CHAPTER EIGHT: THE TOWER OF THE ANGELS-1
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Will said, "Who is this man whos got the knife?"They were in the Rolls-Royce, driving up through Oxford. Sir Charles sat in the front, half-turned around, and Will and Lyra sat in the back, with Pantalaimon a mouse now, soothed in Lyras hands.
"Someone who has no mht to the khan I have to the alethiometer," said Sir Charles.
"Unfortunately for all of us, the alethiometer is in my possession, and the knife is in his."
"How do you know about that other world anyway?"
"I know many things that you dont. What else would you expect? I am a good deal older and siderably better informed. There are a number of doorways between this world and that; those who know where they are easily pass bad forth. In Cittagazze theres a Guild of learned men, so called, who used to do so all the time."
"You ent from this world at all!" said Lyra suddenly. "Youre from there, ent you?"
And again came that strange her memory. She was almost certain shed seen him before.
"No, Im not," he said.
Will said, "If weve got to get the knife from that man, we o know more about him. Hes not going to just give it to us, is he?"
"Certainly not. Its the ohing keeping the Specters away. Its not going to be easy by any means."
"The Specters are afraid of the knife?"
"Very much so."
"Why do they attaly grownups?"
"You doo know that now. It doesnt matter. Lyra," Sir Charles said, turning to her, "tell me about your remarkable friend."
He meant Pantalaimon. And as soon as he said it, Will realized that the snake hed seen cealed in the mans sleeve was a daemon too, and that Sir Charles must e from Lyras world. He was asking about Pantalaimon to put them off the track: so he didnt realize that Will had seen his own daemon.
Lyra lifted Pantalaimon close to her breast, and he became a black rat, whipping his tail around and around her wrist and glaring at Sir Charles with red eyes.
"You werent supposed to see him," she said. "Hes my daemon. You think you ent got daemons in this world, but you have. Yoursd be a dule."
"If the Pharaohs of Egypt were tent to be represented by a scarab, so am I," he said. "Well, youre from yet another world. How iing. Is that where the alethiometer es from, or did you steal it on your travels?"
"I was given it," said Lyra furiously. "The Master of Jordan College in my ave it to me. Its mine by right. And you wouldnt know what to do with it, you stupid, stinky old man; youd never read it in a hundred years. Its just a toy to you. But I , and so does Will. Well get it back, dont worry."
"Well see," said Sir Charles. "This is where I dropped you before. Shall we let you out here?"
"No," said Will, because he could see a police car farther down the road. "You t e into Cigazze because of the Specters, so it doesnt matter if you know where the window is. Take us farther up toward the ring road."
"As yo<var>?9９ｌiｂ?</var>u wish," said Sir Charles, and the car moved on. "When, or if, you get the knife, call my number and Allan will e to pick you up."
They said no more till the chauffeur drew the car to a halt.
As they got out, Sir Charles lowered his window and said to Will, "By the way, if you t get the knife, dont bother to return. e to my house without it and Ill call the police. I imagiheyll be there at once when I tell them your real is William Parry, isnt it? Yes, I thought so.
Theres a very good photo of you in todays paper."
And the car pulled away. Will eechless.
Lyra was shaking his arm. "Its all right," she said, "he wont tell anyone else. He would have do already if he was going to. e on."
Ten minutes later they stood itle square at the foot of the Tower of the Angels. Will had told her about the snake daemon, and she had stopped still ireet, tormented again by that half-memory. Who was the old man? Where had she seen him? It was no good; the memory wouldnt e clear.
"I didnt want to tell him" Lyra said quietly, "but I saw a man up there last night. He looked dowhe kids were making all that noise...."
"What did he look like?"
"Young, with curly hair. Not old at all. But I saw him for only a moment, at the very top, over those battlements. I thought he might be... You remember Angelid Paolo, and Paolo said they had an older brother, and hed e into the city as well, and she made Paolo stop telling us, as if it was a secret? Well, I thought it might be him. He might be after this knife as well. And I re all the kids know about it. I think thats the real reason why they e<var>藏书网</var> ba the first place."
"Mmm," he said, looking up. "Maybe."
She remembered the children talking earlier that m. No children would go iower, theyd said; there were scary things in there. And she remembered her own feeling of unease as she and Pantalaimon had looked through the open door before leaving the city. Maybe that was why they needed a grown man to go in there. Her daemon was fluttering around her head now, moth-formed in the bright sunlight, whispering anxiously.
"Hush," she whispered back, "there ent any choice, Pan. Its our fault. We got to make it right, and
this is the only way." Will walked off to the right, following the wall of the tower. At the er a narrow cobbled alley led between it and the building, and Will went dowoo, looking up, getting the measure of the place. Lyra followed. Will stopped under a window at the sedstory level and said to Panta-laimon, " you fly up there? you look in?"
He became a sparrow at ond set off. He could only just reach it. Lyra gasped and gave a little cry when he was at the windowsill, and he perched there for a sed or two before diving down again. She sighed and took deep breaths like someone rescued from drowning. Will frowned, puzzled.
"Its hard," she explained, "when your daemon goes away from you. It hurts."
"Sorry. Did you see anything?" he said. "Stairs," said Pantalaimon. "Stairs and dark rooms. There were swords hung on the wall, and spears and shields, like a museum. And I saw the young man.
He was ... dang."
"Dang?"
"Moving to and fro, waving his hand about. Or as if he was fighting something invisible... I just saw him through an open door. Not clearly."
"Fighting a Specter?" Lyra guessed. But they couldnt guess aer, so they moved on. Behind the tower a high stone wall, topped with broken glass, enclosed a small garden with formal beds of herbs around a fountain (once again Pantalaimon flew up to look); and then there was an alley oher side, bringing them back to the square. The windows around the tower were small and deeply set, like frowning eyes.
"Well have to go in the front, then," said Will. He climbed the steps and pushed the door wide.
Sunlight stru, and the heavy hinges creaked. He took a step or two inside, and seeing no one, went in farther. Lyra followed close behind. The floor was made of flagstones worn smooth over turies, and the air inside was cool. Will looked at a flight of steps going downward, a far enough down to see that it opened into a wide, low-ceilinged room with an immense coal fur one end, where the plaster walls were black with soot; but there was no ohere, and he went up to the entrance hall again, where he found Lyra with her fio her lips, looking up.
"I hear him," she whispered. "Hes talking to himself, I re."
Will listened hard, and heard it too: a low ing murmur interrupted occasionally by a harsh laugh or a short cry of anger. It sounded like the voice of a madman.
Will blew out his cheeks a off to climb the staircase. It was made of blaed oak, immense and broad, with steps as worn as the flagstones: far too solid to creak underfoot. The light diminished as they climbed, because the only illumination was the small deep-set window on each landing. They climbed up one floor, stopped and listened, climbed the , and the sound of the mans voice was now mixed with that of halting, rhythmic footsteps. It came from a room across the landing, whose door stood ajar.
Will tiptoed to it and pushed it open another few inches so he could see.
It was a large room with cobwebs thickly clustered on the ceiling. The walls were lined with bookshelves taining badly preserved volumes with the bindings crumbling and flaking, or distorted with damp. Several of them lay thrown off the shelves, open on the floor or the wide dusty tables, and others had been thrust back higgledy-piggledy.
In the ter of the room, a young man was—dang. Pantalaimon was right: it looked exactly like that. He had his back to the door, and hed shuffle to one side, then to the other, and all the time his right hand moved in front of him as if he were clearing a way through some invisible obstacles. In that hand was a knife, not a special-looking knife, just a dull blade about eight inches long, ahrust it forward, slice it sideways, feel forward with it, jab up and down, all
in the empty air.
He moved as if to turn, and Will withdrew. He put a fio his lips and beed to Lyra, and led her to the stairs and up to the floor.
"Whats he doing?" she whispered.
He described it as well as he could.
"He sounds mad," said Lyra. "Is he thin, with curly hair?"
"Yes. Red hair, like Angelicas. He certainly looks mad. I dont know—I think this is odder than Sir Charles said. Lets look farther up before we speak to him."
She didnt question, but let him lead them up aaircase to the top story. It was much lighter up there, because a white-painted flight of steps led up to the roof—or, rather, to a woodand- glass structure like a little greenhouse. Even at the foot of the steps they could feel the heat it was abs.
And as they stood there they heard a groan from above.
They jumped. Theyd been sure there was only one man iower. Pantalaimon was so startled that he ged at once from a cat to a bird and flew to Lyras breast. Will and Lyra realized as he did so that theyd seized each others hand, a go slowly.
"Better go and see," Will whispered. "Ill go first."
"I ought to go first," she whispered back, "seeing its my fault."
"Seeing its your fault, you got to do as I say."
She twisted her lip but fell in behind him.
He climbed up into the sun. The light in the glass structure was blinding. It was as hot as a greenhouse, too, and Will could her see nor breathe easily. He found a door handle and tur and stepped out quickly, holding his hand up to keep the sun out of his eyes.
He found himself on a roof of lead, enclosed by the battle-mented parapet. The glass structure was set in the ter, and the lead sloped slightly downward all around toward a gutter ihe parapet, with square drainage holes ione for rainwater.
Lying on the lead, in the full sun, was an old man with white hair. His face was bruised and battered, and one eye was closed, and as they saw when they got closer, his hands were tied behind him.
He heard them ing and groaned again, and tried to turo shield himself.
"Its all right," said Will quietly. "We arent going to hurt you. Did the man with the knife do this?"
"Mmm," the old man grunted. "Lets undo the rope. He hasnt tied it very well...." It was clumsily and hastily knotted, and it fell away quickly once Will had seen how to work it. They helped the old man to get up and took him over to the shade of the parapet "Who are you?" Will said. "We didnt think there were two people here. We thought there was only one."
"Giao Paradisi," the old man muttered through brokeh. "I am the bearer. No one else.
That young man stole it from me. There are always fools who take risks like that for the sake of the knife. But this one is desperate. He is going to kill me."
"No, he ent," Lyra said. "Whats the bearer? Whats that mean?"
"I hold the subtle knife on behalf of the Guild. Where has he gone?"
"Hes downstairs," said Will. "We came up past him. He didnt see us. He was waving it about in the air."
Trying to cut through. He wont succeed. When he—" "Watch out," Lyra said.
Will turhe young man<bdo></bdo> was climbing up into the little woodeer. He hadhem yet, but there was o hide, and as they stood up he saw the movement and whipped
around to face them.
Immediately Pantalaimon became a bear and reared up on his hind legs. Only Lyra khat he wouldnt be able to touch the other man, aainly the other blinked and stared for a sed, but Will saw that he hadnt really registered it. The man was crazy. His curly red hair was matted, his was flecked with spit, and the whites of his eyes showed all around the pupils.
And he had the knife, and they had no ons at all. Will stepped up the lead, away from the old man, croug, ready to jump ht or leap out of the way.
The young man sprang forward and slashed at him with the knife—left, right, left, ing closer and closer, making Will back away till he was trapped in the angle where two sides of the tower met.
Lyra was scrambling toward the man from behind, with the loose rope in her hand. Will darted forward suddenly, just as hed doo the man in his house, and with the same effect: his antagonist tumbled backward uedly, falling over Lyra to crash onto the lead. It was all happening too quickly for Will to be frightened. But he did have time to see the knife fly from the mans hand and sink at oo the lead some feet aoint first, with no more resistahan if it had fallen into butter. It plunged as far as the hilt and stopped suddenly.
And the young man twisted over and reached for it at once, but Will flung himself on his bad seized his hair. He had learo fight at school; there had beey of occasion for it, ohe other children had sehat there was something the matter with his mother. And hed learhat the object of a school fight was not to gain points for style but to force your eo give in, which meant hurting him more than he was hurting you. He khat you had to be willing to hurt someone else, too, and hed found out that not many people were, when it came to it; but he khat he was.
So this wasnt unfamiliar to him, but he hadnt fought against a nearly grown man armed with a knife before, and at all costs he must keep the man from pig it up now that hed dropped it.
Will twisted his fingers into the young mans thick, damp hair and wrenched back as hard as he could. The man grunted and flung himself sideways, but Will hung oighter, and his oppo roared with pain and anger. He pushed up and then threw himself backward, crushing Will between himself and the parapet, and that was too much; all the breath left Wills body, and in the shock his hands loosehe man pulled free.
Will dropped to his knees iter, winded badly, but he couldnt stay there. He tried to stand —and in doing so, he thrust his foot through one of the drainage holes. His fingers scraped desperately on the warm lead, and for a horrible sed he thought he would slide off the roof to the ground. But nothing happened. His left leg was thrust out iy space; the rest of him was safe.
He pulled his leg baside the parapet and scrambled to his feet. The man had reached his knife again, but he didnt have time to pull it out of the lead before Lyra leaped onto his back, scratg, kig, biting like a wildcat. But she missed the hold on his hair that she was trying for, ahrew her off. And whe up, he had the knife in his hand.
Lyra had fallen to one side, with Pantalaimon a wildow, fur raised, teeth bared, beside her.
Will faced the man directly and saw him clearly for the first time. There was no doubt: he was Angelicas brother, all right, and he was vicious. All his mind was focused on Will, and the knife was in his hand.
But Will wasnt harmless either.
Hed seized the rope when Lyra dropped it, and now he ed it around his left hand for prote against the knife. He moved sideways between the young man and the sun, so that his
antagonist had to squint and blink. Eveer, the glass structure threw brilliant refles into his eyes, and Will could see that for a moment he was almost blinded.
He leaped to the ma, away from the knife, holding his left hand high, and kicked hard at the mans knee. Hed taken care to aim, and his foot ected well. The ma down with a loud grunt and twisted away awkwardly.
Will leaped after him, kig again and again, kig whatever parts he could reach, driving the man bad back toward the glass house. If he could get him to the top of the stairs...
This time the man fell more heavily, and his right hand with the knife in it came down on the lead at Wills feet. Will stamped on it at once, hard, crushing the mans fingers between the hilt and the lead, and then ed the rope more tightly around his hand and stamped a sed time.
The man yelled a go of the k once Will kicked it away, his shoe eg with the hilt, luckily for him, and it spun across the lead and came to rest iter just beside a drainage hole. The rope had e loose around his hand once more, and there seemed to be a surprising amount of blood from somewhere sprinkled on the lead and on his own shoes. The man ulling himself up— "Look out!" shouted Lyra, but Will was ready.
At the moment when the man was off balance, he threw himself at him, crashing as hard as he could into the mans midriff. The man fell backward into the glass, which shattered at once, and the flimsy wooden frame went too. He sprawled among the wreckage half over the stairwell, and grabbed the doorframe, but it had nothing to support it anymore, and it gave way. He fell downward, and mlass fell all around him.
And Will darted back to the gutter, and picked up the knife, and the fight was over. The young man, cut and battered, clambered up the step, and saw Will standing above him holding the knife; he stared with a sickly anger and then turned and fled.
"Ah," said Will, sitting down. "<df</dfn>;Ah."
Something was badly wrong, and he hadnt noticed it. He dropped the knife and hugged his left hand to himself. The tangle of rope was sodden with blood, and when he pulled it away— "Your fingers!" Lyra breathed. "Oh, Will—"
His little finger and the finger o it fell away with the rope.
His head swam. Blood ulsing strongly from the stumps where his fingers had been, and his jeans and shoes were sodden already. He had to lie bad close his eyes for a moment. The pain wasnt that great, and a part of his miered that with a dull surprise. It was like a persistent, deep hammer thud more than the bright, sharp clarity when you cut yourself superficially.
Hed never felt so weak. He supposed he had goo sleep for a moment. Lyra was doing something to his arm. He sat up to look at the damage, a sick. The old man was somewhere close by, but Will couldnt see what he was doing, and meanwhile Lyra was talking to him.
"If only we had some bloodmoss," she was saying, "what the bears use, I could make it better, Will, I could. Look, Im going to tie this bit of rope around your arm, to stop the bleeding, cause I t tie it around where your fingers were, theres nothing to tie it to. Hold still."
He let her do it, then looked around for his fingers. There they were, curled like a bloody quotation mark on the lead. He laughed.
"Hey," she said, "stop that. Get up now. Mr. Paradisis got some medie, some salve, I dunno what it is. You got to e downstairs. That other mans gone—we seen him run out the door. Hes gone now. You beat him. e on, Will— e on—"
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