pp.thegoldencompass-第43部分

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　　〃Samoyed　peoples。　Hunters。〃
　　〃Where　are　you　taking　me？〃
　　〃Nice　place。　Nice　peoples。　You　have　panserbjorne？〃
　　〃For　protection。〃
　　〃No　good！　Ha；　ha；　bear　no　good！　We　got　you　anyway！〃
　　He　laughed　loudly。　Lyra　controlled　herself　and　said　nothing。
　　〃Who　those　peoples？〃　the　man　asked　next；　pointing　back　the　way　they　had　e。
　　〃Traders。〃
　　〃Traders　。　。　。　What　they　trade？〃
　　〃Fur；　spirits；〃　she　said。　〃Smokeleaf。〃
　　〃They　sell　smokeleaf；　buy　furs？〃
　　〃Yes。〃
　　He　said　something　to　his　panion；　who　spoke　back　briefly。　All　the　time　the　sledge　was　speeding　onward；　and　Lyra　pulled　herself　up　more　fortably　to　try　and　see　where　they　were　heading；　but　the　snow　was　falling　thickly；　and　the　sky　was　dark；　and　presently　she　became　too　cold　to　peer　out　any　longer；　and　lay　down。　She　and　Pantalaimon　could　feel　each　other's　thoughts；　and　tried　to　keep　calm；　but　the　thought　of　John　Faa　dead　。　。　。　And　what　had　happened　to　Farder　Coram？　And　would　Iorek　manage　to　kill　the　other　Samoyeds？　And　would　they　ever　manage　to　track　her　down？
　　For　the　first　time；　she　began　to　feel　a　little　sorry　for　herself。
　　After　a　long　time；　the　man　shook　her　by　the　shoulder　and　handed　her　a　strip　of　dried　reindeer　meat　to　chew。　It　was　rank　and　tough；　but　she　was　hungry；　and　there　was　nourishment　in　it。　After　chewing　it；　she　felt　a　little　better。　She　slipped　her　hand　slowly　into　her　furs　till　she　was　sure　the　alethiometer　was　still　there；　and　then　carefully　withdrew　the　spy…fly　tin　and　slipped　it　down　into　her　fur　boot。　Pantalaimon　crept　in　as　a　mouse　and　pushed　it　as　far　down　as　he　could；　tucking　it　under　the　bottom　of　her　reindeer…skin　legging。
　　When　that　was　done；　she　closed　her　eyes。　Fear　had　made　her　exhausted；　and　soon　she　slipped　uneasily　into　sleep。
　　She　woke　up　when　the　motion　of　the　sledge　changed。　It　was　suddenly　smoother；　and　when　she　opened　her　eyes　there　were　passing　lights　dazzling　above　her；　so　bright　she　had　to　pull　the　hood　further　over　her　head　before　peering　out　again。　She　was　horribly　stiff　and　cold；　but　she　managed　to　pull　herself　upright　enough　to　see　that　the　sledge　was　driving　swiftly　between　a　row　of　high　poles；　each　carrying　a　glaring　anbaric　light。　As　she　got　her　bearings；　they　passed　through　an　open　metal　gate　at　the　end　of　the　avenue　of　lights　and　into　a　wide　open　space　like　an　empty　marketplace　or　an　arena　for　some　game　or　sport。　It　was　perfectly　flat　and　smooth　and　white；　and　about　a　hundred　yards　across。　Around　the　edge　ran　a　high　metal　fence。
　　At　the　far　end　of　this　arena　the　sledge　halted。　They　were　outside　a　low　building；　or　a　range　of　low　buildings；　over　which　the　snow　lay　deeply。　It　was　hard　to　tell；　but　she　had　the　impression　that　tunnels　connected　one　part　of　the　buildings　with　another；　tunnels　humped　under　the　snow。　At　one　side　a　stout　metal　mast　had　a　familiar　look；　though　she　couldn't　say　what　it　reminded　her　of。
　　Before　she　could　take　much　more　in；　the　man　in　the　sledge　cut　through　the　cord　around　her　ankles；　and　hauled　her　out　roughly　while　the　driver　shouted　at　the　dogs　to　make　them　still。　A　door　opened　in　the　building　a　few　yards　away；　and　an　anbaric　light　came　on　overhead；　swiveling　to　find　them；　like　a　searchlight。
　　Lyra's　captor　thrust　her　forward　like　a　trophy；　without　letting　go；　and　said　something。　The　figure　in　the　padded　coal…silk　anorak　answered　in　the　same　language；　and　Lyra　saw　his　features：　he　was　not　a　Samoyed　or　a　Tartar。　He　could　have　been　a　Jordan　Scholar。　He　looked　at　her；　and　particularly　at　Pantalaimon。
　　The　Samoyed　spoke　again；　and　the　man　from　Bolvangar　said　to　Lyra；　〃You　speak　English？〃
　　〃Yes；〃　she　said。
　　〃Does　your　daemon　always　take　that　form？〃
　　Of　all　the　unexpected　questions！　Lyra　could　only　gape。　But　Pantalaimon　answered　it　in　his　own　fashion　by　being　a　falcon；　and　launching　himself　from　her　shoulder　at　the　man's　daemon；　a　large　marmot；　which　struck　up　at　Pantalaimon　with　a　swift　movement　and　spat　as　he　circled　past　on　swift　wings。
　　〃I　see；〃　said　the　man　in　a　tone　of　satisfaction；　as　Pantalaimon　returned　to　Lyra's　shoulder。
　　The　Samoyed　men　were　looking　expectant；　and　the　man　from　Bolvangar　nodded　and　took　off　a　mitten　to　reach　into　a　pocket。　He　took　out　a　drawstring　purse　and　counted　out　a　dozen　heavy　coins　into　the　hunter's　hand。
　　The　two　men　checked　the　money；　and　then　stowed　it　carefully；　each　man　taking　half。　Without　a　backward　glance　they　got　in　the　sledge；　and　the　driver　cracked　the　whip　and　shouted　to　the　dogs；　and　they　sped　away　across　the　wide　white　arena　and　into　the　avenue　of　lights；　gathering　speed　until　they　vanished　into　the　dark　beyond。
　　The　man　was　opening　the　door　again。
　　〃e　in　quickly；〃　he　said。　〃It's　warm　and　fortable。　Don't　stand　out　in　the　cold。　What　is　your　name　？〃
　　His　voice　was　an　English　one；　without　any　accent　Lyra　could　name。　He　sounded　like　the　sort　of　people　she　had　met　at　Mrs。　Coulter's：　smart　and　educated　and　important。
　　〃Lizzie　Brooks；〃　she　said。
　　〃e　in；　Lizzie。　We'll　look　after　you　here；　don't　worry。〃
　　He　was　colder　than　she　was；　even　though　she'd　been　outside　for　far　longer；　he　was　impatient　to　be　in　the　warm　again。　She　decided　to　play　slow　and　dim…witted　and　reluctant；　and　dragged　her　feet　as　she　stepped　over　the　high　threshold　into　the　building。
　　There　were　two　doors；　with　a　wide　space　between　them　so　that　not　too　much　warm　air　escaped。　Once　they　were　through　the　inner　doorway；　Lyra　found　herself　sweltering　in　what　seemed　unbearable　heat；　and　had　to　pull　open　her　furs　and　push　back　her　hood。
　　They　were　in　a　space　about　eight　feet　square；　with　corridors　to　the　right　and　left；　and　in　front　of　her　the　sort　of　reception　desk　you　might　see　in　a　hospital。　Everything　was　brilliantly　lit；　with　the　glint　of　shiny　white　surfaces　and　stainless　steel。　There　was　the　smell　of　food　in　the　air；　familiar　food；　bacon　and　coffee；　and　under　it　a　faint　perpetual　hospital…medical　smell；　and　ing　from　the　walls　all　around　was　a　slight　humming　sound；　almost　too　low　to　hear；　the　sort　of　sound　you　had　to　get　used　to　or　go　mad。
　　Pantalaimon　at　her　ear；　a　goldfinch　now；　whispered；　〃Be　stupid　and　dim。　Be　really　slow　and　stupid。〃
　　Adults　were　looking　down　at　her：　the　man　who'd　brought　her　in；　another　man　wearing　a　white　coat；　a　woman　in　a　nurse's　uniform。
　　〃English；〃　the　first　man　was　saying。　〃Traders；　apparently。〃
　　〃Usual　hunters？　Usual　story？〃
　　〃Same　tribe；　as　far　as　I　could　tell。　Sister　Clara；　could　you　take　little；　umm；　and　see　to　her？〃
　　〃Certainly；　Doctor。　e　with　me；　dear；〃　said　the　nurse；　and　Lyra　obediently　followed。
　　They　went　along　a　short　corridor　with　doors　on　the　right　and　a　canteen　on　the　left；　from　which　came　a　clatter　of　knives　and　forks；　and　voices；　and　more　cooking　smells。　The　nurse　was　about　as　old　as　Mrs。　Coulter；　Lyra　guessed；　with　a　brisk；　blank；　sensible　air；　she　would　be　able　to　stitch　a　wound　or　change　a　bandage；　but　never　to　tell　a　story。　Her　daemon　（and　Lyra　had　a　moment　of　strange　chill　when　she　noticed）　was　a　little　white　trotting　dog　（and　after　a　moment　she　had　no　idea　why　it　had　chilled　her）。
　　〃What's　your　name；　dear？〃　said　the　nurse；　opening　a　heavy　door。　〃Lizzie。〃
　　〃Just　Lizzie？〃
　　〃Lizzie　Brooks。〃
　　〃And　how　old　are　you？〃
　　〃Eleven。〃
　　Lyra　had　been　told　that　she　was　small　for　her　age；　whatever　that　meant。　It　had　never　affected　her　sense　of　her　own　importance；　but　she　realized　that　she　could　use　the　fact　now　to　make　Lizzie　shy　and　nervous　and　insignificant；　and　shrank　a　little　as　she　went　into　the　room。
　　She　was　half　expecting　questions　about　where　she　had　e　from　and　how　she　had　arrived；　and　she　was　preparing　answers；　but　it　wasn't　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。
　　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　Lyra's　outer　coat　off　and　dropped　it　on　the　shiny　floor。
　　〃Off　with　the　rest；　dear；〃　she　said。　〃We'll　have　a　quick　little　look　to　see　you're　nice　and　healthy；　no　frostbite　or　sniffles；　and　then　we'll　find　some　nice　clean　clothes。　We'll　pop　you　in　the　shower；　too；〃　she　added；　for　Lyra　had　not　changed　or　washed　for　days；　and　in　the　enveloping　warmth；　that　was　being　more　and　more　evident。
　　Pantalaimon　fluttered　in　protest；　but　Lyra　quelled　him　with　a　scowl。　He　settled　on　the　couch　as　one　by　one　all　Lyra's　clothes　came　off；　to　her　resentment　and　shame；　but　she　still　had　the　presence　of　mind　to　conceal　it　and　act　dull…witted　and　pliant。
　　〃And　the　money　belt；　Lizzie；〃　said　the　nurse；　and　untied　it　herself　with　strong　fingers。　She　went　to　drop　it　on　the　pile　with　Lyra's　other　clothes；　but　stopped；　feeling　the　edge　of　the　alethiometer。
　　〃What's　this？〃　she　said；　and　unbuttoned　the　oilcloth。
　　〃Just　a　sort　of　toy；〃　said　Lyra。　〃It's　mine。〃
　　〃Yes；　we　won't　take　it　away　from　you；　dear；〃　said　Sister　Clara；　unfolding　the　black　velvet。　〃That's　pretty；　isn't　i