Disclaimer: I do not own the His Dark Materials Series.

A/N: Here is chapter 39! I wanted to spend a little bit of time writing about Wordswoth College. I loved reading about Jordan in the book and I recently re-watched the movie and was taken away by the beautiful graphics, which inspired me to spend some time unpacking this place and to have Lyra reflect back on Jordan.

Thanks for reading!

Luxurious Lies

39.

Oxford Ostracized

Lyra liked Wyatt. He was young for a Scholar, but he was nice. Genuinely nice, like the kind of nice men Lyra read about in the novels Mrs. Coulter had given her to read. That wasn't to say Scholars more generally weren't nice. They could be, but they were also mostly arrogant and bragging. But Wyatt didn't seem to be like that. Wordsworth itself didn't seem to be that kind of place.

Indeed, Wordsworth was wonderful. In all of her time at Oxford, Lyra had never visited other colleges. She'd had enough to explore within Jordan's walls and then had the riverbanks and streets to assault with the townies. She thus had taken the opportunity to explore as much of Wordsworth as she could, although Mrs. Coulter hadn't always been pleased.

"This isn't a playground," she had snapped to her their second day there, the golden monkey thrashing his tail. Lyra had asked her to go visit the college's library and search for hidden rooms. "Have you forgotten why we're here? We're supposed to be hiding."

Lyra hadn't forgotten, so she made sure to be careful. Even though it was one of the newest colleges in Oxford (built in the nineteenth century as opposed to Jordan's twelfth century heritage), Wordsworth had a certain charm about it. It was rustic but also modern. They were staying in Wyatt's quarters, which were at the back of the college. As the distinguished professor of rhetoric, he had a small flat to himself adorned with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a private study, and a living room and kitchen. The bedrooms and living room were lined with dark wooden paneling, soft plush carpet, and dim naptha lighting while the bathrooms and kitchen were completely tiled. It was cozy, almost like a cross between Mrs. Coulter's room in Bolvangar and the cabin they'd stayed in back in North Gorvsy. It was definitely nicer than the vessel ship Lyra and Mrs. Coulter had traveled on.

The inside of the flat was only so interesting, so on the third night of their stay while Mrs. Coulter and Wyatt were talking business in Wyatt's private study, Lyra decided to venture outside the flat and the college.

"Are you sure about this?" Pan was fluttering by Lyra's ear as a dark gray moth. "She told us not to go outside…"

"Hush, Pan." Mrs. Coulter was just paranoid, in Lyra's opinion. They were safe at Wordsworth – no one was going to hurt them there. These Scholars studied rhetoric, the art of persuasion and effective communication. They didn't care about Dust and children. Their work focused more on how Scholars and the Magisterium talked to people and relayed information; how they can make people feel safe. Again, it was all safe.

Wyatt's quarters led out into the main chamber, which connected the four other distinguished professors' quarters. Lyra had slipped quietly out of Wyatt's living room and eased the door shut behind her, pausing to hear if anyone was around.

The staircase! Pan flew over to the grand central staircase. It was shiny and freshly polished, meaning the servants must have been there recently. Urging Lyra to stay back, Pan picked his way down the staircase and into the entrance hall, checking for guards and daemons. All clear!

This was too easy! No one was on patrol, no one was watching; no one was stopping anyone from leaving. That was a far cry different from Jordan, whose borders were always covered by security and whose Scholars seemed to constantly feel under the threat of attack. Was experimental theology really all that dangerous? Yet words and convincing people to think things weren't?

Once down the staircase, Lyra spotted two large, wooden doors. One undoubtedly led to the rest of the college with its libraries, lecture halls, and conference rooms while the other led outside.

Which one was it?

Not this one! Lyra opened the door nearest to her and then quickly shut it again, for it opened to a long hallway with several bright lamps. She and Pan scurried to the other end of the hall and then slipped out that door, which indeed led outside.

The garden was much like Jordan's with his large fountains and various trees and plants, and Lyra suddenly felt a strong slice of sadness rip at her heart for she hadn't seen Jordan in quite some time. It'd been months since she first lived with Mrs. Coulter, ran away with the Gyptians, and then ran away with Mrs. Coulter and Lord Asriel. It almost felt like a lifetime, even though it wasn't.

She wondered if Roger was back yet, working in the kitchen before scampering out on the roof. She wondered how the Master was, and if he'd gotten in trouble for funding Lord Asriel's work when the Magisterium clearly wanted him dead. She wondered if he'd been punished, if the entire college had been punished, and she wondered what was going to happen to it, especially now that Lord Asriel was still out there and she and Mrs. Coulter were living like fugitives.

"Maybe we could just go –"

"No, Lyra!" Pan was firm. He raked his cat claw against her boot as he trotted forward to the nearest tree, climbing up the trunk. "We're pushing it enough as it is. But, climb up here and maybe we can see it!"

She could see it. It was impossible to miss with its tall, handsome towers and ever-stretching walls of stone. There was the Master's garden with that big old statue, and there was the rooftop Lyra and Roger climbed the most. That was Lyra's Jordan, exactly the same yet probably so very different.

As they scampered down from the tree, laughing as Lyra slipped on a rotted branch and almost fell. It'd been forever since they'd been in a real, actual tree, not one of the leafless twigs out in the arctic. The air here was fresh, too, and the moon bright and the breeze cool.

They may have been hiding, but they were happy. At least for now. And they still had hope they'd see Roger and everyone at Jordan again soon.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"How can I help you?" Mrs. Coulter and Wyatt were in his bedroom, their daemons lounging together on the ground as their humans lay together in bed. Wyatt was tracing the corners of Mrs. Coulter's face while gazing down softly at her, his eyes lingering on her mouth. "Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"Will you?" Her voice was soft as she leaned closer, hearing his breath hitch.

"Yes. I'll do anything."

"I need help explaining everything to the Church."

"I'll write you a response." Wyatt lifted his head just then. "I'll write whatever responses you need. I can figure out what to say and how to say it. Your wish is my command."

Of course it was. Mrs. Coulter bit back a laugh as he leaned into her neck and she put a hand on his chest. It again was all too easy. As a man who made a career and his scholarship out of playing with words, he'd help her get out of any situation. And that's precisely what she needed.