Lyra! Lee gasped. Lyra, keep back!

It was too late. She came bolting towards Tony Costa, teeth bared and ready to inflict hurt. The guard reacted on instinct. He swung the gun toward Lyra and fired.

The shot struck the ground next to her, missing her by an inch. She yelped and flung herself sideways in terror, going sprawling in the long grass. The Gyptian with the water vole daemon scrabbled for a bottle, while Tony Costa grabbed for the gun. He missed and the guard shoved him away, hard, into the wall of the house. The guard aimed at Lyra again.

Rage, red and blazing and unquenchable, rose up in Lee. He gathered his strength and leapt.

The guard never saw him coming. One bound carried Lee over ten feet of space and he collided with the guard an iota later. His weight and strength bore the man to the ground, the gun skittering from his hand to land somewhere in the shrubbery. He lay beneath Lee, all the breath knocked from him, and flapped his limbs like a landed fish.

Lee growled, teeth bared, every particle of the anger he felt towards this scrawny, vicious, worthless specimen vibrating through his wolfish body. The guard gazed up into the face of a furious wolf – the razor-edge teeth, the killing rage in the eyes – and promptly fainted.

Lee snarled in frustration. He wanted to gouge and rip and savage, and this capitulation wasn't satisfying. But then he heard his name being called.

Mr Scoresby! Mr Scoresby! It's all right, he's out cold. We've got to go – now! Come on, quick!

'She's right, Lee. Come on now. You've done what you needed to.'

Hester, his darling Hester. And Lyra.

Lee raised his head. Hester was on his left side, Lyra on his right, crouched low, ears back and tail low with anxiety. Beyond them were the Gyptians and the still-conscious guard, gaping at the tableau like simpletons.

Right, right, he murmured. Got to go. Come on, everyone, let's run.

He clambered ungracefully off the unconscious guard, and loped to the side of the house, making sure Lyra was with him this time. She was, Pantalaimon shaped like a hare, running beside her. He risked one glance back and was oddly gratified to see Tony Costa and the unknown man jogging along behind them, making a break for freedom.

'Let's see these fellas to safety and then get back to the forest,' Hester murmured to him.

Good thinking. Come on, we'll see them safely away, to the river at least, and then get home. You and me, need to have an important conversation, Lyra.

Lyra, wisely, made no response, scurrying on ahead to scout the quickest route to the river.

#

The wolfwalkers parted ways with the Gyptians on the banks of the Isis. There had been no sounds of pursuit, and Lee was confident that they'd put enough distance between the Gyptians and their captors that the former were reasonably safe. He and Lyra left them by a stretch of water occupied by a couple of Gyptian boats and melted away into the night with no farewells.

The journey back to the den was as silent as the one to the river. Lyra knew she was in trouble, and Lee was trying to rein in his atypical anger. He was still struggling with a maelstrom of emotion when the cliffs sheltering the pack and their sleeping human forms loomed up before them.

Lyra ducked into the tunnel first, Lee followed after checking they weren't being observed. He emerged to find Lyra being greeted by the entire pack, all of them eager to reacquaint themselves. He mentally rolled his eyes and made for his sleeping place – or would have, if someone hadn't nipped his tail.

Ouch! He yelped and spun round to find Towser with his front legs on the ground and rump in the air, begging to play. Hester chortled.

Oh, you're in trouble, buddy! Lee exclaimed and leapt for Towser. The omega darted away, and Lee found himself in the ridiculous position of chasing Towser round and round the den.

Then another wolf leapt in front of Towser and checked his progress. Towser skidded to a halt – and Lee went barrelling into the omega, tumbling him head over tail. He danced to a standstill, worried he'd hurt the smaller wolf, but Towser was laughing where he was sprawled on his back, paws waving in the air.

Crazy wolf, Lee mock-grumbled. He was laughing himself, the fear and adrenaline of the night's exertions draining away and leaving him feeling worn and a little shaky. Lyra was obviously not sharing in his comedown. She was engaged in a game of tag with Acorn and the two nameless wolves. Watching her, Lee shook his head and wished for the resilience of youth.

'Lee?' said Hester. He turned round and found her sitting atop himself (no way was that ever going to be less than disconcerting). 'You're exhausted. Come on now, back in here.'

He didn't argue. He stepped over to his slumbering body and almost collapsed into himself. Everything went dark, and peaceful.

Then, like last time, he became aware of himself again. Feet, legs, fingers, arms, midsection. The reassuring weight of Hester curled up on his chest. And something warm and heavy on his legs…

Lee blinked his eyes open and raised his head. His tracker wolf was lying atop his shins, dozing. Hester was awake, one eye on him and one eye on the wolf. The rest of pack was sleeping in the grey light of dawn. No sign of Lyra.

'Lee?' asked Hester. 'You all right there?'

'Fine, Hester,' he sighed, letting his head fall back onto his rolled-up coat.

'I hope so. I haven't seen you in a temper like that in years. Pretty impressive, even if it was a bit scary.'

'I just… I saw red, Hester, when he fired at Lyra. She's just a kid.'

Hester was quiet for a moment.

'She's right,' she said. 'Lyra, I mean. You are becoming a pack.'

'I guess we are. What do you make of it?'

'Oh, don't worry Lee, I've no big objections – I wish you could've picked a less outlandish family to adopt, though. And I'm still not too thrilled with you being a wolf at night. Downright dangerous.'

'I'm not adopting her,' Lee murmured, stroking Hester's ears. 'I'm just here till she gets her father back.'

'Does Lyra know that?'

'She's lonely, Hester. She's clinging to me because I'm all she's got at the moment. It'll be different when she has her father.'

Hester was silent for a few moments.

'I'm not too sure about that, Lee,' she said at last. 'From what she's told us about this Asriel, he doesn't come across as the loving type.'

'Oh, and I do? Come on, Hester.'

'You were ready to kill that man tonight, Lee,' Hester murmured. Her voice was mild, but the words were merciless. 'And you're not a violent man. Something's taken a hold of you. You're changing. Because you've become one of these wolfwalkers, or else because you're growing attached to Lyra. I'd rather it was the latter, but I'm not sure. It's frightening me. I've always known you, every bit of you and now I'm…struggling.'

The crack in Lee's heart widened a little. He must have flinched, for a moment later Hester was pressing herself against him, as if she wanted to merge with him as his wolf-form had done.

'Lee, I'm sorry,' she whispered. 'I'm so sorry for what I said yesterday. I was scared and mad and I took it out on you. I've been perishing with shame ever since. Going with you and helping bust those Gyptians out last night… we worked together like we always did. Made me feel a brute for accusing you of forgetting me.'

Lee rose up gently and took Hester in his arms, holding her close. She nestled against him, and he felt his battered heart heal a little.

'Hester? What are we going to do if there's no cure? If I'm a wolfwalker for life? Could you… cope with that?'

'I guess I'd have to,' Hester muttered. 'But let's take it one night at a time for now, Lee. We've got to get Lyra's father back before we can do anything else.'

'Speaking of Lyra…' Lee muttered, some of last night's anger rising up in him. 'I need to have a word with that little wretch.'

'Don't go too hard on her, Lee.'

'You've changed your tune. You wanted nothing to do with her yesterday.'

'She's growing on me. Reminds me of you, in some ways.'

Lee ignored this and tugged his legs out from under the slumbering wolf, who whined a protest but then went right back to sleep.

He checked on Lyra, but she was still asleep. He left her in peace and went to wash and then brew some coffee, of which he was in dire need.

He was just finishing off his first mugful and contemplating what to cook for breakfast when Lyra emerged, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Pantalaimon was a stoat again and followed her unobtrusively.

'Morning,' she yawned.

'Morning,' he answered. 'Bacon or sausages?'

Lyra, thrown by his casual tone, lowered her hands and regarded him suspiciously.

'I know you want to yell at me, so get it over with,' she groused.

'I'm not going to yell,' Lee answered, nettled by her stroppiness. Didn't the girl have any concern for her own safety? 'But I am going to ask what the hell you thought you were playing at last night. I told you to run and you do the precise opposite and nearly get yourself shot!'

Lyra pouted and folded her arms defiantly.

'I wasn't going to run away,' she said. 'Tony needed help!'

'Yeah, and a lot of help you were,' Lee remarked coldly. Lyra flushed red with anger and humiliation.

'You weren't doing anything!' she snapped. 'You were just standing there and watching them be taken! I had to do something!'

'No, you didn't,' Lee answered, keeping a tight grip on his temper. 'I was waiting for the right moment. I was going to let that thug force the Gyptians back into the house and then take him out when he had his back turned. Not just go charging in like a loon! Like you did!'

Lyra's self-righteous anger ebbed, and she looked away from Lee's reproving face, fidgeting with the hem of her old jumper.

'I wanted to fight,' she muttered, not quite willing to admit she'd been foolish. 'I wanted to do something! Father always leaves me behind whenever he goes somewhere, he says it's not safe for me, and I hate it!'

'Maybe he was right,' Lee muttered, suddenly feeling old and tired. 'I've been an idiot, taking you into situations like the one last night –'

'No!' Lyra interrupted, looking up in alarm. 'You can't leave me behind too! This is my fight! My father who's in trouble! You need my help!'

'Maybe I do, but what I want is you, safe,' Lee said with conviction. 'And how is that gonna happen if you can't follow orders or keep your head down when you need to?'

'I'm not scared!' Lyra burst out, as Pantalaimon jumped to her shoulder and surveyed Lee. 'I'm not afraid of fighting! I'm not a coward, I won't run away.'

'Lyra,' Lee sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. 'It's not about being a coward. Only a fool goes out looking for a fight. It's about knowing when to fight. I never found a fight I didn't want to run away from.'

Lyra, about to launch into a rant about her determination to take on the world to rescue her father, fell silent, thrown by this admission.

'But – but you're brave,' she said, bewildered. 'You're a good fighter.'

'Just because I can fight, it doesn't mean I want to,' Lee murmured, wishing desperately for more coffee. 'If that makes me a coward – well, then I am one.'

The silence that followed was resounding.

'You're not a coward,' murmured Lyra, apropos of nothing. 'You're the bravest person I've ever met, except Father.'

'Thanks,' Lee said, oddly touched.

'So… we shouldn't fight? Is that what you're saying?'

'Of course not,' Lee answered. 'There's times in this life when you have to fight. Cause you're backed into a corner, or just cause it's what you should do. What any good person should do. But Lyra, get this in your head – I only fight when I have to. And I try to do it smart. Wait for the opportune moment. It's why I've survived as long as I have done in the north. Well, that and I have Hester looking out for me.'

'You're welcome, by the way,' Hester drawled.

Lyra stood, abashed, her defiance leeched away by Lee's words.

'I'm sorry,' she muttered – a little sulkily, but Lee could tell she was sincere this time. 'I'll try to – to think more, in future. But Mr Scoresby, don't leave me behind. We're pack. You need me.'

Lee almost wanted to deny this. But Lyra had a point. There was still too much he didn't know about being a wolfwalker. And Lyra might only be a girl, but he had gained too much respect for her to deny her the chance to rescue her father. She was brave, cunning, smart. He owed her honesty.

'Yeah, I need you,' he answered. 'But Lyra, till we get your pa back, it's my job to look after you, too. So, no more stupid stunts. Deal?'

'Deal,' she grinned. 'Bacon.'

'Huh?'

'Bacon. For breakfast. And there's some bread we can toast, and a bit of cheese. Can I try some coffee?'

'Sure, but you'd better have plenty of sugar with it. I take mine black, and it's strong –'

'Bleurgh!'

'– stuff. Serve you right for not remembering what I said about thinking before doing.'

Thwap!

'Ouch!'

'She threw a conker at you! Get her, Lee!'

'Run, Lyra!'

'Get back here, you little rogue! Fight with honour!'

'Nope! I'd only lose!'

'Lyra, mind Towser!'

'Ah!'

'Gotcha!'

Lee caught her and lifted her in the air, spinning them both in circles as Lyra shrieked in mingled delight and dismay and squirmed to be set free and Hester reared up on her hind legs and boxed at a defeated Pantalaimon. Lee laughed and set Lyra on her feet.

'I won that round, kid. You're on clean up duty.'

Lyra grinned.

'I took it easy on you,' she proclaimed, and darted off to wash before Lee could retort.

'She definitely reminds me of you,' remarked Hester. 'Come on, let's get cracking with breakfast, or we won't eat till lunchtime.'

#

Come mid-morning they were back in Oxford. Lee had two purposes in mind: first, talk to Iorek and see if he had any more information about wolfwalkers and to see if he'd be willing to assist in rescuing Lyra's father. Second, to do some scouting around Jordan and see how best to break in there and find Asriel.

They made their way to Iorek's forge, but just as they were approaching the entrance, Hester stopped dead.

'Someone's in there – someone who isn't Iorek,' she pronounced. Lee heard it a moment later, after he'd tuned out the hustle and bustle of the city. Someone was waiting in the shed, pacing back and forth across the stone flags that formed the floor, leather-soled shoes smacking against them.

'Wait here,' he said to Lyra. She nodded, and Lee advanced cautiously to the forge's door. He pushed it open gently and peered in.

A tall man with black hair, dressed in tweeds and walking shoes was pacing round, his barn owl daemon perched atop the cold furnace.

'Dr Van Buskirk,' Lee said by way of greeting, opening the door wide.

Van Buskirk jumped, but his worried expression melted into relief when he saw Lee standing there.

'Mr Scoresby!' he exclaimed. 'I've been hoping to see you again. I was here to find the armoured bear, actually, to see if he could tell me your whereabouts.'

'Any sign of Iorek, by the way?' Lee enquired, but Van Buskirk shook his head.

'None – although I've only been waiting for half-an-hour,' he answered.

'Hmm,' Lee said, wondering what on earth could have captured Iorek's interest sufficiently to pull him away from the forge for two whole days. He had no fears for Iorek. No human could force the panserbjørn to do anything against his will, but his continued absence was a puzzle.

'Anyway, it's you I want to speak to,' Van Buskirk continued. 'I need to talk things over with someone, and after the morning I've had, I think you're the man to do it with.'

'I'm flattered,' Lee said with only a hint of irony.

'Better get the kid in here, she'll be getting antsy waiting,' said Hester. Lee acknowledged this was probably true.

'One moment,' he said to Van Buskirk, and stuck his head out of the door. Lyra was lounging against a nearby wall, looking like nothing so much as a bored child watching the world go by. But when Lee beckoned to her, she came running, Pantalaimon in fox-shape beside her.

'Dr Van Buskirk's here, and he wants to talk to me,' Lee told her in a low voice. 'I wouldn't mind having you in there too – but can this guy be trusted? He's got the Magisterium on his back, don't forget.'

Lyra contemplated the half-open door.

'I think he can, yeah,' she answered thoughtfully. 'No need to tell him everything, anyway. We'll say you're a friend of Father's, and you've been taking care of me.'

Lee saw the sense in this and stepped back to allow Lyra into the forge. Van Buskirk uttered a soft exclamation as he saw her, and his owl-daemon flapped her wings.

'Lyra!' he said, amazed but not surprised. 'You're mixed up in this too? Bernie was right!'

'Bernie Johansen? You've been speaking to Bernie?' Lee asked sharply. Had Bernie been blabbing their visit to all and sundry? Van Buskirk nodded.

'Bernie came to see me this morning, and spoke to me in strictest confidence, Mr Scoresby. You need have no fear on that account.'

'I'll be the judge of that,' Lee said coolly, placing a hand on Lyra's shoulder. 'What is it you want to talk about, Buskirk?'

'Van Buskirk, if you please,' the scholar responded affably. 'And the reason I want to speak to you is that a mutual acquaintance was having a genteel fit this morning. She had plans to move a research subject from Jordan College to a private facility tomorrow night, but it seems she will be unable to. She wasn't forthcoming about the reason, but I know she intended to use a Gyptian boat and that the Gyptians involved weren't strictly volunteers.'

'Oh?' said Lee.

'Yes,' said Dr Van Buskirk. 'After I made your acquaintance yesterday, I had a feeling you might have been involved in thwarting her plans. And this morning, Bernie Johansen came to see me. He was aware of… a certain amount of displeasure on Mrs Coulter's part. She was quite vocal about it in front of some of the serving staff, and people will gossip.'

'That they will,' Lee agreed.

'Bernie explained he'd passed information regarding two missing Gyptians to a man who'd visited him yesterday, a Mr Scoresby. And Mr Scoresby's companion, Jordan College's very own Lyra Belacqua,' Van Buskirk continued. 'When I heard that, I knew you had to be involved somehow.'

'Bernie gave us his word he wouldn't mention our visit,' Lee muttered, angry that he'd misjudged the man. 'He had no right to tell you.'

'Don't be too hard on Bernie,' Van Buskirk said, though his voice was sympathetic. 'He and I have been united against Mrs Coulter and the Council for several days now. We've been passing details about their experiments and the missing Gyptians back and forth, trying to find a way of thwarting whatever the Council – and by extension, the Magisterium – have in mind.'

He paused and looked at Lyra.

'Besides, Bernie was very worried about Lyra here,' he added, as his daemon narrowed her eyes and glared at Lee. 'No offence, Mr Scoresby, but he didn't know who you were and had no idea if she was safe with you.'

'I am,' Lyra said indignantly, before Lee could respond. 'Mr Scoresby's been looking after me and making sure I'm safe ever since we met.'

Van Buskirk regarded Lyra with just a touch of surprise. She gazed at him defiantly and placed a hand atop Lee's.

'Then we owe you our thanks, Mr Scoresby,' Van Buskirk said, as his daemon stopped glowering. 'For taking care of Lyra, and for whatever you did last night.'

'What makes you think I did anything?' Lee enquired, his voice dry.

'If you don't want to go into detail, I don't much care, but don't think of me as an idiot,' Van Buskirk answered, just as wryly.

Lee smiled.

'Fair enough, doctor,' he said. 'Assuming I was involved, what was it you wanted to discuss?'

'Thwarting our mutual acquaintance, of course,' said Van Buskirk. 'And the City Council, and by extension the Magisterium. I am a scholar, Mr Scoresby, and my research, my work, is my life. There are forces ranged against me and there always will be, it is the nature of the world, but Mrs Coulter and the Council aren't just interested in suppressing my work, they want to pervert it for their own ends. I can't let that happen, ever.'

'What is the nature of your work, doctor?' Lee asked, genuinely curious. 'It seems to have gotten a lot of people riled up.'

'As it was meant to,' Van Buskirk responded, not without a touch of satisfaction. 'My studies focus on the human spirit, Mr Scoresby. Not our daemons, but the part of ourselves that inhabits our bodies. The part that comprises our consciousness, our personalities…'

'Yes, because daemons aren't at all important,' his daemon sniped. Van Buskirk rolled his eyes.

'Not helping, Lithiel.'

'Fine, it's not the time for argument, I understand. But I still think you're selling daemons short in that respect.'

'Doesn't everyone?' grumbled Hester.

'We'll debate that another time,' said Van Buskirk firmly. 'Basically, Mr Scoresby, Lyra, my research has been about the element of the human spirit that is linked to, but separate from, our daemons. All theoretical, you understand. I study religious and historical texts, a few works of literature, folk tales and legends… my work has raised eyebrows in the past, but it's only recently that I've attracted attention from the Magisterium.'

'Was it because of that paper you published?' Lyra asked.

'Yes,' Van Buskirk answered, surprised. 'How did you know about that?'

'Fath – Lord Asriel told me. He's been following your research.'

'Hmm,' said Van Buskirk.

'Someone needs to enlighten me,' interrupted Lee. 'What paper?'

'A paper that, in essence, argued that the human spirit was capable of transfiguration. That it could assume other forms. Not as daemons do, you understand. A daemon's final form is incorruptible. But the part of the human consciousness that resides in our body can assume other forms. There are legends all over the world about such transformations. Thunderbirds in New Denmark, berserkers in Lapland, kitsune in Nippon.'

Never before had Lee been so thankful for all those poker games he'd played. He kept his face expressionless as he listened. Hester crouched with her eyes half-closed, apparently uninterested.

'Sounds heretical,' he observed mildly.

'Indeed, it is,' said Van Buskirk with a grin. 'The Magisterium still abides by the teachings of Augustine, which argues that such transfiguration is impossible, a perversion of the human form made in God's image. But I believed in the possibility. The legends are so numerous and so consistent that it would be sheer folly to discount them.'

He paused and looked Lee dead in the eye, and Lee suddenly knew that Van Buskirk was a man of substance, who could be counted upon in a tight spot.

'I don't know what your interest is in the wolves in Badbury Forest, but I am willing to stake much on your believing in the legends surrounding them, Mr Scoresby. The legends about –'

'Wolfwalkers,' Lyra interrupted. Lee watched Van Buskirk closely but saw no surprise. Rather, he appeared to have had a suspicion confirmed.

'Yes,' Van Buskirk said. 'Wolfwalkers. Such legends have persisted around Oxford for years, and I referred to them in my paper, but until about ten days ago I had no inkling they were true.'

'And then?' asked Lee, though he already knew the answer.

'And then,' Van Buskirk said heavily, 'I was approached by Alderman Danvers and Mrs Coulter on behalf of the City Council – though it wasn't nearly so polite as I make it sound.'

'Lemme guess – they had what they said was a wolfwalker and made it clear you'd be helping them with their experiments on it,' suggested Lee, and Van Buskirk nodded.

'Yes. They were most… persuasive. They threatened me, which I do not care about – at least not much – and they threatened my sister, which I do care about. I've been doing as you suggested, Mr Scoresby, and going along with their demands. I'm waiting for word from my sister to say she is safe, and then to hell with the Council and its bloody experiments.'

'Good strategy,' Lee murmured. 'Any idea when your sister will be home free?'

'I'm not certain,' sighed Van Buskirk. 'She's been on a research trip to New Holland, but as soon as the Council threatened me, I sent a message to her to go into hiding. She'll be in touch as soon as she's able.'

'Hmm,' said Lee. 'Sounds like you've played it well so far. You're right about us, doctor – we do believe in the legends about the wolfwalkers. In fact, we believe there's one in Jordan College as we speak.'

Lyra clutched at his hand, and he squeezed her shoulder in reassurance.

'There is,' said Van Buskirk. 'A wolf, a great big wolf, and it has a – a daemon. I know it sounds ludicrous, but –'

'What kind of daemon?' Lyra demanded.

Van Buskirk stared at her, expression thoughtful, as if working out a puzzle.

'A snow leopard,' he answered. 'A most unusual daemon.'

Lyra said nothing, but her grip on Lee's hand tightened until it was painful. He longed to comfort her but couldn't risk it in front of Van Buskirk. Nonetheless, Hester loped over to Pantalaimon and lent against him, offering what solace she could.

Something stirred in Lee's mind… Alderman Danver's bitter little comment about Mrs Coulter's 'snow leopard pet'… Lyra's father.

'Doctor,' Lee said. 'I'll lay it out for you. I want that wolfwalker out of Jordan and set free, and I'd be mighty obliged if you'd help. Any information you have to offer, anything you think might be of use… it's up to you whether you share it, but I'll be rescuing that wolfwalker regardless. Just so's you know.'

Van Buskirk smiled, a conspiratorial grin.

'The wolfwalker is being held in a basement room in the Sheldon building – a temporary laboratory,' he informed Lee. 'It's not a terribly secure room – once you get past the guards. There's one door in and out, which is always locked. There are always two Magisterium guards on duty – armed ones. And the wolfwalker itself, and its daemon, are caged. Anbaric cages, hooked up to the anbaric energy grid. You'd have to cut the power before getting them out.'

'Thanks,' Lee answered. 'Doctor, the river that flows under Jordan… does it flow under the Sheldon building?'

'It does,' confirmed Van Buskirk. 'But it's been sealed off for years. Theoretically, you could get inside via the river, but it could only be done by boat, and then you'd have to bash down a wall or two.'

'Duly noted,' Lee answered. Van Buskirk hesitated a moment, and then reached into an inside pocket.

'The key to the lab,' he said, proffering a small silver bit of metal. 'The Council doesn't know I have it.'

'Lyra, go find some clay or wax and we'll take an impression of that,' Lee murmured to her, and Lyra ran out of the shed without a word, Pan scurrying after her. Lee and Van Buskirk watched her go.

'Mr Scoresby, how exactly is Lyra caught up in all this?' Van Buskirk asked, his voice not admitting the possibility of Lee refusing to answer. 'This is a very dangerous business – it's no place for her.'

'I agree,' Lee sighed. 'Basically, doctor, she's caught up in it because her – her uncle is caught up in it. Asriel. He's in trouble, and she's determined to get him out of it. He's the only family she's got.'

Van Buskirk was quiet for a minute, but his eyes were glittering, focused, taking in Lee and Hester inch by inch, until Lee began to feel like one of the scholar's research subjects.

'Look after her, Mr Scoresby,' he said at long last. Lee had the feeling he wanted to say a great deal more but couldn't find the words for it.

'I will,' said Lee. And then: 'I'll lay down my life before I let her come to harm. My word on it.'

Lee hadn't intended to say so much, but Van Buskirk smiled to hear it, and the atmosphere in the forge lightened.

Lyra returned at this fortuitous moment, with a lump of wet clay in her hand and more spattered down her front. Lee took it from her and held out his hand for the key. When Van Buskirk handed it over, he pressed it into the clay to form a mould, and grabbed a rag draped over an empty barrel to wrap it in.

'Here,' he said, handing the key back to Van Buskirk. 'You hang onto that in case you need it.'

'Thank you, Mr Scoresby,' said Van Buskirk. 'You need anything else, send me a message through Bernie.'

'We will,' replied Lee, tipping his hat. 'Come on, Lyra. We've got work to do. Doctor, I'd recommend waiting here for a few minutes more, before you leave.'

'Good luck,' the doctor blurted, as they made their way to the door. Lee smiled to himself.

'That's handy, but I find having your wits about you is more useful. Keep yours sharp, doctor. See ya.'

They ducked out of the shed and Lyra led Lee down a side street.

'Come on,' she said. 'There's a key-cutter two streets away.'

'Sounds like a plan, kid. And then we need to find out what the hell has happened to Iorek. Can't be too hard to find an armoured bear around here.'

Author's Notes: The rescue effort is gathering pace... but will Lee and Lyra be able to find Iorek Byrnison and recruit him to their cause? You'll have to wait to find out, because I'm cruel like that.

Van Buskirk mentions someone called Augustine. He's the equivalent of St Augustine of Hippo, a theologian and philosopher who had a tremendous influence on the development of Western Christianity. Augustine also wrote about werewolves, though he disputed the idea that a human could change their shape, arguing in his 5th century work 'The City of God Against the Pagans' that only God could transform matter. Instead, he argued werewolves were the result of the Devil and demons causing illusions and hallucinations, making people believe they had turned into the wolves. This is the official position of the Magisterium in my story, so you can see why they're not too happy with Van Buskirk, and also why Lee and Lyra are in such danger

The shape-shifters mentioned by Van Buskirk are all based off legends found in our world. Berserkers are wolves/bears from Scandinavia. Kitsune are were-foxes and their legends originate in Japan. Thunderbirds are enormous birds from Native American legend. Interestingly, stories about shape-shifting can be found worldwide and the animal a human turns into is usually the dominant predatory species in a particular area. The names of different countries/regions in Lyra's world are all based on the original books and 'The Book of Dust.'

And last but by no means least, a big thank you to my first reviewers! Till next time, dear readers...