pp.thegoldencompass-第27部分

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　　〃What　happened　to　bring　this　obligation　about；　Farder　Coram？〃　said　Adam　Stefanski；　the　man　in　charge　of　the　fighting　troop。
　　〃I　saved　a　witch's　life；〃　Farder　Coram　explained。　〃She　fell　out　of　the　air；　being　pursued　by　a　great　red　bird　like　to　nothing　I'd　seen　before。　She　fell　injured　in　the　marsh　and　I　set　out　to　find　her。　She　was　like　to　drowning；　and　I　got　her　on　board　and　shot　that　bird　down；　and　it　fell　into　a　bog；　to　my　regret；　for　it　was　as　big　as　a　bittern；　and　flame…red。〃
　　〃Ah；〃　the　other　men　murmured；　captured　by　Farder　Coram's　story。
　　〃Now；　when　I　got　her　in　the　boat；〃　he　went　on；　〃I　had　the　most　grim　shock　I'd　ever　known；　because　that　young　woman　had　no　daemon。〃
　　It　was　as　if　he'd　said；　〃She　had　no　head。〃　The　very　thought　was　repugnant。　The　men　shuddered；　their　daemons　bristled　or　shook　themselves　or　cawed　harshly；　and　the　men　soothed　them。　Pantalaimon　crept　into　Lyra's　arms；　their　hearts　beating　together。
　　〃At　least；〃　Farder　Coram　said；　〃that's　what　it　seemed。　Being　as　she'd　fell　out　of　the　air；　I　more　than　suspected　she　was　a　witch。　She　looked　exactly　like　a　young　woman；　thinner　than　some　and　prettier　than　most；　but　not　seeing　that　daemon　gave　me　a　hideous　turn。〃
　　〃En't　they　got　daemons　then；　the　witches？〃　said　the　other　man；　Michael　Canzona。
　　〃Their　daemons　is　invisible；　I　expect；〃　said　Adam　Stefanski。　〃He　was　there　all　the　time；　and　Farder　Coram　never　saw　him。〃
　　〃No；　you're　wrong；　Adam；〃　said　Farder　Coram。　〃He　weren't　there　at　all。　The　witches　have　the　power　to　separate　their…selves　from　their　daemons　a　mighty　sight　further'n　what　we　can。　If　need　be；　they　can　send　their　daemons　far　abroad　on　the　wind　or　the　clouds；　or　down　below　the　ocean。　And　this　witch　I　found；　she　hadn't　been　resting　above　an　hour　when　her　daemon　came　a　flying　back；　because　he'd　felt　her　fear　and　her　injury；　of　course。　And　it's　my　belief；　though　she　never　admitted　to　this；　that　the　great　red　bird　I　shot　was　another　witch's　daemon；　in　pursuit。　Lord！　That　made　me　shiver；　when　I　thought　of　that。　I'd　have　stayed　my　hand；　I'd　have　taken　any　measures　on　sea　or　land；　but　there　it　was。　Anyway；　there　was　no　doubt　I'd　saved　her　life；　and　she　gave　me　a　token　of　it；　and　said　I　was　to　call　on　her　help　if　ever　it　was　needed。　And　once　she　sent　me　help　when　the　Skraelings　shot　me　with　a　poison　arrow。　We　had　other　connections；　too　。　。　。　。I　haven't　seen　her　from　that　day　to　this；　but　she'll　remember。〃
　　〃And　does　she　live　at　Trollesund；　this　witch？〃
　　〃No；　no。　They　live　in　forests　and　on　the　tundra；　not　in　a　seaport　among　men　and　women。　Their　business　is　with　the　wild。　But　they　keep　a　consul　there；　and　I　shall　get　word　to　her；　make　no　doubt　about　that。〃
　　Lyra　was　keen　to　know　more　about　the　witches；　but　the　men　had　turned　their　talk　to　the　matter　of　fuel　and　stores；　and　presently　she　grew　impatient　to　see　the　rest　of　the　ship。　She　wandered　along　the　deck　toward　the　bows；　and　soon　made　the　acquaintance　of　an　able　seaman　by　flicking　at　him　the　pips　she'd　saved　from　the　apple　she'd　eaten　at　breakfast。　He　was　a　stout　and　placid　man；　and　when　he'd　sworn　at　her　and　been　sworn　at　in　return；　they　became　great　friends。　He　was　called　Jerry。　Under　his　guidance　she　found　out　that　having　something　to　do　prevented　you　from　feeling　seasick；　and　that　even　a　job　like　scrubbing　a　deck　could　be　satisfying；　if　it　was　done　in　a　seamanlike　way。　She　was　very　taken　with　this　notion；　and　later　on　she　folded　the　blankets　on　her　bunk　in　a　seamanlike　way；　and　put　her　possessions　in　the　closet　in　a　seamanlike　way；　and　used　〃stow〃　instead　of　〃tidy〃　for　the　process　of　doing　so。
　　After　two　days　at　sea；　Lyra　decided　that　this　was　the　life　for　her。　She　had　the　run　of　the　ship；　from　the　engine　room　to　the　bridge；　and　she　was　soon　on　first…name　terms　with　all　the　crew。　Captain　Rokeby　let　her　signal　to　a　Hollands　frigate　by　pulling　the　handle　of　the　steam　whistle；　the　cook　suffered　her　help　in　mixing　plum　duff；　and　only　a　stern　word　from　John　Faa　prevented　her　from　climbing　the　foremast　to　inspect　the　horizon　from　the　crow's　nest。
　　All　the　time　they　were　steaming　north；　and　it　grew　colder　daily。　The　ship's　stores　were　searched　for　oilskins　that　could　be　cut　down　for　her；　and　Jerry　showed　her　how　to　sew；　an　art　she　learned　willingly　from　him；　though　she　had　scorned　it　at　Jordan　and　avoided　instruction　from　Mrs。　Lonsdale。　Together　they　made　a　waterproof　bag　for　the　alethiometer　that　she　could　wear　around　her　waist；　in　case　she　fell　in　the　sea；　she　said。　With　it　safely　in　place　she　clung　to　the　rail　in　her　oilskins　and　sou'wester　as　the　stinging　spray　broke　over　the　bows　and　surged　along　the　deck。　She　still　felt　seasick　occasionally；　especially　when　the　wind　got　up　and　the　ship　plunged　heavily　over　the　crests　of　the　gray…green　waves；　and　then　it　was　Pantalaimon's　job　to　distract　her　from　it　by　skimming　the　waves　as　a　stormy　petrel；　because　she　could　feel　his　boundless　glee　in　the　dash　of　wind　and　water；　and　forget　her　nausea。　From　time　to　time　he　even　tried　being　a　fish；　and　once　joined　a　school　of　dolphins；　to　their　surprise　and　pleasure。　Lyra　stood　shivering　in　the　fo'c'sle　and　laughed　with　delight　as　her　beloved　Pantalaimon；　sleek　and　powerful；　leaped　from　the　water　with　half　a　dozen　other　swift　gray　shapes。　He　had　to　stay　close　to　the　ship；　of　course；　for　he　could　never　go　far　from　her；　but　she　sensed　his　desire　to　speed　as　far　and　as　fast　as　he　could；　for　pure　exhilaration。　She　shared　his　pleasure；　but　for　her　it　wasn't　simple　pleasure；　for　there　was　pain　and　fear　in　it　too。　Suppose　he　loved　being　a　dolphin　more　than　he　loved　being　with　her　on　land？　What　would　she　do　then？
　　Her　friend　the　able　seaman　was　nearby；　and　he　paused　as　he　adjusted　the　canvas　cover　of　the　forward　hatch　to　look　out　at　the　little　girl's　daemon　skimming　and　leaping　with　the　dolphins。　His　own　daemon；　a　seagull；　had　her　head　tucked　under　her　wing　on　the　capstan。　He　knew　what　Lyra　was　feeling。
　　〃I　remember　when　I　first　went　to　sea；　my　Belisaria　hadn't　settled　on　one　form；　I　was　that　young；　and　she　loved　being　a　porpoise。　I　was　afraid　she'd　settle　like　that。　There　was　one　old　sailorman　on　my　first　vessel　who　could　never　go　ashore　at　all；　because　his　daemon　had　settled　as　a　dolphin；　and　he　could　never　leave　the　water。　He　was　a　wonderful　sailor；　best　navigator　you　ever　knew；　could　have　made　a　fortune　at　the　fishing；　but　he　wasn't　happy　at　it。　He　was　never　quite　happy　till　he　died　and　he　could　be　buried　at　sea。〃
　　〃Why　do　daemons　have　to　settle？〃　Lyra　said。　〃I　want　Pantalaimon　to　be　able　to　change　forever。　So　does　he。〃
　　〃Ah；　they　always　have　settled；　and　they　always　will。　That's　part　of　growing　up。　There'll　e　a　time　when　you'll　be　tired　of　his　changing　about；　and　you'll　want　a　settled　kind　of　form　for　him。〃
　　〃I　never　will！〃
　　〃Oh；　you　will。　You'll　want　to　grow　up　like　all　the　other　girls。　Anyway；　there's　pensations　for　a　settled　form。〃
　　〃What　are　they？〃
　　〃Knowing　what　kind　of　person　you　are。　Take　old　Belisaria。　She's　a　seagull；　and　that　means　I'm　a　kind　of　seagull　too。　I'm　not　grand　and　splendid　nor　beautiful；　but　I'm　a　tough　old　thing　and　I　can　survive　anywhere　and　always　find　a　bit　of　food　and　pany。　That's　worth　knowing；　that　is。　And　when　your　daemon　settles；　you'll　know　the　sort　of　person　you　are。〃
　　〃But　suppose　your　daemon　settles　in　a　shape　you　don't　like？〃
　　〃Well；　then；　you're　discontented；　en't　you？　There's　plenty　of　folk　as'd　like　to　have　a　lion　as　a　daemon　and　they　end　up　with　a　poodle。　And　till　they　learn　to　be　satisfied　with　what　they　are；　they're　going　to　be　fretful　about　it。　Waste　of　feeling；　that　is。〃
　　But　it　didn't　seem　to　Lyra　that　she　would　ever　grow　up。
　　
　　One　morning　there　was　a　different　smell　in　the　air；　and　the　ship　was　moving　oddly；　with　a　brisker　rocking　from　side　to　side　instead　of　the　plunging　and　soaring。　Lyra　was　on　deck　a　minute　after　she　woke　up；　gazing　greedily　at　the　land：　such　a　strange　sight；　after　all　that　water；　for　though　they　had　only　been　at　sea　a　few　days；　Lyra　felt　as　if　they'd　been　on　the　ocean　for　months。　Directly　ahead　of　the　ship　a　mountain　rose；　green　flanked　and　snow…capped；　and　a　little　town　and　harbor　lay　below　it：　wooden　houses　with　steep　roofs；　an　oratory　spire；　cranes　in　the　harbor；　and　clouds　of　gulls　wheeling　and　crying。　The　smell　was　of　fish；　but　mixed　with　it　came　land　smells　too：　pine　resin　and　earth　and　something　animal　and　musky；　and　something　else　that　was　cold　and　blank　and　wild：　it　might　have　been　snow。　It　was　the　smell　of　the　North。
　　Seals　frisked　around　the　ship；　showing　their　clown　faces　above　the　water　before　sinking　back　without　a　splash。　The　wind　that　lifted　spray　off　the　white…capped　waves　was　monstrously　cold；　and　searched　out　every　gap　in　Lyra's　wolfskin；　and　her　hands　were　soon　aching　and　her　face　numb。　Pantalaimon；　in　his　ermine　shape；　warmed　her　neck　for　her；　but　it　was　too　cold　to　stay　outside　for　long　without　work　to　do；　even　to　watch　the　seals；　and　Lyra　went　below　to　eat　her　breakfast　porridge　and　look　through　the　porthole　in　the　saloon。
　　Inside　the　harbor　the　water　was　calm；　and　as　they　moved　past　the　massive　breakwater　Lyra　began　to　feel　unsteady　from　the　lack　of　motion。　She　and　Pantalaimon　avidly　watched　as　the　ship　inched　ponderously　toward　the　quayside。　During　the　next　hour　the　sound　of　the　engine　died　away　to　a　quiet　background　rumble；　voices　shouted　orders　or　queries；　ropes　were　thrown；　gangways　lowered；　hatches　opened。
　　〃e　on；　　Lyra；〃　said　Farder　Coram。　　〃Is　everything　packed？〃
　　Lyra's　possessions；　such　as　they　were；　had　been　packed　ever　since　she'd　woken　up　and　seen　the　land。　All　she　had　to　do　was　run　to　the　cabin　and　pick　up　the　shopping　bag；　and　she　was　ready。
　　The　first　thing　she　and　Farder　Coram　did　ashore　was　to　visit　the　house　of　the　witch　consul。　It　didn't　take　long　to　find　it；　the　little　town　was　clustered　around　the　harbor；　with　the　oratory　and　the　governor's　house　the　only　buildings　of　any　size。　The　witch　consul　lived　in　a　green…painted　wooden　house　within　sight　of　the　sea；　and　when　they　rang　the　bell　it　jangled　loudly　in　the　quiet　street。
　　A　servant　showed　them　into　a　little　parlor　and　brought　them　coffee。　Presently　the　consul　himself　came　in　to　greet　them。　He　was　a　fat　man　with　a　florid　face　and　a　sober　black　suit；　whose　n