pp.thegoldencompass-第44部分

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　　〃Here；〃　said　someone　else；　〃look　what's　happening　to　the　zeppelin！〃
　　They　all　looked　back。　Beyond　the　dazzle　of　lights；　where　the　fight　was　still　continuing；　the　great　length　of　the　airship　was　not　floating　freely　at　the　mooring　mast　any　longer；　the　free　end　was　drooping　downward；　and　beyond　it　was　rising　a　globe　of…
　　〃Lee　Scoresby's　balloon！〃　Lyra　cried；　and　clapped　her　mit…tened　hands　with　delight。
　　The　other　children　were　baffled。　Lyra　herded　them　onward；　wondering　how　the　aeronaut　had　got　his　balloon　that　far。　It　was　clear　what　he　was　doing；　and　what　a　good　idea；　to　fill　his　balloon　with　the　gas　out　of　theirs；　to　escape　by　the　same　means　that　crippled　their　pursuit！
　　〃e　on；　keep　moving；　else　you'll　freeze；〃　she　said；　for　some　of　the　children　were　shivering　and　moaning　from　the　cold；　and　their　daemons　were　crying　too　in　high　thin　voices。　Pantalaimon　found　this　irritating；　and　as　a　wolverine　he　snapped　at　one　girl's　squirrel　daemon　who　was　just　lying　across　her　shoulder　whimpering　faintly。
　　〃Get　in　her　coat！　Make　yourself　big　and　warm　her　up！〃　he　snarled；　and　the　girl's　daemon；　frightened；　crept　inside　her　coal…silk　anorak　at　once。
　　The　trouble　was　that　coal　silk　wasn't　as　warm　as　proper　fur；　no　matter　how　much　it　was　padded　out　with　hollow　coal…silk　fibers。　Some　of　the　children　looked　like　walking　puffballs；　they　were　so　bulky；　but　their　gear　had　been　made　in　factories　and　laboratories　far　away　from　the　cold；　and　it　couldn't　really　cope。　Lyra's　furs　looked　ragged　and　they　stank；　but　they　kept　the　warmth　in。
　　〃If　we　don't　find　the　gyptians　soon；　they　en't　going　to　last；〃　she　whispered　to　Pantalaimon。
　　〃Keep　'em　moving　then；〃　he　whispered　back。　〃If　they　lie　down；　they're　finished。　You　know　what　Farder　Coram　said　。　。　。　。〃
　　Farder　Coram　had　told　her　many　tales　of　his　own　journeys　in　the　North；　and　so　had　Mrs。　Coulter…always　supposing　that　hers　were　true。　But　they　were　both　quite　clear　about　one　point；　which　was　that　you　must　keep　going。
　　〃How　far　we　gotta　go？〃　said　a　little　boy。
　　〃She's　just　making　us　walk　out　here　to　kill　us；〃　said　a　girl。
　　〃Rather　be　out　here　than　back　there；〃　someone　said。
　　〃I　wouldn't！　It's　warm　back　in　the　station。　There's　food　and　hot　drinks　and　everything。〃
　　〃But　it's　all　on　fire！〃
　　〃What　we　going　to　do　out　here？　I　bet　we　starve　to　death　。　。　。　。〃
　　Lyra's　mind　was　full　of　dark　questions　that　flew　around　like　witches；　swift　and　untouchable；　and　somewhere；　just　beyond　where　she　could　reach；　there　was　a　glory　and　a　thrill　which　she　didn't　understand　at　all。
　　But　it　gave　her　a　surge　of　strength；　and　she　hauled　one　girl　up　out　of　a　snowdrift；　and　shoved　at　a　boy　who　was　dawdling；　and　called　to　them　all：　〃Keep　going！　Follow　the　bear's　tracks！　He　e　up　with　the　gyptians；　so　the　tracks'll　lead　us　to　where　they　are！　Just　keep　walking！〃
　　Big　flakes　of　snow　were　beginning　to　fall。　Soon　it　would　have　covered　Iorek　Byrnison's　tracks　altogether。　Now　that　they　were　out　of　sight　of　the　lights　of　Bolvangar；　and　the　blaze　of　the　fire　was　only　a　faint　glow；　the　only　light　came　from　the　faint　radiance　of　the　snow…covered　ground。　Thick　clouds　obscured　the　sky；　so　there　was　neither　moon　nor　Northern　Lights；　but　by　peering　closely；　the　children　could　make　out　the　deep　trail　Iorek　Byrnison　had　plowed　in　the　snow。　Lyra　encouraged；　bullied；　hit；　half…carried；　swore　at；　pushed；　dragged；　lifted　tenderly；　wherever　it　was　needed；　and　Pantalaimon　（by　the　state　of　each　child's　daemon）　told　her　what　was　needed　in　each　case。
　　I'll　get　them　there；　she　kept　saying　to　herself。　I　e　here　to　get　'em　and　I'll　bloody　get　'em。
　　Roger　was　following　her　example；　and　Billy　Costa　was　leading　the　way；　being　sharper…eyed　than　most。　Soon　the　snow　was　falling　so　thickly　that　they　had　to　cling　on　to　one　another　to　keep　from　getting　lost；　and　Lyra　thought；　perhaps　if　we　all　lie　close　and　keep　warm　like　that　。　。　。　Dig　holes　in　the　snow　。　。　。　
　　She　was　hearing　things。　There　was　the　snarl　of　an　engine　somewhere；　not　the　heavy　thump　of　a　zeppelin　but　something　higher　like　the　drone　of　a　hornet。　It　drifted　in　and　out　of　hearing。
　　And　howling　。　。　。　Dogs？　Sledge　dogs？　That　too　was　distant　and　hard　to　be　sure　of；　blanketed　by　millions　of　snowflakes　and　blown　this　way　and　that　by　little　puffing　gusts　of　wind。　It　might　have　been　the　gyptians'　sledge　dogs；　or　it　might　have　been　wild　spirits　of　the　tundra；　or　even　those　freed　daemons　crying　for　their　lost　children。
　　She　was　seeing　things　。　。　。　。There　weren't　any　lights　in　the　snow；　were　there？　They　must　be　ghosts　as　well　。　。　。　。Unless　they'd　e　round　in　a　circle；　and　were　stumbling　back　into　Bolvangar。
　　But　these　were　little　yellow　lantern　beams；　not　the　white　glare　of　anbaric　lights。　And　they　were　moving；　and　the　howling　was　nearer；　and　before　she　knew　for　certain　whether　she'd　fallen　asleep；　Lyra　was　wandering　among　familiar　figures；　and　men　in　furs　were　holding　her　up：　John　Faa's　mighty　arm　lifted　her　clear　of　the　ground；　and　Farder　Coram　was　laughing　with　pleasure；　and　as　far　through　the　blizzard　as　she　could　see；　gyptians　were　lifting　children　into　sledges；　covering　them　with　furs；　giving　them　seal　meat　to　chew。　And　Tony　Costa　was　there；　hugging　Billy　and　then　punching　him　softly　only　to　hug　him　again　and　shake　him　for　joy。　And　Roger　。　。　。　
　　〃Roger's　ing　with　us；〃　she　said　to　Farder　Coram。　〃It　was　him　I　meant　to　get　in　the　first　place。　We'll　go　back　to　Jordan　in　the　end。　What's　that　noise…〃
　　It　was　that　snarl　again；　that　engine；　like　a　crazed　spy…fly　ten　thousand　times　the　size。
　　Suddenly　there　came　a　blow　that　sent　her　sprawling；　and　Pantalaimon　couldn't　defend　her；　because　the　golden　monkey…
　　Mrs。　Coulter…
　　The　golden　monkey　was　wrestling；　biting；　scratching　at　Pantalaimon；　who　was　nickering　through　so　many　changes　of　form　it　was　hard　to　see　him；　and　fighting　back：　stinging；　lashing；　tearing。　Mrs。　Coulter；　meanwhile；　her　face　in　its　furs　a　frozen　glare　of　intense　feeling；　was　dragging　Lyra　to　the　back　of　a　motorized　sledge；　and　Lyra　struggled　as　hard　as　her　daemon。　The　snow　was　so　thick　that　they　seemed　to　be　isolated　in　a　little　blizzard　of　their　own；　and　the　anbaric　headlights　of　the　sledge　only　showed　up　the　thick　swirling　flakes　a　few　inches　ahead。
　　〃Help！〃　Lyra　cried；　to　the　gyptians　who　were　just　there　in　the　blinding　snow　and　who　could　see　nothing。　〃Help　me！　Farder　Coram！　Lord　Faa！　Oh；　God；　help！〃
　　Mrs。　Coulter　shrieked　a　high　mand　in　the　language　of　the　northern　Tartars。　The　snow　swirled　open；　and　there　they　were；　a　squad　of　them；　armed　with　rifles；　and　the　wolf　daemons　snarled　beside　them。　The　chief　saw　Mrs。　Coulter　struggling；　and　picked　up　Lyra　with　one　hand　as　if　she　were　a　doll　and　threw　her　into　the　sledge；　where　she　lay　stunned　and　dazed。
　　A　rifle　banged；　and　then　another；　as　the　gyptians　realized　what　was　happening。　But　firing　at　targets　you　can't　see　is　dangerous　when　you　can't　see　your　own　side　either。　The　Tartars；　in　a　tight　group　now　around　the　sledge；　were　able　to　blaze　at　will　into　the　snow；　but　the　gyptians　dared　not　shoot　back　for　fear　of　hitting　Lyra。
　　Oh；　the　bitterness　she　felt！　The　tiredness！
　　Still　dazed；　with　her　head　ringing；　she　hauled　herself　up　to　find　Pantalaimon　desperately　fighting　the　monkey　still；　with　wolverine　jaws　fastened　tight　on　a　golden　arm；　changing　no　more　but　grimly　hanging　on。　And　who　was　that？
　　Not　Roger？
　　Yes；　Roger；　battering　at　Mrs。　Coulter　with　fists　and　feet；　hurtling　his　head　against　hers；　only　to　be　struck　down　by　a　Tartar　who　swiped　at　him　like　someone　brushing　away　a　fly。　It　was　all　a　phantasmagoria　now：　white；　black；　a　swift　green　flutter　across　her　vision；　ragged　shadows；　racing　light…
　　A　great　swirl　lifted　curtains　of　snow　aside；　and　into　the　cleared　area　leaped　Iorek　Byrnison；　with　a　clang　and　screech　of　iron　on　iron。　A　moment　later　and　those　great　jaws　snapped　left；　right；　a　paw　ripped　open　a　mailed　chest；　white　teeth；　black　iron；　red　wet　fur…
　　Then　something　was　pulling　her　up；　powerfully　up；　and　she　seized　Roger　too；　tearing　him　out　of　the　hands　of　Mrs。　Coulter　and　clinging　tight；　each　child's　daemon　a　shrill　bird　fluttering　in　amazement　as　a　greater　fluttering　swept　all　around　them；　and　then　Lyra　saw　in　the　air　beside　her　a　witch；　one　of　those　elegant　ragged　black　shadows　from　the　high　air；　but　close　enough　to　touch；　and　there　was　a　bow　in　the　witch's　bare　hands；　and　she　exerted　her　bare　pale　arms　（in　this　freezing　air！）　to　pull　the　string　and　then　loose　an　arrow　into　the　eye　slit　of　a　mailed　and　lowering　Tartar　hood　only　three　feet　away…
　　And　the　arrow　sped　in　and　halfway　out　at　the　back；　and　the　man's　wolf　daemon　vanished　in　midleap　even　before　he　hit　the　ground。
　　Up！　Into　midair　Lyra　and　Roger　were　caught　and　swept；　and　found　themselves　clinging　with　weakening　fingers　to　a　cloud…pine　branch；　where　a　young　witch　was　sitting　tense　with　balanced　grace；　and　then　she　leaned　down　and　to　the　left　and　something　huge　was　looming　and　there　was　the　ground。
　　They　tumbled　into　the　snow　beside　the　basket　of　Lee　Scoresby's　balloon。
　　〃Skip　inside；〃　called　the　Texan；　〃and　bring　your　friend；　by　all　means。　Have　ye　seen　that　bear？〃
　　Lyra　saw　that　three　witches　were　holding　a　rope　looped　around　a　rock；　anchoring　the　great　buoyancy　of　the　gas　bag　to　the　earth。
　　〃Get　in！〃　she　cried　to　Roger；　and　scrambled　over　the　leatherbound　rim　of　the　basket　to　fall　in　a　snowy　heap　inside。　A　moment　later　Roger　fell　on　top　of　her；　and　then　a　mighty　noise　halfway　between　a　roar　and　a　growl　made　the　very　ground　shake。
　　〃C'mon；　Iorek！　On　board；　old　feller！〃　yelled　Lee　Scoresby；　and　over　the　side　came　the　bear　in　a　hideous　creak　of　wicker　and　bending　wood。
　　At　once　the　aeronaut　lowered　his　arm　in　a　signal；　and　the　witches　let　go　of　the　rope。
　　The　balloon　lifted　immediately　and　surged　upward　into　the　snow…thick　air　at　a　rate　Lyra　could　scarcely　believe。　After　a　moment　the　ground　disappeared　in　the　mist；　and　up　they　went；　faster　and　faster；　so　that　she　thought　no　rocket　could　have　left　the　earth　more　swiftly。　She　lay　holding　on　to　Roger　on　the　floor　of　the　basket；　pressed　down　by　the　acceleration。
　　Lee　Scoresby　was　cheering　and　laughing　and　uttering　wild　Texan　yells　of　delight；　Iorek　Byrnison　was　calmly　unfastening　his　armor；　hooking　a　deft　claw　into　all　the　linkages　and　undoing　them　with　a　twist　before　packing　the　separate　pieces　in　a　pile。　Somewhere　outside；　the　flap　and　swish　of　air　through　cloud…pine　needles　and　witch　garments　told　that　the　witches　were　keeping　them　pany　into　the　upper　airs。
　　Little　by　little　Lyra　recovered　her　breath；　her　balance；　and　her　heartbeat。　She　sat　up　and　looked　around。
　　The　basket　was　much　bigger　than　she'd　thought。　Ranged　around　the　edges　were　racks　of　philosophical　instruments；　and　there　were　piles　of　furs；　and　bottled　air；　and　a　variety　of　other　things　too　small　or　confusing　to　make　out　in　the　thick　mist　they　were　ascending　through。　〃Is　this　a　cloud？〃　she　said。
　　〃Sure　is。　Wrap　your　friend　in　some　furs　before　he　turns　into　an　icicle。　It's　cold　here；　but　it's　gonna　get　colder。〃
　　〃How　did　you　find　us？〃
　　〃Witches。　There's　one　witch　lady　who　wants　to　talk　to　you。　When　we　get　clear　of　the　cloud；　we'll　get　our　bearings　and　then　we　can　sit　and　have　a　yarn。〃
　　〃Iorek