She opened a drawer where some soft toys lay like dead things. Lyra made herself stand and pretend to consider for several seconds before picking out a rag doll with big vacant eyes. She had never had a doll, but she knew what to do, and pressed it absently to her chest.
“London,” she said.
“And the money belt, Lizzie,” said the nurse, and untied it herself with strong fingers. She went to drop it on the pile with Lyras other clothes, but stopped, feeling the edge of the alethiometer.
“Whats this?” she said, and unbuttoned the oilcloth.
“These ent mine,” she said.
Lyra struggled to sit up. She didnt remember taking a sleeping pill, but there might well have been something in the drink shed had. Her head felt full of eiderdown, and there was a faint pain throbbing behind her eyes.
“No! God! They put scales there and your daemon has to get on them and change, and they make notes and take pictures. And they put you in this cabinet and measure Dust, all the time, they never stop measuring Dust.”
said the redhead.
“Eat up,” he said.
“Yes, thank you.”
“I saw a fight,” she said. “They was shooting arrows and that....I want my dad,”
“Go on, then, dear,” said Sister Clara, who was filling in a form on pink paper.
In the room they entered there was a couch and a table and two chairs and a filing cabinet, and a glass cupboard with medicines and bandages, and a wash basin. As soon as they were inside, the nurse took Lyras outer coat off and dropped it on the shiny floor.
“Dunno. Just me.”
“With your father? I see. And whats he doing in this part of the world?”
That wasnt an answer, and whereas Lyra would have pointed that out and askedfor more information, she didnt think Lizzie Brooks would; so she assented dumbly in the dressing and said no more.
“What dust?” said Lyra.
“Whens she coming?” said Lyra.
“Shes awake.”
“Am I going to get my own ones back?”
“But I saw them shooting arrows!”
“Come along, Lizzie,” said the nurse, putting the receiver down. “Well go and find you something to eat. I expect youre hungry.”
“Where is this place?”
“I want my toy back,” she said stubbornly when she was dressed.
Pantalaimon fluttered in protest, but Lyra quelled him with a scowl. He settled on the couch as one by one all Lyras clothes came off, to her resentment and shame; but she still had the presence of mind to conceal it and act dull-witted and compliant.
“Wake up! Wake up!”
“Id like you to tell me where you come from. Can you do that?”
“Is there a load more new kids coming?” demanded one of the girls.
“No, dear. Your clothes need a good wash.”
“Then they take us away one by one and thats all we know. No one comes back,”
“Oh, I dont think so. I think you must have wandered away from your fathers party and got lost. Those huntsmen found you on your own and brought you straight here. Thats what happened, Lizzie.”
“Take it, dear,” said the nurse. “Wouldnt you rather have a nice woolly bear, though? Or a pretty doll?”
“Dont tell her that!” said the redhead. “Not yet.”
Lyra stood up, clutching her doll, and Pantalaimon hopped onto her shoulder as the nurse opened the door to lead them out.
“Just a sort of toy,” said Lyra. “Its mine.”
“What about my money belt?” she said. “I like to keep my toy in there.”
“Well have them cleaned for you,” said the nurse automatically.
“Except they keep taking us away,” said the redhead. “They usually start off with bringing a whole bunch here, and then theres a lot of us, and one by one they all disappear.”
“Theres this boy, right,” said the plump girl, “he reckons—”
“Whats your name?”
“You know what I heard Simon say?” said Bella. “He said that the Tartars make holes in their skulls to let the Dust in.”
“Moren that,” said the plump girl. “More like forty.”
Then a telephone buzzed, and while the nurse answered it, Lyra stooped quickly to recover the other tin, the one containing the spy-fly, and put it in the pouch with the alethiometer.
“They touch your daemons?”
There was no need to starve, so she ate the stew and mashed potatoes with relish. There was a bowl of tinned peaches and ice cream to follow. As she ate, the man and the nurse talked quietly at another table, and when she had finished, the nurse brought her a glass of warm milk and took the tray away.
“Ah, you thought you did. That often happens in the intense cold, Lizzie. You fall asleep and have bad dreams and you cant remember whats true and what isnt. That wasnt a fight, dont worry. Your father is safe and sound and hell be looking for you now and soon hell come here because this is the only place for hundreds of miles, you know, and what a surprise hell have to find you safe and sound! Now Sister Clara will take you along to the dormitory where youll meet some other little girls and boys who got lost in the wilderness just like you. Off you go. Well have another little talk in the morning.”
“And how old are you?”
“With my father,” she mumbled. She kept her eyes down, avoiding the gaze of the marmot, and trying to look as if she was on the verge of tears.
It was a whisper in more than one voice. Witha huge effort, as if she were pushing a boulder up a slope, Lyra forced herself to wake up.
“Lizzie,” Lyra mumbled.
“Eleven.”
“And what are you doing so far north?”
“I would.”
“Must do. Cause no one comes back.”
Lyra was gradually coming more and more awake. The other girls daemons, apart from the rabbit, were close by listening at the door, and no one spoke above a whisper. Lyra asked their names. The red-haired girl was Annie, the dark plump one Bella, the thin one Martha. They didnt know the names of the boys, because the two sexes were kept apart for most of the time. They werent treated badly.
“They gave her sleeping pills. Mustve...”
“Hes nervous,” said Lyra, soothing him. “They mustve gave us some sleeping pills, like you said, cause were all dozy. Whos Mrs. Coulter?”
Someone was shaking her. The first thing she did was to feel at her waist, and both tins were still there, still safe; so she tried to open her eyes, but oh, it was hard; she had never felt so sleepy.
“They measure Dust,” said another girl, friendly and plump and dark-haired.
“They never found me,” she said doubtfully. “There was a fight. There was lots of em and they had arrows....”
The man who had brought her in was collecting a tray from a serving hatch.
“Theyre always going on about daemons too,” said Bella. “Weighing them and measuring them and all...”
“They do,” said the third, a subdued-looking child cuddling her rabbit daemon.
She followed Sister Clara to the canteen, where a dozen round white tables were covered in crumbs and the sticky rings where drinks had been carelessly put down. Dirty plates and cutlery were stacked on a steel trolley. There were no windows, so to give an illusion of light and space one wall was covered in a huge photogram showing a tropical beach, with bright blue sky and white sand and coconut palms.
“We dunno,” said Annie. “Just something from space. Not real dust. If you ent got any Dust, thats good. But everyone gets Dust in the end.”
“They kill us?” said Lyra, shuddering.
More corridors, and Lyra was tired by now, so sleepy she kept yawning and could hardly lift her feet in the woolly slippers theyd given her. Pantalaimon was drooping, and he had to change to a mouse and settle inside her dressing-gown pocket. Lyra had the impression of a row of beds, childrens faces, a pillow, and then she was asleep.
“Its called the Experimental Station.”
“Off with the rest, dear,” she said. “Well have a quick little look to see youre nice and healthy, no frostbite or sniffles, and then well find some nice clean clothes. Well pop you in the shower, too,” she added, for Lyra had not changed or washed for days, and in the enveloping warmth, that was becoming more and more evident.
In the dim light from a very low-powered anbaric bulb over the doorway she saw three other girls clustered around her. It wasnt easy to see, because her eyes were slow to focus, but they seemed about her own age, and they were speaking English.
“Yeah. Theres lots of us. Theres about thirty, I reckon.”
“ Cause two years ago he brung my brother and he says hell bring me next, only he never. So I kept asking him, and then he did.”
“And was your father by himself?”
“Whered they get you then?”
Lyra hitched up her unfamiliar skirt and tied the oilskin pouch around her waist.
“The day after tomorrow,” said Annie.
A cold drench of terror went down Lyras spine, and Pantalaimon crept very close. She had one day in which to find Roger and discover whatever she could about this place, and either escape or be rescued; and if all the gyptians had been killed, who would help the children stay alive in the icy wilderness?
“What do they do?” Lyra managed to ask, gathering her doped wits as Pantalaimon stirred into wakefulness with her.
“Now, Lizzie,” he said. “Have you eaten enough?”
“Except when Mrs. Coulter comes,” said Annie.
“Middle of nowhere. They dont tell us.”
The other girls went on talking, but Lyra and Pantalaimon nestled down deep in the bed and tried to get warm, knowing that for hundreds of miles all around her little bed there was nothing but fear.
“I heard em talking.”
“Yeah, hed know,” said Annie scornfully. “I think Ill ask Mrs. Coulter when she comes.”
“Well, youre quite safe here until he comes,” said the doctor.
The man came to sit down opposite. His daemon, the marmot, was not blank and incurious as the nurses dog had been, but sat politely on his shoulder watching and listening.
“Is there boys here as well?” said Lyra.
she said more loudly, and felt herself beginning to cry.
Lyra had to stop herself crying out, and Pantalaimon fluttered his wings so sharply that the other girls noticed.
“They usually bring moren one kid at a time....”
“You wouldnt dare!” said Martha admiringly.
“She likes watching the kids, when they take us away, she likes seeing what they do tous. This boy Simon, he reckons they kill us, and Mrs. Coulter watches.”
“Its all right here,” said Bella. “Theres not much to do, except they give us tests and make us do exercises and then they measure us and take our temperature and stuff. Its just boring really.”
“You dont know,” said the first girl.
“Shes the one who trapped us, most of us, anyway,” said Martha. “They all talk about her, the other kids. When she comes, you know theres going to be kids disappearing.”
“Why did he bring you on a journey like this, Lizzie?”
“No. There was my uncles and all, and some other men,” she said vaguely, not knowing what the Samoyed hunter had told him.
“Theyre Gobblers,” said the plump girl. “You know Gobblers. We was all scared of em till we was caught....”
Lyra reluctantly slipped under the warm water and soaped herself while Pantalaimon perched on the curtain rail. They were both conscious that he mustnt be too lively, for the daemons of dull people were dull themselves. When she was washed and dry, the nurse took her temperature and looked into her eyes and ears and throat, and then measured her height and put her on some scales before writing a note on a clipboard. Then she gave Lyra some pajamas and a dressing gown. They were clean, and of good quality, like Tony Makarioss anorak, but again there was a secondhand air about them. Lyra felt very uneasy.
“Good, good. Well, Lizzie, youre a lucky little girl. Those huntsmen who found you brought you to the best place you could be.”
“I expect so. Yes, of course.”
“Yes, we wont take it away from you, dear,” said Sister Clara, unfolding the black velvet. “Thats pretty, isnt it, like a compass. Into the shower with you,” she went on, putting the alethiometer down and whisking back a coal-silk curtain in the corner.
“What is this place?”
“Trading. We come with a load of New Danish smokeleaf and we was buying furs.”
“What about my coat and boots?” she said. “And my mittens and things?”
“We dunno,” said the girl who was doing most of the talking. She was a tall, red-haired girl with quick twitchy movements and a strong London accent. “They sort of measure us and do these tests and that—”
She was half expecting questions about where she had come from and how she had arrived, and she was preparing answers; but it wasnt only imagination the nurse lacked, it was curiosity as well. Bolvangar might have been on the outskirts of London, and children might have been arriving all the time, for all the interest Sister Clara seemed to show. Her pert neat little daemon trotted along at her heels just as brisk and blank as she was.
