The Alethiometer

It was now the beginning of the second day of the King's Council. The previous day's meeting had broken up at five o'clock. Lyra, who had taken little part in the afternoon's work, had fled gratefully to her room and the kind ministrations of Molly.

The maid had seen instantly that something was wrong. 'My lady!' Somehow, Lyra didn't mind it coming from her. 'Sit yourself down. Let me get you some tea. Shall I draw you a bath?

'Yes please, Molly.' She knew better than to embarrass the girl by inviting her to call her Lyra. Five minutes later she was lying in a steaming fragrant bath, balancing a cup of Darjeeling on the edge. 'Hold that steady, Pan.'

'Yes, my lady.'

'Careful, daemon!'

'Yes, my… Lyra.'

Lyra thought for a while. 'Pan?'

'Yes'

'I want to get in touch with Will. He might be able to help us.'

'No, Lyra. We mustn't do that. Apart from anything else, I don't think he can do very much for us.'

'Hell's teeth! Don't you think I know that!' It had been a difficult day – one of the hardest, because of its strangeness, that Lyra had ever faced.

'Sorry, Pan.'

Silence.

'He might know something. Doctors sit on committees, don't they? Isn't that just like this Council? Pan, I don't know what to do or what to say. I'm terrified I'm going to put my foot in it again, like I did this afternoon. They must all think I'm half-witted, or a yokel.'

'Will's no better at meetings and committees than you are. In fact, he's probably worse. He a very private, solitary man, Lyra. And…'

'We promised.'

Silence.

'I never knew, Pan. I never knew there could be this kind of danger. We've fought Spectres and worse. We were in the War in Heaven, though we hardly knew what we were doing at the time. But the danger was nearly always obvious – the Abyss, or the harpies, or meeting our Death. This is… secret danger. I can't tell where it's coming from. I can't see – it's as if I had the wrong sort of vision. The danger's all around us…'

'In a word or a half-hidden gesture…'

'And I can only feel it. It's like being a rabbit caught in a trap and waiting for the huntsman to come and shoot me.

'It's the Church. They always strike in the dark. In silence. In secret.

'The danger comes from the Church.'

Molly bustled in, carrying a large towel over her arm. 'Ready to get dressed for dinner, my lady?'

'Not tonight, Molly. I'm too tired. Can I have a tray sent up here?'

'Not going to dinner with the King?' Molly was horrified.

'No. I've done enough damage for one day. I don't want to risk doing any more.' Lyra did not go into details.

'He'll be most offended, my lady.'

'I can't help that. Please let his majesty know that Professor Belacqua sends her deepest apologies, but she is indisposed. And Molly…'

'My lady?'

'Not too much wine tonight, please. I need to keep a clear head for tomorrow.'

The place to the right of the king had been left empty by Lyra's absence, so Alfred was compelled to talk to his wife over dinner. Not that he minded, although he wondered whether dear Alexandra hadn't warned Professor Belacqua off. The queen knew about her husband's affairs and tolerated them, as a monarch's consort must. She did not have to like them, however.

Later he had talked to Eleanor about Lyra's faux pas. The panther-daemon lashed her tail about her flanks. 'You were harder on her than you needed to be, Alfred. She's well out of her depth here. I don't suppose she's been involved in anything more political than an argument over the College catering before.'

'Don't you patronise her!'

'And don't you demand more from her than she can reasonably be expected to give. And Alfred…'

'Yes, my dear?'

'Keep your hands off her. I know what you're like with damsels in distress. They appeal to your noble instincts.'

'Stars above! This is like being married twice over!'

The second morning session began. Lyra was just starting to be able to determine the viewpoints of the various participants. Lord Dellar and Sir Kenneth Wilkins were broadly in favour of reform. The bishop and Sir Patrick McCormack were against any change to the status quo. The king was clearly looking for a way to sweep the Church out of power in the most effective manner, so long as the Empire's stability was not affected. Lyra was with the king. As for the others, it was hard to tell. Mister Shire spoke even less than her, and then in a voice so quiet that it was almost unintelligible.

The balance of argument swayed to and fro. A proposal would seem to be generally supported, and then a raft of practical or religious objections would appear to counter it. The king's expression grew darker and darker as the morning passed by. It was becoming clear that there would be no simple or quick solution to the problems raised by the entanglement of Church and State. Finally, half-way through the afternoon, the king lost his patience.

'Madam Professor, gentlemen! We seem to be making very little progress.

'Let us try to cut through to the heart of the problem. It seems to me that we are still debating the necessity of disestablishment, when we should be working out the best means of accomplishing it. I must assure you that, to my mind, the answer is clear. We must separate the interests of Church and State. The government must be set free to manage the affairs of the nation, and the Church must be set free to look after our spiritual needs. At present we are confused, because each of us is trying to do two jobs at once. "A man cannot serve two masters", can he Bishop?'

'So our Saviour said, sire.'

'And He told us to give to God that which is God's, and to the King that which is the King's?'

'Quite correct, sire.'

'So. But let us not take my word for this. We have among us a person with a direct connection to the Oracle of Truth. Madam Professor, do you have your alethiometer with you today?'

'Yes sire.' Lyra hid her surprise well, the king noted.

'And do you have the Books of Reading with you?'

'They are in my rooms, sire. However, if the question you wish to ask is a straightforward one, I will not need to consult them.'

Such arrogance! the bishop thought. He looked towards his chaplain and nodded. They had anticipated that something like this might happen.

Lyra took out the alethiometer and laid it on the table before her. It glittered golden in the afternoon sunlight.

'What is the question, sire?'

'It is very simple, requiring an answer of yes or no.

'Ask the oracle this: must Church and State become two separate entities?'

'That is indeed a simple question, sire. I do not think that it will take me very long to divine the answer.'

Lyra set the three pointers of the instrument carefully, not rushing. She had learned that to try to force the alethiometer to work at an unnatural pace was counter-productive. When the pointers were positioned appropriately she concentrated her mind on the question and prepared to record the motion of the needle as it spun and whirled around the dial. The needle seemed a little sluggish and unwilling to begin moving, so she checked that all the pointers were clearly placed and refocused her mind on the question.

The needle twitched twice, and then stopped dead. Lyra shook the instrument gently, in case the bearings were stuck. The needle moved a little and stopped again. She could feel the colour rising in her cheeks.

'I… I'm sorry. The alethiometer is not responding. I don't understand it. This has not happened to me since…'

'Shush,' said Pantalaimon.

Lyra looked up. All the men were staring at her. She forced herself to speak, but her voice came out tiny and strangulated.

'It isn't working. I can't do it. I can't do it.'

The king spoke. 'Madam Professor, would you like to take a rest and try again?'

'No sire. I'm sorry, that won't work. It doesn't work any more. I can't… I can't… Would you excuse me please?'

With as much dignity as she could manage, Lyra got to her feet and left the Star Chamber. As she rose she caught a glimpse of the Bishop of Caester's face. It was smiling in triumph. A footman opened the door for her and she heard the cleric's voice as she entered the passageway beyond.

'It would seem, sire, that we cannot rely upon this pagan wisdom any more. Might I suggest that this would be a good time for all of us assembled here to kneel and pray to the Lord God for guidance? Potentas ex Authorita, gentlemen. Power comes from the Authority. Let us never forget that.'

The heavy oak door shut behind her with a muffled thud. All that Lyra could do now was mourn. She had lost the grace of the alethiometer for a second, final time and there was nothing else left to her.