Sea Interlude

Far to the north of Oxford lies the island of Hjaltland, part of the great archipelago of the Isles of Brytain although, notionally at least, belonging to Norroway. Though the northern lands are embroiled in war, Hjaltland seems to stand apart as a haven of peace. The sheltered port of Leirvik is a crossroads for the seafaring folk of the north, a place where Tartars and New Danes, Skraelings and Albans drink together in the bars by the harbour and brawl in the streets and make music together in the public halls as they have for centuries.

At the edge of a grassy plateau atop a mighty cliff in the remote north of Hjaltland, Lyra Belacqua and Serafina Pekkala sat on an evening of late summer looking out over the great northern ocean.

'Why so sad, sister?', asked Serafina.

'Sad?', replied Lyra, 'do I look sad? I was just thinking'.

'You can share it with me, sister'.

'I just love being here, Serafina. I'm so glad I found it. It makes me feel I can be queen of my own land for the summer. Oh, do look at Pan!'

Pantalaimon, her pine-marten daemon, was relishing his freedom to roam, scampering about the cliff face and trying to creep up on the puffins and guillemots that crowded the rock ledges. Every time he got close, the birds casually flew off at the last minute.

'Sister, something is worrying you. By my witch's instinct I know it!'

Lyra pursed her lips in silent thought. Way below she watched the slow deliberate rhythm of the ocean swells, taut and muscular. They hit the base of the cliff and crashed into the geo, sending great spurts of foam high into the air.

'I worry about the world', she said at last. 'What was happening before was bad. I'm not sure now that things aren't even worse now'.

'A great evil has been removed from the world', said Serafina Pekkala. 'It suppressed free will and curiosity. You were responsible for ending that, Lyra! But you should not be surprised if there is a reaction. It will take time for matters to settle, as people look for their place in the new order'.

'It feels like a terrible burden to bear. It's as if I lived a dozen lifetimes before I was even fully-grown. And now… Well, the rest of my life feels like the ocean out there, stretching on as far as I can see, all empty and all the same'.

'Sister, there is nothing empty about the ocean. It is full of life and boundless energy'. As if to illustrate her point, a larger wave sent spray crashing out of the geo and showering them. 'There is work to be done yet. There's still a Republic of Heaven to be built, remember!'

Lyra turned to face Serafina. She was still in awe of the way the witch-queen's shreds of black silk flapped in the brisk, chilly wind. She was glad of her padded anorak though it was August. 'Oh, I know', she said, 'and there's so much to learn about Dust too. Sometimes I think I have a long way to go just to be where Doctor Malone was in her world. But I can't ask her! I wish I had her equipment'. She added the last with a deep sigh.

'Why can't you?', asked Serafina.

'You know, I think maybe I could have the equipment now if I wanted it. I've loved being at St Sophia's. They've given me all the support and encouragement I could have wished for. But it's a small college without many resources. And it's a women's college, and in Oxford that means the back of the queue. It's hard to be taken seriously'.

A wave much larger than usual must have crashed into the geo, for a spout of frothing sea-water burst up from the cliff and soaked them. The wave must have drenched Pantalaimon too, for he came sprinting over the cliff-top and leaping onto Lyra's shoulders, nuzzling his sodden fur into her neck and allowing her to comfort him before racing off through the wind-ruffled cottongrass and bog-asphodel.

'So, what has changed?', enquired Serafina.

'Well, it's really strange. I've had two offers and I don't know what to make of either of them. One is from the Society of the Work of the Holy Spirit in Geneva, offering me all the resources I want to research Dust for them. I don't like it, after what happened…'

'The Magisterium is dedicated to its own survival. You shouldn't be too surprised if they, too, are finding their place in the new order. It may not be as sinister as you think'.

'Well, maybe, but I still don't like it. The other offer is from Jordan College, and that's really weird. The thing is, Serafina, that I've always loved Jordan and everything it stands for and I want to be a part of it. But if I was a part of Jordan, as a Scholar I mean, then it wouldn't be the same Jordan any more, would it?'

'Perhaps that's the next chapter in your destiny, sister, to show that women can take their proper place in the world too! You're thinking of Will, aren't you? Or of Will's world anyway'.

'I was just thinking how shocked I was when I found that the Scholar in Will's Oxford - Doctor Malone I mean - that the alethiometer told me to find - was a woman. Well, why not. Women seem to do a lot more and have a lot more freedom in that world than we do. How did you know anyway?'

'I don't want for things to do, sister, or feel the lack of freedom. But it's different for witches. That medal round your neck - you keep fingering it every time you think about Will and his world, did you know that? What is it anyway?'

Lyra lifted the medal on its chain so that Serafina could take it in her fingers and examine it. 'It's money from Will's world. I found I had quite a lot of it afterwards and I never gave it back. I put it in a tin box as a kind of souvenir. But this coin was so odd. It looked old and battered and distorted at first, but when you look closely at it, it's got seven perfectly even edges, each slightly curved. I got Iorek Byrnison to put it in a gold setting so I could wear it round my neck all the time. It's a way of keeping Will close to me.'

'That's a crowned woman on the coin', said Serafina, 'In Will's world the king is a woman. Women can have real power. Remember that, always!'

'So you think I should accept the Jordan offer?'

'I think you should do what you think is right. And I know your choice will be a wise one, whatever it is'.

The sun was dipping below the western horizon now. Pantalaimon came over in his graceful undulating run and jumped onto Lyra's shoulder. 'We must get back to the cottage', said Lyra.

'And I must return to Lake Enara and my people', said Serafina. 'These are troubled times in the lands of the witches. Go well, sister! And remember what I told you! Leave a message with the witch-consul in Leirvik if you need me.'

'Go well, Serafina Pekkala! And thank you!'

The two women embraced. The witch-queen mounted her cloud-pine branch and flew away into the darkening eastern sky. Lyra, with Pantalaimon snuggled around her neck asleep, lingered for a few minutes watching thoughtfully as the last rays of the setting sun vanished behind the world in a blaze of crimson.