TWENTY-FOUR - MRS. COULTER IN GENEVA
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Mrs. Coulter waited till nightfall before she approached the College of St. Jerome. After darkness had fallen, she brought the iion craft down through the cloud and moved slowly along the lakeshore at treetop height. The College was a distinctive shape among the other a buildings of Geneva, and she soon found the spire, the dark hollow of the cloisters, the square tower where the President of the sistorial Court of Discipline had his lodging. She had visited the College three times before; she khat the ridges and gables and eys of the roof cealed plenty of hiding places, even for something as large as the iion craft.Flying slowly above the tiles, which glistened with the ret rain, she edged the mae into a little gully between a steep tiled roof and the sheer wall of the tower. The place was only visible from the belfry of the Chapel of the Holy Penitenearby; it would do very well.
She lowered the aircraft delicately onto the roof, letting its six feet find their own purchase and adjust themselves to keep the level. She was beginning to love this mae: it sprang to her bidding as fast as she could think, and it was so silent; it could hover above peoples heads closely enough for them to touch, and theyd never know it was there. In the day or so since shed stolen it, Mrs. Coulter had mastered the
trols, but she still had no idea how it owered, and that was the only thing she worried about: she had no way of telling when the fuel or the batteries would run out.
Once she was sure it had settled, and that the roof was solid enough to support it, she took off the helmet and climbed down.
Her daemon was already prizing up one of the heavy old tiles. She joined him, and soon they had lifted half a dozen out of the way, and then she snapped off the battens on which theyd been hung, making a gap big enough to get through.
"Go in and look around," she whispered, and the daemon dropped through into the dark.
She could hear his claws as he moved carefully over the floor of the attid then his gold-fringed black face appeared in the opening. She uood at ond followed him through, waiting to let her eyes adjust. In the dim light she gradually saw a long attic where the dark shapes of cupboards, tables, bookcases, and furniture of all kinds had been put into ste.
The first thing she did was to push a tall cupboard in front of the gap where the tiles had been. Theiptoed to the door in the wall at the far end and tried the ha was locked, of course, but she had a hairpin, and the lock was simple. Three minutes later she and her daemon were standing at one end of a long corridor, where a dusty skylight let them see a narrow staircase desding at the other.
And five minutes after that, they had opened a window in the pantry o the kit two floors below and climbed out into the alley. The gatehouse of the College was just around the er, and as she said to the golden monkey, it was important to arrive ihodox way, no matter how they inteo leave.
"Take your hands off me," she said calmly to the guard, "and show me some courtesy, or I shall have you flayed. Tell the President that Mrs. Coulter has arrived and that she wishes to see him at once."
The man fell back, and his pinscher daemon, who had been barieeth at the mild-mannered golden monkey, instantly cowered and tucked her tail stump as low as it would go.
The guard ked the handle of a telephone, and under a mier a fresh-faced young priest came hastening into the gatehouse, wiping his palms on his robe in case she wao shake hands. She didnt.
"Who are you?" she said.
"Brother Louis," said the man, soothing his rabbit daemon, "vener of the Secretariat of the sistorial Court. If you would be so kind...”
"I havent e here to parley with a scrivener," she told him. "Take me to Father MacPhail. And do it now."
The man bowed helplessly and led her away. The guard be hind her blew out his cheeks with relief.
Brother Louis, after trying two or three times to make versation, gave up and led her in sileo the Presidents rooms iower. Father MacPhail was at his devotions, and poor Brother Louiss hand shook violently as he khey heard a sigh and a groan, and then heavy footsteps crossed the floor.
The Presidents eyes widened as he saw who it was, and he smiled wolfishly.
"Mrs. Coulter," he said, his hand. "I am very glad to see you. My study is cold, and our hospitality is plain, but e in, e in."
"Good evening," she said, following him ihe bleak stone-walled room, allowing him to make a little fuss and show her to a chair. "Thank you," she said to Brother Louis, who was still h, "Ill take a glass of chocolate."
Nothing had been offered, and she knew how insulting it was to treat him like a servant, but his manner was so abject that he deserved it. The President nodded, and Brother Louis had to leave and deal with it, to his great annoyance.
"Of course you are under arrest," said the President, taking the other chair and turning up the lamp.
"Oh, why spoil our talk before weve even begun?" said Mrs. Coulter. "I came here voluntarily, as soon as I could escape from Asriels fortress. The fact is, Father President, I have a great deal of information about his forces, and about the child, and I came here to give it to you."
"The child, then. Begin with the child."
"My daughter is now twelve years old. Very soon she will approach the cusp of adolesce, and then it will be too late for any of us to prevent the catastrophe; nature and opportunity will e together like spark and tihanks to your intervention, that is now far more likely. I hope youre satisfied."
"It was your duty t her here into our care. Instead, you chose to skulk in a mountain cave, though how a woman of your intelligence hoped to remain hidden is a mystery to me."
"Theres probably a great deal thats mysterious to you, my Lord President, starting with the relatioween a mother and her child. If you thought for one moment that I would release my daughter into the care, the care! , of a body of men with a feverish obsession with sexuality, men with dirty fingernails, reeking of a sweat, men whose furtive imaginations would crawl over her body like cockroaches, if you thought I would expose my child to that, my Lord President, you are more stupid than you take me for."
There was a kno the door before he could reply, and Brother Louis came in with two glasses of chocolate on a wooden tray. He laid the tray oable with a nervous bow, smiling at the President in hopes of being asked to stay; but Father MacPhail oward the door, and the young ma relutly.
"So what were you going to do?" said the President.
"I was going to keep her safe until the danger had passed."
"What danger would that he?" he said, handing her a glass.
"Oh, I think you know what I mean. Somewhere there is a tempter, a serpent, so to speak, and I had to keep them from meeting."
"There is a boy with her."
"Yes. And if you hadnt interfered, they would both be under my trol. As it is, they could be anywhere. At least theyre not with Lord Asriel."
"I have no doubt he will be looking for them. The boy has a knife of extraordinary power. They would be worth pursuing for that alone."
"Im aware of that," said Mrs. Coulter. "I mao break ? it, and he mao get it mended again."
The President wondered why she was smiling. Surely she didnt approve of this wretched boy?
"We know," he said shortly.
"Well, well," she said. "Fra Pavel must be getting quicker. When I knew him, it would have taken him a month at least to read all that."
She sipped her chocolate, which was thin and weak; how like these wretched priests, she thought, to take their self-righteous absti on their visitors, too.
"Tell me about Lord Asriel," said the President. "Tell me everything."
Mrs. Coulter settled bafortably and began to tell him, not everything, but he hought for a moment that she would. She told him about the fortress, about the allies, about the angels, about the mines and the foundries.
Father MacPhail sat without moving a muscle, his lizard daemon abs and remembering every word.
"And how did you get here?" he asked.
"I stole a gyropter. It ran out of fuel and I had to abandon it in the tryside not far from here. The rest of the way I walked."
"Is Lord Asriel actively searg for the girl and the boy?"
"Of course."
"I assume hes after that knife. You know it has a he cliff-ghasts of the north call it the god-destroyer," he went on, crossing to the window and looking dowhe cloisters. "Thats what Asriel is aiming to do, isnt it? Destroy the Authority? There are some people who claim that God is dead already. Presumably, Asriel is not one of those, if he retains the ambition to kill him."
"Well, where is God," said Mrs. Coulter, "if hes alive? And why doesnt he speak anymore? At the beginning of the world, God walked in the Garden and spoke with Adam and Eve. Then he began to withdraw, and he forbade Moses to look at his face. Later, iime of Daniel, he was aged, he was the A of Days. Where is he now? Is he still alive, at some inceivable age, decrepit aed, uo think or act or speak and uo die, a rotten hulk? And if that is his dition, wouldnt it be the most merciful thing, the truest proof of our love fod, to seek him out and give him the gift of death?"
Mrs. Coulter felt a calm exhilaration as she spoke. She wondered if shed ever get out alive; but it was intoxig, to speak like that to this man.
"And Dust?" he said. "From the depths of heresy, what is your view of Dust?"
"I have no view of Dust," she said. "I dont know what it is. No one does."
"I see. Well, I began by reminding you that you are under arrest. I think its time we found you somewhere to sleep. Youll be quite fortable; no one will hurt you; but youre not going to get away. And we shall talk more tomorrow."
He rang a bell, and Brother Louis came in almost at once. "Show Mrs. Coulter to the best guest room," said the President. "And lock her in."
The best guest room was shabby and the furniture was cheap, but at least it was . After the lock had turned behind her, Mrs. Coulter looked around at once for the microphone and found one in the elaborate light-fitting and another uhe frame of the bed. She disected them both, and then had a horrible surprise.
Watg her from the top of the chest of drawers behind the door was Lord Roke.
She cried out and put a hand on the wall to steady herself. The Gallivespian was sitting cross-legged, entirely at his ease, aher she nor the golden monkey had seen him. Ohe pounding of her heart had subsided, and her breathing had slowed, she said, "And when would you have dohe courtesy of letting me know you were here, my lord? Before I undressed, or afterwards?"
"Before," he said. "Tell your daemon to calm down, or Ill disable him."
The golden moeeth were bared, and all his fur was standing on end. The scorg malice of his expression was enough to make any normal person quail, but Lord Roke merely smiled. His spurs glitter></a>ed in the dim light.
The little spy stood up and stretched.
"Ive just spoken to my agent in Lord Asriels fortress," he went on. "Lord Asriel presents his pliments and asks you to let him know as soon as you find out what these peoples iions are."
She felt winded, as if Lord Asriel had thrown her hard iling. Her eyes widened, and she sat down slowly on the bed.
"Did you e here to spy on me, or to help?" she said.
"Both, and its lucky for you Im here. As soon as you arrived, they set some anbaric work in motion down in the cellars. I dont know what it is, but theres a team of stists w on it right now. You seem to have galvahem."
"I dont know whether to be flattered or alarmed. As a matter of fact, Im exhausted, and Im going to sleep. If youre here to help me, you keep watch. You begin by looking the other way."
He bowed and faced the wall until she had washed in the chipped basin, dried herself ohin towel, and undressed and got into bed. Her daemon patrolled the room, cheg the wardrobe, the picture rail, the curtains, the view of the dark cloisters out of the window. Lord Roke watched him every inch of the way. Finally the golden monkey joined Mrs. Coulter, and they fell asleep at once.
Lord Roke hadnt told her everything that hed learned from Lord Asriel. The allies had been trag the flight of all kinds of beings in the air above the frontiers of the Republid had noticed a tration of what might have been angels, and might have been something else entirely, in the west. They had sent patrols out to iigate, but so far they had learned nothing: whatever it was that hung there had ed itself in imperable fog.
The spy thought it best not to trouble Mrs. Coulter with that, though; she was exhausted. Let her sleep, he decided, and he moved silently about the room, listening at the door, watg out of the window, awake and alert.
An hour after she had first e into the room, he heard a quiet side the door: a faint scratd a whisper. At the same moment a dim light outlihe door. Lord Roke moved to the farthest er and stood behind one of the legs of the chair on which Mrs. Coulter had thrown her clothes.
A minute went by, and then the key turned very quietly in the lock. The door opened an ino more, and then the light went out.
Lord Roke could see well enough in the dim glow through the thin curtains, but the intruder was having to wait for his eyes to adjust. Finally the door opened farther, very slowly, and the young priest Brother Louis stepped in.
He crossed himself and tiptoed to the bed. Lord Roke prepared t, but the priest merely listeo Mrs. Coulters steady breathing, looked closely to see whether she was asleep, and then turo the bedside table.
He covered the bulb of the battery light with his hand and switched it oing a thin gleam escape through his fingers. He peered at the table so closely that his nose nearly touched the surface, but whatever he was looking for, he didnt find it. Mrs. Coulter had put a few things there before she got into bed, a couple of s, a ring, her watch, but Brother Louis wasnt ied in those.
He turain, and then he saw what he was looking for, uttering a soft hiss between his teeth. Lord Roke could see his dismay: the object of his search was the locket on the gold around Mrs. Coulters neck.
Lord Roke moved silently along the skirting board toward the do<q>?</q>or.
The priest crossed himself again, for he was going to have to touch her. Holding his breath, he bent over the bed, and the golden moirred.
The young man froze, hands outstretched. His rabbit daemon trembled at his feet, no use at all: she could at least have kept watch for the poor man, Lord Roke thought. The mourned over in his sleep and fell still again.
After a minute poised like a waxwork, Brother Louis lowered his shaking hands to Mrs. Coulters neck. He fumbled for so long that Lord Roke thought the dawn would break before he got the catdone, but finally he lifted the locket gently away and stood up.
Lord Roke, as quid as quiet as a mouse, was out of the door before the priest had turned around. He waited in the dark corridor, and when the young man tiptoed out and turhe key, the Gallivespian began to follow him.
Brother Louis made for the tower, and when the President opened his door, Lord Roke darted through and made for the priedieu in the er of the room. There he found a shadowy ledge where he crouched and listened.
Father MacPhail was not alone: Fra Pavel, the alethiometrist, was busy with his books, and another
figure stood nervously by the window. This was Dr. Cooper, the experimental theologian from Bolvangar. They both looked up.
"Well done, Brother Louis," said the President. &qu it here, sit down, show me, show me. Well done!"
Fra Pavel moved some of his books, and the young priest laid the gold oable. The others bent over to look as Father MacPhail fiddled with the catch. Dr. Cooper offered him a pocketknife, and then there was a soft click.
"Ah!" sighed the President.
Lord Roke climbed to the top of the desk so that he could see. In the naphtha lamplight there was a gleam of dark gold: it was a lock of hair, and the President was twisting it between his fingers, turning it this way and that.
"Are we certain this is the childs?" he said.
"I am certain," came the weary voice of Fra Pavel.
"And is there enough of it, Dr. Cooper?"
The pale-faced ma low and took the lock from Father MacPhails fingers. He held it up to the light.
"Oh yes," he said. "One single hair would he enough. This is ample."
"Im very pleased to hear it," said the President. "Now, Brother Louis, you must return the locket to the good ladys neck."
The priest sagged faintly: he had hoped his task was over. The President placed the curl of Lyras hair in an envelope and shut t<var></var>he locket, looking up and around as he did so, and Lord Roke had to drop out of sight.
"Father President," said Brother Louis, "I shall of course do as you and, hut may I know why you he childs hair?"
"No, Brother Louis, because it would disturb you. Leave these matters to us. Off you go."
The young man took the locket a, sm his rese. Lord Roke thought of going back with him and waking Mrs. Coulter just as he was trying to replace the , in order to see what shed do; but it was more important to find out what these people were up to.
As the door closed, the Gallivespia bato the shadows and listened.
"How did you know where she had it?" said the stist.
"Every time she mentiohe child," the President said, "her hao the locket. Now then, how soon it be ready?"
"A matter of hours," said Dr. Cooper.
"And the hair? What do you do with that?"
"We place the hair in the resonating chamber. You uand, eadividual is unique, and the arra of geic particles quite distinct... Well, as soon as its analyzed, the information is coded in a series of anbaric pulses and transferred to the aiming device. That locates the in of the material, the hair, wherever she may be. Its a process that actually makes use of the Barnard-Stokes heresy, the many-worlds idea..."
"Dont alarm yourself, Doctor. Fra Pavel has told me that the child is in another world. Please go on. The force of the bomb is directed by means of the hair?"
"Yes. To each of the hairs from which these ones were cut. Thats right."
"So when its detohe child will be destroyed, wherever she is?"
There was a heavy indrawh from the stist, and then a relut "Yes." He swallowed, a on, "The power needed is enormous. The anbaric power, just as an atomib needs a high
explosive to force the uranium together a off the rea, this devieeds a colossal current to release the much greater power of the severance process. I was w...”
"It doesnt matter where its detonated, does it?"
"No. That is the point. Anywhere will do."
"And its pletely ready?"
"Now we have the hair, yes. But the power, you see...”
"I have seen to that. The hydro-anbarierating station at Saint-Jean-les-Eaux has been requisitioned for our use. They produough power there, wouldnt you say?"
"Yes," said the stist.
"Then we shall set out at once. Please go ao the apparatus, Dr. Cooper. Have it ready for transportation as soon as you . The weather ges quickly in the mountains, and there is a storm on the way."
The scie<mark>藏书网</mark>ntist took the little envelope taining Lyras hair and bowed nervously as he left. Lord Roke left with him, making no more han a shadow.
As soon as they were out of earshot of the Presidents room, the Gallivespian sprang. Dr. Cooper, below him oairs, felt an agonizing stab in his shoulder and grabbed for the banister; but his arm was strangely weak, and he slipped and tumbled down the whole flight, to land semiscious at the bottom.
Lord Roke hauled the envelope out of the mans twitg hand with some difficulty, for it was half as big as he was, a off in the shadows toward the room where Mrs. Coulter was asleep.
The gap at the foot of the door was wide enough for him to slip through. Brother Louis had e and gone, but he hadnt dared to try and fasten the around Mrs. Coulters neck: it lay beside her on the pillow.
Lord Roke pressed her hand to wake her up. She rofoundly exhausted, but she focused on him at ond sat up, rubbing her eyes.
He explained what had happened and gave her the envelope.
"You should destroy it at once," he told her. "One single hair would be enough, the man said."
She looked at the little curl of dark blond hair and shook her head.
"Too late for that," she said. "This is only half the lock I cut from Lyra. He must have kept bae of it."
Lord Roke hissed with anger.
"When he looked around!" he said. "Ach… I moved to be out of his sight, he must have set it aside then..."
"And theres no way of knowing where hell have put it," said Mrs. Coulter. "Still, if we find the bomb...”
"Shh!"
That was the golden monkey. He was croug by the door, listening, and then they heard it, too: heavy footsteps hurrying toward the room.
Mrs. Coulter thrust the envelope and the lock of hair at Lord Roke, who took it a for the top of the wardrobe. Then she lay dowo her daemon as the key turned noisily in the door.
"Where is it? What have you doh it? How did you attack Dr. Cooper?" said the Presidents harsh voice as the light fell across the bed.
Mrs. Coulter threw up an arm to shade her eyes and struggled to sit up.
"You do like to keep yuests eained," she said drowsily. "Is this a new game? What do I have to do? And who is Dr. Cooper?"
The guard from the gatehouse had e in with Father MacPhail and was shining a torto the ers of the room and uhe bed. The President was slightly discerted: Mrs. Coulters eyes were heavy with sleep, and she could hardly see in the glare from the corridht. It was obvious that she had her bed.
"You have an aplice," he said. "Someone has attacked a guest of the College. Who is it? Who came here with you? Where is he?"
"I havent the fai idea what youre talking about. And whats this... ?"
Her hand, which shed put down to help herself sit up, had found the locket on the pillow. She stopped, picked it up, and looked at the President with wide-open sleepy eyes, and Lord Roke saerb piece of ag as she said, puzzled, "But this is my... whats it doing here? Father MacPhail, whos been in here? Someone has taken this from around my neck. And, where is Lyras hair? There was a loy childs hair in here. Whos taken it? Why? Whats going on?"
And now she was standing, her hair disordered, passion in her voice, plainly just as bewildered as the President himself.
Father MacPhail took a step backward and put his hand to his head.
"Someone else must have e with you. There must he an a<big>9９ｌib.</big>plice," he said, his voice rasping at the air. "Where is he hiding?"
"I have no aplice," she said angrily. "If theres an invisible assassin in this place, I only imagis the Devil himself. I dare say he feels quite at home."
Father MacPhail said to the guard, "Take her to the cellars. Put her in s. I know just what we do with this woman; I should have thought of it as soon as she appeared."
She looked wildly around a Lord Rokes eyes for a fra of a sed, glittering in the darkness he ceiling. He caught her expression at ond uood exactly what she meant him to do.
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