Disclaimer: I do not own the His Dark Materials Series.
A/N: Forget about Lord Asriel, by chance? No worries, because here he is :) Also, so sorry for my delay. I sincerely DID get back into this story but oh my gosh, the end of the semester is very busy! The next few weeks are busy, too, but hopefully more time to update!
Luxurious Lies
48.
A Midday Stroll
No one knew where he was, and that was exactly how he wanted it to be.
Lord Asriel and his daemon were currently hiking in the far regions of the South. They were navigating through a rainforest with tall trees, long vines, wide bushes, and an almost insurmountable path moving forward. It was hot, well in excess of one hundred degrees, and their feet grew sore as they continued to plunge ahead. The bottom of Lord Asriel's boots were cracking as sweat dripped down his back. They couldn't stop until they reached their destination, though: a tiny village at the verge edge of New Afrika.
"I definitely prefer the cold," Stelmaria growled to him, biting through a particularly thick vine so they could move past it. "My fur is too hot."
"I think you'll live," he said to her, softly, with a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes. He laughed as she shook her fur and tossed him a glare. After she cleared the vine, they continued to move forward the best that they could, Lord Asriel pulling out his damp map to check that they were on the right course.
Lord Asriel had been to the South exactly one time. It was a very long while ago—almost 15 years ago, before he had become famous and had made any meaningful discoveries. Before he'd had Lyra, Stelmaria added. He'd gone, as others had, to learn more about the infamous zombi. They were slaves, with no will or daemon of their own. They were a whispered myth that lived between the pages of certain theological and experimental works, there for the careful eye to see and yearn for. But they were quite elusive creatures, even here in their territory. He hadn't been able to find them the first time, much to the benefit of Marisa, who somehow had found them and whose work was able to expand on the concept because of it.
Marisa. He wondered where she was, in spite of himself. He'd last seen her when he had been abducted by Serafina. It felt like an entire eon ago now, really. Was it really just over half a year or so? They'd been on…good terms then. Perhaps he could even say on better terms than they'd ever been. But much had changed, and so much more work had to be done. He'd heard how she'd joined forces again with the Church, and that seemed to have changed things. She seemed like the same old Marisa, which meant he had to work even harder to finish what he'd started back on his own trip to Bolvangar.
Lord Asriel would get there. He was close, he knew, to figuring out the nature of Dust. To figuring out the nature of multiple worlds. To figuring out what, precisely, he could do to completely change the world. He just had to rub the sweat away from his eyes and keep moving southward.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
It was three days after Lyra's arrival that Mrs. Coulter saw her again, sitting with Madame Bisset on a park bench
"Why, hello there."
She'd come up from behind and surprised them. Lyra's head whipped up, her eyes widening slightly. Madame Bisset gave a little start. She smiled once she realized who had come up them before swiftly covering the title of the book she was reading with the slight shift of her hand. It was a small move, and quite smooth, but Mrs. Coulter had still caught the title: Symbols and Their Meanings for the Alethiometer. It bothered Mrs. Coulter again, to see how indiscrete Madame Bisset was about her business with Lyra. She was clearly training her in the uses of the alethiometer. If Mrs. Coulter were on the wrong side of things and had so obviously seen that…it would be a disaster.
The incompetence, the monkey growled in her thoughts. It's criminal.
"Hi," Lyra said, squinting up at Mrs. Coulter as it was an extraordinary sunny day.
"Taking the afternoon off, my dear?" Madame Bisset observed.
"Yes. I find that a bout of fresh air and exercise is good for the body and the soul… Care to join me?"
Of course Madame Bisset declined. Mrs. Coulter didn't expect her to actually come along. After exchanging a meaningful look with the old woman (some sort of assurance, it looked like), Lyra agreed, standing up and setting her book down on the bench.
"Are you alright?" They were walking side by side now, Madame Bisset long forgotten back on her bench several paces away.
"Yeah," Lyra sighed, Pan soaring above them as a bald eagle.
"What is it?" Mrs. Coulter knew that sigh. She'd heard it time and time again in London, and on their voyages to the North. Lyra was unhappy. Something wasn't to her liking. She wasn't completely satisfied.
"It's just…Weird," Lyra explained. "I hardly know her, and I have to stay with her when—"
She stopped just then without finishing her thought, and Mrs. Coulter's heart jumped. Did she mean what Mrs. Coulter thought she meant? She had to stay with Madame Bisset when…she could stay with Mrs. Coulter instead? Did she want that? Could…Mrs. Coulter somehow arrange for that to happen?
Wishful thinking, the monkey scoffed, but Mrs. Coulter wasn't so sure. She waited to see what else Lyra would say about the subject.
"I don't even know what I'm supposed to do here," Lyra continued, very clearly changing the subject.
"Well, it seems to me that you're meant to study the alethiometer." Lyra stopped walking just then, eyes wide, and Mrs. Coulter merely chuckled. "I saw the book she was holding. Not very discrete, is she?"
"'Spose not," Lyra answered, resuming her pace. Mrs. Coulter matched it precisely. "She doesn't even know how to read it that well, actually. But I let her think that she's helping me."
"That's very kind of you. I'm sure she appreciates feeling helpful."
They reached a food stall now, which was serving the most classic of Nordic foods. Lyra's eyes wandered, lit with curiosity, and Mrs. Coulter felt herself start to smile.
"Let me treat you to lunch," she offered, tilting her head and watching as Lyra stared at her. "It's…the least I could do."
There it was again: that tension in the air between them. Mrs. Coulter could understand why it was there. From Lyra's perspective, Mrs. Coulter had abandoned her. She'd abandoned her as soon as they'd returned to Brytain from Trollesund when Mrs. Coulter retreated to Wordsmouth College. But how was Mrs. Coulter supposed to explain to Lyra that she had been in the middle of a terribly complicated situation regarding the Church? That they wanted to continue the operations, and Mrs. Coulter wanted nothing more to do with them, but that they needed her in a way she only very recently began to understand?
Maybe it was pointless to try and reason with a child about overly complicated adult matters, but Mrs. Coulter had to try. Much to the monkey's disdain.
"Madame Bisset will probably want me to eat her stew," Lyra sighed, moving away from the food cart.
"Lyra," Mrs. Coulter tisked, her eyes twinkling. "Since when have you done as you're told and expected? Let me buy you a hand-pie. They make them differently up here than in Brytain."
The girl didn't refuse, and merely nodded as Mrs. Coulter took her place in line before guiding the pair and their daemons over to a picnic table where they had hand-pies, churros, and raspberry iced tea.
"This is good!" Lyra garbled between bites of the pie, her feet swinging. "I don't think I've ever tasted anything like it!"
"It's the seasoning," Mrs. Coulter explained, pausing to simply enjoy the site of her child happily eating in front of her. It'd been so long since they'd been together, since they'd just relaxed together. Probably the first time since London, actually, which was…almost a year ago now? Their outing like this felt so normal in a way that their relationship had never been normal. Was this what it was like, to have a child and enjoy a weekend outing in the park? Is this what their life could have been like together, except spending it in the parks and streets of London? Would they have been happy?
How you torture me, the monkey complained, so Mrs. Coulter stopped. As tempting as it was given the beautiful weather and the precious time with Lyra, Mrs. Coulter had to get on with it. Time with Lyra was precious, unfortunately, and not something she could take for granted or waste.
"I've been asking around," Mrs. Coulter said quietly, the golden monkey checking their surroundings as she calmly watched Lyra, "and I've been learning of a certain resistance group."
"Resistance to what?" Lyra asked, wiping her mouth with the end of her sleeve. Such a bad habit that Mrs. Coulter hadn't been able to break.
"What do you think?" A looked passed between them, and then Lyra nodded. "That, I presume, is why you're here, Lyra. But what they don't know is who I am, and why I'm here."
Lyra's eyes hardened again, and Mrs. Coulter proceeded to tell her what had happened, and what she knew. Her original project had to continue, because the situation with Dust was intensifying. The Magisterium's alethiometer was growing restless on the subject, diverting all of Fra Pavel's questions to insisting more and more that the situation was grave and dire. No one really knew what that meant, of course, and so they put their energy into the one thing regarding Dust that they knew anything about: Mrs. Coulter's experiments. A fool's solution, really, to attempt to control something which could not be. But they would never admit that.
"You can confirm with your alethiometer later," Mrs. Coulter continued, "but that's where I'm at and what I'm supposed to be doing. But as I was saying, there's this other group in town, stationed here and elsewhere. And I think we can help each other…But I have to be careful."
Lyra's face was unreadable as she continued to listen, sipping her drink and sitting completely still. Had she always had such focus, Mrs. Coulter wondered? Their time together in the North had been filled with the same sort of restless energy that characterized their shared journey in London. But now, Lyra seemed almost changed, matured. Perhaps it wasn't only one's daemon settling that caused one to grow up to a certain degree.
"We should probably get going," Lyra said after a few beats, looking down at the watch on her left arm. "Madame Bisset will be expecting me back."
"Of course." It was painful, to leave it like that. Mrs. Coulter bent forward and collected the packaging, throwing it in a nearby garbage can and then gathering up her purse. Lyra was waiting for her, awkwardly, and Mrs. Coulter wished that it didn't have to be like this. She wished that she didn't have to pass her own child off to a complete stranger to care for irresponsibly, when there was a current of movement swirling around them unfolding in ways no one could predict.
But, she had to. This was the life they led now. And Mrs. Coulter had to keep up all pretenses, for Lyra's sake and for everyone's sake.
"Well, here we are," Mrs. Coulter said when Madame Bisset came back into sight on their walk back. She felt anxious, being at the precipice of giving Lyra away again.
"Yeah," Lyra replied, eyes forward and as expressionless as they'd been before.
"Lyra!" Madame Bisset called once they were closer. "Oh, good! It's time for lunch now, dear."
"I need–I want to see you again," Mrs. Coulter whispered quickly to Lyra, eyes still on Madame Bisset. She waved to the woman as she continued to speak to Lyra. "May I?"
Lyra didn't say anything, but as she went back to Madame Bisset and gathered up her belongings, Mrs. Coulter didn't feel any resentment or dread coming from her. In fact, Mrs. Coulter almost felt anticipation coming from her as she said her polite goodbye and followed Madame Bisset back to her house.
Wishful thinking, the golden monkey repeated to her, scowling.
"Wishful thinking," she said aloud, smiling and heading back to the local tavern, where she'd begin to plan more seeds to unravel what was happening in this godforsaken town.
I love writing these tense interactions between Lyra and Mrs. Coulter! My favorites.