Pantalaimon gave a gasp and jumped out of Lyra's lap onto the ground, staring with wide, suspicious eyes at the boy sitting just a few feet away. Lyra, however, had no such distrust and leapt at him with a cry of delight, touching his chest and face to make sure that he wasn't just a dream. He felt real enough, she thought.
"Will! We knew you'd come, me and Pan, but he said you wouldn't so I wouldn't get disappointed, but I knew, really – how did you…"
Lyra's voice faded suddenly, and she narrowed her eyes. "I thought you said you were going to break the knife," she said, confused. "We promised the angels…"
Will shook his head. "I did break it, right after you left. I came another way. Anyway, if I had been able to use the knife, I wouldn't have waited all this time to come. Three months… it was like a lifetime, Lyra."
She stared at him, open-mouthed. "So you came without… without using the knife? How?"
Will looked at her, at her eyes, her face, her mouth, and felt completely overjoyed at finding her again. Without meaning to, he began to laugh. She stared at him, affronted for a brief moment, but before long she began to laugh as well, and they embraced tightly. Their two dæmons stood together and watched, amused, as they clung to each other closely. Lyra started sobbing, though she couldn't remember feeling happier at any time of her life. Finally they separated, somewhat reluctantly.
"Will," Lyra finally urged. "How did you come?"
He looked at the ground. "Remember what Xaphania told us? She said angels had another way of traveling between the worlds, without using the knife, and that we could learn how to do it if we worked at it." He looked up. "I'm not sure what I did, but that's the only thing I can think of."
Lyra looked into his eyes and saw they were blazing with passion, and knew he was telling the truth. She moved closer to him and leant against his shoulder. "D'ya know what this means?" she said softly. He nodded.
For a long time they sat silent, holding each other under the warm afternoon sun. Will marveled at how similar this world was to his own; Lyra had been right, the likenesses between the two worlds were many, but he found them strangely disconcerting. These Botanic Gardens were almost indistinguishable from the ones in his own world, except for the fact that the people who occasionally strolled past all had dæmons of their own. With a shock of excitement he realised that he would be able to converse with Kirjava without whispering, or having to go to an out-of-the-way place as he had to do in his Oxford. The future is bright, he thought.
* * * *