CHAPTER THREE: A CHILDRENS WORLD-1
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Lyra was awake early.Shed had a horrible dream: she had been given the vacuum flask shed seen her father, Lord Asriel, show to the Master and Scholars of Jordan College. When that had really happened, Lyra had been hiding in the wardrobe, and shed watched as Lord Asriel opehe flask to show the Scholars the severed head of Stanislaus Grumman,<dfn>藏书网</dfn> the lost explorer; but in her dream, Lyra had to open the flask herself, and she didnt want to. In fact, she was terrified. But she had to do it, whether she wao or not, and she felt her hands weakening with dread as she undipped the lid and heard the air rash into the frozen chamber. Then she lifted the lid away, nearly choking with fear but knowing she had to—she had to do it. And there was nothing ihe head had gohere was nothing to be afraid of.
But she awoke all the same, g and sweating, i little bedroom fag the harbor, with the moonlight streaming through the window, and lay in someone elses bed clutg someone elses pillow, with the ermine Pantalaimon nuzzling her and making soothing noises. Oh, she was shtened! And how odd it was, that in real life she had been eager to see the hea藏书网d of Stanislaus Grumman, and had begged Lord Asriel to open the flask again a her look, a in her dream she was so terrified.
When m came, she asked the alethiometer what the dream meant, but all it said was, It was a dream about a head.
She thought of waking the strange boy, but he was so deeply asleep that she decided not to.
Instead, she went down to the kit and tried to make ae, and twenty minutes later she sat down at a table on the pavement and ate the blaed, gritty thing with great pride while the sparrow Pantalaimon pecked at the bits of shell.
She heard a sound behind her, and there was Will, heavy-eyed with sleep.
"I make omelette," she said. "Ill make you some if you like."
He looked at her plate and said, "No, Ill have some cereal. Theres still some milk in the fridge thats all right. They t have been gone very long, the people who lived here."
She watched him shake flakes into a boour milk on them—something else shed never seen before.
He carried the bowl outside and said, "If you dont e from this world, wheres your world? How did you get here?"
"Over a bridge. My father made this bridge, and ... I followed him across. But hes gone somewhere else, I dont know where. I dont care. But while I was walking across there was so much fog, and I got lost, I think. I walked around in the fog for days just eating berries and stuff I found. Then one day the fog cleared, and on that cliff back there—"
She gestured behind her. Will looked along the shore, past the lighthouse, and saw the coast rising in a great series of cliffs that disappeared into the haze of the distance.
"And we saw the town here, and came down, but there was no one here. At least there were things to eat ao sleep in. We didnt know what to do ."
"You sure this isnt another part of your world?"
"Course. This ent my world, I know that for certain."
Will remembered his own absolute certainty, on seeing the patch of grass through the window in the air, that it wasnt in his world, and he nodded.
"So theres three worlds at least that are joined on," he said.
"Theres millions and millions," Lyra said. "This other daemon told me. He was a witchs daemon.
No one t how many worlds there are, all in the same space, but no one could get from oo another before my father made this bridge."
"What about the window I found?"
"I dunno about that. Maybe all the worlds are starting to move into one another."
"And why are you looking for dust?"
She looked at him coldly. "I might tell you sometime," she said.
"All right. But how are you going to look for it?"
"Im going to find a Scholar who knows about it."
"What, any scholar?"
"No. An experimental theologian," she said. "In my Oxford, they were the ones who knew about it.
Stands to reason itll be the same in your Oxford. Ill go to Jordan College first, because Jordan had the best ones."
"I never heard of experimental theology," he said.
"They know all about elementary particles and fual forces," she explained. "And anbaromagism, stuff like that. Atomcraft."
"What-magism?"
"Anbaromagism. Like anbaric. Those lights," she said, pointing up at the oral streetlight. "Theyre anbaric."
"We call them electric."
"Electric ... thats like electrum. Thats a kind of stone, a jewel, made out of gum from bees.
Theres bisects in it, sometimes."
"You mean amber," he said, and they both said, "Anbar..."
And each of them saw their own expression ohers face. Will remembered that moment for a long time afterward.
"Well, eleagism," he went on, looking away. "Sounds like what hysics, your experimental theology. You want stists, not theologians."
"Ah," she said warily. "Ill find "em."
They sat hi the wide clear m, with the sun glittering placidly on the harbor, and each of them might have spoken n<cite>?</cite>ext, because both of them were burning with questions; but then they heard a voice from farther along the harbor front, toward the o gardens.
Both of them looked there, startled. It was a childs voice, but there was no one in sight.
Will said to Lyra quietly, "How long did you say youd been herer "Three days, four—I lost t. I never seen aheres no one here. I looked almost everywhere."
But there was. Two children, one a girl of Lyras age and the other a younger boy, came out of one of the streets leading down to the harbor. They were carrying baskets, and both had red hair.
They were about a hundred yards away when they saw Will and Lyra at the cafe table.
Pantalaimon ged from a goldfinouse and ran up Lyras arm to the pocket of her shirt.
Hed seen that these new children were like Will: her of them had a dsmon visible.
The two children wandered up and sat at a table nearby.
"You from Cigazze?" the girl said.
Will shook his head.
"From SantElia?"
"No," said Lyra. "Were from somewhere else."
The girl his was a reasonable reply.
"Whats happening?" said Will. "Where are the grownups?"
The girls eyes narrowed. "Didnt the Specters e to your city?" she said.
"No," Will said. "We just got here. We dont know about Specters. What is this city called?"
"Cigazze," the girl said suspiciously. "Cittagazze, all right."
"Cittagazze," Lyra repeated. "Cigazze. Why do the grown-ups have to leave?"
"Because of the Specters," the girl said with weary s. "Whats your name?"
"Lyra. And hes Will. Whats yours?"
"Angelica. My brother is Paolo."
"Whereve you e from?"
"Up the hills. There was a big fog and storm and everyone was frightened, so we all run up in the hills. Thehe fog cleared, the grownups could see with telescopes that the city was full of Specters, so they couldnt e back. But the kids, we ain afraid of Specters, all right. Theres more kids ing down. They be here later, but were first."
"Us and Tullio," said little Paolo proudly.
"Whos Tullio?"
Angelica was cross: Paolo shouldnt have mentioned him, but the secret was out now.
" brother," she said. "He ain with us. Hes hiding till he ... Hes just hiding."
"Hes gon—" Paolo began, but Angelica smacked him hard, and he shut his mouth at once, pressing his quivering lips together.
"What did you say about the city?" said Will. "Its full of Specters?"
"Yeah, Cigazze, SantElia, all cities. The Specters go where the people are. Where you from?"
"Wier," said Will.
"I never heard of it. They ain got Specters there?"
"No. I t see any here, either."
"Course not!" she crowed. "You ain grown up! When we grow up, we see Specters."
"I ain afraid of Specters, all right," the little boy said, thrusting forward his grubby . "Kill the buggers."
"Ent the grownups going to e back at all?" said Lyra.
"Yeah, in a few days," said Angelica. "When the Specters go somewhere else. We like it when the Specters e, cause we run about iy, do what we like, all right."
"But what do the grownups think the Specters will do to them?" Will said.
"Well, when a Specter catch a grownup, thats bad to see. They eat the life out of them there and then, all right. I dont want to be grown up, for sure. At first they know its happening, and theyre afraid; they cry and cry. They try and look aretend it ain happening, but it is. Its too late. And no one ain gonna go hem, they on they own. Then they get pale and they stop moving. They still alive, but its like they beeen from inside. You look in they eyes, you see the back of they heads. Ain nothing there."
The girl turo her brother and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his shirt.
"Me and Paolos going to look for ice creams," she said. "You want to e and find some?"
"No," said Will, "we got something else to do." "Good-bye, then," she said<var>?</var>, and Paolo said, "Kill the Specters!"
"Good-bye," said Lyra.
As soon as Angelid the little boy had vanished, Panta-laimon appeared from Lyras pocket, his mouse head ruffled and bright-eyed.
He said to Will, "They dont know about this window you found."
It was the first time Will had heard him speak, and he was almost more startled by that than by anything else hed seen so far. Lyra laughed at his astonishment.
"He—but he spoke! Do all daemons talk?" Will said. "Course they do!" said Lyra. "Did you think he was just a pet?”
Will rubbed his hair and blihen he shook his head. "No," he said, addressing Pantalaimon.
"Youre right, I think. They dont know about it."
"So we better be careful how we gh," Pantalaimon said.
It was strange for only a moment, talking to a mouse. Then it was no more strahan talking into a telephone, because he was really talking to Lyra. But the mouse was separate; there was something of Lyra in his expression, but something else too. It was too hard to work out, when there were so many strahings happening at once. Will tried t his thoughts together.
"You got to find some other clothes first," he said to Lyra, "before you go into my Oxford."
"Why?" she said stubbornly.
"Because you t go and talk to people in my world looking like that; they would you hem. You got to look as if you fit in. You got to go about camouflaged. I know, see. Ive been doing it for years. You better listen to me or youll get caught, and if they find out where you e from, and the window, and everything ... Well, this is a good hiding place, this world. See, Im ... I got to hide from some men. This is the best hiding place I could dream of, and I dont want it found out. So I dont want you giving it away by looking out of place or as if you dont belong. 1 got my own things to do in Oxford, and if you give me away, Ill kill you."
She swallowed. The alethiometer never lied: this boy was a murderer, and if hed killed before, he could kill her, too. She nodded seriously, and she meant it.
"All right," she said.
Pantalaimon had bee a lemur, and was gazing at him with discerting wide eyes. Will stared back, and the daemon became a mouse once more and crept into Lyras pocket.
"Good," he said. "Now, while were here, well pretend to these other kids that we just e from somewhere in their world. Its good there arent any grownups about. We just e and go and no one11 notice. But in my world, you got to do as I say. And the first thing is you better wash yourself. You o look , or youll stand out. We got to be camouflaged everywhere we go.
We got to look as if we belong there so naturally that people dont ev<s></s>en notice us. So go and wash your hair for a start. Theres some shampoo ihroom. Then well go and find some different clothes."
"I dunno how," she said. "I never washed my hair. The housekeeper do at Jordan, and then I never o after that."
"Well, youll just have to work it out," he said. "Wash yourself all over. In my world people are ."
"Hmm," said Lyra, a upstairs. A ferocious rat face glared at him over her shoulder, but he looked back coldly.
Part of him wao wander about this sunny silent m expl the city, and another part trembled with ay for his mother, and another part was still numb with shock at the death hed caused. And ing them all was the task he had to do. But it was good to keep busy, so while he waited for Lyra, he ed the w surfaces i, and washed the floor, aied the rubbish into the bin he found in the alley outside.
Theook the greeher writing case from his tote bag and looked at it longingly. As soon as hed shown Lyra how to get through the window into his Oxford, hed e bad look at what was inside; but in the meanwhile, he tucked it uhe mattress of the bed hed slept in. In this world, it was safe.
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