pp.thegoldencompass-第7部分

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　didn't　notice；　of　course；　was　the　factor　that　they　all　had　in　mon。　None　of　the　children　in　that　warm　and　steamy　cellar　had　reached　the　age　of　puberty。
　　The　kind　lady　saw　him　settled　on　a　bench　against　the　wall；　and　provided　by　a　silent　serving　woman　with　a　mug　of　chocolatl　from　the　saucepan　on　the　iron　stove。　Tony　ate　the　rest　of　his　pie　and　drank　the　sweet　hot　liquor　without　taking　much　notice　of　his　surroundings；　and　the　surroundings　took　little　notice　of　him：　he　was　too　small　to　be　a　threat；　and　too　stolid　to　promise　much　satisfaction　as　a　victim。
　　It　was　another　boy　who　asked　the　obvious　question。
　　〃Hey；　lady！　What　you　got　us　all　here　for？〃
　　He　was　a　tough…looking　wretch　with　dark　chocolatl　on　his　top　lip　and　a　gaunt　black　rat　for　a　daemon。　The　lady　was　standing　near　the　door；　talking　to　a　stout　man　with　the　air　of　a　sea　captain；　and　as　she　turned　to　answer；　she　looked　so　angelic　in　the　hissing　naphtha　light　that　all　the　children　fell　silent。
　　〃We　want　your　help；〃　she　said。　〃You　don't　mind　helping　us；　do　you？〃
　　No　one　could　say　a　word。　They　all　gazed；　suddenly　shy。　They　had　never　seen　a　lady　like　this；　she　was　so　gracious　and　sweet　and　kind　that　they　felt　they　hardly　deserved　their　good　luck；　and　whatever　she　asked；　they'd　give　it　gladly　so　as　to　stay　in　her　presence　a　little　longer。
　　She　told　them　that　they　were　going　on　a　voyage。　They　would　be　well　fed　and　warmly　clothed；　and　those　who　wanted　to　could　send　messages　back　to　their　families　to　let　them　know　they　were　safe。　Captain　Magnusson　would　take　them　on　board　his　ship　very　soon；　and　then　when　the　tide　was　right；　they'd　sail　out　to　sea　and　set　a　course　for　the　North。
　　Soon　those　few　who　did　want　to　send　a　message　to　what…ever　home　they　had　were　sitting　around　the　beautiful　lady　as　she　wrote　a　few　lines　at　their　dictation　and；　having　let　them　scratch　a　clumsy　X　at　the　foot　of　the　page；　folded　it　into　a　scented　envelope　and　wrote　the　address　they　told　her。　Tony　would　have　liked　to　send　something　to　his　mother；　but　he　had　a　realistic　idea　of　her　ability　to　read　it。　He　plucked　at　the　lady's　fox…fur　sleeve　and　whispered　that　he'd　like　her　to　tell　his　mum　where　he　was　going；　and　all；　and　she　bent　her　gracious　head　close　enough　to　his　malodorous　little　body　to　hear；　and　stroked　his　head　and　promised　to　pass　the　message　on。
　　Then　the　children　clustered　around　to　say　goodbye。　The　golden　monkey　stroked　all　their　daemons；　and　they　all　touched　the　fox　fur　for　luck；　or　as　if　they　were　drawing　some　strength　or　hope　or　goodness　out　of　the　lady；　and　she　bade　them　all　farewell　and　saw　them　in　the　care　of　the　bold　captain　on　board　a　steam　launch　at　the　jetty。　The　sky　was　dark　now；　the　river　a　mass　of　bobbing　lights。　The　lady　stood　on　the　jetty　and　waved　till　she　could　see　their　faces　no　more。
　　Then　she　turned　back　inside；　with　the　golden　monkey　nestled　in　her　breast；　and　threw　the　little　bundle　of　letters　into　the　furnace　before　leaving　the　way　she　had　e。
　　
　　Children　from　the　slums　were　easy　enough　to　entice　away；　but　eventually　people　noticed；　and　the　police　were　stirred　into　reluctant　action。　For　a　while　there　were　no　more　bewitchings。　But　a　rumor　had　been　born；　and　little　by　little　it　changed　and　grew　and　spread；　and　when　after　a　while　a　few　children　disappeared　in　Norwich；　and　then　Sheffield；　and　then　Manchester；　the　people　in　those　places　who'd　heard　of　the　disappearances　elsewhere　added　the　new　vanishings　to　the　story　and　gave　it　new　strength。
　　And　so　the　legend　grew　of　a　mysterious　group　of　enchanters　who　spirited　children　away。　Some　said　their　leader　was　a　beautiful　lady；　others　said　a　tall　man　with　red　eyes；　while　a　third　story　told　of　a　youth　who　laughed　and　sang　to　his　victims　so　that　they　followed　him　like　sheep。
　　As　for　where　they　took　these　lost　children；　no　two　stories　agreed。　Some　said　it　was　to　Hell；　under　the　ground；　to　Fairyland。　Others　said　to　a　farm　where　the　children　were　kept　and　fattened　for　the　table。　Others　said　that　the　children　were　kept　and　sold　as　slaves　to　rich　Tartars　。　。　。　。And　so　on。
　　But　one　thing　on　which　everyone　agreed　was　the　name　of　these　invisible　kidnappers。　They　had　to　have　a　name；　or　not　be　referred　to　at　all；　and　talking　about　them…especially　if　you　were　safe　and　snug　at　home；　or　in　Jordan　College…was　delicious。　And　the　name　that　seemed　to　settle　on　them；　without　anyone's　knowing　why；　was　the　Gobblers。
　　〃Don't　stay　out　late；　or　the　Gobblers'11　get　you！〃
　　〃My　cousin　in　Northampton；　she　knows　a　woman　whose　little　boy　was　took　by　the　Gobblers　。　。　。　。〃
　　〃The　Gobblers've　been　in　Stratford。　They　say　they're　ing　south！〃
　　
　　And；　inevitably：
　　〃Let's　play　kids　and　Gobblers！〃
　　So　said　Lyra　to　Roger；　one　rainy　afternoon　when　they　were　alone　in　the　dusty　attics。　He　was　her　devoted　slave　by　this　time；　he　would　have　followed　her　to　the　ends　of　the　earth。
　　〃How　d'you　play　that？〃
　　〃You　hide　and　I　find　you　and　slice　you　open；　right；　like　the　Gobblers　do。〃
　　〃You　don't　know　what　they　do。　They　might　not　do　that　at　all。〃
　　〃You're　afraid　of　'em；〃　she　said。　〃I　can　tell。〃
　　〃I　en't。　I　don't　believe　in　'em　anyway。〃
　　〃I　do；〃　she　said　decisively。　〃But　I　en't　afraid　either。　I'd　just　do　what　my　uncle　done　last　time　he　came　to　Jordan。　I　seen　him。　He　was　in　the　Retiring　Room　and　there　was　this　guest　who　weren't　polite；　and　my　uncle　just　give　him　a　hard　look　and　the　man　fell　dead　on　the　spot；　with　all　foam　and　froth　round　his　mouth。〃
　　〃He　never；〃　said　Roger　doubtfully。　〃They　never　said　anything　about　that　in　the　kitchen。　Anyway；　you　en't　allowed　in　the　Retiring　Room。〃
　　'〃Course　not。　They　wouldn't　tell　servants　about　a　thing　like　that。　And　I　have　been　in　the　Retiring　Room；　so　there。　Anyway；　my　uncle's　always　doing　that。　He　done　it　to　some　Tartars　when　they　caught　him　once。　They　tied　him　up　and　they　was　going　to　cut　his　guts　out；　but　when　the　first　man　e　up　with　the　knife；　my　uncle　just　looked　at　him；　and　he　fell　dead；　so　another　one　e　up　and　he　done　the　same　to　him；　and　finally　there　was　only　one　left。　My　uncle　said　he'd　leave　him　alive　if　he　untied　him；　so　he　did；　and　then　my　uncle　killed　him　anyway　just　to　teach　him　a　lesson。〃
　　Roger　was　less　sure　about　that　than　about　Gobblers；　but　the　story　was　too　good　to　waste；　so　they　took　it　in　turns　to　be　Lord　Asriel　and　the　expiring　Tartars；　using　sherbet　dip　for　the　foam。
　　However；　that　was　a　distraction；　Lyra　was　still　intent　on　playing　Gobblers；　and　she　inveigled　Roger　down　into　the　wine　cellars；　which　they　entered　by　means　of　the　Butler's　spare　set　of　keys。　Together　they　crept　through　the　great　vaults　where　the　College's　Tokay　and　Canary；　its　Burgundy；　its　brantwijn　were　lying　under　the　cobwebs　of　ages。　Ancient　stone　arches　rose　above　them　supported　by　pillars　as　thick　as　ten　trees；　irregular　flagstones　lay　underfoot；　and　on　all　sides　were　ranged　rack　upon　rack；　tier　upon　tier；　of　bottles　and　barrels。　It　was　fascinating。　With　Gobblers　forgotten　again；　the　two　children　tiptoed　from　end　to　end　holding　a　candle　in　trembling　fingers；　peering　into　every　dark　corner；　with　a　single　question　growing　more　urgent　in　Lyra's　mind　every　moment：　what　did　the　wine　taste　like？
　　There　was　an　easy　way　of　answering　that。　Lyra…over　Roger's　fervent　protests…picked　out　the　oldest；　twistiest；　greenest　bottle　she　could　find；　and；　not　having　anything　to　extract　the　cork　with；　broke　it　off　at　the　neck。　Huddled　in　the　furthest　corner；　they　sipped　at　the　heady　crimson　liquor；　wondering　when　they'd　bee　drunk；　and　how　they'd　tell　when　they　were。　Lyra　didn't　like　the　taste　much；　but　she　had　to　admit　how　grand　and　plicated　it　was。　The　funniest　thing　was　watching　their　two　daemons；　who　seemed　to　be　getting　more　and　more　muddled：　falling　over；　giggling　senselessly；　and　changing　shape　to　look　like　gargoyles；　each　trying　to　be　uglier　than　the　other。
　　Finally；　and　almost　simultaneously；　the　children　discovered　what　it　was　like　to　be　drunk。
　　〃Do　they　like　doing　this？〃　gasped　Roger；　after　vomiting　copiously。
　　〃Yes；〃　said　Lyra；　in　the　same　condition。　〃And　so　do　I；〃　she　added　stubbornly。
　　
　　Lyra　learned　nothing　from　that　episode　except　that　playing　Gobblers　led　to　interesting　places。　She　remembered　her　uncle's　words　in　their　last　interview；　and　began　to　explore　underground；　for　what　was　above　ground　was　only　a　small　fraction　of　the　whole。　Like　some　enormous　fungus　whose　root　system　extended　over　acres；　Jordan　（finding　itself　jostling　for　space　above　ground　with　St。　Michael's　College　on　one　side；　Gabriel　College　on　the　other；　and　the　University　Library　behind）　had　begun；　sometime　in　the　Middle　Ages；　to　spread　below　the　surface。　Tunnels；　shafts；　vaults；　cellars；　staircases　had　so　hollowed　out　the　earth　below　Jordan　and　for　several　hundred　yards　around　it　that　there　was　almost　as　much　air　below　ground　as　above；　Jordan　College　stood　on　a　sort　of　froth　of　stone。
　　And　now　that　Lyra　had　the　taste　for　exploring　it；　she　abandoned　her　usual　haunt；　the　irregular　alps　of　the　College　roofs；　and　plunged　with　Roger　into　this　netherworld。　From　playing　at　Gobblers　she　had　turned　to　hunting　them；　for　what　could　be　more　likely　than　that　they　were　lurking　out　of　sight　below　the　ground？
　　So　one　day　she　and　Roger　made　their　way　into　the　crypt　below　the　oratory。　This　was　where　generations　of　Masters　had　been　buried；　each　in　his　lead…lined　oak　coffin　in　niches　along　the　stone　walls。　A　stone　tablet　below　each　space　gave　their　names：
　　
　　SIMON　LE　CLERC；　MASTER　1765…1789　CEREBATON　
　　REQUIESCANT　IN　PACE
　　
　　
　　〃What's　that　mean？〃　said　Roger。
　　〃The　first　part's　his　name；　and　the　last　bit's　Roman。　And　there's　the　dates　in　the　middle　when　he　was　Master。　And　the　other　name　must　be　his　daemon。〃
　　They　moved　along　the　silent　vault；　tracing　the　letters　of　more　inscriptions：
　　
　　FRANCIS　LYALL；　MASTER　1748…1765　　　ZOHARIEL
　　REQUIESCANT　IN　PACE
　　
　　ICNATIUS　COLE；　MASTER　1745…1748　　MUSCA
　　REQUIESCANT　IN　PACE
　　
　　On　each　coffin；　Lyra　was　interested　to　see；　a　brass　plaque　bore　a　picture　of　a　different　being：　this　one　a　basilisk；　this　a　serpent；　this　a　monkey。　She　realized　that　they　were　images　of　the　dead　men's　daemons。　As　people　became　adult；　their　daemons　lost　the　power　to　change　and　assumed　one　shape；　keeping　it　permanently。
　　〃These　coffins'　ve　got　skeletons　in　〃em！〃　whispered　Roger。
　　〃Moldering　flesh；〃　whispered　Lyra。　〃And　worms　and　maggots　all　twisting　about　in　their　eye　sockets。〃
　　〃Must　be　ghosts　down　here；〃　said　Roger；　shivering　pleasantly。
　　Beyond　the　first　crypt　they　found　a　passage　lined　with　stone　shelves。　Each　shelf　was　partitioned　off　into　square　sections；　and　in　each　section　rested　a　skull。
　　Roger's　daemon；　tail　tucked　firmly　between　her　legs；　shivered　against　him　and　gave　a　little　quiet　howl。
　　〃Hush；〃　he　said。
　　Lyra　couldn't　see　Pantalaimon；　but　she　knew　his　moth　form　was　resting　on　her　shoulder　and　probably　shivering　too。
　　She　reached　up　and　lifted　the　nearest　skull　gently　out　of　its　resting　place。
　　〃What　you　doing？〃　said　Roger。　〃You　en't　supposed　to　touch　em。〃
　　She　turned　it　over　and　over；　taking　no　notice。　Something　suddenly　fell　out　of　the　hole　at　the　base　of　the　skull…fell　through　her　fingers　and　rang　as　it　hit　the　floor；　and　she　nearly　dropped　the　skull　in