The Amber Spyglass (His Dark Materials 3)

Mrs. Coulter was more like her daughter than she knew. Her answer to this was to spit in Lord Asriel’s face. He wiped it calmly away and said, “A gag would put an end to that kind of behavior, too.”

“Oh, do correct me, Asriel,” she said. “Someone who displays to his under-officers a captive tied to a chair is clearly a prince of politeness. Untie me, or I’ll force you to gag me.”

“As you wish,” he said, and took a silk scarf from the drawer; but before he could tie it around her mouth, she shook her head.

“No, no,” she said, “Asriel, don’t, I beg you, please don’t humiliate me.”

Angry tears dashed from her eyes.

“Very well, I’ll untie you, but he can stay in his chains,” he said, and dropped the scarf back in the drawer before cutting her bonds with a clasp knife.

She rubbed her wrists, stood up, stretched, and only then noticed the condition of her clothes and hair. She looked haggard and pale; the last of the Gallivespian venom still remained in her body, causing agonizing pains in her joints, but she was not going to show him that.

Lord Asriel said, “You can wash in there,” indicating a small room hardly bigger than a closet.

She picked up her chained dæmon, whose baleful eyes glared at Lord Asriel over her shoulder, and went through to make herself tidier.

The orderly came in to announce:

“His Majesty King Ogunwe and the Lord Roke.”

The African general and the Gallivespian came in: King Ogunwe in a clean uniform, with a wound on his temple freshly dressed, and Lord Roke gliding swiftly to the table astride his blue hawk.

Lord Asriel greeted them warmly and offered wine. The bird let his rider step off, and then flew to the bracket by the door as the orderly announced the third of Lord Asriel’s high commanders, an angel by the name of Xaphania. She was of a much higher rank than Baruch or Balthamos, and visible by a shimmering, disconcerting light that seemed to come from somewhere else.

By this time Mrs. Coulter had emerged, much tidied, and all three commanders bowed to her; and if she was surprised at their appearance, she gave no sign, but inclined her head and sat down peaceably, holding the pinioned monkey in her arms.

Without wasting time, Lord Asriel said, “Tell me what happened, King Ogunwe.”

The African, powerful and deep-voiced, said, “We killed seventeen Swiss Guards and destroyed two zeppelins. We lost five men and one gyropter. The girl and the boy escaped. We captured the Lady Coulter, despite her courageous defense, and brought her here. I hope she feels we treated her courteously.”

“I am quite content with the way you treated me, sir,” she said, with the faintest possible stress on the you.

“Any damage to the other gyropters? Any wounded?” said Lord Asriel.

“Some damage and some wounds, but all minor.”

“Good. Thank you, King; your force did well. My Lord Roke, what have you heard?”

The Gallivespian said, “My spies are with the boy and girl in another world. Both children are safe and well, though the girl has been kept in a drugged sleep for many days. The boy lost the use of his knife during the events in the cave: by some accident, it broke in pieces. But it is now whole again, thanks to a creature from the north of your world, Lord Asriel, a giant bear, very skilled at smithwork. As soon as the knife was mended, the boy cut through into another world, where they are now. My spies are with them, of course, but there is a difficulty: while the boy has the knife, he cannot be compelled to do anything; and yet if they were to kill him in his sleep, the knife would be useless to us. For the time being, the Chevalier Tialys and the Lady Salmakia will go with them wherever they go, so at least we can keep track of them. They seem to have a plan in mind; they are refusing to come here, at any rate. My two will not lose them.”

“Are they safe in this other world they’re in now?” said Lord Asriel.

“They’re on a beach near a forest of large tree-ferns. There is no sign of animal life nearby. As we speak, both boy and girl are asleep; I spoke to the Chevalier Tialys not five minutes ago.”

“Thank you,” said Lord Asriel. “Now that your two agents are following the children, of course, we have no eyes in the Magisterium anymore. We shall have to rely on the alethiometer. At least—”

Then Mrs. Coulter spoke, to their surprise.

“I don’t know about the other branches,” she said, “but as far as the Consistorial Court is concerned, the reader they rely on is Fra Pavel Rasek. And he’s thorough, but slow. They won’t know where Lyra is for another few hours.”

Lord Asriel said, “Thank you, Marisa. Do you have any idea what Lyra and this boy intend to do next?”

“No,” she said, “none. I’ve spoken to the boy, and he seemed to be a stubborn child, and one well used to keeping secrets. I can’t guess what he would do. As for Lyra, she is quite impossible to read.”

“My lord,” said King Ogunwe, “may we know whether the Lady is now part of this commanding council? If so, what is her function? If not, should she not be taken elsewhere?”

“She is our captive and my guest, and as a distinguished former agent of the Church, she may have information that would be useful.”

“Will she reveal anything willingly? Or will she need to be tortured?” said Lord Roke, watching her directly as he spoke.

Mrs. Coulter laughed.

“I would have thought Lord Asriel’s commanders would know better than to expect truth to come out of torture,” she said.

Lord Asriel couldn’t help enjoying her barefaced insincerity.

“I will guarantee Mrs. Coulter’s behavior,” he said. “She knows what will happen if she betrays us; though she will not have the chance. However, if any of you has a doubt, express it now, fearlessly.”

“I do,” said King Ogunwe, “but I doubt you, not her.”

“Why?” said Lord Asriel.

“If she tempted you, you would not resist. It was right to capture her, but wrong to invite her to this council. Treat her with every courtesy, give her the greatest comfort, but place her somewhere else, and stay away from her.”

“Well, I invited you to speak,” said Lord Asriel, “and I must accept your rebuke. I value your presence more than hers, King. I’ll have her taken away.”

He reached for the bell, but before he could ring, Mrs. Coulter spoke.

“Please,” she said urgently, “listen to me first. I can help. I’ve been closer to the heart of the Magisterium than anyone you’re likely to find again. I know how they think, I can guess what they’ll do. You wonder why you should trust me, what’s made me leave them? It’s simple: they’re going to kill my daughter. They daren’t let her live. The moment I found out who she is—what she is—what the witches prophesy about her—I knew I had to leave the Church; I knew I was their enemy, and they were mine. I didn’t know what you all were, or what I was to you—that was a mystery; but I knew that I had to set myself against the Church, against everything they believed in, and if need be, against the Authority himself. I . . .”

She stopped. All the commanders were listening intently. Now she looked Lord Asriel full in the face and seemed to speak to him alone, her voice low and passionate, her brilliant eyes glittering.

“I have been the worst mother in the world. I let my only child be taken away from me when she was a tiny infant, because I didn’t care about her; I was concerned only with my own advancement. I didn’t think of her for years, and if I did, it was only to regret the embarrassment of her birth.

“But then the Church began to take an interest in Dust and in children, and something stirred in my heart, and I remembered that I was a mother and Lyra was . . . my child.

“And because there was a threat, I saved her from it. Three times now I’ve stepped in to pluck her out of danger. First, when the Oblation Board began its work: I went to Jordan College and I took her to live with me, in London, where I could keep her safe from the Board . . . or so I hoped. But she ran away.

“The second time was at Bolvangar, when I found her just in time, under the . . . under the blade of the . . . My heart nearly stopped . . . It was what they—we—what I had done to other children, but when it was mine . . . Oh, you can’t conceive the horror of that moment, I hope you never suffer as I did then . . . But I got her free; I took her out; I saved her a second time.