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Chapter 21

Golden Auroras

As they entered the tower, keeping their footsteps light and silent, Mrs. Coulter suggested that Lyra send Pan ahead as a moth to investigate.

The idea seemed foreign to Lyra, who, from what Mrs. Coulter could tell, had never attempted to stray that long of a distance from her daemon. She supposed they'd experimented when they were younger, as all children did, but perhaps they hadn't tried it in earnest in the way Mrs. Coulter was asking them to do now. She glanced down at her own daemon at her feet, who looked up at her with deep sadness. The two of them had done this for as long as they could remember.

"It doesn't have to be for too long," Mrs. Coulter was whispering to her, "but just enough to see where that man is, and what he's doing. It'll help us be prepared."

"I don't know," Lyra answered, looking over at her daemon, but Mrs. Coulter tapped her shoulder lightly, smiling at her.

"I promise it'll be fine. You've done this sort of spy work before, haven't you? Now is just a time where we really need it."

After another few seconds Lyra finally nodded, her eyes directing Pan up the staircase. The daemon paused for just a sliver of a second before darting ahead, soon out of sight. The group kept walking, slowly, and Mrs. Coulter was aware of Lyra tensing beside her. She looked uncomfortable, in pain. Mrs. Coulter felt a stab of guilt just then, making the golden monkey bristle ( so you feel guilty when it's her and not us who feels pain?) . But she brushed it away as they kept moving, awaiting Pan's return.

When he came back to them, quickly transforming into an ermine that curled around Lyra's neck, his report was a bit disturbing: there was a man dancing near the window.

"He must be mad," Mrs. Coulter whispered, thinking about how that shifted their situation. She still didn't know much about what this knife was, or how any adults could be here when the spectres were apparently on the loose. She thought back to their first day in this world, where that girl had told them that spectres would "eat" all the adults. What did getting eaten by spectres actually entail, Mrs. Coulter wondered? What did they feast on, and what did they maybe leave behind?

The structure of the tower itself was well-made and of a certain noble quality. The floor they had first encountered was made of flagstones smoothed over centuries, while the steps were oak. They were solid and left no creaking, which helped their precarious situation but which would perhaps prove troublesome if there was anyone else in the area wishing to follow them.

They could hear the man as they advanced upward, the low muttering of his voice. It sounded like he was talking to himself—or maybe to someone they couldn't easily see, although Mrs. Coulter wished that weren't the case for they'd be more evenly numbered and at less of an advantage.

Will put his fingers to his lips as he looked at all of them, his eyes wide and his mannerisms quick yet quiet. They'd arrived at a room across from the landing now, where the noise was coming from. Will pushed the door open for them until they saw the wide, open room with, indeed, a dancing man at its center.

Mrs. Coulter saw it immediately: the knife the man was holding. He was swirling it up and down the air as he danced and moved to and from. It was a dull knife that didn't look all that impressive to Mrs. Coulter's cursory glance. It was about 8 inches or so in length. But the man was clutching it tightly, slicing through the air with it.

His back was to them as he danced, and as he seemed to be turning back their way, Will moved out of sight, gesturing for Mrs. Coulter and Lyra to do the same. They did, and they retreated back to the staircase, out of earshot.

"What's he doing?" Lyra whispered as they gathered together.

"I don't know," Will answered, eyes still narrowed. Mrs. Coulter could almost see the gears churning in his head.

"We should move up a floor, to check if we can see him up ahead," Mrs. Coulter suggested.

As they moved up, they heard another sound: someone groaning.

Mrs. Coulter could see the fear spreading through to the children, as they hadn't expected there to be anyone else there. They both froze, their eyes wide, and Mrs. Coulter felt Lyra's hand reach out to her, as if by instinct. Even Pan faltered, his ermine ears folding down.

"There's someone else here," Will whispered, looking up at yet another room in the tower.

"Well," said Mrs. Coulter evenly, impressed at the way in which she could stay calm. She hoped it eased some of their fear. "I suppose we have no choice but to go investigate. Would you like to come with me, Will?"

She could sense Lyra's surprise at her asking Will and not her to go with her, but Mrs. Coulter had her reasons. Above all, she wanted to keep Lyra safe, which had proven to be difficult in that moment with a lunatic with a knife a few floors below them and a yet-to-be-identified threat in the room ahead of them. So she wasn't about to let Lyra stumble into something dangerous head-on. She smiled and smoothed down Lyra's hair, hoping she could somehow understand. The golden monkey even felt indifférent as he chattered something to Pan, which for him was quite a progression.

All Mrs. Coulter could think was how fortunate it was she was here, and how terrifying this would be for two children on their own.

The door led the two of them to a roof of lead. Lying on the lead, in full sun, was an old man with white hair and a bruised and battered face. He was tied up, too, Mrs. Coulter noticed, and seemed to be in a great deal of pain. They crept closer, lowered to a crouch with Mrs. Coulter slightly ahead of Will, her arm out to partially shield him. They hadn't said anything about their arrangement, but she could tell Will seemed surprised, for her to be as protective as she was. But he went with it, alert and ready to spring.

By now the old man heard them coming and groaned again, turning to try and protect himself from what he could only assume would be another attack of some sort.

"It's alright," Mrs. Coulter called to him, her voice gentle. She felt strength flowing back through her now. "We aren't going to hurt you."

The old man opened his eyes to look at them, taking in Mrs. Coulter and, with the swift swivel of his eyes, her golden monkey daemon. They didn't widen with shock, as she might have expected.

"Did the man with the knife do this?" Will asked, coming up beside Mrs. Coulter. His voice was earnest, and she could hear concern nestled in it.

"Mmm," the man grunted, his shoulders loosening now as he fell back, still struggling with the ties bounding his arms.

The ties were not expertly tied, Mrs. Coulter saw. She calmly assured the man that she would untie him and then undid the lackluster work. The old man was weak, and she and Will had to help him up from his pitiful position on the ground. He wasn't aggressive, so Mrs. Coulter asked the monkey to go and get Lyra, who was probably already creeping her way over here as they worked.

"I am the bearer," the man was saying when Lyra had joined them, looking around at all of them as if they dared challenge him. "No one else. That young man stole it from me. There are always fools who take risks like that for the sake of the knife. But this one is desperate, He is going to kill me."

"No, he en't," Lyra insisted, moving closer to the man. She had a look of intense determination on her face. Mrs. Coulter again wondered what she had learned from the alethiometer, and perhaps what she was trying to prevent. "What is the bearer?"

The old man began describing his role as the bearer of the subtle knife, and raving on about the young man not being able to "cut through." Mrs. Coulter sharpened at that, more than the children because she had the distinct sense that "cutting through" in this sense meant more than what they probably thought it did. She was going to ask him what he meant before they heard a sound from the door.

"Watch out," Lyra said, but the crazy man was already here, and there was no place for them to hide.

In an instant, the golden monkey launched toward him, Pan quickly following in the form of a grizzly bear. Their plan, they'd both somehow determined, was to distract the man with two attacking, wild animals. He didn't have to know what they were, and that would not, in fact, actually touch and attack him. For his part, the man hardly seemed to register the animals. He looked like he was at the peak of insanity. His curly red hair was matted and frizzy, and the whites of his eyes were bloodshot as his wide pupils took all of them in. He had an air of desperation yet amusement around him, which struck an unsettling chord with Mrs. Coulter.

And above all else, Mrs. Coulter's gaze focused on the knife he had in his hand, and realized that none of them had any weapons at all.

The man lunged forward when Will had crouched down, ready to fight. He was going toward Mrs. Coulter, as the tallest person standing in the room, but she was prepared for him. She jumped out of the way as he went crashing into the wall. He turned back around, slashing wildly in the air with the knife. This alarmed Mrs. Coulter more than anything else, as his movements were fluid and unpredictable. He slashed without thinking and with no regard to what was in front of him. She was scared that he'd lash out at the children, at Lyra .

In that moment, both Lyra and Will darted forward, confusing the man. He fell over, startled at the sudden movement, and the knife flew from his hand. Both Lyra and Mrs. Coulter watched it fall and then plunge into the lead easily, as if slicing through butter. At any other time Mrs. Coulter would be filled with a profound curiosity and hunger at why and how the knife did so, but for now, she had other things to attend to, the golden monkey shrieking from somewhere to her left.

Once the man had fallen, Will climbed on top of him, digging his hands into the man's hair. He seemed fierce and brave as he clawed at the man. There was no fear in him now as he fought. The two struggled, with Will digging in and holding on as hard as he could, but the man was fully grown and soon flung the boy off him. Will landed roughly on the floor, the wind knocked out of him, as the man lunged back for the knife.

But Lyra was too quick, launching herself onto the man's back. Mrs. Coulter's heart sped up as she raced over to them, seeing the man howl and shake as her daughter scratched at his back and clung on just as Will had done. Once Mrs. Coulter was almost there, Lyra had lost her grip and was sliding down on one side, Pan hissing near her as a polecat with wide, terrified eyes. The man kept writhing around, his fist coming close to landing a blow to Lyra's head. With a leap, Mrs. Coulter reached the pair and immediately shoved Lyra away from him, checking quickly to see if she was alright. But in that instant and with that choice, the man was free to go back over and grab the knife. Mrs. Coulter saw it glint from the sunlight as the man raised his arm again.

You fool! The monkey thought to her, his hackles raised now as both he and Pan hissed at the man. You could have prevented that! You could have held him down or gotten to the knife before he did!

He was right, Mrs. Coulter realized with a flush of emotion, her eyes now glancing back to Lyra, who was glaring at the man again. When it came down to it, she had chosen Lyra. She had let her heart rule over her head. And it might very well cost them their lives.

It might have, except Will was there with them. The boy sprung toward the man, something like a battle cry ringing from his chest. If he'd had a daemon, it might have been a mighty lion given the way the boy absolutely roared. Though small, his presence was formidable in this moment. The impact of his jump had caused the man to fall to the floor this time, with Will's foot crushing down on the knife in his hand. Will kicked the knife away, grunting and screaming as he and the man rustled there on the ground, but before he could get it completely away, the man moved and then—

The man fell backward into the glass, which shattered at once at his weight and the force of his movement. He kept falling downward for a few flights, shattering more and more glass. Lyra and Mrs. Coulter ran over to see, watching as he eventually landed on a stairwell and then looked up at them, that wild look still in his bloodshot eyes. Tossing a furious look over in Will's direction, the man took off and fled, surprisingly quick on his feet for someone who had just fallen a few flights.

It was then that they heard a strange "ah" from Will and turned to see him holding the knife, blood pouring out of a finger on his left hand.