Gracious Wings, the Harpy, looked up at an old ghost shuffling off the dock. The ghost slowly turned back towards the boatman who had carried it across the lake, and gave him a small wave and a smile. He nodded in return and leant on his oars, pulling his boat back out into the water. The ghost looked up at the cliffs and brushed its hair out of its eyes. The harpy could see this was an oft-repeated gesture. As the ghost continued walking towards the cliffs, Gracious Wings saw that the ghost was a woman, and very old. For the ghost's part, she felt the aches and pains in her body fade away—she could walk unaided for the first time in years. But she still felt old and tired, for while she had left behind the particular disfunctions in her body, her mind was still weary. She realised that even without the arthritis in her knees, she still moved slowly, that the tiredness she had told her grandchildren she felt in her bones had actually been in a place even deeper than that. But no matter—she had had a good life, and seen many things. As this thought was drifting across her mind, she looked up and noticed the harpy perched on a rock and gazing at her. It was like nothing she had ever seen—the head and torso of a woman, but with huge black wings and lean clawed feet. Her face was old, and there was something hard in it, but not necessarily unkind. It was the face of something who had seen and heard so much more than the ghost could even imagine. The creature must be old, she realised.
"Hello," said the ghost.
"Do you have a story for me?" the creature replied.
"A story?"
"That's right. That's how it's been, since the Living Ones came. You tell me a story, and I'll show you the way out of the Land of the Dead."
Aria was quiet for a moment, thinking about what she was hearing. She imagined that as a young girl, she would have been startled and confused. It was funny how, as she got older, she had become more and more used to not being in control of situations. The world changed so quickly, and she found it was easiest to just accept what was happening first, and then think about reacting to it afterwards. So she was in the land of the dead, and here was a creature who would guide her out of it if she told her, or it, a story. At times like this, she would have turned to Kyrillion, her Daemon, but he wasn't at her side anymore. The feeling of walking as a ghost was strange, she couldn't feel the weight of her body, of course, but she missed the weight of Kyrillion in his settled form as a Red Fox even more.
"What's your name?" Aria asked. "And what kind of creature are you?"
"My name is Gracious Wings, and I am a Harpy."
"And you want me to tell you a story?"
"Yes. You tell us a story in exchange for our help."
"I see. And what happens when you guide me out of this place?"
"I show you the way out. You decide when to leave. Once you do, your spirit will drift apart and rejoin the world."
Aria thought for a few moments. "I've seen a lot of things in my life, and a lot of changes, but I think I want to tell a story from a very long time ago, when I was just a child. Is that all right?"
"The only requirement is that the story is true."
"Oh it is, to the best of my memory. I'm going to tell you about the time I met Lyra Silvertongue."
Evidently the name meant something to the creature, because her expression changed. Before, she had been studying the ghost the way a schoolmaster might gaze at a student, but now she looked enthusiastic, leaning forward eagerly to hear what the ghost had to say.
"Lyra Silvertongue!" the Harpy skwawked, and the ghost heard the sound of wingbeats. She looked up and saw other creatures, more women with the bodies of birds, or birds with the heads of women. They flew down and stood in a circle around her, jostling for position. She heard them talking excitedly to each other, but couldn't make out any particular words other than 'Lyra' and 'Silvertongue'.
Aria waited as the Harpies' curiosity got the better of their excitement, and they settled down. When the Harpies had fallen silent, she gazed around at a circle of eager faces. Putting the strangeness of the creatures out of her mind, she collected her thoughts and began the story, from a time when she was very young, tall for her age and with bright red hair.
And this is the story that she told.
Aria's father's name was Carlo Boreal. He was a wealthy and powerful man, who was away for a large part of Aria's life growing up. Aria lived in his mansion and was raised by two of the maids, Billie and Stella, during the times her father was away. One afternoon, the sound of the horse and carriage in the drive brought Aria running downstairs despite Billie's protestations.
"Father! Carlo!" she shouted as she reached the ground floor. Aria opened the front door just as the footman, a tall and serious man who Aria had never liked, bowed and stepped back from the carriage to allow her father to exit.
"Hello my little princess," said Carlo as his daughter ran towards him.
"What did you get me?"
Carlo laughed and hugged his daughter. "Honey you have to at least pretend that you're happy to see me before I give you your presents."
"Ok, I'm sorry. I'm very happy to see you."
"I know you are. And I've got a surprise for you. It's about your mother Marisa."
"Mrs Coulter! Is she going to come over? I so want to meet her!"
"Even better my dear, you're going to live with her."
And so Carlo Boreal explained to his daughter that he was expecting to go on a longer trip than usual, and that he thought she was old enough now to meet her mother for the first time. Carlo didn't mention that in fact it was Mrs Coulter's idea that Aria come and stay with her for a while and be her 'personal assistant.'
Mrs Coulter showed Aria into the apartment. Aria looked with approval at the wide South-facing windows, though she couldn't help but notice that they weren't as big as her father's.
"Do you like it?" asked Mrs Coulter.
"Oh yes," said Aria, "It's very beautiful. I am especially fond of the Curtains, are they Moncrieff?"
Aria was talking exactly like the governess, who visited weekly to instruct her in what her father described as "womanly matters". Carlo refused to discuss domestic matters with her, and she was glad to have the opportunity to practise, and of course to show off her knowledge in front of her mother.
To her dismay, rather than looking impressed, Mrs Coulter looked slightly irritated. "I don't believe so," she said, "I think they're Harper. Can I tell you something, Aria?" She leant towards her daughter. "Actually, nevermind. You're your father's daughter after all."
Mrs Coulter smiled sweetly, but Aria could feel Kyrillion's discomfort under the gaze of her Daemon, a monkey with beautiful long golden fur.
Over the following days and weeks, Mrs Coulter took Aria everywhere she went. Aria was used to meeting rich and powerful people at her father's table, where she was permitted to eat alongside politicians, scholars and high profile church members provided that her manners were perfect and she didn't speak unless spoken to. Mrs Coulter, on the other hand, encouraged her to talk to the people that she was introduced to. Always, while Aria was talking to the Minister of State or the Dean of the College of Bishops(who was always slightly tense), she had one eye on Mrs Coulter, trying to impress her with her knowledge or ambition, but always her mother would respond with politeness while her Daemon glared at Kyrillion with barely disguised scorn. Aria's father had told her that Mrs Coulter had never wanted a child and would consider Aria as more of a personal assistant, but this hadn't actually prepared her for the cold politeness with which her mother treated her. Mrs Coulter made no reference at all to Aria being her daughter, either to Aria or to anybody else.
Aria missed her father during this time. She thought about the little tricks he would play on her. One of his favourites was to glance behind her, over her shoulder, while he was talking to her. She never failed to turn around, even though she knew there was nothing there. If she held his eye, he would keep glancing behind her, until she'd either turn or break into laughter and try to tackle him. `It's a great trick,' he'd told her. `It might get you out of a tight spot one of these days. Gives you a half-second over someone. Oldest trick in the book, but still good.'
Aria could see that Mrs Coulter wasn't the type to play tricks. She spent a lot of her time meeting with various people, often regarding the search for a girl called Lyra. It was clear to Aria that Mrs Coulter's mind was primarily occupied with finding this girl. Aria wasn't sure who she was, but it seemed that she had been Mrs Coulter's previous assistant. What Aria knew for sure was that whatever she did wasn't as good as Lyra, even if she didn't know why.
As the weather began to turn, Mrs Coulter hosted a dinner party. Aria recognised some of the guests from her father's house, but many others were strangers. They were the usual crowd of theologians and politicians, adults she found predictable and boring. To make matters worse, many of them had met Lyra at Mrs Coulter's previous party and knew that she had gone missing. For reasons which Aria didn't understand, these people wanted to talk to her about Lyra, asking how much Mrs Coulter missed Lyra, if Aria had ever met Lyra, Lyra Lyra Lyra. Aria was sick to death of hearing about Lyra! Once when she was in her mother's room while she was away, she had seen a photogram of Lyra, sitting in a pretty little frame on Mrs Coulter's dressing table. Aria stared at Lyra's face for a long time, until she had every feature comitted to memory, and imagined her photo in a similar frame, maybe even a prettier one, placed next to it on the same dresser.
While one of the old men from the church, a Father Halloran, was telling her about the Magisterium and how powerful Mrs Coulter was becoming (Aria burned with shame whenever he said `Mrs Coulter' instead of `your mother'), Mrs Coulter was having a much more private conversation in another part of the house.
"So you've found yourself another assistant already," said a man with his back to Mrs Coulter, facing the window. His Daemon, a small bird of prey, difficult to see exactly what type in the dark-ish room, perched on his shoulder.
"Don't talk like that with me," said Mrs Coulter.
"And Carlo Boreal's daughter, no less."
"He's far too attached to her. It will do him good to put some distance between them."
"Do him good, or do you?" said Erik, but Mrs Coulter ignored him and continued speaking.
"She represents a serious drain on his time and ability to concentrate. His boundless ambitions are becoming much more domestic. A person who aspires to greatness shouldn't be confined in a house beyond the age of 12, it stunts their growth."
"So what do you plan to do with her?"
Mrs Coulter glared at Erik, who sensed this and turned around. "Well? You \are\ being uncharacteristically upfront right now."
"Nothing of the sort. I'm only making statements that you already know or have guessed."
"I haven't guessed your next move."
"I know. But really, it doesn't take much imagination. The pieces are all in place."
"She doesn't even know she's your daughter, does she," said Erik, turning back towards the window.
"Why don't we talk about the affairs of adults rather than children. Tell me about Jotham Santelia?"
Erik smiled. "Oh, that's a good story, you're going to find it rather amusing."
"No, Aria, that's incorrect. You're only thinking of the things that could go right, and failing to account for all the things that might go wrong. For example, what if you can't make it to the College by exactly 7:45? That would cause your entire plan to fall apart." Mrs Coulter had been questioning Aria about the day-to-day subterfuge involved in manipulating the various levers of power in the Church. Over the past several days, she had put some time into testing the abilities of Aria, trying to determine if she could be put to good use as an acolyte. Mrs Coulter had suspected that it would be easier to just get rid of the girl, but had given her a chance. Unsurprisingly, given the general disregard that Marisa had for children—Lyra sometimes excepted—Aria had entirely failed to live up to what Marisa had wanted. Moreover, the girl clearly loved her father and couldn't be trusted to have the strength to act against him. Of course, there was no guarantee that Lyra would either, but Lyra's father was an altogether different man than Carlo Boreal, no matter that they might walk the same corridors of power. Decision made, she abruptly changed tack and smiled sweetly to her daughter.
"But that's okay, I think you do understand a lot of things and you've learned a lot. Remember that learning is a process of constantly making mistakes. If you're not making mistakes learning, then you already knew what you were doing, you're wasting your time and you should be out in the world."
Aria smiled in spite of herself at the compliment. She had been so worried that in spite of Mrs Coulter's smiles and assurances she had been failing, letting her mother down in some way, and she was glad to hear that this wasn't the case, that her mother thought she was making good progress. Kyrillion was in the form of a gecko, running up and down Aria's clothing, but he saw the Golden Monkey looking at him predatorally and changed to a large fox.
"I wonder," Mrs Coulter continued, "if you feel up to doing a special task for me. It's a task that only a child can do, and only a trustworthy and competent child."
Aria felt Kyrillion's fur stand up slightly more rigidly than it had before, but she was too excited to care. Luckily it seemed that Mrs Coulter hadn't noticed.
"Of course," she said. "I mean, if you think I'd be capable of it." She could only half believe that she was saying such things—agreeing to do something without knowing what it was. She was acting like a much younger child than she was. What would Lyra do— she interrupted this thought. Who cares what Lyra would do? Aria wasn't Lyra, and she was glad of it. Lyra had run away, or gotten lost, and good riddance. Now she was here to help her mother, and prove that she was capable. She also hoped that if she did a good job, Mrs Coulter would feel able to claim her publically as her daughter. She felt this hope in her secret heart, and she would never have said it to anyone, not even Kyrillion, not even thought it explicitly. But the hope was there nonetheless, burning like a covered candle.
"There's a place in the North. You know the North?"
Aria shivered, in spite of the warm room. Surely Mrs Coulter wouldn't want her to go to the North?
"There's a place there, a Research Institute. There are a lot of scientists there, and some children. I want you to be there as my Special Envoy."
"Special Envoy?"
"That's right. I'm going to go there in one month's time, and you see, it's hard to trust that people are telling you the truth. So the reports of the scientists are important, but I need somebody I can really trust to be there for me. You'll need to stay there for a month, and then when I arrive you can give me a full report."
Aria sat silently, digesting this information. Kyrillion was thinking about how cold it would be, and how far from help they would be, and how little they knew about where they would be going. But Mrs Coulter's advice to Aria that she should spend more time considering things that could go wrong hadn't quite sunk in yet, and her apprehensiveness quickly flowed into excitement. She had so many questions—
"You must have a lot of questions," said Mrs Coulter. "But we can go over that in the coming days. The important thing for us now is that you'll need to fit in, you'll need a costume."
"You mean like a disguise?"
"Not quite—you need a new personality. You see Aria most of the people at the research facility aren't the sons or daughters of powerful people like your father. They don't dress or speak like you do. We have a lot of work to do Aria, but I think we can do it."
And so began Aria's crash course in the habits of the London underclass. Mrs Coulter had found her a companion, who Aria found entirely loathsome but whose company she endured for the sake of performing her mission for Mrs Coulter. Young people adopt the habits of the people around them even when they try not to, and Aria found (to her surprise and dismay) that speaking like an urchin came naturally to her, and soon she found herself telling Mrs Coulter that her friend, "she en't bad." Mrs Coulter had laughed, and said that she was a fine actor and would make an excellent spy. The praise had made Aria feel dizzy, but also given her the bravery to ask a question.
"Mrs Coulter, umm, what should I do if something were to go wrong, while I'm at the station?"
"My dear, that's a very good question." She looked about the room, then made eye contact with the monkey, who scampered into Mrs Coulter's bedroom. "I'm going to give you a very powerful device, called an, umm, `Theologic Entangler.' There are only six in the whole world, and I'm giving one to you. It's a very precious tool, so I trust you with it. You see, a very skilled operator can use them to send messages instantly across great distances. Unfortunately, I'm not yet a skilled operator." She paused as the golden monkey handed her two ceramic disks. She gave one of them to Aria and continued. "But what I do know, is that if you break one of these Entanglers, the other one will break in exactly the same way. So all you need to do is to snap it in half, and I will see that you're in trouble and send help immediately."
Aria and her daemon were enchanted by the disc, amazed that something that looked so ordinary could be so powerful and also that Mrs Coulter had entrusted it into their care.
"Can it be put back together once it's broken?" Aria asked.
"Yes, but only at great inconvenience, so be sure not to use it unless you really have to. Only break the plate if you are in great danger or something truly extraordinary happens that I must know immediately. I shall be very upset if you break it over something trivial."
"I understand," said Aria, and she did. It would take something extraordinary for her to break the plate.
Finally the date of Aria's departure for the North arrived. Two men she didn't know came to Mrs Coulter's apartment to collect her, and as she was saying goodbye to her mother she received two further instructions.
"By the way, Aria," said Mrs Coulter sweetly. "You mustn't mention your father—the people at the facility don't like him very much at all, and you will be in great danger if they ever find out that you're his daughter. Secondly, you will fit in better if you pretend to be afraid of me. Good luck. Remember that I'll be there for you in exactly twenty-eight days."
Aria had no time to ask any further questions, because one of the men had stepped forward and taken her by the arm. It was all she could do to wave goodbye as she was led speechlessly into the waiting carriage.