Lyra smoothed the front of her dress and rubbed the sides of her brown patent leather shoes against each other until they squeaked in protest. Taking a deep breath, she readied herself for the task ahead - an evening attempting to charm and win over the wrinkled scholars and patrons of Jordan College.
The three of them were stood in the library waiting for the Master's permission to enter the foyer. The servants had turned on the anbaric lamps though it was unnecessary, the wide windows still offered plenty of daylight, on this mellow July evening.
"This place smells musty," Pan whispered, rubbing his golden-red pine fur against her.
"That comes from the scholars I think," Lyra whispered back.
Pan giggled and ran down the length of her body and sniffed the air. To Lyra's side stood the two other candidates competing for the annual Jordan College scientific grant. She had tried talking to them but received short answers; they were all wary of each other since only one would be chosen to receive the grant.
"Here," a gentle voice spoke into her ear, "you're going to end up ruining your dress if you keep wiping your sweaty hands on it."
Lyra turned around and a young man with wide blue eyes offered her a napkin.
"Thanks," she took the napkin and scrunched it between her hands like a ball.
The man looked to be about her age and quietly moved back to the sides again. Lyra took a step in his direction.
"Are you a student here?"
"I work here, ma'am, I'm the assistant to the head porter."
"Oh right, I knew that." Lyra looked away, embarrassed she hadn't noticed his servant's jacket, "Are you going to be in the hall this evening?"
"Of course, ma'am, it's why I spent two hours last night polishing the silver."
Lyra forced a laugh
"I bet he knows them all#," Pan whispered, his whiskers rubbing against the edges of her ear, "their names, departments, weaknesses…"
Lyra stepped closer.
"What's your name?"
The young servant stared at her, somewhat taken aback by her request.
"It's Roger ma'am."
"Hello Roger, I'm Lyra."
"I know. Your father's always in the papers."
The other two candidates turned to look in their direction and a heaviness attached itself to Lyra's chest, as if she had just confessed to a crime, and was now waiting to hear the punishment.
"There's no need to look so sad." Roger shrugged sheepishly, "I can't read ma'am, I just look at the pictures."
Lyra smiled, "Have you worked here long?"
"All my life."
"Do you like it here?"
His gaze turned upwards slightly and after a moment he focused on her again.
"Yes, yes, I do. It's the best place in the world to grow up."
Lyra cocked up one brow, he seemed content to be a servant in a great university, something that would never appeal to her.
"So, you must know everyone here right, Roger?"
"I do."
Pan pulled away from his position at her feet and moved closer to Rogers's daemon, a possum, that seemed more interested in watching the daemon's of the servants that passed by the window.
Roger looked at Pan and laughed, "Sorry but there's nothing I can tell you that'll help you win that funding."
Lyra hopes deflated in an instance, despite her best attempts all week, it seemed she would have to try to win the award the honest way, which greatly reduced her chances of getting it at all. The library door opened. It was the Wren again.
"The Master and his guests are all gathered. The Master will introduce you before moving into the great hall for this evening's dinner. Please remember here at Jordon we don't allow some of the," he coughed uncomfortably, "looser moral behaviours we see taking place at some of the other colleges."
Lyra rolled her eyes; her mother had warned her some still complained at seeing women in places where only men had been for centuries. "You must never let them see you afraid. That's when they'll try to tear you down," she had once advised.
Gathering Pan into her arms, Lyra pushed back her shoulders and strode through to the foyer, reflecting the Wren's cold gaze back at him.
The buzz of chatter bounced off the circular walls of the foyer and excited her immediately.
"Gentlemen," the Master clapped his hands, "I'd like to introduce this year's candidates for the annual College grant. Please take the time to speak to each one before tonight's vote. Each candidate has put together an impressive and ambitious proposal and their work is some of the most exciting coming out of this country, so it is important you hear from the candidates themselves before making up your mind. Thank you."
The Master put out his hand and welcomed each one of them before stepping to the side. The room heaved with over fifty stiff-looking men, some of whom pushed up their glasses to examine the three candidates whilst others ignored them and returned to their discussions.
One of the candidates, a girl named Alice, who Lyra thought snobby, stepped forward and pushed herself into the centre of a group of four scholars, who immediately seemed taken with her.
"Well good luck to you," whispered the other candidate, Malcolm, who slid over to the left and attempted to strike up a conversation with two of the most elderly and frail-looking men there.
"How about him over there? He's looking at us." Pan directed Lyra's attention to a podgy looking man.
"He's not a scholar."
"He still has a vote."
Lyra put on her best smile and glided, as elegantly as she'd seen her mother do, towards the man.
"Well aren't you a beauty?" The man eyed her up and down, "so what's your project? "
Before Lyra could respond, the man put his finger to his lip, "it must be something to with nature, young women prefer those kinds of courses. Are you an outdoorsy kind of girl?"
"Um, sort of."
"I knew it! My summer home has the largest garden in England, it's bigger than the Queen's and stretches for miles and miles. You know I've always wanted to open up my properties for science." He leaned closer and Lyra felt Pan scramble at her ankle as the man's daemon, a fox, circled him., "I wouldn't mind letting you do some of your research there. Privately of course." He winked and the fox drew near and with a heavy paw, stroked the back of Pan's neck. Pan shuddered.
Lyra skilfully excused herself and struck up a conversation with an elderly man, whose only words were: "Is it time for dinner yet?"
Half an hour later, Lyra stood on the side, pouting. This was not going well. Some of the guests dismissed her before she could speak, others seemed to think her project was too complex for a woman and then there was the podgy man, who was still on the hunt for her and hurried over whenever he spotted her alone. Worse still, Alice and Malcolm seemed to be charming the scholars and patrons with ease.
"We stand no chance," she mumbled to pan.
"Here's your chance," Lyra swung round to find Roger stood behind her holding a bottle in one hand and a tray of glasses in the other, "that's Lord Nugent coming over here. He's the nicest Lord I've ever met."
Lyra beamed at Roger and as soon as Lord Nugent lifted a glass from the tray, she introduced herself.
"What is your field?" he asked taking a sip and then frowning in disapproval, "I think this is corked, my boy." He returned the glass to where he had picked it up from.
"Particle physics." Lyra declared.
Lord Nugent's thick brows furrowed. "Is it now? And which university do you come from?"
"St Sophia's."
"I wasn't aware that St Sophia's taught particle physics. I'm sure they don't have the funding or the equipment."
"They do. And a person can learn anything if they put their mind to it."
Lord Nugent raised his brows, "I suppose your right. I must confess I know little on the subject but my friend over there is quite the expert."
Before Lord Nugent could guide her towards his friends, the dinner bell rang and the scholars filed into the Great Hall. Sticking close to Lord Nugent, Lyra followed him in. She had spent so much time worrying about the scholars that it left her woefully unprepared for the grandeur of the hall. Rows of glittering silver cutlery sparkled from the tables that ran on forever, heavy chandeliers hovered mid-air, unsmiling portraits hung from the walls and in the centre, a gold circular sculpture, similar to a compass, appeared ready to roll off its plinth at any moment. The Great Hall was far grander than anything she had seen at St Sophia's.
Lord Nugent paused to talk to someone and then moved around the room to find a spot to sit in. Lyra stuck close to him and was pleased when he pulled out a chair for her. Lyra took the seat and Pan jumped on to her shoulder and searched for the other candidates.
"Malcolm's sitting next to the Master," he informed her.
Lyra pulled a face, "What about Alice?"
"What did you say your name was again?" Lord Nugent asked as if he was certain she had told him already.
"Lyra."
"And your family name?"
Lyra swallowed hard. She wanted to lie, it made sense, but older people were strange when it came to lying, they usually took great offence at it. Besides, the ballot paper would reveal her full name anyway.
"Lyra Coulter."
"Any relation of Edward Coulter?"
Heads turned in their direction as people took their seats, and though Lyra took care to keep her eyes on Lord Nugent she could hear the whispers of 'Coulter's Bill,' already.
"Yes. He's my father."
The whispers around them increased.
"Change the subject." Pan urged.
"Are you a regular visitor at St Sophia's, lord Nugent?" Lyra asked.
"No, I've only visited once."
"So how is that the daughter of Edward Coulter needs funding?" said a man from across the table, "I'm sure your father could fund you and several others."
"That's Lord Harson, he deals with your father regularly in parliament," explained Lord Nugent.
"That's a very polite way of putting it," the man responded and the table burst out in laughter.
"Is it true that he's going to push the Magisterium's bill through parliament unamended?" someone cried out.
"Tell us about what he's doing at the Magisterium," another voice called out." I hear they've already agreed to give him a position in the consistorial court by this autumn."
"Now, now leave the girl alone." Lord Nugent turned his back on some of the most vociferous guests on his side of the table, "Come my dear tell me about the project you want funding for. It must be something interesting if Coulter refuses to fund it."
Someone snorted, "He probably doesn't want to waste money on some frivolous feminine experiment."
Lyra felt her blood boil.
"Don't." Pan whispered, "Without this funding we'll be stuck at home forever."
Lyra cleared her throat and addressed Lord Nugent, aware that the rest of the table was secretly listening.
"I plan to conduct experiments on particle behaviours under certain conditions."
"I see. And what experience do you have in this field?"
"Lots."
"Like what?"
Lyra shifted in her seat, a few exaggerations wouldn't hurt. "I worked on the Grayling experiment at the Arctic institute-"
"Ah Asriel, you're a member of the Arctic institute, aren't you?" Lord Harson interrupted as a tall powerful looking man took a seat at the table and several others turned to acknowledge him.
"Yes. And proudly so."
Lyra felt the blood drain out of her cheeks and Pan glared at her.
"Perhaps you know Lyra here, she's a - what do you do there?"
Lyra cleared her throat. "I'm an assistant to one of the um...err..scholars there."
"Which scholar?" Lord Asriel's dark eyes honed in on her.
Lyra could feel others at the table waiting for an answer and scrambled for an answer that wouldn't get her in trouble. Did this Lord Asriel know all the members of the institute? He certainly looked old enough to know most.
"Your mother is a member there too, isn't she?" Lord Harson added, "Oh yes it makes sense that she would have you as an assistant."
Lyra didn't argue and the others around the table seemed satisfied, all except Lord Asriel.
"What is your mother's name?"
Lord Nugent cleared his throat loudly and held up his wine glass for a refill, mumbling something about the quality of the wine from the Masters cellar, whilst his daemon jumped from side to side on the back of the chair. Lord Asriel frowned at Lord Nugent, a look that Lyra guessed was hard for anyone to withstand. A desire to put the kindly Lord Nugent at ease, forced Lyra to answer:
"Marisa Coulter. She's been a member a long time."
The ferocious look in Lord Asriel's eyes wavered, he appeared startled. Her mother often had that effect.
Lyra turned to Lord Nugent to continue explaining her project further, however, the older man had struck up a conversation with his neighbour. Pan returned to perch on her shoulder to spy on the other candidates. Alice appeared to have charmed another dozen scholars who all waited on her every word. Roger stood close to the Master and Lyra gave him a discreet wave. He smiled back and then continued with his duties. The Master's table burst out with laughter, Lyra arched her neck to see, and to her disappointment it seemed as though Malcolm was already a favourite. Her rivals' successes grated on her; they made it look so easy.
"He's still watching us," Pan whispered discreetly.
"I know."
Lord Asriel's eyes had not left her since she had spoken her mother's name, she turned to face him and found he was studying her as intently as the podgy man earlier had. Lyra shot him an angry look. Now the chances of winning the grant were fading, the inclination to be well mannered also disappeared. Lord Harson leaned forward,
"I wonder, why would Coulter not fund your project? You know this grant is for those with fewer means."
Lyra shrugged, "he doesn't agree with my research."
"Why?"
Lyra thought back to the time she had asked her father to fund her project. His face had turned to thunder,
"You want me to fund research that goes directly against the Magisterium? Ha! Well Marissa I told you this would happen one day, our daughter is intent on ruining us."
"Don't be so dramatic Edward. Lyra dear, perhaps you should rethink this idea. Your father is one of the rising stars of the Magisterium. It won't be long now before he's one of the most powerful men in the most powerful institute in the world. You wouldn't want to disrupt his chances would you?"
"My project won't disrupt his chances. I promise you."
Her father snorted and turned away to glare out the window.
"We'd like to believe that," her mother continued, "except Dust has already been declared as sinful. Imagine how embarrassing it would be for your father and I, if it were discovered our daughter, our only beloved child, was conducting experiments that defy the churches orders. You wouldn't want to embarrass us like that would you, Lyra darling?"
"Dust is not sin."
"The church is never wrong."
"Dr Mary Malone showed me- "
"What the hell would that heretic know?" her father swung round, his chest heaving "we sent you to university to make us proud and instead you wasted your time with that wretched woman."
"If I can prove she was right, the Consistorial court will free her- "
"The Consistorial court will never free a lying blasphemous witch like her and if you're not careful they'll throw you in with her."
"Now look what you've done Lyra, you've made your father angry right before he's going to give one of his most important speeches in parliament. Apologise. Right now. And let's agree to never mention that woman's name in this house again. Hurry up, dear, our car is waiting."
Her mother looked at her expectantly. In the past Lyra had apologised whenever her mother instructed her to do so but lately she found it harder to force herself to do so.
"No," Lyra arched her back, "I need to prove Dr Malone's research into Dust was- "
The golden monkey suddenly appeared from behind Lyra and Pan shot up her legs and clung to her chest. A coldness over took her mother's eyes as she pressed her lips together.
"I warned you, you were spoiling her," said her father.
"Where would you be without all these luxuries, we provide you?" her mother's voice shook, "we've given you everything and you're not going to ruin it all now."
Her father stepped forward, "I'm ordering you to stop all this nonsense and be like all the other girls your age. If you won't then we'll take away everything. You won't survive without us."
Lyra glared back at her father, "I will and I can."
That had been the last time she had spoken with him or her mother, despite still living at home.
Lord Harson tilted his head in a curious manner and Lyra answered with:
"Because he cares more about the Magisterium than he does anything else."
Her answer drew Lord Nugent's attention but before he could say anything the servants came and stood between them and laid a plate full of food before them.
The first course was scallops, Lyra had skipped lunch and tucked into them straightway. While she ate she could feel Lord Asriel still staring at her. Once she was done, she put down her fork and shot him another angry glare. To her surprise, he had not touched the food on his plate and meeting her gaze, asked,
"You don't get on with Coulter then?"
"Not always."
"And your mother?"
"Even less."
He chuckled and his reaction disturbed Lord Nugent. Had her mother done something to upset Lord Asriel? It seemed so.
"My work is separate from my parents. They have no involvement in it."
"I can see. Though it must be something or else Marissa would never allow you to come here of all places to seek funding."
Lyra felt the heat rise in her cheeks and his eyes narrowed.
"She doesn't know, does she?" he laughed savagely. He definitely did not like her mother.
The next course arrived, and again Lyra felt him still studying her. A snow leopard stalked out from under the table and Lyra lurched away. Lord Asriel cleared his throat forcefully and the snow leopard took a long sniff close to Pan and then slid under the table to return to its owner. Lyra glanced at Lord Asriel, he was still watching her.
"What is your project on?"
"Particles behaviours under special conditions."
"There are libraries dedicated to the behaviour of every particle under almost every condition. Your project is nothing new."
"There are no libraries dedicated to Dust."
A few heads turned her way, and again her answer drew a savage laugh from him.
"No wonder you've come here. And what do you know about Dust?"
"Not enough. That's why I need the funding."
"And what if the Magisterium find out?"
Lyra shifted in her seat, though she had been careful to avoid mentioning Dr Mary Malone's name to anyone, the very idea she was studying Dust would draw the Magisterium's attention and she had not yet come up with any plan to deal with them.
"I'll deal with them." She declared confidently. Pan twitched nervously and she urged him to follow her lead.
"You don't believe in the church then? You're not soon to be a nun?"
"Asriel." Lord Nugent warned.
"I'm curious that's all, Thomas."
"No." Lyra responded.
"So the Magisterium do not frighten you?"
"That's enough now," Lord Nugent interjected, "let's not draw our new friend into troubled waters."
Lord Asriel sat back and smirked.
"But it is something isn't it Thomas? To see a desire for truth and reason emerge, despite the upbringing."
"Yes, I'm sure our friends at the genetics department would be interested but for now let us talk about something else."
Lord Asriel's comments puzzled Lyra and she began to wonder what was that he did. He was not dressed in the traditional robes of a scholar nor did he have the air of a politician.
"What do you do?" she asked him as a servant placed a plum tart with a quenelles of cream in front of her.
"I'm an explorer."
Lyra's curiosity peaked.
"Where? In the Himalayas? Americas? In the North?"
He did not respond and Lyra studied him. His skin did not have a tan and Jordan college was infamous for funding projects that the Magisterium disapproved of.
"It must be the North," she declared, "Are you part of the Grumman expedition?"
"Not entirely. How old are you now?"
"Twenty one."
"Where did you study? And under whom?"
Lord Asriel proceeded to bombard her with questions. He wanted to know her grades for every year at school, whether she was physically active and what she did when she wasn't 'diligently studying.'
Throughout the interrogation Lord Nugent watched silently sighing heavily to himself.
"So, your parents don't approve of you studying of Dust," Lord Asriel said at the end.
"They think a journey to Svalbard- "
"You intend to go North?" Lord Asriel frowned.
The snow leopard sprang out from under the table and swished her tail from side to side lazily. Pan, who was sat on the back of Lyra's chair, almost slipped as he clambered towards the opposite side. The snow leopard's paw shot out and then she settled down again once Pan regained his grip.
"I do, it's the only place to see the aurora."
"That's a dangerous place for a little girl."
"I don't intend to take any little girls with me."
His dark eyes flashed; he probably wasn't used to someone answering him back.
"And what do you intend to do in the North with Dust?"
Lyra considered her answer. Dr Malone had warned her against speaking openly about their experiments on Dust and this Lord Asriel, it was difficult to tell whether he was friend or foe and so she replied,
"Not much, just the usual, recording mass, speed and trajectory measurements."
"You could do that here."
"I prefer not to work with the Magisterium watching my every move."
"Coulter can protect you from them."
"He could, but his protection comes with strings."
"Ah! So you're searching for academic freedom."
"Complete freedom." Lyra glanced at Pan, "perhaps I could join you when you go to Svalbard next?"
He withdrew and turned to discuss something with one of the scholars to his side.
Once dinner was over, the servants streamed in to begin clearing the tables and Lyra and the other candidates were escorted back to the library where they waited to hear the result of the vote. It was a long wait, Alice stood staunchly by the door and Malcolm picked up a book and began reading, whilst Lyra sat by the window. Across the courtyard the servants were still rushing in and out of the kitchen, and she squinted her eyes to see if she could spot Roger but it was too dark now.
Two hours later the Master appeared.
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long but there was some heated debate amongst those present tonight. I'm pleased to say that we were all very impressed with all of your proposals however, the grant is awarded to Malcolm Polstead."
Malcolm threw aside the book he had been reading and jumped up to shake the Master's hand. Sighing, Lyra forced herself up to congratulate Malcolm and play the part of polite loser in front of the Master. Then she followed the others out of the library and down towards the front of the college, where a car waited for them.
"Lyra!" A voice called from behind.
Lord Nugent hurried over to her and ordered the car away.
"Lord Asriel would like to speak to you in the retiring room."
"Why?"
Lord Nugent began to walk towards the archway. Lyra hesitated and then followed.
On entering the retiring room, Lyra found the air heavy with smoke. Lord Asriel reclined by the fireplace, where a low fire still burned and a pretty orange glow warmed the room. His snow leopard lay, stretched out, on the floor next to him.
"You wished to speak to me?"
"Sit."
Reluctantly Lyra took up the seat opposite him. The snow leopard moved to the side and seemed to welcome Pan to join her close to the fire.
"You didn't get the funding then?"
"No."
"So what do you intend to do about it?"
Lyra shrugged, "I don't know but I'll find a way, I promised I would."
"Promised who?"
"Oh, just myself."
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
He glared at her and suddenly it felt as if the smoke in the room descended on her throat, filling up her lungs and choking her.
"Dr Mary Malone." She said breathlessly.
"How do you know Dr Malone?"
"You know her too?"
"I asked you a question."
"She's a friend of mine."
Lord Asriel sat up, "a friend put in jail by your father's friends in the Magisterium."
"I'm not like my father."
"No, you're not." He stood and walked over to the desk, "I have to leave soon, I'm needed in Whitehall tomorrow. Here," he held out a piece of paper for her.
Taking the paper, Lyra's mouth opened in surprise.
"£50,000?"
"That should cover the cost of your research."
Lyra glanced at Pan who stood on his back feet by the fireplace.
"But, but- why?" she directed at Lord Asriel.
"Because there's much to learn about Dust and too few of us with the guts to defy the Magisterium anymore."
"But this is more than I need."
"There's enough there to cover your living costs too. I doubt Coulter will allow anyone who defies his beloved magisterium, to live under his roof, especially not when he's angling to become the director of the Consistorial court. Should you ever need any more you can reach me here."
He handed her a small business card:
Lord Asriel
October house
Chelsea
London
He crossed the room and locked a case. A moment later a man entered.
"You can take these Thorold."
"Very well sir, here's your coat. The airship is about to leave."
Lord Asriel pulled on the coat and the snow leopard got to her feet and padded over to him.
"Thank you." Lyra cried out still overwhelmed by the stranger's kindness.
He nodded, an unreadable look crossed his face and without another word he left.
Pan ran over to her.
"£50,000?!" Lyra showed him the cheque and he sniffed at it. "Why do you think he's helping us?"
Lyra shrugged, "Maybe he's Dr Malone's friend or maybe he just hates mother." She tilted her head, "his daemon seemed quite fond of you though, so maybe he just likes us. Once we help Dr Malone, we could try to join his expedition to the north."
"Don't get ahead of yourself, we don't know anything about him."
The door opened again, and Roger stood in the doorway with an anbaric lamp.
"Your car's waiting ma'am."
"Thank you and call me Lyra."
"Ok, Lyra your car's waiting."
Lyra folded the cheque and put it away in her purse.
"Roger, do you know of any places to rent around here?"
"Plenty."