Chapter 8 8. Tower of Angels

Will asked, "Who's that with the knife?" They were in a Rolls-Royce bound for Oxford.Sir Charles sat in the front row, half turned on his side.Will and Lyla sat in the back, and Pantalaimon was now a mouse, lying quietly in Lyla's hands. "That man has no more claim to the knife than I have to the alethiometer," said Sir Charles. "We are all unlucky to have the alethiometer in my hand and the knife in his." .” "Then how do you know about that world?" "I know many things you don't. What do you think it is? I am much older than you and know much more. There are many passages between this world and that world, and those who know where to go back and forth easily People who walk through, there is an association of learned people in Magpie City, and they used to do this often."

"You're not from this world at all!" Lyra said suddenly. "You're from there, aren't you?" Her memory was strangely flooded again, and she was almost sure she'd seen him before. "No, I'm not," he said. Will said: "If we're going to get that knife from that guy, we've got to get to know that guy a little bit better. He's not going to just give us a knife, is he?" "Of course not. It's something that can drive away monsters. No matter what method is used, it will not be an easy task." "Is the monster afraid of that knife?"

"terrified." "Why do they only attack adults?" "You don't need to know why now, it doesn't matter. Lyra," Sir Charles said, turning to her, "tell me about your extraordinary friend." He meant Pantalaimon.No sooner had he finished than Will knew that the snake he had seen up his sleeve just now was also an elf, and that Sir Charles must have come from Lyra's world.He asked about Pantalaimon just to distract the conversation: he didn't realize, then, that Will saw his elf. Lyra held Pantalaimon close to her chest, and now he was a black mouse, his tail wagging around her wrist, his red eyes staring at Sir Charles.

"You shouldn't see him," she said. "He's my elf. You think you don't have elves in this world, but you do. Your elf must be a dung beetle." "If the Egyptian pharaoh was willing to use the scarab [the scarab (scarab) was recognized as a god by the ancient Egyptians, the image was used as a talisman or a symbol of the soul. The elf that Lyra called Charles in front was "shit gram beetle", which is the same as that of St. Beetle is also a scarab family] as a symbol, I would also be happy." He said, "Then it is interesting that you come from another world. Did the alethiometer come from there too? Or did you steal it while traveling?"

"Someone gave it to me," said Lyra exasperatedly. "It was given to me by the dean of Jordan College at my Oxford, and it belongs to me. You don't know how to use it, you stupid old man, You won't know how to read it in another hundred years. To you, it's just a toy. But I need it, and Will needs it. Don't worry, we'll get it back. " "We'll see," said Sir Charles. "That's where I let you off last time. Are you going to get off here?" "No," Will said, because he saw a police car parked not far down the road. "Because there are monsters, you can't go to Magpie City, so even if you know where the window is, it doesn't matter, and then send us to the side of the ring road."

"Whatever you want," said Sir Charles, and the car started again. "If you get that knife, just call me and Alan will come get you." They didn't say another word until the driver stopped.As they alighted, Sir Charles rolled down the window and said to Will, "By the way, if you don't get that knife, don't come back. If you come to me empty-handed, I'll call the police." If I'd given them your real name, I guess they'd be here right away. Your name is William Perry, isn't it? Yes, I think so. There's a nice picture of you in today's paper. "

The car drives away, leaving Will speechless. Lyra shook his arm. "It's all right," she said. "He won't tell anyone. If he wanted to say it, he would have said it. Come on." Ten minutes later they were standing on the square at the foot of the Tower of Angels.Will tells her about the snake spirit, and she stops in the street, distressed by her hazy memory.Who is that old man?Where has she seen him?No, she still can't remember. "I didn't mean to tell him," Lyra whispered, "but I saw a man standing on it last night. He looked down when the kids were making noise..."

"how does he look like?" "Very young, curly hair. Not old at all. But I saw him just for a moment, on top of the wall mound, at the very top. I thought he might be... Do you remember Angelica and Paul? Paul said They had an older brother who also came to the city and she stopped Paul from telling us like it was a secret? I think that could be him, maybe he was looking for the knife too. I guess all the kids Knowing that, that's the real reason kids come back here." "Well," he said, looking up, "maybe." She remembered the conversation the children had had that morning. They had said that no child would go into that tower, that there were terrible things in there.She remembered how uncomfortable she had felt when she and Pantalaimon had looked in through the door before she and Pantalaimon had left the city.Maybe that's why they needed an adult to go inside.Her daemon was now a moth in the bright sunlight, flapping its wings above her head, whispering anxiously.

"Hush," she replied in a low voice, "Pan, there is no other choice. It is our fault. We have to correct it. This is the only way." Will walked along the tower wall to the right, and at the turn there was a narrow cobbled path between that tower and another building.Will walked up the trail, looking up, surveying the terrain, Lyra following.Will stopped under a window on the second floor and said to Pantalaimon, "Can you fly up? Can you look inside?" He immediately turned into a sparrow and flew away.He could barely get that high, and when he reached the ledge, Lyra gasped and gave a little cry of surprise, and he stood there for a second or two before flying down again.She breathed a sigh of relief and took a few deep breaths, as if she had just been rescued after falling into the water.Will frowned in bewilderment.

"Can't stand it," she explained. "It hurts when the elf leaves you." "Excuse me, what did you see?" he asked. "The stairs," said Pantalaimon, "the stairs and the dark room, with swords and spears and shields hanging on the walls, like a museum. I saw the young man, too, and he was... dancing." "Dance?" "He was moving around, waving his hands, or wrestling with something invisible ... I saw him through an open door, not very clearly." "Fighting monsters?" Lyra guessed. But they couldn't guess anything else, so they went on.Behind the tower was a stone wall topped with broken glass, inside was a small garden, with a fountain, and neat flower terraces around it (Pantalaimon flew up again to have a look), and on the other side was a path , and brought them back to the square.The windows in the tower were small and deep, like worried eyes.

"We've got to go in the front," Will said. He went up the steps and pushed open the door, which let in sunlight and creaked its heavy hinges.He took a step or two in, saw no one, so he took a few more.Lyra followed closely.The floor is paved with slate, which has become smooth over time and is cool inside. Will saw a flight of stairs going down, so he went down again, into a large, low-ceilinged room with a huge coal stove at one end, the walls blackened with soot, but there There was no one, so he walked up the hallway again, and he found Lyra, with her finger on her lips, looking up. "I can hear it," she whispered. "I guess he's talking to himself." Will strained his ears to listen, and he heard it too: a low, muffled chants, now and then a harsh laugh or a short, angry cry that sounded like the voice of a madman. Will puffed up his cheeks and exhaled, and began to climb the stairs. The black oak stairs were wide and big. The steps were as old and solid as the stone slabs, and the feet would not creak when stepped on.It grew darker and darker as they went up, for the only source of light was a small, deep window on each landing.They stopped and listened as they ascended a floor, and then climbed again, the man's voice now mingling with the rhythmic swaying of footsteps from the room opposite the landing, with the door ajar. seam. Will tiptoes over and pushes the door open a few more inches so he can see. It was a large room with thick cobwebs accumulated on the ceiling.Bookshelves lined the walls, and on the shelves were tattered books, some with loose bindings and paper falling out.A few books were open and strewn about on the floor or on the wide dusty table, while others crammed into the shelves were jumbled about. There's a young man in the middle of the room who's -- dancing.Pantalaimon was right: the man was just as he said, with his back to the door, now this way, now that way, and his right hand kept waving in front of his body, as if to clear some invisible obstacle .In his hand was a knife, an ordinary-looking knife with a not-so-sharp blade about eight inches long.He raised the knife and stabbed forward, then slashed to both sides, groping forward while slashing, stabbing up and down, but there was nothing around. He moved again, as if to turn around, and Will stepped back.He put a finger to his lips, beckoned to Laila, and led her to the stairs and up another flight of stairs. "What is he doing?" she asked quietly. He described it to her in as much detail as possible. "He seems crazy," Lyra said. "Is he skinny with curly hair?" "Yes, red-haired, like Angelica. He does look mad, I don't know--I think it's stranger than Sir Charles said. Let's go upstairs and have a look, and then we'll talk to He talks." She didn't ask any questions, and he led her up the stairs to the top floor.It was much brighter there, because there was a white flight of stairs leading up to the roof—or, rather, it was like a conservatory, a building of wood and glass, and even at the bottom of the stairs they could feel it. Scorching heat. As they stood there, a moan was heard from above. They were taken aback.They had thought there was only one person in the tower.Pantalaimon changed from a cat to a bird in fright and flew to Lyra's chest, when Will and Lyra realized that they were holding each other's hands, and slowly let go. "Better go and see," Will whispered, "I'll go first." "I should go first," she whispered, "because it's my fault." "Because it's your fault, you have to do as I tell you." She pouted, but followed him anyway. He climbed up and came into the sunlight.The sunlight in the glass building is dazzling, and the inside is as hot as a sunny greenhouse. Will could neither see nor breathe on his own.He spotted the doorknob, so he turned it and stepped out quickly, holding up his hand to shield the sun from his eyes. He found himself on top of a lead pit, surrounded by low buttresses.The glass building is in the middle, and the top of the lead pit tower around it shows a slight slope, leading to the stone sink under the low wall, and there are some square drainage holes in the stone groove to drain rainwater. Under the scorching sun, an old man with white hair was lying on the lead roof.His face was bruised and purple, and one eye was closed, and as they got closer they realized his hands were tied behind his back. He heard them approach, began to groan again, and tried to roll over to defend himself. "Never mind," Will said softly, "we won't hurt you. Did the guy with the knife do it?" "Well," the old man muttered. "Let's untie the rope. He's not tied very tight..." The rope was tied hastily and roughly, and soon after Will figured out how to untie it, it let loose.They helped the old man to his feet and led him into the shadow of the wall. "Who are you?" Will said. "We didn't expect there were two people here. We thought there was only one person here." "Giacomo Paradisi," the old man muttered through his mouth with half-toothed teeth, "I am the knife bearer and no one else. The young man stole it from me, and there are often fools like him Risked it for the knife, but this man is desperate, he's going to kill me." "No, it won't," Lyra said. "What about the knife man? What does that mean?" "I own this magic sword on behalf of the association. Where did he go?" "He's downstairs," Will said. "We passed him when we came up. He didn't see us. He was waving a knife in the air." "He's trying to cut through, and he won't succeed. When he—" "Be careful," Lyra said. Will turned and the young man climbed into the cabin, he didn't see them, but there was nowhere to hide.He saw their movements as they stood up, and he turned suddenly to face them. Instantly Pantalaimon turned into a bear and leaped at his legs from behind.Only Laila knew that he couldn't touch the man.The man blinked and stared for a moment, but Will could tell he didn't really care. He was crazy, his red curls were matted, his chin was speckled with spittle, and the whites of his eyes were showing around the pupils. He had the knife, and they didn't have any weapons. Will left the old man, came to the top of the lead pit and squatted down, ready to jump down at any time, or fight him, or jump to another place. The young man rushed forward and slashed at him with a knife—left, right, left, getting closer and closer, forcing Will to fall straight back, and finally trapped in the corner of the tower. Lyra crawled toward the man from behind, the untied rope in her hand.Will slams forward, as he did with that man at home, and the effect is the same: his opponent is caught by surprise, knocked straight back, rolling off Lyra, and onto the top of the lead pit.It all happened so fast that Will didn't have time to feel scared.But he was just in time to see the knife fall from the man's hand and land on top of a lead pit a few feet away.The tip of the knife rushed down without encountering any resistance. It was like falling into a piece of butter, and the blade disappeared all the way to the handle, and then stopped suddenly. The young man turned immediately to get the knife, but Will threw himself on his back, grabbing him by the hair. He had learned to fight at school, and whenever the kids sniffed out something was wrong with his mother, there were plenty of fights to come.He's also learned that fighting at school isn't about scoring points with good posture, it's about forcing your opponent to submit, and that means hurting him more than he hurts you.He also knew that you had to be willing to hurt people, and he found that not many people would hurt others when things came to an end, but he knew he would. So he's no stranger to this, but he hasn't gotten into a fight with a nearly grown man with a knife before, so he has to do whatever it takes to stop the man from picking up the knife he dropped. Will ran his fingers through the man's thick wet hair and pulled back with all his strength.The man grunted and flung himself sideways, struggling, but Will pulled harder, his opponent growling in pain and rage.He lunged forward, then backed away sharply, squeezing Will between him and the wall, so hard that Will was squeezed so hard that he almost lost his breath, fainted, and let go.The man broke free. Will knelt in the sink, panting, but he couldn't stay there.He tried to get up - and as he did so, one foot went into the drain hole.His fingers clawed desperately at the warm lead, and for a frightening moment he thought he would slide from the top of the tower to the ground, but nothing happened, his left foot missed, and the rest of his body Parts were left unharmed. He drew back his left foot and limped to his feet.The man reached for the knife again, but before he could pull it out of the lead, Lyra jumped onto his back and scratched and kicked and bit like a wild cat as she tried to grab his Hair, but he didn't catch it, and he threw it to the ground.When he stood up, he had the knife in his hand. Lyra was thrown aside, and Pantalaimon stood beside her now a wild cat, hair bristling and grinning.Will faced the man, seeing him clearly for the first time.There is no doubt that he is Angelica's brother, yes, he is very cruel, all his attention is on Will, and the knife is in his hand. But Will is no coward either. He grabbed the piece of rope that Lyra had dropped and wrapped it around his left hand for protection from the knife.He came between the young man and the sun so that the opponent had to squint at him.Even better, the glass building reflected so much light into his eyes that Will could see that for a moment he could barely see anything. He jumped to the left of the man, and away from the knife, he held his left hand high and kicked hard at the man's knee. He aimed carefully, his kick hit the target, and the man squatted with a yelp, then limped awkwardly out of the way.Will chased after him, kicking him constantly, kicking him wherever he reached, forcing him to retreat into the glass room.If only he could be forced to the top of the stairs... This time, the man fell more heavily, and his right hand holding the knife was hanging on the lead floor at Will's feet, and Will immediately stepped on it, forcefully Pressing his fingers between the hilt of the knife and the leaden floor, he wrapped the rope tighter around his hands and stomped on his fingers again.The man let go of the knife with a yell.Will kicked the knife away immediately, only touching the handle with his shoe, which was lucky for him.The knife jumped up from the lead floor and landed next to a drainage hole.The rope in his hand was loose again, as if a lot of blood gushed out from somewhere, splashing on the lead surface and his shoes.The man stood up by himself—"Careful!" Lyra called, but Will was ready. When the man lost his balance, Will slammed into his stomach as hard as he could.The man fell on his back on the glass, and the glass shattered immediately, and the loose wooden frame also fell apart.He climbed up from the ruins of the stairwell and grabbed the door frame, but the door frame also fell quickly because of the lack of support.He fell, and more shards of glass fell beside him. Will ran back to the sink, picked up the knife, and the fight was over.The defeated young man climbed up the stairs, and seeing Will standing there with a knife, he gave a sullen stare and turned and ran. "Ah," Will said, sitting down, "ah." Before he noticed, something terrible had happened.He dropped the knife and took hold of his left hand, the ball of rope already soaked in blood, and when he tore it off—"Your fingers!" Lyra gasped. "Oh, Will—" His pinky fell out, along with the next finger and the string. His head was buzzing.Blood was coming out of the knoll where his finger used to be, and his jeans and shoes were already soaked in blood.He had to lie on his back and close his eyes.The pain was less severe, and a part of him was slightly surprised.It wasn't like the sharp, clear sting of a cut through the skin, but more like the dull thud of a hammer. He had never felt so weak, and for a moment he thought he had fallen asleep.Lyra played with his arms.He sat up to inspect the injury, he was a little dizzy.The old man was nearby, but Will couldn't see what he was doing when Lyra spoke to him. "If only we had blood moss," she said, "that's what bears use, then I can do better. Will, I can, look, now I'm going to tie this rope around your arm Stop the bleeding because I can't tie it where your finger used to be, because it can't be tied there. Hold it still." He let her tie the rope, and he looked around for his fingers.There they were, lying bent over the lead, like two bloody question marks.he laughed. "Hey," she said, "don't do that, get up. Mr. Paradisi has some medicine, it's an ointment, I don't know what it is, you have to go downstairs. The man has run away - we saw him run out the gate , and now he's gone, you beat him. Come on, Will—come on—" She coaxed and coaxed him downstairs, and they walked carefully through the broken glass and wooden strips all over the floor, into a small, dark room in the stairwell, with bottles, jars, pestles and mortars lined up against the walls. , and balances for chemists.There was a stone sink under the dirty window, and the old man was pouring something from a large bottle into a small one with trembling hands. "Sit down and drink this," he said, pouring a dark golden liquid into the shot glass. Will sat down and took the glass.He had just taken the first sip, and his throat felt like it was on fire. Will gasped, and Lyra hurried to catch the glass, fearing it would fall. "Drink it all," ordered the old man. "what is this?" "Plum wine, drink it." Will sips carefully.Now his hands are really starting to hurt. "Can you cure him?" Lyra asked, her voice sounding hopeless. "Oh, yes, we have all kinds of medicine. You, little girl, go open the desk drawer and get a roll of bandages." Will saw the knife lying on the table in the middle of the room, and before he could pick it up, the old man was limping towards him with a bowl of water. "Drink this too," said the old man. Will held the glass tightly, and closed his eyes as the old man fiddled with something in his hand.He felt a sting, but then he felt a towel wrapped around his wrist, something lightly touching his wound, it was cool first, then it hurt again. "This ointment is very precious," said the old man. "It is difficult to get, but it is good for wounds." It was a squashed, dusty tube of common antiseptic ointment that Will could have bought in any pharmacy in his world, but the old man held it as if it had been made with myrrh [Myrrh (myrrh), an aromatic gum resin extracted from several trees and shrubs of the genus Myrrh in India, Arabia, and East Africa, and used in perfumes or spices].Will looks away. As the man applied Will's wound, Lyra felt Pantalaimon calling her silently to come to the window.He turned into a kestrel now, peering out through the window sill, he saw the movement below.She watched with him too, and she saw a familiar figure: the girl Angelica was running towards her brother, and Tullio was standing on the other side of the narrow street, with his back against the wall, waving his arms in the air, Like trying to drive a swarm of bats off your face. Then he turned again and began to run his hands over the stones on the wall, counting them, feeling the edges, hunching his shoulders and shaking his head as if to avoid something behind him. Angelica was desperate, and so was little Paul behind her, and they ran up to their brother, grabbed his arm, and tried to pull him away from what was bothering him. Lyra felt sick for a moment. She knew what had happened: he had been attacked by a monster.Angelica knew this, and although she couldn't see them, little Paul cried and fought against the empty air to drive them away, but it didn't work, Tullio couldn't.His movements became more and more sluggish, and soon stopped.Angelica held him and shook his arms, but couldn't wake him; Paul kept crying his brother's name, as if that would call him back. Then Angelica seemed to feel Lyra looking at her, and she looked up.For a moment their eyes met, and the hatred in her eyes was so deep that Lyra shuddered as if she had punched her.At this moment, Paul noticed her gaze and raised his head. He shouted in a childish voice, "We're going to kill you! You killed Tullio! We're going to kill you!" The two children turned and ran, leaving behind their dead brother.Terrified and guilty, Laila retreated into the room and closed the window.The rest of the room didn't hear Giacomo Paradisi applying more ointment to Will's wounds, and Lyra tried to get what she saw out of her mind and focus on Will's wound. on Er. "You've got to tie something around his arm," Lyra said, "to stop the bleeding, or it won't stop." "Yes, yes, I know," said the old man sadly. Will's eyes were looking away as they wrapped the bandages, drinking the plum wine in sips.Although the wound was still hurting badly at this moment, he was already much calmer, as if the wound had nothing to do with him. "Here," said Giacomo Paradisi, "here is this knife, take it, it is yours." "I don't want it," Will said, "I don't want anything to do with it." "You have no choice," said the old man, "now you are the one with the knife." "I remember you saying you were the knife bearer," Lyra said. "My time is over," he said. "The knife knows when to leave one man's hand for another, and I know how to know it. Don't you believe me? Look!" He held out his left hand, missing the little finger and the adjacent finger, exactly like Will. "Yes," he said, "me too. I wrestled and lost the same two fingers. That's the mark of a knife bearer. I didn't know it beforehand." Lyra sat down, her eyes widening.Will propped his good hand on the dusty table, tongue gaping. "But I—we're only here—there's a guy who stole from Lyra, and he wanted the knife, and he said if we'd give it to him, he'd—" "I know the man. He's a liar, a liar, and he won't give you anything. He wants the knife, but once he gets it, he'll betray you. He'll never be a Swordsman, this knife is yours now." Will reluctantly went to get the knife, which appeared to be just an ordinary dagger, about eight inches long, with dull dull metal on both sides and a short horizontal handle of the same metal. , and a knife handle made of mahogany.As he looked at it more closely, he saw that the mahogany was inlaid with gold threads, forming a pattern which he did not recognize at first until he turned the knife and saw that it was an angel, with its wings folded together.On the other side is a different angel with outstretched wings.The gold thread slightly floats out of the surface, making it very solid to hold.When he picked up the knife, he felt that the knife was light in his hand, well balanced, and the blade was not dull at all.In fact, under the metal surface, there seems to be a cloud of mist hidden there, blue purple, sea blue, brown yellow, cloud gray, dark green like the shade of a tree, the dark shadows at the entrance of the tomb in the desolate cemetery under the night... If you say where There is this illusory color, that is on the blade of this magic sword. But the blade is different.In fact, the blades on both sides are not the same.One side is clear steel, which is incomparably sharp, and the back melts into those illusory colors.Will looked at the knife first, and it looked so sharp that Will averted his gaze.The blade on the other side was equally sharp, but silver-white. Lyra, looking at the knife over Will's shoulder, said, "I've seen that color before! They tried to cut me and Pantalaimon with the same knife—exactly the same!" "The blade on this side," said Giacomo Paradisi, touching the steel blade with the handle of a spoon, "can cut through anything in the world, look." He pressed the silver spoon against the blade, and Will held the knife. He felt only a slight resistance, and the handle of the spoon was chipped off cleanly and fell to the table. "The blade on the other side," the old man went on, "is much more precise, and you can cut through the whole world with it. Try it now, and do as I say—you are the blade holder, and you must know, except I have no one to teach you, but my time is running out. Stand up and listen." Will pushed his chair back and stood up.He gripped the knife loosely, feeling dizzy, sick, and rebellious. "I don't want to—" he started, but Giacomo Paradisi shook his head. "Quiet! You don't want to—you don't want to...you have no choice! Listen to me, time is running out, hold this knife now—like this. It's not just about cutting with the knife, it's about using your Will, you have to think about it. Do it now: focus on the point of the knife, focus, boy, focus your mind.Don't think about your wound, it will heal.Think of the tip of the knife, now you are there.Now feel with it, lightly. You're looking for a small notch, too small for your eyes to see, but if you focus on the tip of the knife it will find it.Feel it in the air until you feel the tiniest gap that exists in this world..." Will tried to do it, but his head was buzzing, his left hand was throbbing so badly, and he saw his two fingers lying on the roof again, and he thought of his mother, poor mother... What will she say?How would she comfort him?How should he comfort her?He put the knife on the table, squatted down, hugged his injured hand and cried, he couldn't take so much.Cries shook his throat and chest, tears blurred his eyes, and he was crying for her, the poor, frightened, sad relative--he had left her, he had left her...he was sad and alone, But at this moment, he felt that the strangest thing had happened.He wiped his eyes with the back of his right hand, and saw Pantalaimon's head appear in his lap.The elf, now a wolfhound, lifted his head and gazed at him with sad, tender eyes, and then he licked the wounded hand softly and repeatedly, resting his head on Will's lap again. superior. Will doesn't know about the taboo in Lyra's world: one can't touch other people's elves.If he hadn't touched Pantalaimon before, he was keeping his distance out of politeness, not knowing it.Laila was very surprised.Her daemon had done what he had done of his own volition, and became a tiny moth, flapping its wings and flying back to her shoulders.The old man looked on curiously, but not in disbelief, for he had seen elves before, and he had traveled to other worlds. Pantalaimon's actions worked, Will swallowed hard, stood up again, and wiped the tears from his eyes. "Okay," he said, "I'll try again. Tell me how." This time he forced himself to focus, to do what Giacomo Paradisi told him, his teeth clenched, his body shaking from the exertion and sweating.Lyra couldn't wait to interrupt him, because she knew the process, and Dr. Malone knew it, and Keats, the poet, whoever he was, knew it too, and they all knew that more haste makes waste, but She clasped her hands tightly, trying not to say a word. "Stop," said the old man kindly, "relax, don't force it. It's a magic knife, not a heavy sword. You're holding it too tight. Relax your fingers. Let your thoughts wander along your arms, to the wrist, then into the handle, then to the blade. Take it easy, take your time, don't force it, just roam, then come to the tip, come to the sharpest part of the knife, and you'll be with the tip One. Now, go out there and feel it, then come back." Will tried again.Lyra could see the tension in his body, the movement of his jaw, and she sensed a will emerging from there, calm, relaxed, defined.The will was Will's own - or, perhaps, his elf's.How he would have liked to have an elf!That solitude... no wonder he was crying, Pantalaimon was right to do that, even though it was strange to her.She held out her hand to her beloved elf, now a mink, and he flung himself on her lap. Will's body stopped shaking, and they watched him together.He wasn't letting up, he was focusing in a different way now, and the knife didn't look the same.也许是因为刀身云雾般的色彩，也许是因为威尔拿刀时那种自然的方式，他和刀尖一起做出的那些动作不再漫无目的，而是果断坚定。他用这种方式感觉着，然后他转动小刀，用银白色的一侧感觉着，这时他似乎发现空气中有一些细微的突出。 “这是什么？是它吗？”他声音嘶哑地问。 “是的，别强迫。现在回来吧，回到你自己。” 在莱拉的想像中，她看见威尔的灵魂沿着刀身、他的手和胳臂向上飞回了他的心。他退后一步，垂下手，眨了眨眼睛。 “我觉得那儿有什么东西，”他对贾科姆?帕拉迪西说，“这把刀先是在空气中划过，然后我就感觉到……” “好，现在再做一次。这一次，当你感觉到的时候，让刀沿着它滑进去，来砍一刀。别犹豫，也别吃惊，别把刀掉下来。” 威尔得蹲下去，深呼吸几下，再把左手放在另一只胳臂下，然后他才能继续，但他很专心。几秒钟后，他又站了起来，把刀举在面前。 这一次容易多了。只要他感觉过它一次，下一次他就知道该寻找什么，这次不到一分钟他就感觉到了那个奇怪的小突起，这就像用解剖刀的刀尖仔细探寻两个针脚间的切口一样。他碰了碰它，又退回来，然后又碰了碰它加以确定，再然后，他按照老人说的去做，用银白色的刀刃削了一刀。 贾科姆?帕拉迪西事先提醒他别吃惊是明智的，他小心地握住刀，把它放在桌子上，然后才表示出惊讶。莱拉早已站起身来，她目瞪口呆，因为在这个灰扑扑的小房间的正中央，出现了一个窗口，和角树下的那个窗口一模一样：半空中的一个缺口，透过它他们可以看见另外一个世界。 因为他们身处高塔，他们在牛津北部的高空，下面是一片墓地，可以回头看到整个城市，在他们前面不远处就是那排角树，还有房子、树、马路，还有远处的高塔和城市里的尖顶建筑。 如果不是他们见过第一个窗口，他们会以为这是某种光的魔术。只不过，那不仅是光，还有空气进来，他们能闻到汽车的汽油味，而这在喜鹊城是没有的。 潘特莱蒙变成一只小麻雀飞了过去，他在开阔的半空中很高兴，还抓住了一只小昆虫，然后才又飞回到莱拉的肩膀上。 贾科姆?帕拉迪西带着好奇和悲伤的微笑注视着他，然后说道：“打开就到此为止了，现在你得学会如何关上。” 莱拉往后站了站，给威尔让出地方，老头站到他身边。 “这要用你的手指，”他说，“一只手就可以了。感觉它的边缘，就像你刚才开始时，感觉那把小刀一样。除非你把灵魂集中在指尖，否则你发现不了它。 你要非常轻柔地去接触它，不停地感觉它，直到你找到边缘为止。然后你再把它夹上，合起来，就是这样。Try it. " 但威尔在颤抖，他明白要使意识达到某种微妙的平衡，但他却无法集中注意力，他越来越恼火，莱拉看出来是怎么回事。 她站起来，拉着威尔的右胳臂说道：“听着，威尔，坐下，我来告诉你该怎么做。你先坐下歇一会儿，因为你的手很疼，这分散了你的注意力，这是肯定的。 过一会儿就好了。 " 老头先是举起了双手，然后又改变了主意，他耸耸肩，又坐了下来。 威尔坐下来，看着莱拉，“我做错什么了？”他问道。 他浑身血迹斑斑，颤抖着，眼神疯狂。他紧张到了极点：他咬着牙，脚敲打着地面，呼吸急促。 “是因为你的伤口，”她说，“你什么都没做错，你做得对，但你的手让你无法集中注意力。我不知道还有什么别的办法，除非，也许你可以试试不要排斥它。” “你的意思是什么？” “哦，你脑中同时在做两件事，你想忽视疼痛，又想关上那个窗口。我想起有一次我在特别害怕的时候阅读真理仪，也许那时候我已经习惯了，我不知道，但我读它的时候还是一直害怕。你就放松心情，心想，是的，它的确很疼，我知道。但别试图去排斥它。” 他闭了闭眼睛，呼吸放缓了一些。 “好吧，”他说，“我来试一试。” 这次就容易多了。他感觉着边缘，结果他一分钟之内就找到了它，他按贾科姆?帕拉迪西说的去做：把边缘捏合起来。这是最容易做的事。他感到一种短暂的、平静的快乐，于是那个窗口不见了，另一个世界关上了。 老人递给他一个皮鞘，镶着坚硬的牛角，还有系刀的扣子，因为刀刃最轻微的移动都会割开最厚的皮革。威尔用笨拙的手把刀放进刀鞘，尽可能紧紧地扣上。 “这应该是一个神圣的时刻，”贾科姆?帕拉迪西说，“如果我们有几个星期的时间，我会跟你讲这把魔法神刀的故事，还有天使之塔的协会，还有这个腐败草率的世界令人悲哀的历史。妖怪是我们的错，也只能是我们的错。它们的出现因为我的前任们，炼金术士、哲学家、博学的人们，他们对物质最深层的本质进行研究和探索，他们对把最微小的物质的粒子聚合起来的纽带很好奇。你知道我说的纽带吗？结合物质的东西？ “这是一个重商的社会，一个充满商人和银行家的社会。我们以为我们了解债券（”债券“和”绷带“的英文是一个词，都是bond），我们以为债券可以转让，可以买卖和交换……但是关于这些纽带，我们却错了，我们解开了它们，我们把妖怪放了进来。” 威尔问道：“妖怪是从哪儿来的？那排树的下面为什么会有那个窗口呢？我们第一次就是从那里过来的。这个世界上还有其他的窗口吗？” “妖怪从哪儿来是一个谜——从另一个世界，从某个黑暗的空间……谁知道呢？问题是它们在这儿毁掉了我们。这个世界上还有另外的窗口吗？是的，有一些，因为持刀者有时候因为粗心或是遗忘，来不及把应该关上的窗口关好。你来时的那个窗口，角树下面那个……是我自己一时糊涂留在那儿的。我害怕一个人，我原本想把他引到这个城市，让他成为妖怪的牺牲品。但我觉得他太聪明了，这个把戏不会引他上钩的。他想要那把刀。求求你，千万别让他拿到。” 威尔和莱拉交换了一下眼神。 “那好，”老头说完摊开双手，“我能做的就是把刀传给你，告诉你怎么使用，这我已经做到了。我还要告诉你协会衰落前的旧规矩，第一，千万不要打开窗口后忘了关上；第二，永远不要让别人使用这把刀，它只是你一个人的；第三，永远不要为了卑鄙的目的使用它；第四，保守这个秘密。如果还有其他规矩的话，那我已经忘了，但如果我忘记它们的话，那是因为那些并不重要。你有了这把刀，你就是持刀者，你不该再是一个孩子了。我们的世界一片混乱，但持刀者的标志是不会错的，虽然我连你的名字都不知道。现在走吧，我很快就会死的，因为我知道哪里有毒药，我不想等到妖怪进来，这把刀一离开它们就会来。走吧。” “但，帕拉迪西先生——”莱拉开口道。 但他摇摇头，继续说道：“没有时间了。你们来这儿是有目的的，也许你们还不知道目的是什么，但带你们来的天使知道。走吧，你很勇敢，你的朋友也很聪明，你也拥有了这把刀，走吧。” “你不会真的毒死你自己吧？”莱拉忧伤地问道。 “走吧。”威尔说。 “你指的那些天使是什么意思？”她继续问。 威尔拽着她的袖子。 “走吧，”他又说道，“我们得走了。谢谢你，帕拉迪西先生。” 他伸出血迹斑斑、沾满灰尘的右手，老头轻轻地握了握，他也握了握莱拉的手，对潘特莱蒙点了点头，潘特莱蒙垂下他的貂脑袋致意。 威尔捏着皮鞘里的刀，他领着路，走下宽阔黑暗的楼梯，来到塔外。小广场里阳光强烈，一片寂静。莱拉十分警惕地观察着周围，但街上空无一人。还是别把她看到的事情告诉威尔了，免得他担忧，需要担忧的事情本来就已经够多的了。 她带他离开她曾见到那些孩子的那条街时，遇难的图利奥仍然一动不动地站着，像死了一样。 “我希望——”当他们快要离开广场时，莱拉站住了，回头仰视着，她说，“太可怕了，想到……他的牙都碎了，眼睛也快瞎了……他现在会喝毒药自杀的，我希望——” 她的眼泪就要夺眶而出。 “嘘，”威尔说，“他不会难受的。他就是睡着了，这总比遇见妖怪好，这是他说的。” “我们该怎么办呢，威尔？”她说，“我们该怎么办？你受了这么重的伤，还有那个可怜的老头……我恨这个地方，我真恨它，我真想一把火把这儿都烧光。 我们现在该怎么办？ " “哦，”他说，“那好办，我们得把真理仪拿回来，我们只能去偷了。这就是我们要做的事情。”