pp.thegoldencompass-第8部分

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he　skull…fell　through　her　fingers　and　rang　as　it　hit　the　floor；　and　she　nearly　dropped　the　skull　in　alarm。
　　〃It's　a　coin！〃　said　Roger；　feeling　for　it。　〃Might　be　treasure！〃
　　He　held　it　up　to　the　candle　and　they　both　gazed　wide…eyed。　It　was　not　a　coin；　but　a　little　disc　of　bronze　with　a　crudely　engraved　inscription　showing　a　cat。
　　〃It's　like　the　ones　on　the　coffins；〃　said　Lyra。　〃It's　his　daemon。　Must　be。〃
　　〃Better　put　it　back；〃　said　Roger　uneasily；　and　Lyra　upturned　the　skull　and　dropped　the　disk　back　into　its　immemorial　resting　place　before　returning　the　skull　to　the　shelf。　Each　of　the　other　skulls；　they　found；　had　its　own　daemon…coin；　showing　its　owner's　lifetime　panion　still　close　to　him　in　death。
　　〃Who　d'you　think　these　were　when　they　were　alive？〃　said　Lyra。　〃Probably　Scholars；　I　reckon。　Only　the　Masters　get　coffins。　There's　probably　been　so　many　Scholars　all　down　the　centuries　that　there　wouldn't　be　room　to　bury　the　whole　of　'em；　so　they　just　cut　their　heads　off　and　keep　them。　That's　the　most　important　part　of　'em　anyway。〃
　　They　found　no　Gobblers；　but　the　catabs　under　the　oratory　kept　Lyra　and　Roger　busy　for　days。　Once　she　tried　to　play　a　trick　on　some　of　the　dead　Scholars；　by　switching　around　the　coins　in　their　skulls　so　they　were　with　the　wrong　daemons。　Pantalaimon　became　so　agitated　at　this　that　he　changed　into　a　bat　and　flew　up　and　down　uttering　shrill　cries　and　flapping　his　wings　in　her　face；　but　she　took　no　notice：　it　was　too　good　a　joke　to　waste。　She　paid　for　it　later；　though。　In　bed　in　her　narrow　room　at　the　top　of　Staircase　Twelve　she　was　visited　by　a　night…ghast；　and　woke　up　screaming　at　the　three　robed　figures　who　stood　at　the　bedside　pointing　their　bony　fingers　before　throwing　back　their　cowls　to　show　bleeding　stumps　where　their　heads　should　have　been。　Only　when　Pantalaimon　became　a　lion　and　roared　at　them　did　they　retreat；　backing　away　into　the　substance　of　the　wall　until　all　that　was　visible　was　their　arms；　then　their　horny　yellow…gray　hands；　then　their　twitching　fingers；　then　nothing。　First　thing　in　the　morning　she　hastened　down　to　the　catabs　and　restored　the　daemon…coins　to　their　rightful　places；　and　whispered　〃Sorry！　Sorry！〃　to　the　skulls。
　　The　catabs　were　much　larger　than　the　wine　cellars；　but　they　too　had　a　limit。　When　Lyra　and　Roger　had　explored　every　corner　of　them　and　were　sure　there　were　no　Gobblers　to　be　found　there；　they　turned　their　attention　elsewhere…but　not　before　they　were　spotted　leaving　the　crypt　by　the　Intercessor；　who　called　them　back　into　the　oratory。
　　The　Intercessor　was　a　plump；　elderly　man　known　as　Father　Heyst。　It　was　his　job　to　lead　all　the　College　services；　to　preach　and　pray　and　hear　confessions。　When　Lyra　was　younger；　he　had　taken　an　interest　in　her　spiritual　welfare；　only　to　be　confounded　by　her　sly　indifference　and　insincere　repentances。　She　was　not　spiritually　promising；　he　had　decided。
　　When　they　heard　him　call；　Lyra　and　Roger　turned　reluctantly　and　walked；　dragging　their　feet；　into　the　great　musty…smelling　dimness　of　the　oratory。　Candles　flickered　here　and　there　in　front　of　images　of　the　saints；　a　faint　and　distant　clatter　came　from　the　organ　loft；　where　some　repairs　were　going　on；　a　servant　was　polishing　the　brass　lectern。　Father　Heyst　beckoned　from　the　vestry　door。
　　〃Where　have　you　been？〃　he　said　to　them。　〃I've　seen　you　e　in　here　two　or　three　times　now。　What　are　you　up　to？〃
　　His　tone　was　not　accusatory。　He　sounded　as　if　he　were　genuinely　interested。　His　daemon　flicked　a　lizard　tongue　at　them　from　her　perch　on　his　shoulder。
　　Lyra　said；　〃We　wanted　to　look　down　in　the　crypt。〃
　　〃Whatever　for？〃
　　〃The　。　。　。　the　coffins。　We　wanted　to　see　all　the　coffins；〃　she　said。
　　〃But　why？〃
　　She　shrugged。　It　was　her　constant　response　when　she　was　pressed。
　　〃And　you；〃　he　went　on；　turning　to　Roger。　Roger's　daemon　anxiously　wagged　her　terrier　tail　to　propitiate　him。　〃What's　your　name？〃
　　〃Roger；　Father。〃
　　〃If　you're　a　servant；　where　do　you　work？〃
　　〃In　the　kitchen；　Father。〃
　　〃Should　you　be　there　now？〃
　　〃Yes；　Father。〃
　　〃Then　be　off　with　you。〃
　　Roger　turned　and　ran。　Lyra　dragged　her　foot　from　side　to　side　on　the　floor。
　　〃As　for　you；　Lyra；〃　said　Father　Heyst；　〃I'm　pleased　to　see　you　taking　an　interest　in　what　lies　in　the　oratory。　You　are　a　lucky　child；　to　have　all　this　history　around　you。〃
　　〃Mm；〃　said　Lyra。
　　〃But　I　wonder　about　your　choice　of　panions。　Are　you　a　lonely　child？〃
　　〃No；〃　she　said。
　　〃Do　you　。　。　。　do　you　miss　the　society　of　other　children？〃
　　〃No。〃
　　〃I　don't　mean　Roger　the　kitchen　boy。　I　mean　children　such　as　yourself。　Nobly　born　children。　Would　you　like　to　have　some　panions　of　that　sort？〃
　　〃No。〃
　　〃But　other　girls；　perhaps　。　。　。　〃
　　〃No。〃
　　〃You　see；　none　of　us　would　want　you　to　miss　all　the　usual　childhood　pleasures　and　pastimes。　I　sometimes　think　it　must　be　a　lonely　life　for　you　here　among　a　pany　of　elderly　Scholars；　Lyra。　Do　you　feel　that？〃
　　〃No。〃
　　He　tapped　his　thumbs　together　over　his　interlaced　fingers；　unable　to　think　of　anything　else　to　ask　this　stubborn　child。
　　〃If　there　is　anything　troubling　you；〃　he　said　finally；　〃you　know　you　can　e　and　tell　me　about　it。　I　hope　you　feel　you　can　always　do　that。〃
　　〃Yes；〃　she　said。
　　〃Do　you　say　your　prayers？〃
　　〃Yes。〃
　　〃Good　girl。　Well；　run　along。〃
　　With　a　barely　concealed　sigh　of　relief；　she　turned　and　left。　Having　failed　to　find　Gobblers　below　ground；　Lyra　took　to　the　streets　again。　She　was　at　home　there。
　　Then；　almost　when　she'd　lost　interest　in　them；　the　Gobblers　appeared　in　Oxford。
　　
　　The　first　Lyra　heard　of　it　was　when　a　young　boy　went　missing　from　a　gyptian　family　she　knew。
　　It　was　about　the　time　of　the　horse　fair；　and　the　canal　basin　was　crowded　with　narrowboats　and　butty　boats；　with　traders　and　travelers；　and　the　wharves　along　the　waterfront　in　Jericho　were　bright　with　gleaming　harness　and　loud　with　the　clop　of　hooves　and　the　clamor　of　bargaining。　Lyra　always　enjoyed　the　horse　fair；　as　well　as　the　chance　of　stealing　a　ride　on　a　less…than…well…attended　horse；　there　were　endless　opportunities　for　provoking　warfare。
　　And　this　year　she　had　a　grand　plan。　Inspired　by　the　capture　of　the　narrowboat　the　year　before；　she　intended　this　time　to　make　a　proper　voyage　before　being　turned　out。　If　she　and　her　cronies　from　the　College　kitchens　could　get　as　far　as　Abingdon；　they　could　play　havoc　with　the　weir　。　。　。　。
　　But　this　year　there　was　to　be　no　war。　Something　else　happened。　Lyra　was　sauntering　along　the　edge　of　the　Port　Meadow　boatyard　in　the　morning　sun；　without　Roger　for　once　（he　had　been　detailed　to　wash　the　buttery　floor）　but　with　Hugh　Lovat　and　Simon　Parslow；　passing　a　stolen　cigarette　from　one　to　another　and　blowing　out　the　smoke　ostentatiously；　when　she　heard　a　cry　in　a　voice　she　recognized。
　　〃Well；　what　have　you　done　with　him；　you　half…arsed　pillock？〃
　　It　was　a　mighty　voice；　a　woman's　voice；　but　a　woman　with　lungs　of　brass　and　leather。　Lyra　looked　around　for　her　at　once；　because　this　was　Ma　Costa；　who　had　clouted　Lyra　dizzy　on　two　occasions　but　given　her　hot　gingerbread　on　three；　and　whose　family　was　noted　for　the　grandeur　and　sumptu…ousness　of　their　boat。　They　were　princes　among　gyptians；　and　Lyra　admired　Ma　Costa　greatly；　but　she　intended　to　be　wary　of　her　for　some　time　yet；　for　theirs　was　the　boat　she　had　hijacked。
　　One　of　Lyra's　brat　panions　picked　up　a　stone　automatically　when　he　heard　the　motion；　but　Lyra　said；　〃Put　it　down。　She's　in　a　temper。　She　could　snap　your　backbone　like　a　twig。〃
　　In　fact；　Ma　Costa　looked　more　anxious　than　angry。　The　man　she　was　addressing；　a　horse　trader；　was　shrugging　and　spreading　his　hands。
　　〃Well；　I　dunno；〃　he　was　saying。　〃He　was　here　one　minute　and　gone　the　next。　I　never　saw　where　he　went　。　。　。　。〃
　　〃He　was　helping　you！　He　was　holding　your　bloody　horses　for　you！〃
　　〃Well；　he　should've　stayed　there；　shouldn't　he？　Runs　off　in　the　middle　of　a　job…〃
　　He　got　no　further；　because　Ma　Costa　suddenly　dealt　him　a　mighty　blow　on　the　side　of　the　head；　and　followed　it　up　with　such　a　volley　of　curses　and　slaps　that　he　yelled　and　turned　to　flee。　The　other　horse　traders　nearby　jeered；　and　a　flighty　colt　reared　up　in　alarm。
　　〃What's　going　on？〃　said　Lyra　to　a　gyptian　child　who'd　been　watching　open…mouthed。　〃What's　she　angry　about？〃
　　〃It's　her　kid；〃　said　the　child。　〃It's　Billy。　She　probly　reckons　the　Gobblers　got　him。　They　might've　done；　too。　I　ain't　seen　him　meself　since…〃
　　〃The　Gobblers？　Has　they　e　to　Oxford；　then？〃
　　The　gyptian　boy　turned　away　to　call　to　his　friends；　who　were　all　watching　Ma　Costa。
　　〃She　don't　know　what's　going　on！　She　don't　know　the　Gobblers　is　here！〃
　　Half　a　dozen　brats　turned　with　expressions　of　derision；　and　Lyra　threw　her　cigarette　down；　recognizing　the　cue　for　a　fight。　Everyone's　daemon　instantly　became　warlike：　each　child　was　acpanied　by　fangs；　or　claws；　or　bristling　fur；　and　Pantalaimon；　contemptuous　of　the　limited　imaginations　of　these　gyptian　daemons；　became　a　dragon　the　size　of　a　deer　hound。
　　But　before　they　could　all　join　battle；　Ma　Costa　herself　waded　in；　smacking　two　of　the　gyptians　aside　and　confronting　Lyra　like　a　prizefighter。
　　〃You　seen　him？〃　she　demanded　of　Lyra。　〃You　seen　Billy？〃
　　〃No；〃　Lyra　said。　〃We　just　got　here。　I　en't　seen　Billy　for　months。〃
　　Ma　Costa's　daemon　was　wheeling　in　the　bright　air　above　her　head；　a　hawk；　fierce　yellow　eyes　snapping　this　way　and　that；　unblinking。　Lyra　was　frightened。　No　one　worried　about　a　child　gone　missing　for　a　few　hours；　certainly　not　a　gyptian：　in　the　tight…knit　gyptian　boat　world；　all　children　were　precious　and　extravagantly　loved；　and　a　mother　knew　that　if　a　child　was　out　of　sight；　it　wouldn't　be　far　from　someone　else's　who　would　protect　it　instinctively。
　　But　here　was　Ma　Costa；　a　queen　among　the　gyptians；　in　a　terror　for　a　missing　child。　What　was　going　on？
　　Ma　Costa　looked　half…blindly　over　the　little　group　of　children　and　turned　away　to　stumble　through　the　crowd　on　the　wharf；　bellowing　for　her　child。　At　once　the　children　turned　back　to　one　another；　their　feud　abandoned　in　the　face　of　her　grief。
　　〃What　is　them　Gobblers？〃　said　Simon　Parslow；　one　of　Lyra's　panions。
　　The　first　gyptian　boy　said；　〃You　know。　They　been　stealing　kids　all　over　the　country。　They're　pirates…〃
　　〃They　en't　pirates；〃　corrected　another　gyptian。　〃They're　cannaboles。　That's　why　they　call　'em　Gobblers。〃
　　〃They　eat　kids？〃　said　Lyra's　other　crony；　Hugh　Lovat；　a　kitchen　boy　from　St。　Michael's。
　　〃No　one　knows；〃　said　the　first　gyptian。　〃They　take　'em　away　and　they　en't　never　seen　again。〃
　　〃We　all　know　that；〃　said　Lyra。　〃We　been　playing　kids　and　Gobblers　for　months；　before　you　were；　I　bet。　But　1　bet　no　one's　seen　'em。〃
　　〃They　have；〃　said　one　boy。
　　〃Who；　then？〃　persisted　Lyra。　〃Have　you　seen　'em？　How　d'you　know　it　en't　just　one　person？〃
　　〃Charlie　seen　'em　in　Banbury；〃　said　a　gyptian　girl。　〃They　e　and　talked　to　this　lady　while　another　man　took　her　little　boy　out　the　garden。〃
　　〃Yeah；〃　piped　up　Charlie；　a　gyptian　boy。　〃I　seen　'em　do　it！〃
　　〃What　did　they　look　like？〃　said　Lyra。
　　〃Well　。　。　。　l　　never　　properly　　saw　　'em；〃　　Charlie　　said。　　　〃I　saw　their　truck；　though；〃　he　added。　〃They　e　in　a　white　truck。　They　pu