ELEVEN - ARMOR-2
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“You know him?”“I fought beside him iunguska campaign. Hell, Ive known lorek for years.
Bears are difficult critters no matter what, but hes a problem, and no mistake.
Say, are any of you gentlemen in the mood fame of hazard?”
A pack of cards had appeared from nowhere in his hand. He riffled them with a snapping noise.
“Now Ive heard of the card power of your people,” Lee Scoresby was saying, cutting and folding the cards over and over with one hand and fishing a cigar out of his breast pocket with the other, “and I thought you wouldnt object to giving a simple Texan traveler the ce to joust with your skill and daring on the field of pasteboard bat. What do you say, gentlemen?”
Gyptians prided themselves on their ability with cards, and several of the men looked ied and pulled their chairs up. While they were agreeing with Lee Scoresby what to play and for what stakes, his daemon flicked her ears at Pantalaimon, who uood and leaped to her side lightly as a squirrel.
She eaking for Lyras ears too, of course, and Lyra heard her say quietly, “Ght to the bear and tell him direct. As soon as they know whats going on, theyll move his armor somewhere else.”
Lyra got up, taking her spice cake with her, and no oiced; Lee Scoresby was already dealing the cards, and every suspicious eye was on his hands.
In the dull light, fading through an endless afternoon, she found her way to the sledge depot. It was something she knew she had to do, but she felt uneasy about it, and afraid, too.
Outside the largest of the crete sheds the great bear was w, and Lyra stood by the open gate to watch. lorek Byrnison was dismantling a gas-eractor that had crashed; the metal c of the engine was twisted and buckled and one runner bent upward. The bear lifted the metal off as if it were cardboard, and tur this way and that in his great hands, seeming to test it for some quality or other, before setting a rear paw on one er and then bending the whole sheet in such a way that the dents sprang out and the shape was restored. Leaning it against the wall, he lifted the massive weight of the tractor with one paw and laid it on i..s side before bending to examihe crumpled runner.
As he did so, he caught sight of Lyra. She felt a bolt of cold fear strike at her, because he was so massive and so alien. She was gazing through the -link fence about forty yards from him, and she thought how he could clear the distan a bound or two and sweep the wire aside like a cobweb, and she almost turned and ran away; but Pantalaimon said, “Stop! Let me go and talk to him.”
He was a tern, and before she could answer hed flown off the fend down to the icy ground beyond it. There en gate a little way along, and Lyra could have followed him, but she hung baeasily. Pantalaimon looked at her, and then became a badger.
She knew what he was doing. Daemons could move no more than a few yards from their humans, and if she stood by the fend he remained a bird, he would he bear; so he was going to pull.
She felt angry and miserable. His badger claws dug into the earth and he walked forward. It was such a straormenting feeling when your daemon ulling at the liween you; part physical pain deep in the chest, part intense sadness and love. And she k was the same for him. Everyoed it when they were growing up: seeing how far they could pull apart, ing back with intense relief.
He tugged a little harder.
“Dont, Pan!”
But he didnt stop. The bear watched, motionless. The pain in Lyras heart grew more and more unbearable, and a sob of longing rose ihroat.
“Pan—”
Then she was through the gate, scrambling over the icy mud toward him, aurned into a wildcat and sprang up into her arms, and they were ging together tightly with little shaky sounds of unhappiness ing from them both.
“I thought you really would—”
“No—”
“I couldnt believe how much it hurt—”
And then she brushed the tears away angrily and sniffed hard. He led in her arms, and she knew she would rather die thahem be parted and face that sadness again; it would send her mad with grief and terror. If she died, theyd still be together, like the Scholars in the crypt at Jordan.
Then girl and daemon looked up at the solitary bear. He had no daemon. He was alone, always alone. She felt such a stir of pity aleness for him that she almost reached out to touch his matted pelt, and only a sense of courtesy toward those cold ferocious eyes prevented her.
“lorek Byrnison,” she said.
“Well?”
“Lord Faa and Farder have goo try a your armor for you.”
He didnt move or speak. It was clear what he thought of their ces.
“I know where it is, though,” she said, “and if I told you, maybe you could get it by yourself, I dont know.”
“How do you know where it is?”
“I got a symbol reader. I think I ought to tell you, lorek Byrnison, seeing as they tricked you out of it in the first place. I dont think thats right. They shouldntve dohat. Lord Faas going tue with the sysselman, but probably they wo you have it whatever he says. So if I tell you, will you e with us and help rescue the kids from Bolvangar?”
“Yes.”
“I...” She dido be nosy, but she couldnt help being curious. She said, “Why dont you just make some more armor out of this metal here, lorek Byrnison?”
“Because its worthless. Look,” he said, and, lifting the engine cover with one paw, he extended a claw oher hand and ripped right through it like a opener. “My armor is made of sky bbr>.９９ｌiｂ?</abbr>iron, made for me. A bears armor is his soul, just as your daemon is your soul. You might as well take him away” —indig Pantalaimon—”and replace him with a doll full of sawdust. That is the differenow, where is my armor?”
“Listen, you got to promise not to take vengeahey done wrong taking it, but you just got to put up with that.”
“All right. No vengeaerwards. But no holding back as I take it, either.
If they fight, they die.”
“Its hidden in the cellar of the priests house,” she told him. “He thinks theres a spirit in it, and hes been a trying to jure it out. But thats where it is.”
He stood high up on his hind legs and looked west, so that the last of the sun colored his face a creamy brilliant yellow white amid the gloom. She could feel the power of the great creature ing off him like waves of heat.
“I must work till su,” he said. “I gave my word this m to the master here. I still owe a few minutes work.”
“The su where I am,” she pointed out, because from her point of view it had vanished behind the rocky headland to the southwest.
He dropped to all fours.
“Its true,” he said, with his faow in shadow like hers. “Whats your name, child?”
“Lyra Belacqua.”
“Then I owe you a debt, Lyra Belacqua,” he said.
He turned and lurched aadding so swiftly across the freezing ground that Lyra couldnt keep up, even running. She did run, though, and Pantalaimon flew up as a seagull to watch where the bear went and called down to tell her where to follow.
Iorek Byrnison bounded out of the depot and along the narrow street before turning into the main street of the town, past the courtyard of the sysselmans residence where a flag hung iill air and a sentry marched stiffly up and down, down the hill past the end of the street where the witch sul lived. The sentry by this time had realized what was happening, and was trying to gather his wits, but lorek Byrnison was already turning a er he harbor.
People stopped to watch or scuttled out of his careering way. The sentry fired two shots in the air, a off down the hill after the bear, spoiling the effect by skidding on the icy slope and only regaining his balaer seizing the railings. Lyra was not far behind. As she passed the syssel-mans house, she was aware of a number of figures ing out into the courtyard to see what was going on, and thought she saw Farder among them; but then she ast, hurtling dowreet toward the er where the sentry was already turning to follow the bear.
The priests house was older than most, and made of costly bricks. Three steps led up to the front door, which was now hanging in matchwood splinters, and from ihe house came screams and the crashing and tearing of more wood. The sentry hesitated outside, his rifle at the ready; but then as passers-by began to gather and people looked out of windows from across the street, he realized that he had to act, and fired a shot into the air before running in.
A moment later, the whole house seemed to shake. Glass broke in three windows and a tile slid off the roof, and then a maidservant ran out, terrified, her clug hen of a daemon flapping after her.
Another shot came from ihe house, and then a full-throated roar made the servant scream. As if fired from a on, the priest himself came hurtling out, with his peli daemon in a wild flutter of feathers and injured pride. Lyra heard orders shouted, and turo see a squad of armed poli hurrying around the er, some with pistols and some with rifles, and not far behind them came John Faa and the stout, fussy figure of the sysselman.
A rending, splintering sound made them all look back at the house. A window at ground level, obviously opening on a cellar, was being wrenched apart with a crash of glass and a screech of tearing wood. The sentry whod followed lorek Byrnison into the house came running out and stood to face the cellar window, rifle at his shoulder; and then the window tore open pletely, and out climbed lorek Byrnison, the bear in armor.
Without it, h<s></s>e was formidable. With it, he was terrifying. It was rust-red, and crudely riveted together: great sheets and plates of dented discolored metal that scraped and screeched as they rode over one ahe helmet ointed like his muzzle, with slits for eyes, and it left the lower part of his jaw bare for tearing and biting.
The sentry fired several shots, and the poli leveled their ons too, but lorek Byrnison merely shook the bullets off like raindrops, and lunged forward in a screed g of metal before the sentry could escape, and knocked him to the ground. His daemon, a husky dog, darted at the bears throat, but lorek Byrnison took no more notice of him than he would of a fly, and dragging the sentry to him with one vast paw, he bent and enclosed his head in his jaws. Lyra could see exactly what would happe: hed crush the mans skull like an egg, and there would follow a bloody fight, more deaths, and more delay; and they would never get free, with or without the bear.
Without even thinking, she darted forward and put her hand on the one vulnerable spot in the bears armor, the gap that appeared between the helmet and the great plate over his shoulders when he bent his head, where she could see the yellow-white fur dimly between the rusty edges of metal. She dug her fingers in, and Pantalaimon instantly flew to the same spot and became a wildcat, crouched to defend her; but lorek Byrnison was still, and the riflemeheir fire.
“lorek!” she said in a fierdertone. “Listen! You owe me a debt, right.
Well, now you repay it. Do as I ask. Dont fight these men. Just turn around and walk away with me. We want you, lorek, you t stay here. Just e down to the harbor with me and dont even look back. Farder and Lord Faa, let them do the talking, theyll make it all right. Leave go this man and e away with me....”
The bear slowly opened his jaws. The sentrys head, bleeding a and ash-pale, fell to the ground as he fainted, and his dsmo about calming aling him as the bear stepped away beside Lyra.
No one else moved. They watched the bear turn away from his victim at the bidding of the girl with the cat daemon, and then they shuffled aside to make room as lorek Byrnison padded heavily through the midst of them at Lyras side and made for the harbor.
Her mind was all on him, and she didhe fusion behihe fear and the ahat rose up safely when he was gone. She walked with him, and Pantalaimon padded ahead of them both as if to clear the way.
When they reached the harbor, lorek Byrnison dipped his head and unfastehe helmet with a claw, letting it g on the frozen ground. Gyptians came out of the cafe, having sehat something was going on, and watched in the gleam of the anbaric lights on the ships deck as lorek Byrnison shrugged off the rest of his armor a it in a heap on the quayside. Without a word to anyone he padded to the water and slipped into it without a ripple, and vanished.
“Whats happened?” said Tony Costa, hearing the indignant voices from the streets above, as the townsfolk and the police made their way to the harbor.
Lyra told him, as clearly as she could.
“But wheres he gone now?” he said. “He ent just left his armor on the ground?
Theyll have it back, as soons they get here!”
Lyra was afraid they might, too, for around the er came the first poli, and then more, and then the sysselman and the priest and twenty or thirty onlookers, with John Faa and Farder trying to keep up.
But when they saw the group on the quayside they stopped, for someone else had appeared. Sitting on the bears armor with one ankle resting on the opposite knee was the long-limbed form of Lee Scoresby, and in his hand was the lo pistol Lyra had ever seen, casually pointing at the ample stomach of the sysselman.
“Seems to me you aint taken very good care of my friends armor,” he said versationally. “Why, look at the rust! And I wouldnt be surprised to find moths in it, too. Now you just stand where you are, still and easy, and dont anybody move till the bear es back with some lubrication. uess you could all go home ahe neer. S up to you.”
“There he is!” said Tony, pointing to a ramp at the far end of the quay, where lorek Byrnison was emerging from the water, dragging something dark with him.
Once he on the quayside he shook himself, sending great sheets of water flying in all dires, till his fur was standing up thickly again. Then he bent to take the black obje his teeth once more and dragged it along to where his armor lay. It was a dead seal.
“lorek,” said the aeronaut, standing up lazily and keeping his pistol firmly fixed on the sysselman. “Howdy.”
The bear looked up and growled briefly, before ripping the seal open with one claw. Lyra watched fasated as he laid the skin out flat and tore off strips of blubber, which he then rubbed all over his armor, pag it carefully into the places where the plates moved over one another.
“Are you with these pbbr>.</abbr>eople?” the bear said to Lee Scoresby as he worked.
“Sure. I guess were both hired hands, lorek.”
“Wheres your balloon?” said Lyra to the Texan.
“Packed away in two sledges,” he said. “Here es the boss.”
John Faa and Farder , together with the sysselman, came down the quay with four armed poli.
“Bear!” said the sysselman, in a high, harsh voice. “For now, you are allowed to depart in the pany of these people. But let me tell you that if you appear withiown limits again, you will be treated mercilessly.”
lorek Byrnison took not the slightest notice, but tio rub the seal blubber all over his armor, the care and attention he aying the task reminding Lyra of her owion to Pantalaimon. Just as the bear had said:
the armor was his soul. The sysselman and the poli withdrew, and slowly the other townspeople turned and drifted away, though a few remaio watch.
John Faa put his hands to his mouth and called: “Gyptians!”
They were all ready to move. They had been itg to get under way ever sihey had disembarked; the sledges were packed, the dog teams were iraces.
John Faa said, “Time to move out, friends. Were all assembled now, and the road lies open. Mr. Scoresby, you all a loaded?”
“Ready to go, Lord Faa.”
“And you, lorek Byrnison?”
“When I am clad,” said the bear.
He had finished oiling the armor. Not wanting to waste the seal meat, he lifted the carcass in his teeth and flipped it onto the back of Lee Scoresbys larger sledge before donning the armor. It was astonishing to see how lightly he dealt with it: the sheets of metal were almost an inch thi places, a he swung them round and into place as if they were silk robes. It took him less than a minute, and this time there was no harsh scream of rust.
So ihan half an hour, the expedition was on its way northward. Under a sky peopled with millions of stars and a glaring moon, the sledges bumped and clattered over the ruts and stones until they reached clear snow at the edge of town. Then the sound ged to a quiet ch of snow and creak of timber, and the dogs began to step out eagerly, and the motion became swift and smooth.
Lyra, ed up so thickly in the back of Farder s sledge that only her eyes were exposed, whispered to Pantalaimon:
“ you see lorek?”
“Hes padding along beside Lee Scoresbys sledge,” the daemon replied, looking ba his ermine form as he g to her wolverine-fur hood.
Ahead of them, over the mountains to the north, the pale ard loops of the Northern Lights began to glow and tremble. Lyra saw through half-closed eyes, a a sleepy thrill of perfect happiness, to be speeding north uhe Aurora. Pantalaimon struggled against her sleepiness, but it was to; he curled up as a mouse inside her hood. He could tell her when they woke, and it robably a marten, or a dream, or some kind of harmless local spirit; but something was following the train of sledges, swinging lightly from branch to branch of the close-clustering pirees, and it put him uneasily in mind of a monkey.
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