第5章 CHAPTER THREE: A CHILDREN'S WORLD-1

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 opened the flask to show the Scholars the severed head of Stanislaus Grumman, 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 wanted to 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 inside. The head had gone. There was nothing to be afraid of.

But she awoke all the same, crying and sweating, in the hot little bedroom facing the harbor, with the moonlight streaming through the window, and lay in someone elses bed clutching someone elses pillow, with the ermine Pantalaimon nuzzling her and making soothing noises. Oh, she was so frightened! And how odd it was, that in real life she had been eager to see the head of Stanislaus Grumman, and had begged Lord Asriel to open the flask again and let her look, and yet in her dream she was so terrified.

When morning 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 kitchen and tried to make an omelette, and twenty minutes later she sat down at a table on the pavement and ate the blackened, 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 can 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 cant have been gone very long, the people who lived here."

She watched him shake corn flakes into a bowl and pour milk on them—something else shed never seen before. He carried the bowl outside and said, "If you dont come 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 we was up 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 and beds to sleep in. We didnt know what to do next."

"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 can count how many worlds there are, all in the same space, but no one could get from one to 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 fundamental forces," she explained. "And anbaromagnetism, stuff like that. Atomcraft." "What-magnetism?" "Anbaromagnetism. Like anbaric. Those lights," she said, pointing up at the ornamental 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 on the others face. Will remembered that moment for a long time afterward. "Well, electromagnetism," he went on, looking away. "Sounds like what we call physics, your experimental theology. You want scientists, not theologians." "Ah," she said warily. "Ill find "em." They sat hi the wide clear morning, with the sun glittering placidly on the harbor, and each of them might have spoken next, because both of them were burning with questions; but then they heard a voice from farther along the harbor front, toward the casino 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 count. I never seen anyone. Theres 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 changed from a goldfinch to a mouse and ran up Lyras arm to the pocket of her shirt. Hed seen that these new children were like Will: neither 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 nodded. This was a reasonable reply. "Whats happening?" said Will. "Where are the grownups?" The girls eyes narrowed. "Didnt the Specters come 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 scorn. "Whats your name?" "Lyra. And hes Will. Whats yours?" "Angelica. My brother is Paolo." "Whereve you come from?" "Up the hills. There was a big fog and storm and everyone was frightened, so we all run up in the hills. Then when the fog cleared, the grownups could see with telescopes that the city was full of Specters, so they couldnt come back. But the kids, we ain afraid of Specters, all right. Theres more kids coming 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. "Our big brother," she said. "He ain with us. Hes hiding till he can ... Hes just hiding." "Hes gonna get—" 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?" "Winchester," said Will. "I never heard of it. They ain got Specters there?" "No. I cant 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 chin. "Kill the buggers." "Ent the grownups going to come back at all?" said Lyra. "Yeah, in a few days," said Angelica. "When the Specters go somewhere else. We like it when the Specters come, cause we can run about in the city, 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 away and pretend it ain happening, but it is. Its too late. And no one ain gonna go near them, they on they own. Then they get pale and they stop moving. They still alive, but its like they been eaten from inside. You look in they eyes, you see the back of they heads. Ain nothing there." The girl turned to 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 come and find some?" "No," said Will, "we got something else to do." "Good-bye, then," she said, and Paolo said, "Kill the Specters!" "Good-bye," said Lyra. As soon as Angelica and 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 blinked. Then 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 go through," Pantalaimon said. It was strange for only a moment, talking to a mouse. Then it was no more strange than 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 strange things happening at once. Will tried to bring 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 cant go and talk to people in my world looking like that; they wouldnt let you near them. 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 come 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 become a lemur, and was gazing at him with disconcerting 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 come from somewhere in their world. Its good there arent any grownups about. We can just come 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 need to look clean, 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 even notice us. So go and wash your hair for a start. Theres some shampoo in the bathroom. Then well go and find some different clothes." "I dunno how," she said. "I never washed my hair. The housekeeper done it at Jordan, and then I never needed to after that." "Well, youll just have to work it out," he said. "Wash yourself all over. In my world people are clean." "Hmm," said Lyra, and went upstairs. A ferocious rat face glared at him over her shoulder, but he looked back coldly. Part of him wanted to wander about this sunny silent morning exploring the city, and another part trembled with anxiety for his mother, and another part was still numb with shock at the death hed caused. And overhanging them all was the task he had to do. But it was good to keep busy, so while he waited for Lyra, he cleaned the working surfaces in the kitchen, and washed the floor, and emptied the rubbish into the bin he found in the alley outside. Then he took the green leather 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 come back and look at what was inside; but in the meanwhile, he tucked it under the mattress of the bed hed slept in. In this world, it was safe.