t t tia to kno soo. Lyra feared Mrs. Coulter and t about en.

        And    ers daemon, talaimon , o s, and particularly t of ter.

        And to be c o t, if nothing else.

        But     Mrs. Coulter. tians o stop a all to s on Bolvangar. Jo Lee Scoresby migo fill ly) and go up to spy out t atteo tion of to be a fog; and sure enougopped, a t desded. Lee Scoresby k , t iculous order. t all, a volley of arro of the dark.

        tian men    do once, and died so silently t no one races or lay uedly still did t men notice oo late, because more arro t irregular knog sounds t came from up and doled into wood or frozen vas.

        t to e to s er of tiff limbs moved to obey as yet more arripped h.

        Lyra alaimet. Brus of o try and see y roar, and to t    smaserror and roars of bearise.

        But ians o defend t t (as even Lyra could see) made tter targets; and t easy to fire in gloves and mittens; ss, as against the ceaseless knog rain of arrows.

        And more and more men fell every minute.

        O in anguis foresee t    so t, for ty snarl from Pantalaimon, and sometled at    of Lyra    ing ifling tens, tossing o anot doo t s all at once. ill s togeto muffle ily:

        “lorek! lorek Byrnison! help me!”

        But could    tell; s, cruso a o lurc reac    it ing over rouged, moutifled, sobbing range voices spoke around her.

        “Pan...”

        “Im ill...”

        ugged at til    the frozen air.

        “hey?” she whispered.

        “tartars. I t John Faa.”

        “No—”

        “I satack. e kno.”

        “But we scer!”

        “end to be unscious.”

        t, Lyra could tell    traio tle, all s ance, and t pao hear.

        “take us to the Gobblers,” she whispered.

        to talaimoled close against her.

        “Ill fight,” he said.

        “So hem.”

        “So h.”

        “how far are we from Bolvangar?”

        Pantalaimon didnt kno    it han a days ride.

        After time t Lyras body orment from cramp, ttle, and somehe hood.

        S a broad Asiatic face, under a isfa, especially    of Lyras anorak to bare e ermih in a hiss.

        t Pantalaimon didnt flinch.

        to a sitting position and propped    t falling sideied beied    togetead and released her hands.

        t oo,    ians .

        t of course sood notried a different language . tried English.

        “You name?”

        Pantalaimon bristled    once. So t knoer; so per in ter all.

        “Lizzie Brooks,” she said.

        “Lissie Broogs,” er ake you nice plaice peoples.”

        “ho are you?”

        “Samoyed peoples. ers.”

        “aking me?”

        “Nice plaice peoples. You have panserbjorne?”

        “For prote.”

        “No good!    you anyway!”

        rolled hing.

        “, pointing back they had e.

        “traders.”

        “traders... trade?”

        “Fur, spirits,” she said. “Smokeleaf.”

        “they sell smokeleaf, buy furs?”

        “Yes.”

        o ime tably to try and see ly soo cold to peer out any longer, and lay doried to keep calm, but t of Jo o Farder ?

        And o kill to track her down?

        For t time, so feel a little sorry for herself.

        After a long time, trip of dried reindeer meat to c oug s in it. After c, s a little better. So ill ser ill tin and slipped it doo . Pantalaimo in as a mouse and pus as far do uom of her reindeer-skin legging.

        was done, sed, and soon so sleep.

        Sion of t s dazzling above    so pull t again. Siff and cold, but so pull    enougo see t tly bete at ts and into a y marketplace or an arena for some game or sport. It ly flat and smoote, and about a al fence.

        At ted. tside a loell, but s tunnels ected one part of tunnels    one side a stout metal mast    say    reminded her of.

        Before sake muc t rouged at to make till. A door opened in t came on overo find t.

        Lyras captor t rop letting go, and said sometures:    a Samoyed or a tartar.    icularly at Pantalaimon.

        to Lyra, “You speak English?”

        “Yes,” she said.

        “Does your daemon alake t form?”

        Of all ted questions! Lyra could only gape. But Pantalaimon ans in    t,    Pantalaimon    movement and spat as    on s wings.

        “I see,” said tone of satisfa, as Pantalaimouro Lyras shoulder.

        tant, and took off a mitten to reaco a pocket. ook out a draring purse and ted out a dozen o ters hand.

        t carefully, eag    a ba ted to te arena and into ts, gatil to the dark beyond.

        the dain.

        “e in quickly,” s able. Dont stand out in t is your name ?”

        any at Lyra could name.    of people s at Mrs. Coulters: smart and educated and important.

        “Lizzie Brooks,” she said.

        “e in, Lizzie. ell look after you    worry.”

        side for far longer; ient to be in to play sloted aant, and dragged    as sepped over to the building.

        t not too mug in w seemed unbearable , and o pull open her furs and push back her hood.

        t eig square, o t a, and in front of    of reception desk you migal. Everytly lit,    of se surfaces and stainless steel. t a faiual al-medical smell; and ing from t    too loo    of sound you o get used to mad.

        Pantalaimon at upid and dim. Be really sloupid.”

        Adults     e coat, a woman in a nurses uniform.

        “Englis man raders, apparently.”

        “Usual ers? Usual story?”

        “Same tribe, as far as I could tell. Sister Clara, could you take little, umm, ao her?”

        “Certainly, Doctor. e ly followed.

        t along a s corridor    and a teen on t, from    as old as Mrs. Coulter, Lyra guessed, o stitever to tell a story.    of strange ciced) tle rotting dog (and after a moment s had chilled her).

        “s your name, dear?” said t Lizzie?” “Lizzie Brooks.” “And how old are you?” “Eleven.”

        Lyra old t sever t meant. It ed ance, but s s noo make Lizzie s, and stle as s into the room.
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