A gust of wind shook the boughs of the maple trees outside the North
Dorm of Saint Joan's Boarding School for Girls, an enormous building easily
mistaken for an old, elaborate convent, with its ornate carvings of
gargoyles and depictions of Biblical stories hewn into the slabs of gray
stone.
The moon's glow, casting pearly shadows on the grounds, was the only illumination on campus… except the glow of an anbaric light in a dorm room on the second floor, where the inhabitants were swiftly executing a plan to escape.
"Kyrie, you can't just leave!" a redheaded girl hissed, her daemon frowning disapprovingly on her shoulder, temporarily an owl. Attired in a lacy nightgown and perched cross-legged on her bed, she shook her head in despair. "What shall I do without you?"
Kyrie, a blonde-haired girl of thirteen with piercing hazel eyes, grinned mischieviously. "For one thing, Julia," she whispered, "you won't get into trouble when I'm gone." She rifled through her drawers and pulled out a sweater, which she threw into her small rucksack along with a few items of extra clothing, purloined food from the Kitchens, and a majestic velvet drawstring bag that looked suspiciously out of place among the runaway's other, simple possessions.
Julia shrugged. "I don't mind all that much," she confessed. "You always make this dull place more fun, like the time you substituted that big photograph of Miss Mullins without her wig for the pull-out map in Geography." She held a hand over her mouth to suppress her giggles, and sighed. "Whatever shall I tell the mistresses tomorrow morning when you're not here?"
The other girl buckled her coat. "Tell them I was called away on very important business," she said airily, then caught the despondent expression on Julia's face. She hugged her roommate. "Cheer up, Jules," she murmured as the girl's daemons, both minks, wound around each other in a fond, friendly goodbye. "I have to go, I asked the alethiometer."
Julia nodded resignedly and vowed to cover for her friend. She watched passively from her bed, cuddling her daemon, as Kyrie swung the leather rucksack over her shoulder, unlatched the window, and began the perilous climb to the ground.
Clutching the stone head of Saint Michael, she lowered herself, one inch at a time, blindly feeling for footholds in the dark. Her daemon clung, shaking, to her shoulder as a bat, and gasped in her ear. "Are you sure this is worth it?"
Biting her lip, Kyrie replied, "Oh, Khan! I'm Lyra Silvertongue's daughter, it will take a lot more than a drop from a stuffy boarding school to kill us." They were brave words to disguise fear, and both human and daemon knew it.
Suddenly, her foot touched firm earth, and Kyrie breathed a sigh of thanks. With a pitiful squeak, Khan fell off her shoulder and into the grass, becoming a sleek, smooth black cat with green eyes. "Where do you suppose we'll find this gyptian?" he asked, somewhat reproachfully, as if he had nothing to do with running away.
Walking quickly and silently, Khan slinking next to her, she replied, "the alethiometer said the gyptians are camping for the night on Rider's River, but I en't keen on disturbing Ma Costa's sleep."
They had reached the town, and were forced to walk on the sidewalk. They kept in the shadows, ignoring the drunks and brassy women. Kyrie adapted an air as if she belonged to the darkness, as if the lady leaning against the streetlamp and the hardened man in the alleyway should respect her. She had developed a talent for shifting into anyone she needed to be, changing attitudes like changing clothes.
Striding confidently, they reached the train station, bought a ticket and boarded the train, sitting in a compartment with a boy a little older than Kyrie, whose daemon had settled into a hawk. The boy seemed to be asleep, yet the hawk was watching Khan closely out of narrowed eyes. Irritated, Khan became a small tiger and growled warningly.
The boy looked up. "Who are you?" he asked.
Taken aback by his forwardness, Kyrie scowled. "What if I en't going to answer that without knowing who you are?" she demanded furiously.
He laughed, his amber eyes bright with amusement, matching his those of his daemon. "You must be the girl Lord Daire said was coming, he warned us you were fierce. Your mum was Lyra, right?"
Kyrie looked quickly at Khan, who returned her gaze with an unspoken message: You can trust him. "Yeah, my mum was Lyra," she said. "You're a gyptian, then?" The boy nodded, and Kyrie saw his olive complexion, born of rush waters and marshes, tanned by the sun. "But your hair…"
He ran a hand embarrassedly through his short, blonde hair, which contrasted wildly with his swarthy skin. "I'm only half gyptian," he confessed. "I'm Linder, and this is Blaise."
"Kyrie, Khan," Kyrie returned, nodding. "What do you mean Lord Daire said I was coming?"
Linder leaned forward. "There's something big that's going to happen soon, us gyptians all know it. It's written in the earth, right? And Lord Daire called in this witch friend of his to help him find out stuff about it, and then during last byanroping – that's a gyptian meeting – he told all the gyptians that Lyra Silvertongue's daughter was coming soon. So you're really important."
"I thought so," Kyrie said slowly, with her mother's easy acceptance of admiration as her due. "Listen, I'm going to go see Ma Costa. She's real old, but she was my mum's friend. Before mum died, she told me to go to the gyptians cause they'd help me, cause I guess she knew about this thing that's gonna happen. But when the courts found out mum was dead, they put me in boarding school instead, and I've had to wait almost three months before I could escape."
The train screeched to a stop. "Well, you're in luck," Linder said as they got off. "Cause I'm on Ma Costa's boat. Billy Costa, the one who your mum rescued from Bølvangar, is my father's half brother, and that makes Ma Costa my step-grandmother."
They walked for a while in silence through a small village and then through the woods, until they reached a clearing where the grass broke off suddenly into water, and a group of boats were tied to the shoreline. A bonfire blazed vibrantly, and fiddles played as women danced gaily with tambourines and men in plaid shirts ate fen-eel and roared with laughter.
Kyrie stepped shyly into the firelight, and suddenly, the music stopped. A hush pervaded the formerly joyous evening, and then the murmurs began.
"Lord of the waters, but she looks just like Lyra!"
"By the powers, she's come, she's come."
A tall man with an overwhelming aura of authority and a kind smile stood and opened his arms. "On behalf of the western gyptians, I welcome ye, daughter of Lyra Silvertongue."
Kyrie blushed, and Khan curled into a self-conscious ball in her pocket. "Thank-you," she said, aware of every man, woman, and child staring at her in disbelief.
"That's Lord Daire, my father," Linder whispered in her ear. "Let's find Ma Costa." With a laugh, the fiddling started up again, and the gyptians returned to their merriment. Kyrie followed Linder through the crowds to a red silk tent, where he stepped inside. Hesitant, and surprised and embarrassed to find that Linder was a gyptian prince, she waited until he came back out, smiling, and beckoned her in.
She brushed through the orange scarves that hung in the doorway, and stood trembling as she saw the enormous, tough woman she remembered as a baby turn around and freeze in utter astonishment. "Lyra?" she whispered.
"No, Mum," a voice from the shadows murmured. "Her daughter."
The next moment, Kyrie was enveloped in a crushing hug, released for a moment so that Ma Costa could examine her face long enough to burst into tears and embrace her again. "Oh, child, ye came! And en't ye the pretty one, just like Lyra…" at the mention of Lyra's name, the wise old face crumpled up once more. "To think, my baby, dead! Why?" She paused, pulled herself together, and set her brow. "You're going to go see Daire," she announced firmly. "Tony, take her to Lord Daire."
A powerful, dark-faced man stepped out of the shadows. "So, gal," he said kindly, "you're Lyra's daughter. I reckon you'll be beyond belief, too."
Unsure of whether to accept it as a compliment or protest it as an insult, Kyrie merely smiled. As Tony escorted her across the busy clearing, she noticed that Linder was surrounded by sensual gyptian girls, and was clearly a unanimously adored flirt with devilishly good looks. As Kyrie watched, he laughed with, sweetly teased, and slyly seduced each girl that stood, swooning, by him.
Suddenly, they had arrived at a round wooden building, and Tony knocked on the door.
The moon's glow, casting pearly shadows on the grounds, was the only illumination on campus… except the glow of an anbaric light in a dorm room on the second floor, where the inhabitants were swiftly executing a plan to escape.
"Kyrie, you can't just leave!" a redheaded girl hissed, her daemon frowning disapprovingly on her shoulder, temporarily an owl. Attired in a lacy nightgown and perched cross-legged on her bed, she shook her head in despair. "What shall I do without you?"
Kyrie, a blonde-haired girl of thirteen with piercing hazel eyes, grinned mischieviously. "For one thing, Julia," she whispered, "you won't get into trouble when I'm gone." She rifled through her drawers and pulled out a sweater, which she threw into her small rucksack along with a few items of extra clothing, purloined food from the Kitchens, and a majestic velvet drawstring bag that looked suspiciously out of place among the runaway's other, simple possessions.
Julia shrugged. "I don't mind all that much," she confessed. "You always make this dull place more fun, like the time you substituted that big photograph of Miss Mullins without her wig for the pull-out map in Geography." She held a hand over her mouth to suppress her giggles, and sighed. "Whatever shall I tell the mistresses tomorrow morning when you're not here?"
The other girl buckled her coat. "Tell them I was called away on very important business," she said airily, then caught the despondent expression on Julia's face. She hugged her roommate. "Cheer up, Jules," she murmured as the girl's daemons, both minks, wound around each other in a fond, friendly goodbye. "I have to go, I asked the alethiometer."
Julia nodded resignedly and vowed to cover for her friend. She watched passively from her bed, cuddling her daemon, as Kyrie swung the leather rucksack over her shoulder, unlatched the window, and began the perilous climb to the ground.
Clutching the stone head of Saint Michael, she lowered herself, one inch at a time, blindly feeling for footholds in the dark. Her daemon clung, shaking, to her shoulder as a bat, and gasped in her ear. "Are you sure this is worth it?"
Biting her lip, Kyrie replied, "Oh, Khan! I'm Lyra Silvertongue's daughter, it will take a lot more than a drop from a stuffy boarding school to kill us." They were brave words to disguise fear, and both human and daemon knew it.
Suddenly, her foot touched firm earth, and Kyrie breathed a sigh of thanks. With a pitiful squeak, Khan fell off her shoulder and into the grass, becoming a sleek, smooth black cat with green eyes. "Where do you suppose we'll find this gyptian?" he asked, somewhat reproachfully, as if he had nothing to do with running away.
Walking quickly and silently, Khan slinking next to her, she replied, "the alethiometer said the gyptians are camping for the night on Rider's River, but I en't keen on disturbing Ma Costa's sleep."
They had reached the town, and were forced to walk on the sidewalk. They kept in the shadows, ignoring the drunks and brassy women. Kyrie adapted an air as if she belonged to the darkness, as if the lady leaning against the streetlamp and the hardened man in the alleyway should respect her. She had developed a talent for shifting into anyone she needed to be, changing attitudes like changing clothes.
Striding confidently, they reached the train station, bought a ticket and boarded the train, sitting in a compartment with a boy a little older than Kyrie, whose daemon had settled into a hawk. The boy seemed to be asleep, yet the hawk was watching Khan closely out of narrowed eyes. Irritated, Khan became a small tiger and growled warningly.
The boy looked up. "Who are you?" he asked.
Taken aback by his forwardness, Kyrie scowled. "What if I en't going to answer that without knowing who you are?" she demanded furiously.
He laughed, his amber eyes bright with amusement, matching his those of his daemon. "You must be the girl Lord Daire said was coming, he warned us you were fierce. Your mum was Lyra, right?"
Kyrie looked quickly at Khan, who returned her gaze with an unspoken message: You can trust him. "Yeah, my mum was Lyra," she said. "You're a gyptian, then?" The boy nodded, and Kyrie saw his olive complexion, born of rush waters and marshes, tanned by the sun. "But your hair…"
He ran a hand embarrassedly through his short, blonde hair, which contrasted wildly with his swarthy skin. "I'm only half gyptian," he confessed. "I'm Linder, and this is Blaise."
"Kyrie, Khan," Kyrie returned, nodding. "What do you mean Lord Daire said I was coming?"
Linder leaned forward. "There's something big that's going to happen soon, us gyptians all know it. It's written in the earth, right? And Lord Daire called in this witch friend of his to help him find out stuff about it, and then during last byanroping – that's a gyptian meeting – he told all the gyptians that Lyra Silvertongue's daughter was coming soon. So you're really important."
"I thought so," Kyrie said slowly, with her mother's easy acceptance of admiration as her due. "Listen, I'm going to go see Ma Costa. She's real old, but she was my mum's friend. Before mum died, she told me to go to the gyptians cause they'd help me, cause I guess she knew about this thing that's gonna happen. But when the courts found out mum was dead, they put me in boarding school instead, and I've had to wait almost three months before I could escape."
The train screeched to a stop. "Well, you're in luck," Linder said as they got off. "Cause I'm on Ma Costa's boat. Billy Costa, the one who your mum rescued from Bølvangar, is my father's half brother, and that makes Ma Costa my step-grandmother."
They walked for a while in silence through a small village and then through the woods, until they reached a clearing where the grass broke off suddenly into water, and a group of boats were tied to the shoreline. A bonfire blazed vibrantly, and fiddles played as women danced gaily with tambourines and men in plaid shirts ate fen-eel and roared with laughter.
Kyrie stepped shyly into the firelight, and suddenly, the music stopped. A hush pervaded the formerly joyous evening, and then the murmurs began.
"Lord of the waters, but she looks just like Lyra!"
"By the powers, she's come, she's come."
A tall man with an overwhelming aura of authority and a kind smile stood and opened his arms. "On behalf of the western gyptians, I welcome ye, daughter of Lyra Silvertongue."
Kyrie blushed, and Khan curled into a self-conscious ball in her pocket. "Thank-you," she said, aware of every man, woman, and child staring at her in disbelief.
"That's Lord Daire, my father," Linder whispered in her ear. "Let's find Ma Costa." With a laugh, the fiddling started up again, and the gyptians returned to their merriment. Kyrie followed Linder through the crowds to a red silk tent, where he stepped inside. Hesitant, and surprised and embarrassed to find that Linder was a gyptian prince, she waited until he came back out, smiling, and beckoned her in.
She brushed through the orange scarves that hung in the doorway, and stood trembling as she saw the enormous, tough woman she remembered as a baby turn around and freeze in utter astonishment. "Lyra?" she whispered.
"No, Mum," a voice from the shadows murmured. "Her daughter."
The next moment, Kyrie was enveloped in a crushing hug, released for a moment so that Ma Costa could examine her face long enough to burst into tears and embrace her again. "Oh, child, ye came! And en't ye the pretty one, just like Lyra…" at the mention of Lyra's name, the wise old face crumpled up once more. "To think, my baby, dead! Why?" She paused, pulled herself together, and set her brow. "You're going to go see Daire," she announced firmly. "Tony, take her to Lord Daire."
A powerful, dark-faced man stepped out of the shadows. "So, gal," he said kindly, "you're Lyra's daughter. I reckon you'll be beyond belief, too."
Unsure of whether to accept it as a compliment or protest it as an insult, Kyrie merely smiled. As Tony escorted her across the busy clearing, she noticed that Linder was surrounded by sensual gyptian girls, and was clearly a unanimously adored flirt with devilishly good looks. As Kyrie watched, he laughed with, sweetly teased, and slyly seduced each girl that stood, swooning, by him.
Suddenly, they had arrived at a round wooden building, and Tony knocked on the door.