Pantalaimon lay, dog-formed, with his paws off the end of the jetty. He
heard Lyra give one last passionate wail, and couldn't help himself; he
joined in, howling. His beloved Lyra was leaving him, going to the land of
the dead. He couldn't even see her anymore, the fog was so thick. He knew
that Lyra felt like her heart had been torn out and left on the jetty, just
as he felt that his heart was being taken away on the battered old rowboat,
carried over the stagnant, green water. He felt like he really was a puppy,
and had just received a sharp scolding from his master. He felt guilty, as
if he were abandoning Lyra, instead of the other way around. He could feel
the deep physical ache in his chest, just like when he and Lyra were
children and had played games, trying to see how far they could go from
each other. But much more acute this time was the fear that she might not
come back, they might never see each other again. That she might die. He
would go out, as he had seen the dæmons of dying people do before, just
like a candle flame.
He couldn't help himself; he let out a little wail. So did something else, beside him. He looked in the direction the other whine had come from, and saw another dæmon, dog-formed like himself, staring out toward the boat. Somehow, he knew without being told that she was Will's dæmon, and when he looked around, he saw Chevalier Tiyalis and Lady Salmakia's small dæmons sitting on the tops of the posts at either end of the jetty. The Chevalier's was a bee, Salmakia's was a hummingbird, and both looked stricken with grief. They knew the Gallivespians would die soon, and wondered if they would ever see them again. The three new dæmons had not even known they existed until they were torn away from those they loved.
Pan sat there for a long time, he couldn't tell how long, until he could feel the boat that carried his beloved Lyra away from him approaching the shores of the land of the dead, and turned to the other dæmons.
"I can't bear to just sit here until Lyra comes back. What are we going to do?" he asked them.
Chevalier Tiyalis's bee dæmon was the first to respond. "I can feel that Tiyalis is close to death. I doubt we will ever be reunited. I have been everywhere with him, my whole life, not knowing I existed. But now, rather than keep up false hopes of seeing him again, I would like to return to my own world, the world of the Gallivespians, to live the rest of my life as happily as I can, separated from him . . ." She trailed off. If bees could cry, Pantaliamon was sure that she would be sobbing her eyes out.
"I will do the same." Lady Salmakia's dæmon said. It was obvious he was trying his hardest to remain calm, but not doing a very good job of it. Pan couldn't blame him.
Pan turned to Will's dæmon. "Let's go with them until we get there, then try to find a window into the world where Lord Asriel's rebellion is. That's where Will and Lyra will go, if they ever . . ." He choked and couldn't finish, ad Will's dæmon nodded solemnly.
Suddenly he grew cold and clammy with fear. Lyra was hurt; he could feel it. He almost jumped off the jetty and tried to swim to her, but something was stopping him, something besides the danger of what could be lurking in the clouded water. An invisible force was holding him back. He tried to resist it, at first. He changed into a fish and tried to flop off of the jetty, but found he couldn't. He pushed against the force, and could nearly feel it weakening. He strained against it, harder and harder . . .
"Pan!" Will's dæmon gasped, and grabbed his tail in her strong dog jaws, pulling him back.
Pantaliamon's eyes were still ablaze with fear for Lyra and anger at the invisible force that stopped him from getting to her. "I had almost broken free, I could have swum to Lyra, she's hurt . . ." he trailed off, feeling sick with worry and rage.
Will's dæmon's eyes were full of concern. "Pan, you were weakening. I could see it, you were about to go out, you almost died! You looked like you were dissolving, sort of. The barrier, whatever it is, won't let dæmons through. Like the boatman said, it must be the kind of law you can't change." They were both calming down from the hysteria a moment before. She nuzzled Pan softly, both to comfort him and to reassure herself that she was real, still alive without Will there.
They sat there, on the deck for awhile, not sure what to do, when through the mist approached the decrepit rowboat that had taken Lyra, and so many others before her, to the land of the dead. At first Pan thought Lyra had come back for him, but he knew better than that: it was just the elderly boatman, coming back to wait for the next group of travelers to row to their new, eternal, home. When he came back and saw the four dæmons there, he didn't look surprised in the least, but said to Pantaliamon, "Little girl says she's coming back for you. No one's ever done it before, and I don't know why, but I believe her." He seemed to say the last part more to himself than to Pan. He got businesslike again. "She's not comin' this way, though, so you may as well wait somewhere else."
So the four dæmons, feeling very lost and alone, set off to find a window out of the world of the dead.
He couldn't help himself; he let out a little wail. So did something else, beside him. He looked in the direction the other whine had come from, and saw another dæmon, dog-formed like himself, staring out toward the boat. Somehow, he knew without being told that she was Will's dæmon, and when he looked around, he saw Chevalier Tiyalis and Lady Salmakia's small dæmons sitting on the tops of the posts at either end of the jetty. The Chevalier's was a bee, Salmakia's was a hummingbird, and both looked stricken with grief. They knew the Gallivespians would die soon, and wondered if they would ever see them again. The three new dæmons had not even known they existed until they were torn away from those they loved.
Pan sat there for a long time, he couldn't tell how long, until he could feel the boat that carried his beloved Lyra away from him approaching the shores of the land of the dead, and turned to the other dæmons.
"I can't bear to just sit here until Lyra comes back. What are we going to do?" he asked them.
Chevalier Tiyalis's bee dæmon was the first to respond. "I can feel that Tiyalis is close to death. I doubt we will ever be reunited. I have been everywhere with him, my whole life, not knowing I existed. But now, rather than keep up false hopes of seeing him again, I would like to return to my own world, the world of the Gallivespians, to live the rest of my life as happily as I can, separated from him . . ." She trailed off. If bees could cry, Pantaliamon was sure that she would be sobbing her eyes out.
"I will do the same." Lady Salmakia's dæmon said. It was obvious he was trying his hardest to remain calm, but not doing a very good job of it. Pan couldn't blame him.
Pan turned to Will's dæmon. "Let's go with them until we get there, then try to find a window into the world where Lord Asriel's rebellion is. That's where Will and Lyra will go, if they ever . . ." He choked and couldn't finish, ad Will's dæmon nodded solemnly.
Suddenly he grew cold and clammy with fear. Lyra was hurt; he could feel it. He almost jumped off the jetty and tried to swim to her, but something was stopping him, something besides the danger of what could be lurking in the clouded water. An invisible force was holding him back. He tried to resist it, at first. He changed into a fish and tried to flop off of the jetty, but found he couldn't. He pushed against the force, and could nearly feel it weakening. He strained against it, harder and harder . . .
"Pan!" Will's dæmon gasped, and grabbed his tail in her strong dog jaws, pulling him back.
Pantaliamon's eyes were still ablaze with fear for Lyra and anger at the invisible force that stopped him from getting to her. "I had almost broken free, I could have swum to Lyra, she's hurt . . ." he trailed off, feeling sick with worry and rage.
Will's dæmon's eyes were full of concern. "Pan, you were weakening. I could see it, you were about to go out, you almost died! You looked like you were dissolving, sort of. The barrier, whatever it is, won't let dæmons through. Like the boatman said, it must be the kind of law you can't change." They were both calming down from the hysteria a moment before. She nuzzled Pan softly, both to comfort him and to reassure herself that she was real, still alive without Will there.
They sat there, on the deck for awhile, not sure what to do, when through the mist approached the decrepit rowboat that had taken Lyra, and so many others before her, to the land of the dead. At first Pan thought Lyra had come back for him, but he knew better than that: it was just the elderly boatman, coming back to wait for the next group of travelers to row to their new, eternal, home. When he came back and saw the four dæmons there, he didn't look surprised in the least, but said to Pantaliamon, "Little girl says she's coming back for you. No one's ever done it before, and I don't know why, but I believe her." He seemed to say the last part more to himself than to Pan. He got businesslike again. "She's not comin' this way, though, so you may as well wait somewhere else."
So the four dæmons, feeling very lost and alone, set off to find a window out of the world of the dead.