CHAPTER SEVEN: THE ROLLS-ROYCE-1
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Lyra woke early to find the m quiet and warm, as if the city never had any other weather than this calm summer. She slipped out of bed and downstairs, and hearing some childrens voices out oer, wen<samp>?</samp>t to see what they were doing.Three boys and a girl were splashing across the sunlit harbor in a couple of pedal boats, rag toward the steps. As they saw Lyra, they slowed for a moment, but then the race took hold of them again. The winners crashed into the steps so hard that one of them fell into the water, and theried to climb into the other craft and tipped that over, too, and then they all splashed about together as if the fear of the night before had never happehey were youhan
most of the children by the tower, Lyra thought, and she joihem ier, with Pantalaimon as a little silver fish glittering beside her. She never found it hard to talk to other children, and soon they were gathered around her, sitting in pools of water on the warm stoheir shirts drying quickly in the sun. Poor Pantalaimon had to creep into her pocket again, fr藏书网ogshaped in the cool damp cotton.
"What you going to do with that cat?"
" you really take the bad luck away?"
"Where you e from?"
"Your friend, he ain afraid of Specters?"
"Will ent afraid of anything," Lyra said. "Norm I. What you scared of cats for?"
"You dont know about cats?" the oldest boy said incredulously. "Cats, they got the devil in them, all right. You got to kill every cat you see. They bite you and put the devil in you too. And what was you doing with that big pard?"
She realized he meant Pantalaimon in his leopard shape, and shook her head ily.
"You must have been dreaming," she said. "Theres all kinds of things look different in the moonlight. But me and Will, we dont have Specters where we e from, so we dont know much about em."
"If you t see em, youre safe," said a boy. "You see em, you know they get you. Thats what my pa said, then they got him."
"And theyre here, all around us now?"
"Yeah," said the girl. She reached out a hand and grabbed a fistful of air, crowing, "I got one now!"
"They t hurt you," one of the boys said. "So we t hurt them, all right."
"And theres always beeers in this world?" said Lyra.
"Yeah," said one boy, but another said, "No, they came a long time ago. Hundreds of years."
"They came because of the Guild," said the third.
"The what?" said Lyra.
"They never!" said the girl. "My granny said they came because people were bad, and God sent them to punish us."
"Yranny don know nothing," said a boy. "She got a beard, yranny. Shes a goat, all right."
"Whats the Guild?" Lyra persisted.
"You know the Torre degU Angeli," said a boy. "The stoower, right. Well it belongs to the Guild, and theres a secret pla there. The Guild, theyre men who know all kind of things.
Philosophy, alchemy, all kind of things they know. And they were the ones who let the Specters in."
"That ain true," said another boy. They came from the stars."
"It is! This is what happened, all right: this Guild man hundreds of years ago was taking some metal apart. Lead. He was going to make it into gold. A it and cut it smaller and smaller till he came to the smallest piece he could get There ain nothing smaller than that. So small you could, even. But he cut that, too, and ihe smallest little bit there was all the Specters packed in, twisted over and folded up so tight they took up no space at all. But once he cut it, bam! They whooshed out, and they been here ever sihats what my papa said."
"Is there any Guild men iower now?" said Lyra.
"No! They run away like everyone else," said the girl.
"There ain no one iower. Thats hauhat place," said a boy. "Thats why the cat came from there. We ain gonna go in there, all right. Ain no kids gonna go in there. Thats scary."
"The Guild men ain afraid to go in there," said another.
"They got special magic, or something. Theyre greedy, they live off the poor people," said the girl. "The poor people do all the work, and the Guild men just live there for nothing."
"But there ent anyone iower now?" Lyra said. "No grownups?"
"No grownups iy at all!"
"They wouldn dare, all right."
But she had seen a young man up there. She was vinced of it. And there was something in the way these children spoke; as a practiced liar, she knew liars whe them, and they were lying about something.
And suddenly she remembered: little Paolo had mentiohat he and Angelica had an elder brother, Tullio, who was iy too, and Angelica had hushed him.... Could the young man shed seen have been their brother?
She left them to rescue their boats and pedal back to the beach, a io make some coffee and see if Will was awake. But he was still asleep, with the cat curled up at his feet, and Lyra was impatient to see her Schain. So she wrote a note a it on the floor by his bedside, and took her rucksad went off to look for the window.
The way she took led her through the little square theyd e to the night before. But it was empty now, and the sunlight dusted the front of the aower and showed up the blurred carvings beside the doorway: humanlike figures with folded wings, their features eroded by turies of weather, but somehow in their stillness expressing power and passion and intellectual force.
"Angels," said Pantalaimon, now a cricket on Lyras shoulder.
"Maybe Specters," Lyra said.
"No! They said this was something angeli" he insisted. "Bet thats angels."
"Shall we go in?"
They looked up at the great oak door on its ornate black hihe half-dozen steps up to it were deeply worn, and the door itself stood slightly open. There was nothing to stop Lyra from going in except her own fear.
She tiptoed to the top of the steps and looked through the opening. A dark stone-flagged hall was all she could see, and not much of that; but Pantalaimon was fluttering anxiously on her shoulder, just as he had when theyd played the tri the skulls in the crypt at Jordan College, and she was a little wiser now. This was a bad place. She ran doweps and out of the square, making for the bright sunlight of the palm tree boulevard. And as soon as she was sure there was no one looking, she went straight across to the window and through into Wills Oxford.
Forty minutes later she was ihe physics building once more, arguing with the porter; but this time she had a trump card "You just ask Dr. Malone," she said sweetly. "Thats all you got to do, ask her. Shell tell you."
The porter turo his telephone, and Lyra watched pityingly as he pressed the buttons and spok<s>.</s>e into it. They didnt even give him a proper lodge to sit in, like a real Oxford college, just a big wooden ter, as if it was a shop.
"All right," said the porter, turning back. "She says go on up. Mind you dont go anywhere else."
"No, I wont," she said demurely, a good little girl doing what she was told.
At the top of the stairs, though, she had a surprise, because just as she passed a door with a symbol indig woman on it, it opened and there was Dr. Malone silently being her in.
She entered, puzzled. This wasnt the laboratory, it was a washroom, and Dr. Malone was agitated.
She said, "Lyra, theres someone else in the lab—police officers or something. They know you came
to see me yesterday—I dont know what theyre after, but I dont like it Whats going on?"
"How do they know I came to see you?"
"I dont know! They didnt<samp></samp> know your name, but I knew who they meant—"
"Oh. Well, I lie to them. Thats easy."
"But what is going on?”
A womans voice spoke from the corridor outside: "Dr. Malone? Have you seen the child?"
"Yes," Dr. Malone called. "I was just showing her where the washroom is..."
There was no need for her to be so anxious, thought Lyra, but perhaps she wasnt used to danger.
The woman in the corridor was young and dressed very smartly, and she tried to smile when Lyra came out, but her eyes remained hard and suspicious.
"Hello," she said. "Youre Lyra, are you?"
"Yeah. Whats your name?"
"Im Sergeant Clifford. e along in."
Lyra thought this young woman had a nerve, ag as if it were her own laboratory, but she nodded meekly. That was the moment when she first felt a twinge ret. She knew she shouldnt be here; she knew what the alethiometer wanted her to do, and it was not this. She stood doubtfully in the doorway.
In the room already there was a tall powerful man with white eyebrows. Lyra knew what Scholars looked like, aher of these two was a Scholar.
"e in, Lyra," said Sergeant Cliffain. "Its all right. This is Ior Walters."
"Hello, Lyra," said the man. "Ive been hearing all about you from Dr. Malone here. Id like to ask you a few questions, if thats all right."
"What sort of questions?" she said.
"Nothing difficult," he said, smiling. "e and sit down, Lyra."
He pushed a chair toward her. Lyra sat down carefully, and heard the door close itself. Dr. Malone was standing nearby. Pantalaimon, cricket-formed in Lyras breast pocket, was agitated; she could feel him against her breast, and hoped the tremor didnt show. She thought to him to keep still.
"Where dyou e from, Lyra?" said Ior Walters.
If she said Oxford, theyd easily be able to check. But she couldnt say another world, either.
These people were dangerous; theyd want to know more at once. She thought of the only other name she knew of in this world: the place Will had e from.
"Wier," she said.
"Youve been in the wars, havent you, Lyra?" said the ior. "How did you get those bruises?
Theres a bruise on your cheek, and another on y—has someone been knog you about?"
"No," said Lyra.
"Do you go to school, Lyra?"
"Yeah. Sometimes," she added.
"Shouldnt you be at school today?"
She said nothing. She was feeling more and more uneasy. She looked at Dr. Malone, whose face was tight and unhappy.
"I just came here to see Dr. Malone," Lyra said.
"Are you staying in Oxford, Lyra? Where are you staying?"
"With some people,"<q></q>; she said. "Just friends."
"Whats their address?"
"I dont kly what its called. I find it easy, but I t remember the name of the street."
"Who are these people?"
"Just friends of my father," she said.
"Oh, I see. How did you find Dr. Malone?"
"Cause my fathers a physicist, and he knows her."
It was going more easily now, she thought. She began to relax into it and lie more fluently.
"And she showed you what she was w on, did she?"
"Yeah. The eh the s ... Yes, all that."
"Youre ied in that sort of thing, are you? Sce, and so on?"
"Yeah. Physics, especially."
"You going to be a stist when you grow up?"
That sort of question deserved a blank stare, which it got. He wasnt discerted. His pale eyes looked briefly at the young woman, and then back to Lyra.
"And were you surprised at what Dr. Malone showed you?"
"Well, sort of, but I knew what to expect"
"Because of your father?"
"Yeah. Cause hes doing the same kind of work."
"Yes, quite. Do you uand it?"
"Some of it"
"Your fathers looking into dark matter, then?"
"Yes."
"Has he got as far as Dr. Malone?"
"Not in the same way. He do some things better, but that eh the words on the s —he hasnt got one of those."
"Is Will staying with your friends as well?"
"Yes, he—"
And she stopped. She k once shed made a horrible mistake.
So did they, and they were on their feet in a moment to stop her from running out but somehow Dr. Malone was in the way, and the sergeant tripped and fell, blog the way of the ior. It gave Lyra time to dart out, slam the door shut behind her, and run full tilt for the stairs.
Two men in white coats came out of a door, and she bumped into them. Suddenly Pantalaimon was a crow, shrieking and flapping, aartled them so much they fell bad she pulled free of their hands and raced down the last flight of stairs into the lobby just as the porter put the phone down and lumbered along behind his ter calling out "Oy! Stop there! You!"
But the flap he had to lift was at the other end, and she got to the revolving door before he could e out and catch her.
And behihe lift doors were opening, and the pale-haired man was running out so fast, s— And the door wouldnt turn! Pantalaimon shrieked at her: they were pushing the wrong side!
She cried out in fear and turned herself around, hurling her little weight against the heavy glass, willing it to turn, and got it to move just in time to avoid the grasp of the porter, who then got in the way of the pale-haired man, so Lyra could dash out and away before they got through.
Across the road, ign the cars, the brakes, the squeal of tires; into this gap between tall buildings, and then another road, with cars from both dires. But she was quick, dodging bicycles, always with the pale-haired man just behind her—oh, he was frightening!
Into a garden, over a fehrough some bushes— Pantalaimon skimming overhead, a swift, calling to her which way to go; croug down behind a coal bunker as the pale mans footsteps came rag past, and she couldnt hear him panting, he was so fast, and so fit; and Pantalaimon said, "Baow! Go back to the road—"
So she crept out of her hiding plad ran back across the grass, out through the garden gate, into the open spaces of the Banbury Road again; and once again she dodged across, and once again tires squealed on the road; and then she was running up Norham Gardens, a quiet tree-lined road of tall Victorian houses he park.
She stopped to gain her breath. There was a tall hedge in front of one of the gardens, with a low wall at its foot, and she sat there tucked closely in uhe privet.
"She helped us!" Pantalaimon said. "Dr. Malo in their way. Shes on our side, not theirs."
"Oh, Pan," she said, "I shouldnt have said that about Will. I shouldve been more careful—"
"Shouldnt have e," he said severely.
"I know. That too ..."
But she hadnt got time to berate herself, because Pantalaimon fluttered to her shoulder, and then said, "Look out—behind—" and immediately ged to a cricket again and dived into her pocket.
She stood, ready to run, and saw a large, dark blue car gliding silently to the pavement beside her. She was braced to dart iher dire, but the cars rear window rolled down, and there looking out was a face she reized.
"Lizzie," said the old man from the museum. "How o see you again. I give you a lift anywhere?"
And he opehe door and moved up to make room beside him. Pantalaimon nipped her breast through the thin cotton, but she got in at once, clutg the rucksack, and the man leaned across her and pulled the door shut.
"You look as if youre in a hurry," he said. "Where dyou want to go?"
"Up Summertown," she said, "please."
The driver was wearing a peaked cap. Everything about the car was smooth and soft and powerful, and the smell of the old mans cologne was strong in the enclosed space. The car pulled out from the pavement and moved away with no all.
"So what have you been up to, Lizzie?" the old man said. "Did you find out more about those skulls?"
"Yeah," she said, twisting to see out of the rear window. There was no sign of the pale-haired man. Shed gotten away! And hed never find her now that she was safe in a powerful car with a rich man like this. She felt a little hiccup of triumph.
"I made some inquiries too," he said. "An anthropologist friend of miells me that theyve got several others in the colle, as well as the ones on display. Some of them are very old indeed.
Neahal, you know."
"Yeah, thats what I heard too," Lyra said, with no idea what he was talking about.
"And hows your friend?"
"What friend?" said Lyra, alarmed. Had she told him about Will too?
"The friend youre staying with."
"Oh. Yes. Shes very well, thank you."
"What does she do? Is she an archaeologist?"
"Oh ... shes a physicist. She studies dark matter," said Lyra, still not quite in trol. In this world it was harder to tell lies thahought. And something else was nagging at her. this old man was familiar in some long-lost way, and she just couldnt place it.
"Dark matter?" he was saying. "How fasating! I saw something about that iimes this m. The universe is full of this mysterious stuff, and nobody knows what it is! And your friend
is orack of it, is she?"
"Yes. She knows a lot about it."
"And what are you going to do later on, Lizzie? Are you going in for physics too?" , "I might," said Lyra. "It depends."
The chauffeur coughed gently and slowed the car down.
"Well, here we are in Summertown," said the old man. "Where would you like to be dropped?"
"Oh, just up past these shops. I walk from there," said Lyra. "Thank you."
Tur into South Parade, and pull up on the right, could you, Allan," said the old man.
"Very good, sir," said the chauffeur.
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