CHAPTER NINE: THEFT-1
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First they went back to the cafe, to recover a and ge their clothes. It was clear that Will couldnt go everywhere covered in blood, and the time of feeling guilty about taking things from shops was over; so he gathered a plete set of new clothes and shoes, and Lyra, demanding to help, and watg in every dire for the other children, carried them back to the cafe.Lyra put some water on to boil, and Will took it up to the bathroom and stripped to wash from head to foot. The pain was dull and uing, but at least the cuts were , and having seen what the knife could do, he khat no cuts could be er; but the stumps where his fingers had been were bleeding freely. When he looked at them he felt sick, and his heart beat faster,
and that in turn seemed to make the bleeding even worse. He sat on <mark></mark>the edge of the bath and closed his eyes and breathed deeply several times.
Presently he felt calmer a himself to washing. He did the best he could, drying himself on the increasingly bloodied towels, and then dressed in his new clothes, trying not to make them bloody too.
"Yoing to have to tie my bandage again," he said to Lyra. "I dont care how tight you make it as long as it stops the bleeding."
She tore up a sheet and ed it around and around, clamping it dowhe wounds as tight as she could. He gritted his teeth, but he couldhe tears. He brushed them away without a word, and she said nothing.
When shed finished, he said, "Thank you." Then he said, "Listen. I want you to take something in your rucksae, in case we t e back here. Its only letters. You read them if you want."
He went to the bedroom, took out the greeher writing case, and handed her the sheets of airmail paper.
"I wohem unless—"
"I dont mind. Else I wouldnt have said."
She folded up the letters, and he lay on the bed, pushed the cat aside, and fell asleep.
Much later that night, Will and Lyra crouched in the lahat ran along beside the tree-shaded shrubbery in Sir Charless garden. Otagazze side, they were in a grassy park surrounding a classical villa that gleamed white in the moonlight. Theyd taken a long time to get to Sir Charless house, moving mainly in Cittagazze, with frequent stops to cut through and check their position in Wills world, closing the windows as soon as they knew where they were.
Not with them but not far behind came the tabby cat. She had slept siheyd rescued her from the stohrowing children, and now that she was awake again she was relut to leave them, as if she thought that wherever they were, she was safe. Will was far from sure about that, but he had enough on his mind without the cat, and he ignored her. All the time he was growing more familiar with the knife, more certain in his and of it; but his wound was hurting worse than before, with a deep, unceasing throb, and the bandage Lyra had freshly tied after he woke up was already soaked.
He cut a window in the air not far from the white-gleaming villa, and they came through to the quiet lane in Headington to work out exactly how to get to the study where Sir Charles had put the alethiometer. There were two floodlights illuminating his garden, and lights were on in the front windows of the house, though not iudy. Only moonlight lit this side, and the study window was dark.
The lane ran down through trees to another road at the far end, and it wasnt lighted. It would have been easy for an ordinary burglar to get unobserved into the shrubbery and thus to the garden, except that there was a strong iron fewice as high as Will, with spikes oop, running the length of Sir Charless property. However, it was no barrier to the subtle knife.
"Hold this bar while I cut it," Will whispered. "Catch it when it falls."
Lyra did as he said, a through four bars altogether, enough for them to pass through without difficulty. Lyra laid them one by one on the grass, and then they were through, and moving among the bushes.
Ohey had a clear sight of the side of the house, with the creeper-shaded window of the study fag them across the smooth lawn, Will said quietly, "Im going to cut through into Cigazze here,
and leave the window open, and move in Cigazze to where I think the study is, and then cut back through to this world. Then Ill take the alethiometer out of that et thing and Ill close that window and then Ill e back to this one. You stay here in this world and keep watch. As soon as you hear me call you, you e through this window into Cigazze and then Ill close it up again.
All right?"
"Yeah," she whispered. "Both me and Pan11 look out."
Her daemon was a small tawny owl, almost invisible in the dappled shadows uhe trees. His wide pale eyes took in every movement.
Will stood bad held out the knife, searg, toug the air with the most delicate movements, until after a minute or so he found a point at which he could cut. He did it swiftly, opening a window through into the moonlit land of Cigazze, and then stood back, estimating how many steps it would take him in that world to reach the study, and memorizing the dire.
Then without a word he stepped through and vanished.
Lyra crouched down nearby. Pantalaimon erched on a branch above her head, turning this way and that, silent. She could hear traffi Headington behind her, and the quiet footsteps of someone going along the road at the end of the lane, and even the weightless movement of is among the twigs and leaves at her feet.
A minute went by, and another. Where was Will now? She straio look through the window of the study, but it was just a dark mullioned square with creeper. Sir Charles had sat i on the window seat only that m, and crossed his legs, and arrahe creases in his trousers. Where was the et iion to the window? Would Will get ihout disturbing anyone in the house? Lyra could hear her heart beating, too.
Then Pantalaimon made a soft noise, and at the same moment a different sound came from the front of the house, to Lyras left. She couldhe front, but she could see a light sweeping across the trees, and she heard a deep g sound: the sound of tires on gravel, she guessed.
She hadnt heard the cars e all.
She looked for Pantalaimon, and he was already gliding ahead silently, as far as he could go from her. He turned in the darkness and swooped back to settle on her fist.
"Sir Charles is ing back," he whispered. "And theres someoh him."
He took off again, and this time Lyra followed, tiptoeing over the soft earth with the utmost care, croug down behind the bushes, finally going on hands and ko look between the leaves of a laurel.
The Rolls-Royce stood in front of the house, and the chauffeur was moving around to the passenger side to open the door. Sir Charles stood waiting, smiling, his arm to the woman who was getting out, and as she came into view Lyra felt a blow at her heart, the worst blow since shed escaped from Bolvangar, because Sir Charless guest was her mother, Mrs. Coulter.
Will stepped carefully across the grass in Cittagazze, ting his paces, holding in his mind as clearly as he could a memory of where the study was and trying to locate it with refereo the villa, which stood nearby, stucco-white and ned in a formal garden with statues and a fountain. And he was aware of how exposed he was in this moon-drenched parkland.
Whehought he was in the right spot, he stopped and held out the knife again, feeling forward carefully. These little invisible gaps were anywhere, but not everywhere, or any slash of the knife would open a window.
He cut a small opening first, no bigger than his hand, and looked through. Nothing but darkness oher side: he couldnt see where he was. He closed that ourhrough y degrees,
and opened ahis time he found fabri front of him—heavy gree: the curtains of the study. But where were they iion to the et? He had to close that ooo, turher way, try again. Time assing.
The third time, he found he could see the whole of the study in the dim light through the open door to the hall. There was the desk, the sofa, the et! He could see a faint gleam along the side of a brass microscope. And there was no one in the room, and the house was silent. It couldter.
He carefully estimated the distance, closed that window, stepped forward four paces, and held up the knife again. If he was right, hed be ily the right spot to reach through, cut through the glass in the et, take out the alethiometer and close the window behind him.
.. a window at the right height. The glass of the et door was only a handsbreadth in front of it. He put his face close, looking ily at this shelf and that, from top to bottom.
The alethiometer wasnt there.
At first Will thought hed got the wrong et. There were four of them in the room. Hed ted that m, and memorized where they were—tall square cases made of dark wood, with glass sides and fronts a-covered shelves, made for displaying valuable objects of porcelain or ivory old. Could he have simply opened a window in front of the wrong one? But oop shelf was that bulky instrument with the brass rings: hed made a point of notig that.
And on the shelf in the middle, where Sir Charles had placed the alethiometer, there ace.
This was the right et, and the alethiometer wasnt there.
Will stepped back a moment and took a deep breath.
Hed have to gh properly and look around. Opening windows here and there at random would take all night. He closed the window in front of the et, opened ao look at the rest of the room, and wheaken careful stock, he closed that one and opened a larger one behind the sofa through which he could easily get out in a hurry if he o.
His hand was throbbing brutally by this time, and the bandage was trailing loose. He wound it around as best he could and tucked the end in, and thehrough into Sir Charless house pletely and crouched behind the leather sofa, the knife in his right hand, listening carefully.
Hearing nothing, he stood up slowly and looked around the room. The door to the hall was halfopen, and the light that came through was quite enough to see by. The ets, the bookshelves, the pictures were all there, as they had been that m, undisturbed.
He stepped out on the silent carpet and looked into each of the ets in turn. It wasnt there.
Nor was it on the desk among the ly piled books and papers, nor on the mantelpiece among the invitation cards to this opening or that reception, nor on the cushioned window seat, nor o藏书网agonal table behind the door.
He moved back to the desk, intending to try the drawers, but with the heavy expectation of failure; and as he did so, he heard the faint ch of tires on gravel. It was so quiet that he halfthought he was imagining it, but he stood stock-still, straining to listen. It stopped.
Then he heard the front door open.
He went at oo the sofa again, and crouched behind it, o the windoened onto the moon-silvered grass in Cittagazze. And no sooner had he got there than he heard footsteps in that other world, lightly running over the grass, and looked through to see Lyra rag toward him.
He was just in time to wave and put his fio his lips, and she slowed, realizing that he was aware Sir Charles had returned.
"I havent got it," he whispered when she came up. "It wasnt there. Hes probably got it with him.
Im going to listen and see if he puts it back. Stay here."
"No! Its worse!" she said, and she was nearly in a genuine panic. "Shes with him—Mrs. Coulter—my mother! I dunno how she got here, but if she sees me, Im dead, Will, Im lost— and I know who he is now! I remember where I seen him before! Will, hes called Lord Boreal! I seen him at Mrs.
Coulters cocktail party, when I ran away! And he must have known who I was, all the time...."
"Shh. Dont stay here if yoing to make a noise."
She mastered herself, and swallowed hard, and shook her head.
"Sorry. I want to stay with you," she whispered. "I want to hear what they say."
"Hush now ..."
Because he could hear voices in the hall. The two of them were close enough to touch, Will in his world, she in Cit-tagazze, and seeing his trailing bandage, Lyra tapped him on the arm and mimed tying it up again. He held out his hand for her to do it, croug meanwhile with his head cocked sideways, listening hard.
A light came on in the room. He heard Sir Charles speaking to the servant, dismissing him, ing into the study, closing the door.
"May I offer you a glass of Tokay?" he said.
A womans voice, low and sweet, replied, "How kind of you, Carlo. I havent tasted Tokay for many years."
"Have the chair by the fireplace."
There was the faint glug of wine being poured, a tinkle of deter on glass rim, a murmur of thanks, and then Sir Charles seated himself on the sofa, inches away from Will.
"Yood health, Marisa," he said, sipping. "Now, suppose you tell me what you want."
"></a>I want to know where you got the alethiometer."
"Why?"
"Because Lyra had it, and I want to find her."
"I t imagine why you would. She is a repellent brat."
"Ill remind you that shes my daughter."
"Then she is even more repellent, because she must have resisted your charming influen purpose. No one could do it by act."
"Where is she?
"Ill tell you, I promise. But you must tell me something first."
"If I ," she said, in a different tohat Will thought might be a warning. Her voice was intoxig: soothing, sweet, musical, and young, too. He loo know what she looked like, because Lyra had never described her, and the face that went with this voice must be remarkable.
"What do you want to know?"
"What is Asriel up to?"
There was a silehen, as if the woman were calculating what to say. Will looked back through the window at Lyra, and saw her face, moonlit and wide-eyed with fear, biting her lip to keep silent and straining to hear, as he was.
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