pp.thegoldencompass-第6部分

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e；　but　they　didn't　find　it；　and　had　to　abandon　ship　when　the　gyptians　caught　them　up；　to　flee　dripping　and　crowing　with　triumph　through　the　narrow　lanes　of　Jericho。
　　That　was　Lyra's　world　and　her　delight。　She　was　a　coarse　and　greedy　little　savage；　for　the　most　part。　But　she　always　had　a　dim　sense　that　it　wasn't　her　whole　world；　that　part　of　her　also　belonged　in　the　grandeur　and　ritual　of　Jordan　College；　and　that　somewhere　in　her　life　there　was　a　connection　with　the　high　world　of　politics　represented　by　Lord　Asriel。　All　she　did　with　that　knowledge　was　to　give　herself　airs　and　lord　it　over　the　other　urchins。　It　had　never　occurred　to　her　to　find　out　more。
　　So　she　had　passed　her　childhood；　like　a　half…wild　cat。　The　only　variation　in　her　days　came　on　those　irregular　occasions　when　Lord　Asriel　visited　the　College。　A　rich　and　powerful　uncle　was　all　very　well　to　boast　about；　but　the　price　of　boasting　was　having　to　be　caught　by　the　most　agile　Scholar　and　brought　to　the　Housekeeper　to　be　washed　and　dressed　in　a　clean　frock；　following　which　she　was　escorted　（with　many　threats）　to　the　Senior　mon　Room　to　have　tea　with　Lord　Asriel　and　an　invited　group　of　senior　Scholars。　She　dreaded　being　seen　by　Roger。　He'd　caught　sight　of　her　on　one　of　these　occasions　and　hooted　with　laughter　at　this　beribboned　and　pink…frilled　vision。　She　had　responded　with　a　volley　of　shrieking　curses　that　shocked　the　poor　Scholar　who　was　escorting　her；　and　in　the　Senior　mon　Room　she'd　slumped　mutinously　in　an　armchair　until　the　Master　told　her　sharply　to　sit　up；　and　then　she'd　glowered　at　them　all　till　even　the　Chaplain　had　to　laugh。
　　What　happened　on　those　awkward；　formal　visits　never　varied。　After　the　tea；　the　Master　and　the　other　few　Scholars　who'd　been　invited　left　Lyra　and　her　uncle　together；　and　he　called　her　to　stand　in　front　of　him　and　tell　him　what　she'd　learned　since　his　last　visit。　And　she　would　mutter　whatever　she　could　dredge　up　about　geometry　or　Arabic　or　history　or　anbarology；　and　he　would　sit　back　with　one　ankle　resting　on　the　other　knee　and　watch　her　inscrutably　until　her　words　failed。
　　Last　year；　before　his　expedition　to　the　North；　he'd　gone　on　to　say；　〃And　how　do　you　spend　your　time　when　you're　not　diligently　studying？〃
　　And　she　mumbled；　〃I　just　play。　Sort　of　around　the　College。　Just　。　。　。　play；　really。〃
　　And　he　said；　〃Let　me　see　your　hands；　child。〃
　　She　held　out　her　hands　for　inspection；　and　he　took　them　and　turned　them　over　to　look　at　her　fingernails。　Beside　him；　his　daemon　lay　sphinxlike　on　the　carpet；　swishing　her　tail　occasionally　and　gazing　unblinkingly　at　Lyra。
　　〃Dirty；〃　said　Lord　Asriel；　pushing　her　hands　away。　〃Don't　they　make　you　wash　in　this　place？〃
　　〃Yes；〃　she　said。　〃But　the　Chaplain's　fingernails　are　always　dirty。　They're　even　dirtier　than　mine。〃
　　〃He's　a　learned　man。　What's　your　excuse？〃
　　〃I　must've　got　them　dirty　after　I　washed。〃
　　〃Where　do　you　play　to　get　so　dirty？〃
　　She　looked　at　him　suspiciously。　She　had　the　feeling　that　being　on　the　roof　was　forbidden；　though　no　one　had　actually　said　so。　〃In　some　of　the　old　rooms；〃　she　said　finally。
　　〃And　where　else？〃
　　〃In　the　claybeds；　sometimes。〃
　　〃And？〃
　　〃Jericho　and　Port　Meadow。〃
　　〃Nowhere　else？〃
　　〃No。〃
　　〃You're　a　liar。　I　saw　you　on　the　roof　only　yesterday。〃
　　She　bit　her　lip　and　said　nothing。　He　was　watching　her　sardonically。
　　〃So；　you　play　on　the　roof　as　well；〃　he　went　on。　〃Do　you　ever　go　into　the　library？〃
　　〃No。　I　found　a　rook　on　the　library　roof；　though；〃　she　went　on。
　　〃Did　you？　Did　you　catch　it？〃
　　〃It　had　a　hurt　foot。　I　was　going　to　kill　it　and　roast　it　but　Roger　said　we　should　help　it　get　better。　So　we　gave　it　scraps　of　food　and　some　wine　and　then　it　got　better　and　flew　away。〃
　　〃Who's　Roger？〃
　　〃My　friend。　The　kitchen　boy。〃
　　〃I　see。　So　you've　been　all　over　the　roof…〃
　　〃Not　all　over。　You　can't　get　onto　the　Sheldon　Building　because　you　have　to　jump　up　from　Pilgrim's　Tower　across　a　gap。　There's　a　skylight　that　opens　onto　it；　but　I'm　not　tall　enough　to　reach　it。〃
　　〃You've　been　all　over　the　roof　except　the　Sheldon　Building。　What　about　underground？〃
　　〃Underground？〃
　　〃There's　as　much　College　below　ground　as　there　is　above　it。　I'm　surprised　you　haven't　found　that　out。　Well；　I'm　going　in　a　minute。　You　look　healthy　enough。　Here。〃
　　He　fished　in　his　pocket　and　drew　out　a　handful　of　coins；　from　which　he　gave　her　five　gold　dollars。
　　〃Haven't　they　taught　you　to　say　thank　you？〃　he　said。
　　〃Thank　you；〃　she　mumbled。
　　〃Do　you　obey　the　Master？〃
　　〃Oh；　yes。〃
　　〃And　respect　the　Scholars？〃
　　〃Yes。〃
　　Lord　Asriel's　daemon　laughed　softly。　It　was　the　first　sound　she'd　made；　and　Lyra　blushed。
　　〃Go　and　play；　then；〃　said　Lord　Asriel。
　　Lyra　turned　and　darted　to　the　door　with　relief；　remembering　to　turn　and　blurt　out　a　〃Goodbye。〃
　　
　　So　Lyra's　life　had　been；　before　the　day　when　she　decided　to　hide　in　the　Retiring　Room；　and　first　heard　about　Dust。
　　And　of　course　the　Librarian　was　wrong　in　saying　to　the　Master　that　she　wouldn't　have　been　interested。　She　would　have　listened　eagerly　now　to　anyone　who　could　tell　her　about　Dust。　She　was　to　hear　a　great　deal　more　about　it　in　the　months　to　e；　and　eventually　she　would　know　more　about　Dust　than　anyone　in　the　world；　but　in　the　meantime；　there　was　all　the　rich　life　of　Jordan　still　being　lived　around　her。
　　And　in　any　case　there　was　something　else　to　think　about。　A　rumor　had　been　filtering　through　the　streets　for　some　weeks：　a　rumor　that　made　some　people　laugh　and　others　grow　silent；　as　some　people　scoff　at　ghosts　and　others　fear　them。　For　no　reason　that　anyone　could　imagine；　children　were　beginning　to　disappear。
　　
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　　It　would　happen　like　this。
　　East　along　the　great　highway　of　the　River　Isis；　thronged　with　slow…moving　brick　barges　and　asphalt　boats　and　corn　tankers；　way　down　past　Henley　and　Maidenhead　to　Teddington；　where　the　tide　from　the　German　Ocean　reaches；　and　further　down　still：　to　Mortlake；　past　the　house　of　the　great　magician　Dr。　Dee；　past　Falkeshall；　where　the　pleasure　gardens　spread　out　bright　with　fountains　and　banners　by　day；　with　tree　lamps　and　fireworks　by　night；　past　White　Hall　Palace；　where　the　king　holds　his　weekly　council　of　state；　past　the　Shot　Tower；　dropping　its　endless　drizzle　of　molten　lead　into　vats　of　murky　water；　further　down　still；　to　where　the　river；　wide　and　filthy　now；　swings　in　a　great　curve　to　the　south。
　　This　is　Limehouse；　and　here　is　the　child　who　is　going　to　disappear。
　　He　is　called　Tony　Makarios。　His　mother　thinks　he's　nine　years　old；　but　she　has　a　poor　memory　that　the　drink　has　rotted；　he　might　be　eight；　or　ten。　His　surname　is　Greek；　but　like　his　age；　that　is　a　guess　on　his　mother's　part；　because　he　looks　more　Chinese　than　Greek；　and　there's　Irish　and　Skraeling　and　Lascar　in　him　from　his　mother's　side　too。　Tony's　not　very　bright；　but　he　has　a　sort　of　clumsy　tenderness　that　sometimes　prompts　him　to　give　his　mother　a　rough　hug　and　plant　a　sticky　kiss　on　her　cheeks。　The　poor　woman　is　usually　too　fuddled　to　start　such　a　procedure　herself；　but　she　responds　warmly　enough；　once　she　realizes　what's　happening。
　　At　the　moment　Tony　is　hanging　about　the　market　in　Pie　Street。　He's　hungry。　It's　early　evening；　and　he　won't　get　fed　at　home。　He's　got　a　shilling　in　his　pocket　that　a　soldier　gave　him　for　taking　a　message　to　his　best　girl；　but　Tony's　not　going　to　waste　that　on　food；　when　you　can　pick　up　so　much　for　nothing。
　　So　he　wanders　through　the　market；　between　the　old…clothes　stalls　and　the　fortune…paper　stalls；　the　fruitmongers　and　the　fried…fish　seller；　with　his　little　daemon　on　his　shoulder；　a　sparrow；　watching　this　way　and　that；　and　when　a　stall　holder　and　her　daemon　are　both　looking　elsewhere；　a　brisk　chirp　sounds；　and　Tony's　hand　shoots　out　and　returns　to　his　loose　shirt　with　an　apple　or　a　couple　of　nuts；　and　finally　with　a　hot　pie。
　　The　stall　holder　sees　that；　and　shouts；　and　her　cat　daemon　leaps；　but　Tony's　sparrow　is　aloft　and　Tony　himself　halfway　down　the　street　already。　Curses　and　abuse　go　with　him；　but　not　far。　He　stops　running　at　the　steps　of　St。　Catherine's　Oratory；　where　he　sits　down　and　takes　out　his　steaming；　battered　prize；　leaving　a　trail　of　gravy　on　his　shirt。
　　And　he's　being　watched。　A　lady　in　a　long　yellow…red　fox…fur　coat；　a　beautiful　young　lady　whose　dark　hair　falls；　shining　delicately；　under　the　shadow　of　her　fur…lined　hood；　is　standing　in　the　doorway　of　the　oratory；　half　a　dozen　steps　above　him。　It　might　be　that　a　service　is　finishing；　for　light　es　from　the　doorway　behind　her；　an　organ　is　playing　inside；　and　the　lady　is　holding　a　jeweled　breviary。
　　Tony　knows　nothing　of　this。　His　face　contentedly　deep　in　the　pie；　his　toes　curled　inward　and　his　bare　soles　together；　he　sits　and　chews　and　swallows　while　his　daemon　bees　a　mouse　and　grooms　her　whiskers。
　　The　young　lady's　daemon　is　moving　out　from　beside　the　fox…fur　coat。　He　is　in　the　form　of　a　monkey；　but　no　ordinary　monkey：　his　fur　is　long　and　silky　and　of　the　most　deep　and　lustrous　gold。　With　sinuous　movements　he　inches　down　the　steps　toward　the　boy；　and　sits　a　step　above　him。
　　Then　the　mouse　senses　something；　and　bees　a　sparrow　again；　cocking　her　head　a　fraction　sideways；　and　hops　along　the　stone　a　step　or　two。
　　The　monkey　watches　the　sparrow；　the　sparrow　watches　the　monkey。
　　The　monkey　reaches　out　slowly。　His　little　hand　is　black；　his　nails　perfect　horny　claws；　his　movements　gentle　and　inviting。　The　sparrow　can't　resist。　She　hops　further；　and　further；　and　then；　with　a　little　flutter；　up　on　to　the　monkey's　hand。
　　The　monkey　lifts　her　up；　and　gazes　closely　at　her　before　standing　and　swinging　back　to　his　human；　taking　the　sparrow　daemon　with　him。　The　lady　bends　her　scented　head　to　whisper。
　　And　then　Tony　turns。　He　can't　help　it。
　　〃Ratter！〃　he　says；　half　in　alarm；　his　mouth　full。
　　The　sparrow　chirps。　It　must　be　safe。　Tony　swallows　his　mouthful　and　stares。
　　〃Hello；〃　says　the　beautiful　lady。　〃What's　your　name？〃
　　〃Tony。〃
　　〃Where　do　you　live；　Tony？〃
　　〃Clarice　Walk。〃
　　〃What's　in　that　pie？〃
　　〃Beefsteak。〃

　　〃Do　you　like　chocolatl？〃
　　〃Yeah！〃
　　〃As　it　happens；　I've　got　more　chocolatl　than　I　can　drink　myself。　Will　you　e　and　help　me　drink　it？〃
　　He's　lost　already。　He　was　lost　the　moment　his　slow…witted　daemon　hopped　onto　the　monkey's　hand。　He　follows　the　beautiful　young　lady　and　the　golden　monkey　down　Denmark　Street　and　along　to　Hangman's　Wharf；　and　down　King　George's　Steps　to　a　little　green　door　in　the　side　of　a　tall　warehouse。　She　knocks；　the　door　is　opened；　they　go　in；　the　door　is　closed。　Tony　will　never　e　out…at　least；　by　that　entrance；　and　he'll　never　see　his　mother　again。　She；　poor　drunken　thing；　will　think　he's　run　away；　and　when　she　remembers　him；　she'll　think　it　was　her　fault；　and　sob　her　sorry　heart　out。
　　
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　　Little　Tony　Makarios　wasn't　the　only　child　to　be　caught　by　the　lady　with　the　golden　monkey。　He　found　a　dozen　others　in　the　cellar　of　the　warehouse；　boys　and　girls；　none　older　than　twelve　or　so；　though　since　all　of　them　had　histories　like　his；　none　could　be　sure　of　their　age。　What　Tony　didn't　notice；　of　course；　was　the　factor　that　they　all　had　in　mon。　None　of　the　children　in　that　war