"And what are Lines?" Lyra asked. Dealing with Dust such as they had had allowed for Lyra's ears to distinguish the pronunciation of capital letters. Either that or Will was just easy for her to understand.
"lines are what you see. Real lines, in geometry, we'll call them Lines; are infinate. That means that from that corner -" Will pointed to the edge of the zeppelin docking tower they leaned against " - a Line will extend out indefinately, completely straight, forever."
"Geometry, "geo" meaning "earth" and "meter"of course is "measure". Earth measure." Lyra guessed. Will smiled. Like all other girls at St. Sophia's Lyra was afflicted with an ancient language course. "But Lines aren't visible?"
"As an idea, of course, a sort of measure, a necessary creation to draw conclusions from but not a creation really..." Will trailed and let the night take over making any necessary noise of silence. Lyra rested against his shoulder, Pan and Kirjava long since had been lost to their own games.
They'd jumped the fence with purpose. Yesterday, their Gyptian friend Tony Costa had made a challenge to Lyra and left an object at the top of the tower structure, but not easily accessible, he warned. Will and Lyra had made their way to Port Meadow and over the fence, their dæmons topping the obstacle far in front of them both. But their journey stopped at the base of the structure. Maybe Will had whispered something wildly romantic to Lyra and driven away all ideas of a midnight climb on the steel beast, maybe Lyra had discovered a comfortable spot of grass and Pantalaimon jumped ahead to gather the object. Either way, loathe to admit it, neither one was keen on climbing on such a dark and damp night. They'd agreed the view was best at the base in any case, either way Lyra was in for it tomorrow.
The scene would follow. Lyra would meet Tony in the hot morning sun, just as he was stashing bundles of extra rope into his newly purchased longboat. But newly purchased didn't mean new. Tony's boat was decrepit, a rushed purchase of a green wooden beast. But he cared for it lovingly, it was his home.
Lyra held the baby on her hip while Tony walked along the canal edge, peering over to find splinters or seams to wax over, grabbing a community tar bucket from his friends for serious repairs. His hawk dæmon clutched her taloned feet into the bank edge, sharp eyes catching repairs his missed.
"I don't know what happend to you, Lyra. You en't the gal we took up North six years back."
"Course I am, it's you that changed." She resisted slipping in the fen-dutch cursings that lurked in the back of her throat and bit down hotly. "Here." She tried handing the baby back.
"Just a minute, all right?" He purposely filled his hands with the tar bucket, slopping some of it on himself as he rushed to paint over a worn part. "That Will Parry got you worked over, all right. Pulling your reins, Lyra, and I sure en't seen that happen before."
"Only the gentle pull of love." Lyra flittered her eyelashes cutely in mock fancy and Pantalaimon turned to the baby, the most interesting in this banter.
"Come on Lyra, please get it back." Apparently the object Tony Costa had left on the zeppelin docking tower was a cotton-stuffed ragdoll his wife's little sister had made for their baby. She would never forgive him if he lost it. She didn't forgive him for much, starting with the baby and their rather accidental marriage that coincided with her pregnancy. "She'll kill me, Lyra, she already hates me."
"She doesn't hate you."
"Only just."
Lyra narrowed her eyes at him, but finally nodded that she'd get the doll back. She suspected he'd cheated in their contest and had his dæmon do most of the work, so she wouldn't feel bad tonight when she returned to the docking tower and Pantalaimon would gather the doll. A bustling figure of a woman appeared from one of the longboats further down the canal. "Here's Ma, then. She'll want to see you." Tony beamed as Lyra tried again, unsuccessfully to deliver the baby back to him. Pantalaimon shot to the ground to make get away easier. "You look so motherly there. When you having kids, Lyra?"
"When she gets married!" Ma Costa's booming voice shot over most of the shipping yard. "Some people got more sense than my boy, thanks Lyra." Ma Costa added as she relieved Lyra of the child and huffing, frowned at her son. He sheepishly flipped open his blackened palms. See? No good for holding a baby. Ma Costa let out a wind of exasperation. "I won't say he didn't find a nice gal though. She's good for him too, can keep him in line, working hard, just like I would have it."
Tony pantomimed a noose around his neck as Ma Costa turned. His hawk dæmon shot off a screech of reproach, from her vantage point, Ma Costa could still see him. And she did. Her dog dæmon growled a deep warning to them both.
"But he does love her too, don't you?" Her elbow holding the baby smacked into his side - Lyra wasn't sure it was entirely accidental.
Tony relaxed into a smile and threw his arms around his mother, laughing and delivering to her splotches of river algae, tar, paint chippings, and whatever else the dredges of Oxford's canals cared to hold. "Course I do, Ma." His hug ended, he pulled back and rubbed noses with his son. Afterall, he'd be bathing the boy tonight and didn't care to be pulling tar off more than one of them. They shared a laugh.
"So when's this William marrying you, Lyra?"
Above ran the rest of existance, below, Oxford. And below the docking struts of a Port Meadow zeppelin station, Lyra and her dæmon slept. Ten paces away, Will anxiously climbed the first few rungs of the utility ladder. Kirjava followed by her own methods. When he'd made it partway up he turned to the city.
"It's an amazing place, isn't it Kirjava?" She didin't respond, so he continued. "We can talk together, we can all be together. We did all right, didn't we"
"Of course, Will." She appeared suddenly around his thigh on the ladder rungs. "But the city isn't all that romantic. Two men were mugged by the Wharfs yesterday and one drowned when they tossed him in." "No." Will tried snatching glimpses of places now familiar to him, the moonlight was limited but reflected from the pointed rooftops and weathervanes of Oxford like a painting slowly emerging as his eyes floated into laziness. "It's perfect here." His heart beat faster and Kirjava made a sudden line to the ground. Once more he took in the view, scanning it all in the way someone appreciates the view from their backyard as belonging to them entirely, theirs alone. It wasn't foreign to him, it was home just as much as Lyra was home. Family. He closed his eyes. Warm hands beat down the cold metal rungs, never faltering on their damp grips. He'd known for what seemed so long his own limits, his own version of eternity. This was eternity, but he was not limited now. On the ground, Will sat down beside Lyra and lifted her head back onto his shoulder as they had been lying earlier. The cold moonlight melted over them all, outlines blurred. Kirjava came near and added warmth to their bundle. "Marry me." Will whispered hotly into her hair. The hot breath on his shoulder continued, the warm bundle of Pantalaimon didn't uncurl, his heart burned to wake her.
A single extra course Lyra had taken at St. Michael's. Will stood outside the gaping glass gothic imitation windows of the lecture hall. They'd been trying to communicate back and forth in that secret way of lovers when whispering was unnecessary and lipping was enough. Her table was set up only one away from the window, as soon as he'd gotten her attention it was merely an act of understanding. Jaxer had come into the city last night - they were going to their favorite bar to all get together, was she coming? It took many tries for the whole message to come across. Will occasionally was forced into a dancing puppet act. Finally, Lyra seemed to comprehend. 'Yes' she nodded, pretending to scratch her forehead.
"You! There! Get away from the windows, you'll destroy education!" One of St. Michael's professors came running toward Will. He turned with a silent laugh and ducked under the bushes. Kirjava tore away from the bushes to fool the man. Still feet came near him, but didn't find him, and grumbled away as they had grumbled in. Will waited, rolled from the bushes, began to pick himself up, one foot at a time, caught her eye as he looked up partway into standing. A strange look flashed across his face as Lyra watched. He smiled, something had happened. "Will you marry me?" the words sounded heavily on the silence of their communication. The sound broke against the glass windows, had Lyra understood? Her face crunched, Pantalaimon cocked his head to the side. Suddenly her head snapped forward, while others turned to the window. In a moment, Will was on his feet and away.