A month passed before Lyra really thought about Nera again. The carved shell was stowed in at the bottom of Lyra's chest of drawers, and causing mischief while evading the Scholars had occupied most of her attention. At this particular moment, she and Roger were involved in their latest caper.
"Shhhhh," Lyra hissed savagely at Roger, who was shifting around nervously. "D'you want them to hear us?"
The two of them were tightly ensconced up on a high empty shelf in the Library, mostly obscured by the standalone shelves that stretched out perpendicular from their hiding place. The nearly invisible catgut fishing line that Lyra had begged from an older gyptian boy was laid across the floor of the main walkway. It had been carefully tied around a protruding nail on the opposite side the night before, and now Lyra held the other end attached to a long stick, ready to pull it back and stretch the line taut the moment their target came into view.
"Look! Look!" Roger whispered into Lyra. "That's him, e'nt it? The one who tried to make the housekeeper lock you up 'cause 'e caught you drawing funny pictures?"
Lyra nodded grimly, eyes trained on her victim and Pan huddled as a cricket by her feet. The Scholar in question was a nasty, hawk-faced man with an intense dislike of children and with very little tolerance indeed for one as high-spirited as Lyra. His crow daemon perched on his shoulder, casting ill-humoured glances all around. He was just rounding the far corner from them, and Lyra intended to get her revenge while the time was right.
Just as the Scholar was hardly two steps from the line, Lyra yanked the stick back. The line pulled taut, and the Scholar took a spectacular tumbling fall forward, his black robe flapping like a vulture in an ill wind and his crow daemon squawking her anger.
Lyra and Roger could not contain their laughter, and as the much-ruffled Scholar got to his feet his head swiveled up in the direction of their muffled giggles, his face the picture of outrage. Some other scholars at their desks were looking over, attracted by the sudden commotion in their usually quiet Library. This now-public humiliation seemed to enrage the old Scholar even further.
"Aha!" He yelled up at them, pointing a long and bony finger. "If it isn't our resident delinquent! I will see to it that some decent behavior is forced into you, you- you little-"
Lyra shoved Roger up. "C'mon c'mon c'mon!" she urged. "We better get goin'-" They scrambled up on top of the shelf and maneuvered around to the window. Lyra teetered dangerously on the edge, but she shoved at the lock frantically and yanked the creaky window open. She clambered out quickly and Roger followed close behind, into the golden September sun.
Lyra pushed the window shut behind them, muffling the scholar's angry yells. They leapt and slid their way down to the flat roof of one of the residence halls, where they finally felt safe from the scholar's wrath.
Lyra collapsed down onto the brick, laughing. "Oh, did you see-did you see his face!"
Roger sat down next to her, almost as breathless as she with the bright rush of laughter and escape.
"It was so red! And the way his eyes bugged out-" Both children roared with laughter, making several pigeons take fright and fly off the rooftop.
Lyra felt absolutely vindicated. How dare that pointy-nosed old Scholar dare and try to lock her up in her room? She hadn't done anything, not really, and anyway, she thought, those old books she'd drawn on could prob'ly be replaced.
As they quieted down, still giggling and wiping tears from their eyes, Lyra thought of another brilliant plan.
"Hey, hey, Roger," she poked her friend in the arm. "What d'you say we go and hide in the Visiting Room! I heard the maid say that Uncle is coming tonight, but not to see me, 'cause he just saw me, just the scholars, so I bet you that old bird-face will go and complain to Uncle about us! And then- oh and then we'll hear what the nasty old bird wants to do with us!" Lyra's face shone exultantly with this new plan, and Roger nodded with no small amount of admiration. Lyra's ideas were always the best. They leapt down from the lintel of a low doorway and snuck back into the College through a kitchen side door, refining the details of their plan in whispers as they went.
This was going to be good.