lyra," said Tialys, "against every instinct, well go with you. I was angry with you a minute ago. But you make it hard..."
Lyra khat this was a time to ciliate, and she was happy to do that, having gotten her way.
"Yes," she said, "I am sorry, Tialys, but if you hadnt got angry, wed never have found this gentleman to guide us. So Im glad you were here, you and the Lady, Im really grateful to you for being with us."
So Lyra persuaded her owh to guide her and the others into the land where Roger had gone, and Wills father, and Tony Makarios, and so many others; and her death told her to go down to the jetty when the first light came to the sky, and prepare to leave.
But Pantalaimon was trembling and shivering, and nothing Lyra could do could soothe him into stillness, or quiet the soft little moan he couldnt help uttering. So her sleep was broken and shallow, on the floor of the shack with all the other sleepers, and her death sat watchfully beside her.
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