Hope you like this next chapter!
His father was waiting for him when he got home, with a temper that had put up with two disappearances and was subsequently not very happy.
"Just where have you been?" he asked archly, his lynx daemon glaring at them both. Roger held Praskovia in sparrow form close to him and glared back at the daemon.
"Out." He felt his daemon shiver with fear but stood as still as he was able.
He hadn't been able to bring himself to fetch his mother from the bench, deciding instead to leave them there, her and Pan. Praskovia had led him home and she quivered against his chest just over his heart.
The lynx, Loretta, growled a little but let them pass as they headed up to Roger's room.
Model boats hung from the ceiling and books on plants were stacked neatly on a shelf to the left side of the room. The bed was neatly made and the wardrobe had ironed and neat clothes hanging there, while storybooks were lined up like meek soldiers on another shelf. A little clock, painted gaudy red and green, ticked away the time on the desk where a couple of notebooks had been left beside a fountain pen. Praskovia flew up to flutter around the boats, the red one being rather like the Fisco boat. An anbar lantern cast a little glow on the desk as Roger turned it on. He opened his journal and began to write.
Today, I met the person who will be helping Father and the other professors on this trip. His family are very nice. Mother stayed at the bench for a long while today.
He shut the book and tied it up with a white ribbon, before a knock sounded at the door. He walked over and Praskovia turned herself into a moth to flutter onto his shoulder. He opened the door, and his father stood there.
"Just to let you know, the date for the expedition has been set. We leave in a week's time aboard a Gyptian ship." His father nodded after this and turned on his heel to walk down the stairs.
Roger nodded after him, feeling strongly that this gesture was an act of defiance. Praskovia fluttered off of his shoulder and landed on the window sill.
"A week! One week from now we'll be off to the clans." Her voice was excited and Roger smiled. She was so happy, and he thought he might be too. This was one step closer to his goal, to his career, and to people who loved plants like he did.
Praskovia changed into a kitten, leaping to the ground. "The witches will listen to you, I bet. Even if your father doesn't, they will know what you are talking about." She stared up at him with big green eyes before he picked her up.
"I know. And Bill and Terrence will be on the voyage, so I'll have a few people to talk to, like you will."
Praskovia shuddered. "That falcon scares me, though. She's always looking around at things, like she's trapped, even when there's wide open space above her head."
Roger blinked at this revelation. Maybe Terrence really hated the city inwardly? He had wondered why Praskovia had been scared. He hadn't looked much at the man's daemon, as Praskovia usually told him about the daemons of the people who they met. This was interesting to ponder about.
Praskovia flew up to swoop down onto the desk as a huge yellow butterfly. "I like Ma Fisco's tiger though. It made me feel safer when that falcon was being restless. It winked at me."
Roger laughed. "Looks like you've made a friend there. And we know the kids, so that ought to be okay."
A door banged downstairs and they both fell silent, both listening to what would be said.
"Lyra, I don't need to ask where you've been." His father's voice, cold and bitter.
A cold laugh echoed up the stairs. "So don't! Where is Roger?" He wished his mother wouldn't provoke his father.
"In his room. I wouldn't go in there if I were you, he went out looking for you earlier."
Praskovia gulped. "He knew all along!" she whispered to Roger, who shushed her and listened again.
"…see my son if I please, I en't going to heed you." His mother started to walk up the stairs and Roger sat down at the desk, staring at the anbar lantern with a sort of focus. Praskovia fluttered around his head, a sparrow again.
The door opened and Lyra stepped in.
"Roger?"
He half turned and then went back to staring at the anbar lantern. Pantalaimon was perched on her shoulder, and her blue eyes were watching her son. Praskovia turned into a ferret and scampered up to Roger's shoulder to mimic Pan.
"I'm home!" she said, bright and happily. He nodded and she stared at him for a little while longer then swept out of the room, her hair fluttering in the draft like dark blonde ribbons.
Roger sighed slightly, and let his hand rest on Praskovia for a minute.
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