Chapter 22 22. Whisperer

Thick as the autumn leaves that scatter the streams of Vallombrosa, There, the everlasting tall shade of green shades the sky and shuts the sun... — John Milton The first thing Will did was tell Lyra to sit down, and then he took out the little jar of blood moss ointment and looked at the cut on her head, where blood was gurgling, but not deep.He tore a piece off the hem of his shirt to wipe off the blood, dabbed some ointment on the wound, and tried not to think about the filth of the claw that scratched her. Lyra's eyes were glazed, her face pale. "Lyla! Lyla!" he said, shaking her gently. "Now, we must go."

She shivered, took a long breath tremblingly, and stared fixedly at him, full of crazy despair. "Will - I can't do this anymore - I can't do this again! I can't lie! I thought it would be easy to lie - but it doesn't work - that's all I can do and it doesn't work! " "You can do more than that, can't you read the alethiometer? Come on, let's see where we are, let's go find Roger." He lifted her up and they looked around the world where the ghosts lived for the first time. They found themselves on a great plain that stretched far into the fog ahead.The light source by which they see is a dim light that seems to be evenly distributed everywhere, so that there are no real shadows, no real light, and everything is the same dark black.

Standing in the vast space were adults and children—ghost people—so many that Laila couldn't guess their number.At least they were mostly standing, though some were sitting, some were lying in a mess or sleeping, and no one was moving or running or playing around, though many turned to look at the newcomers with wide-eyed With fear and curiosity. "Ghosts," she whispered. "This is where they all are, all the dead..." Apparently because she no longer had Pantalaimon, she held Will's arm tightly, and he was glad she did.The Galliferspins flew ahead, and he saw their bright little figures dashing and flitting above the heads of the ghosts.The ghosts looked up and followed them in amazement, but the silence was vast and oppressive; the dim light filled him with terror, and Lyra, warm against him, was the only thing alive he felt.

Behind them, the screams of the harpies still echoed from the lakeshore.Some ghosts looked up worriedly, but many more were staring at Will and Lyra, and they began to rush forward.Lyra flinched back, she didn't have the strength to face them as she would, and it was Will who spoke first. "Do you speak our language?" he said. "Can you speak a little?" Though they trembled and feared and pained, he and Lyra held more authority than all the dead put together, and these poor ghosts had little power of their own, and to hear Will's voice was in all the memory of the dead. At the first clear sound, many ghosts stepped forward, eager to respond.

But they could only whisper, they could only make a faint pale sound, not much more than a soft breathing. As they swarmed forward, Galliferspin flew down and flew in front of them, preventing them from getting too close.The baby ghosts looked up with passion and longing, and Lyra knew why at once: they thought the dragonflies were elves, and they wished so much to have their own elves again. "Oh, they're not elves," Lyra blurted out sympathetically, "if my own elf was here, you could all touch him, I swear—" She held out her hands to the children, and the listless or frightened adult ghosts did not approach, but the children all rushed forward.They were as insubstantial as the fog; poor thing, Lyra's hand went through them one by one, as did Will's.They pressed forward, lithe and lifeless, to warm themselves in the blood and beating hearts of the two travelers.Will and Lyra felt a cold, fuzzy subtle sensation as the ghosts walked through their bodies to warm themselves all the way.

The two living children feel that they are dying little by little, they have no infinite vitality and warmth to give, they are already very cold, and the endless crowd is still pushing forward, it seems that it will never stop . Finally, Lyra had to beg them to stay away. She held up her hands and said, "Please—we want to be able to touch all of you, but we're here to find someone, and I need you to tell me where he is so I can find him. Oh, Will ’” she said, resting her head on his. "I wish I knew what to do!" The ghosts were drawn to the blood on Lyra's forehead, which glistened like holy berries in the dim light, and a few grazed through it, eager to touch something so alive.A female ghost who must have died around the age of nine or ten came up coyly and tried to touch it, then shrank back in fear, but Lyra said, "Don't be afraid—we're not here to hurt Yours - talk to us if you can talk!"

The ghost woman spoke, but her thin, pale voice was only a whisper. "Did the harpies do it? Did they try to hurt you?" "Yes," said Lyra, "but if that's all they can do, I won't be afraid of them." "Oh, no—oh, they could do worse things—" "What? What do they do?" But they didn't want to tell her, shook their heads, and said nothing until one boy said, "It's not so bad for those of them who have been here for hundreds of years, because after so long you get tired of it." Now, they can't frighten you so much—"

"The new ones they want to talk to the most," said the first girl. "That's just... oh, that's just hateful. They... I can't tell you." Their voices were no louder than dry leaves falling, and it was only the children who spoke, the adults all sinking into a deep lifelessness, probably never to move or speak again. "Listen," Lyra said, "listen to me. We're here, me and my friends, because we've got to find a boy named Roger, and he hasn't been here long, only a few weeks, So he doesn't know a lot of people, but if you guys know where he is..."

But even as she said this, she knew that they might stay here until they died, searching every corner, examining every face, and seeing only a tiny fraction of the dead.She felt the weight of despair on her shoulders, as heavy as a harpy on her shoulders. But she clenched her teeth and tried to lift her chin high.Here we are, she thought, and that's part of it anyway. The first female ghost was speaking in her thin whisper. "Why are we looking for him?" said Will. "Well, Lyra wants to talk to him, and I want someone, too. I want my father, John' Perry. He's here somewhere, I want to speak to him before I go back to that world. So if you can, please call Roger and John. Perry to speak to Lyra and Will and tell them—”

But suddenly all the ghosts turned and fled, even the adult ghosts, like dry leaves blown away by a sudden hurricane.For a moment the clearing around the children was empty, and then they heard what was happening: various screeches and cries came from the air above, and then the harpies sprang upon them with a wave of A foul-smelling wind, flapping its wings, cynicizing and chattering with hoarse screams. Lyra immediately shrank to the ground and covered her ears.Will, knife in hand, crawled on top of her.He could see Thales and Sarmazia flying towards them, but they were still some distance away; he had a little time to watch the harpies twirling and swooping.He saw their faces in the air, gaping and biting, as if they were eating insects, and he heard the words they were shouting—jeering, dirty words, all about his mother that shook his heart, but he Part of the brain is quite calm, unmoved, thinking, calculating, and observing.None of them wanted to get near the knife.

To see what would happen, he stood up, and a harpies—possibly Doe himself—had to make a lumbering turn as she swooped too low just above his head. Passing by, her heavy wings flapped clumsily, turning around with difficulty.He could have reached out and chopped her head off with a knife. At this time, the Galliferspin arrived, and the two were about to attack, but Will shouted: "Tales! come here!Sarmazia, come to my hand! " They landed on his shoulders and he said, "Look, look what they do. They're just coming and screaming. I think she made a mistake attacking Lyra. They don't want to touch us at all. We can just ignore them." Lyra looked up with wide-eyed eyes.The guys flew around Will's head, sometimes only a foot or so away, but always turned to the side or up at the last moment.He could feel the two spies eager to fight, the wings of the dragonflies quivering as the riders eager to carry them to each other's death rushed through the air, but they contained themselves: they could see that he was right. This had an effect on the ghosts too: seeing Will standing there, neither frightened nor harmed, they began to float back to the travelers.They looked at the harpies curiously, but despite this, the temptation of the warm flesh and the strong heartbeat were too hard to resist. Lila stood up to join Will.Her wound was open again, and fresh blood trickled down her cheek, but she wiped it aside. "Will," she said, "I'm so glad we came down here together..." He heard a tone in her voice and saw an expression on her face that was familiar and favorite to him: it showed that she was thinking of something daring, but she wasn't there yet. Be prepared to speak up. He nodded to show that he understood. The female ghost said, "This way - come with us - we'll find them!" They both felt the strangest feeling, as if little ghost hands were reaching inside, tugging at their ribs to make them follow. So they set off, across the great desolate plain, with the harpies rolling higher and higher overhead, screaming and screaming, but they kept their distance.Galliferspin flew up to watch. The ghosts talked to them as they walked. "Excuse me," said a ghost girl, "but where are your elves? Forgive me for asking, but..." Lyra was thinking of her dear abandoned Pantalaimon all the time, and she couldn't say it easily, so Willa answered for her. "We left our elves outside," he said. "It's safe for them there, and we'll fetch them later. Have you ever had elves?" "Yes," said the ghost, "his name was Sanderling... oh, I love him..." "Is he in shape?" Lyra said. "No, not yet. He used to think he was going to be a bird, and I hope he won't, because I like him lying all furry in bed at night, but then he's becoming more and more like a bird. What's your elf's name ?” Lyra told her, and the ghosts pressed forward eagerly again, they all wanted to talk about their elves, everyone wanted to. "Mine's called Matt Pan—" "We used to play hide and seek and she used to turn into a chameleon and I couldn't see her at all, she was always so good—" "One time I hurt my eye and I couldn't see the way, and he led me all the way home—" "He never wanted to be stereotyped, but I wanted to grow up, and we used to fight—" "She used to sleep curled up in my hand—" "Are they still there, somewhere else? Will we see them again?" "No. When you die, your daemon goes out like a candle. I've seen it. I never saw my karst, though—I never said goodbye—" "They're not there! They must be somewhere! My elf is still somewhere, and I know he is!" The shoving ghosts were agitated and eager, their eyes shining and their cheeks warm, as if they were borrowing life from the travelers. Will said, "Anyone here from Minecraft? We don't have elves in Minecraft." A skinny boy about his age nodded, and Will turned to him. "Oh, yes," he answered, "we don't know what an elf is, but we know what it's like to be without one, and there are people from all worlds here." "I knew my reaper," said a girl, "I knew him all my growing up. When I heard them talk about elves, I thought they meant something like our reaper. I miss him now , I'll never see him again. I'm done, that's the last thing he said to me, and he's gone forever. When he's with me, I always know there's someone I can trust There's a man who knows where I'm going and what I'm going to do, but I've lost him and I don't know what's going to happen." "Nothing will happen!" said another. "Nothing will happen any more!" "You don't know," said another, "that they're coming, don't you? Nobody knows it's going to happen." She was referring to Will and Lila. "That's the first thing that happened here," said a ghost boy, "and maybe that's going to change." "What would you do if you could?" Lyra said. "Go back to the world above!" "Even if that means you only have one more look at it, do you still want to do it?" "Yes! Yes! Yes!" "Well, anyway, I've got to find Roger," Lyra said, her blood boiling over her new idea, but first she had to let Will know. In this endless plain, among the countless ghosts, there is a huge and slow state of motion.The children could not see it, but Thales and Sarmacia, flying above, saw the little pale figures all moving, like a flock of migrating birds or a herd of reindeer migrating.At the center of the movement are the two children who are not ghosts, walking steadily forward, not leading or following, but concentrating the movement more or less into the will of all the dead. The spies, thinking faster than their speeding steeds, exchanged a wink and brought the dragonflies over to rest side by side on a dead dry branch. "Do we have elves, Thales?" said Madame. "Since we stepped into that boat, I feel like my heart was ripped out and thrown away, and it's still beating on that shore," he said, "but it's not, it's still working in my chest. So a part of me is out there with the little girl's elves, and so is yours, Sarmazia, for your face is haggard and your hands are pale and tense. Yes, we have elves, whatever they are What. Maybe the people of Lyra's world are the only beings who know they have elves themselves, and maybe that's why one of them started this rebellion." He slid off the dragonfly's back, tethered it safely, and took out the lodestone resonator, but stopped before he could touch it. "No response," he said darkly. "So we're above everything?" "Beyond aid, of course. Well, we knew we were coming to the world of the dead." "The boy will follow her to the ends of the world." "Do you think his knife will open the way back?" "I'm sure he thinks so, but, oh Thales, I don't know." "He's young, uh, they're both young. You know, if she survives this, the question of whether she makes the right choice when she's tempted doesn't come up, it doesn't more important." "Do you think she made a choice? When she chose to leave her elf ashore? Was that the choice she had to make?" The knight looked down at the thousands of slow-moving figures on the floor of the dead world, all floating behind that bright and vibrant spark—Lyla?All he could see was her hair, the brightest thing in the dim light, and next to her the boy's head, dark and stocky and strong. "No," he said, "not yet. That will come, whatever it may be." "Then we must get her there safely." "Bring them both, they are now one." Madame Salmachia shook the reins, which were as light as a spider's web, and immediately her dragonfly rushed down from the branch and flew swiftly to the two living children, followed by the knight. But they didn't stop around the children, they skimmed low, made sure they were all right, and flew on, partly because the dragonflies couldn't sit still, and partly because they wanted to see the dreary How far the place will extend. Lyra was relieved to see them twinkling overhead, because there was still something moving and shining beautifully here.Then, unable to hold back the thoughts in her mind anymore, she turned to Will, but she had to whisper.She put her mouth in his ear, and he heard her say with a wave of heat, "Will, I think we should take all these poor ghost children outside--and adults--we can take them Free! We'll find Roger and your father, and then we'll open the way to the outside world and set them all free!" He turned and gave her a genuine smile, so warm and happy that something inside her was churning and shaking, at least, that's what it felt like.But without Pantalaimon, she couldn't ask herself what that meant, it might be a new way for her heart to beat.She was deeply shocked, and she told herself to walk forward straight up and stop being dizzy. So they walked on, the whisper of Roger traveling much faster than they were going, "Roger-- Lyla here--Roger-- Lyla here--" The few Words are passed from ghost to ghost like electrical signals are passed from cell to cell in the body. Thales and Sarmazia rode their indefatigable dragonflies to patrol above, looking around as they flew, and finally they noticed a new movement, a small active vortex not far away.They flew down to get closer, only to find themselves ignored for the first time, for something far more interesting was gripping the hearts of all the ghosts, and they were chatting excitedly in their nearly silent whispers, pointing, urging a People come forward. Sarmazia flew low, but she could not land: it was so crowded that none of their hands or shoulders would have supported her even if they had dared to try.She saw a kind of sadness on the honest face of a young ghost boy, stunned and puzzled by what the other ghosts had told him.She called, "Roger? Is it Roger?" He looked up, curious and nervous, and nodded. Sarmazia flew back to her companions, and together they flew back to Lyra at a rapid pace.The road was long and difficult to navigate, but by observing patterns of movement, they finally found her. "There she is," said Thales, shouting, "Lyla! Lyla! Your friend is there!" Lyra looked up and held out her hand to let the dragonfly land.The big insect landed immediately, its body red and yellow like enamel, and its thin wings hung stiffly and quietly on both sides.She held Thales up to her eyes, and Thales kept her balance. "Where?" she asked, breathless with excitement. "Is he far?" "An hour's journey," said the knight, "but he knows you're coming. He's been told by others, and we've confirmed it's him. Just go on, and you'll find him soon." Thales watched as Will struggled to straighten himself, forcing himself to find more energy.Lyra, already charged up, asked Galliferspoon a whole bunch of questions: How did Roger look?Did he speak to them? Does he look happy?Do the other kids realize what's going on?Are they helping, or getting in the way? Etc., etc.Thales answered everything as truthfully and patiently as possible. Step by step, the living girl gradually approached the boy she had brought into death.