Chapter 24 TWELVE - THE LOST BOY-2
She had seldom considered herself before, and found the experience interesting but uncomfortable, very like riding the bear, in fact. lorek Byrnison was pacing swiftly, moving both legs on one side of his body at the same time, and rocking from side to side in a steady powerful rhythm. She found she couldn't just sit:
she had to ride actively.
They had been traveling for an hour or more, and Lyra was stiff and sore but deeply happy, when lorek Byrnison slowed down and stopped.
"Look up," he said.
Lyra raised her eyes and had to wipe them with the inside of her wrist, for she was so cold that tears were blurring them. When she could see clearly, she gasped at the sight of the sky. The Aurora had faded to a pallid trembling glimmer, but the stars were as bright as diamonds, and across the great dark diamond-scattered vault, hundreds upon hundreds of tiny black shapes were flying out of the east and south toward the north.
"Are they birds?" she said.
"They are witches," said the bear.
"Witches! What are they doing?"
“Flying to war, maybe. I have never seen so many at one time.”
“Do you know any witches, lorek?”
“I have served some. And fought some, too. This is a sight to frighten Lord Faa.
If they are flying to the aid of your enemies, you should all be afraid."
"Lord Faa wouldn't be frightened. You ent afraid, are you?"
“Not yet. When I am, I shall master the fear. But we had better tell Lord Faa about the witches, because the men might not have seen them.”
He moved on more slowly, and she kept watching the sky until her eyes splintered again with tears of cold, and she saw no end to the numberless witches flying north.
Finally lorek Byrnison stopped and said, “There is the village.”
They were looking down a broken, rugged slope toward a cluster of wooden buildings beside a wide stretch of snow as flat as could be, which Lyra took to be the frozen lake. A wooden jetty showed her she was right. five minutes from the place.
“What do you want to do?” the bear asked. Lyra slipped off his back, and found it hard to stand. Her face was stiff with cold and her legs were shaky, but she clung to his fur and stamped until she felt stronger .
“Theres a child or a ghost or something down in that village,” she said, “or maybe near it, I dont know for certain. I want to go and find him and bring him back to Lord Faa and the others if I can . I thought he was a ghost, but the symbol reader might be telling me something I cant understand.”
“If he is outside,” said the bear, “he had better have some shelter.”
"I dont think hes dead," said Lyra, but she was far from sure. The alethiometer had indicated something uncanny and unnatural, which was alarming; but who was she? Lord Asriels daughter. And who was under her command? A mighty bear How could she possibly show any fear? “Lets just go and look,” she said.
She clambered on his back again, and he set off down the broken slope, walking steadily and not pacing any more. The dogs of the village smelled or heard or sensed them coming, and began to howl frightfully; about nervously, their antlers clashing like dry sticks. In the still air every movement could be heard for a long way.
As they reached the first of the houses, Lyra looked to the right and left, peering hard into the dimness, for the Aurora was fading and the moon still far from rising. Here and there a light flickered under a snow-thick roof, and Lyra thought she saw pale faces behind some of the windowpanes, and imagined their astonishment to see a child riding a great white bear.
At the center of the little village there was an open space next to the jetty, where boats had been drawn up, mounds under the snow. The noise of the dogs was deafening, and just as Lyra thought it must have woken everyone, a door opened and a man came out holding a rifle. His wolverine daemon leaped onto the woodstack beside the door, scattering snow.
Lyra slipped down at once and stood between him and lorek Byrnison, conscious that she had told the bear there was no need for his armor.
The man spoke in words she couldnt understand. lorek Byrnison replied in the same language, and the man gave a little moan of fear.
“He thinks we are devils,” lorek told Lyra. “What shall I say?”
“Tell him were not devils, but weve got friends who are. And were looking for...Just a child. A strange child. Tell him that.”
As soon as the bear had said that, the man pointed to the right, indicating some place further off, and spoke quickly.
lorek Byrnison said, “He asks if we have come to take the child away. They are afraid of it. They have tried to drive it away, but it keeps coming back.”
“Tell him well take it away with us, but they were very bad to treat it like that. Where is it?”
The man explained, gesticulating fearfully. Lyra was afraid hed fire his rifle by mistake, but as soon as hed spoke he hastened inside his house and shut the door. Lyra could see faces at every window.
"Where is the child?" she said.
“In the fish house,” the bear told her, and turned to pad down toward the jetty.
Lyra followed. She was horribly nervous. The bear was making for a narrow wooden shed, raising his head to sniff this way and that, and when he reached the door he stopped and said: “In there.”
Lyras heart was beating so fast she could hardly breathe. She raised her hand to knock at the door and then, feeling that that was ridiculous, took a deep breath to call out, but realized that she didnt know what to say. was so dark now! She should have brought a lantern....
There was no choice, and anyway, she didnt want the bear to see her being afraid. He had spoken of mastering his fear: that was what shed have to do. She lifted the strap of reindeer hide holding the latch in place, and tugged hard against the frost binding the door shut. It opened with a snap. She had to kick aside the snow piled against the foot of the door before she could pull it open, and Pantalaimon was no help, running back and forth in his ermine shape , a white shadow over the white ground, uttering little frightened sounds.
"Pan, for Gods sake!" she said. "Be a bat. Go and look for me...."
But he wouldn't, and he wouldn't speak either. She had never seen him like this except once, when she and Roger in the crypt at Jordan had moved the d^mon-coins into the wrong skulls. He was even more frightened than she was As for lorek Byrnison, he was lying in the snow nearby, watching in silence.
"Come out," Lyra said as loud as she dared. "Come out!"
Not a sound came in answer. She pulled the door a little wider, and Pantalaimon leaped up into her arms, pushing and pushing at her in his cat form, and said, “Go away! Don't stay here! Oh, Lyra, go now !Turn back!”
Trying to hold him still, she was aware of lorek Byrnison getting to his feet, and turned to see a figure hasting down the track from the village, carrying a lantern. When he came close enough to speak, he raised the lantern and held it to show his face: an old man with a broad, lined face, and eyes nearly lost in a thousand wrinkles. His daemon was an arctic fox.
He spoke, and lorek Byrnison said:
“He says that its not the only child of that kind. Hes seen others in the forest. Sometimes they die quickly, sometimes they dont die. This one is tough, he thinks. But it would be better for him if he died.”
“Ask him if I can borrow his lantern,” Lyra said.
The bear spoke, and the man handed it to her at once, nodding vigorously. She realized that hed come down in order to bring it to her, and thanked him, and he nodding again and stood back, away from her and the hut and away from the bear.
Lyra thought suddenly: what if the child is Roger? And she prayed with all her force that it wouldn't be. Pantalaimon was clinging to her, an ermine again, his little claws hooked deep into her anorak.
She lifted the lantern high and took a step into the shed, and then she saw what it was that the Oblation Board was doing, and what was the nature of the sacrifice the children were having to make.
The little boy was huddled against the wood drying rack where hung row upon row of gutted fish, all as stiff as boards. He was clutching a piece of fish to him as Lyra was clutching Pantalaimon, with her left hand, hard, against her heart ; but that was all he had, a piece of dried fish; because he had no da;mon at all.
The Gobblers had cut it away. That was intercision, and this was a severed child.