Farder Coram nodded as if he understood very well.
“To be sure,” he said. “And it wouldn't be necessary for me to ask you if I could get the information any other way. That was why I asked about the witch lady first.”
Now Dr. Lanselius nodded as if he understood. Lyra watched this game with puzzlement and respect. There were all kinds of things going on beneath it, and she saw that the witch consul was coming to a decision.
“Very well,” he said. “Of course, that's true, and you'll realize that your name is not unknown to us, Farder Coram. Serafina Pekkala is queen of a witch clan in the region of Lake Enara. As for your other question, it is of course understood that this information is not reaching you through me.”
“Quite so.”
“Well, in this very town there is a branch of an organization called the Northern Progress Exploration Company, which pretends to be searching for minerals, but which is really controlled by something called the General Oblation Board of London. This organization, I happen to know, imports children. This is not generally known in the town; the Norroway government is not officially aware of it. The children don't remain here long. They are taken some distance inland.”
“Do you know where, Dr. Lanselius?”
“No. I would tell you if I did.”
“And do you know what happens to them there?”
For the first time, Dr. Lanselius glanced at Lyra. She looked stolidly back. The little green serpent daemon raised her head from the consul's collar and whispered tongue-flickeringly in his ear.
The consul said, “I have heard the phrase the M.aystadt process in connection with this matter. I think they use that in order to avoid calling what they do by its proper name. I have also heard the word intercision, but what it refers to I could not say.”
“And are there any children in the town at the moment?” said Farder Coram.
He was stroking his daemon's fur as she sat alert in his lap. Lyra noticed that she had stopped purring.
“No, I think not,” said Dr. Lanselius. “A group of about twelve arrived a week ago and moved out the day before yesterday.”
“Ah! As recent as that? Then that gives us a bit of hope. How did they travel, Dr. Lanselius?”
“By sledge.”
“And you have no idea where they went?”
“Very little. It is not a subject we are interested in.”
“Quite so. Now, you've answered all my questions very fairly, sir, and here's just one more. If you were me, what question would you ask of the Consul of the Witches?”
For the first time Dr. Lanselius smiled.
“I would ask where I could obtain the services of an armored bear,” he said.
Lyra sat up, and felt Pantalaimon's heart leap in her hands.
“I understood the armored bears to be in the service of the Oblation Board,” said Farder Coram in surprise. “I mean, the Northern Progress Company, or whatever they're calling themselves.”
“There is at least one who is not. You will find him at the sledge depot at the end of Langlokur Street. He earns a living there at the moment, but such is his temper and the fear he engenders in the dogs, his employment might not last for long.”
“Is he a renegade, then?”
“It seems so. His name is lorek Byrnison. You asked what I would ask, and I told you. Now here is what I would do: I would seize the chance to employ an armored bear, even if it were far more remote than this.”
Lyra could hardly sit still. Farder Coram, however, knew the etiquette for meetings such as this, and took another spiced honey cake from the plate. While he ate it, Dr. Lanselius turned to Lyra.
“I understand that you are in possession of an alethiome-ter,” he said, to her great surprise; for how could he have known that?
“Yes,” she said, and then, prompted by a nip from Pantalaimon, added, “Would you like to look at it?”
“I should like that very much.”
She fished inelegantly in the oilskin pouch and handed him the velvet package. He unfolded it and held it up with great care, gazing at the face like a Scholar gazing at a rare manuscript.
“How exquisite!” he said. “I have seen one other example, but it was not so fine as this. And do you possess the books of readings?”
“No,” Lyra began, but before she could say any more, Farder Coram was speaking.
“No, the great pity is that although Lyra possesses the alethiometer itself, there's no means of reading it whatsoever,” he said. “It's just as much of a mystery as the pools of ink the Hindus use for reading the future. And the nearest book of readings I know of is in the Abbey of St. Johann at Heidelberg.”
Lyra could see why he was saying this: he didn't want Dr. Lanselius to know of Lyra's power. But she could also see something Farder Coram couldn't, which was the agitation of Dr. Lanselius's daemon, and she knew at once that it was no good to pretend.
So she said, “Actually, I can read it,” speaking half to Dr. Lanselius and half to Farder Coram, and it was the consul who responded.
“That is wise of you,” he said. “Where did you obtain this one?”
“The Master of Jordan College in Oxford gave it to me,” she said. “Dr. Lanselius, do you know who made them?”
“They are said to originate in the city of Prague,” said the consul. “The Scholar who invented the first alethiometer was apparently trying to discover a way of measuring the influences of the planets, according to the ideas of astrology. He intended to make a device that would respond to the idea of Mars or Venus as a compass responds to the idea of North. In that he failed, but the mechanism he invented was clearly responding to something, even if no one knew what it was.”