“Perhaps the world of spirits?” said Farder Coram.
“Nor that.”
“Is it the city in the lights?” said Lyra. “It is, en't it?”
The goose turned his stately head toward her. His eyes were black, surrounded by a thin line of pure sky-blue, and their gaze was intense.
“Yes,” he said. “Witches have known of the other worlds for thousands of years. You can see them sometimes in the Northern Lights. They aren't part of this universe at all; even the furthest stars are part of this universe, but the lights show us a different universe entirely. Not further away, but interpenetrating with this one. Here, on this deck, millions of other universes exist, unaware of one another….”
He raised his wings and spread them wide before folding them again.
“There,” he said, “I have just brushed ten million other worlds, and they knew nothing of it. We are as close as a heartbeat, but we can never touch or see or hear these other worlds except in the Northern Lights.”
“And why there?” said Farder Coram.
“Because the charged particles in the Aurora have the property of making the matter of this world thin, so that we can see through it for a brief time. Witches have always known this, but we seldom speak of it.”
“My father believes in it,” Lyra said. “I know because I heard him talking and showing pictures of the Aurora.”
“Is this anything to do with Dust?” said John Faa.
“Who can say?” said the goose daemon. “All I can tell you is that the Dust hunters are as frightened of it as if it were deadly poison. That is why they imprisoned Lord Asriel.”
“But why?” Lyra said.
“They think he intends to use Dust in some way in order to make a bridge between this world and the world beyond the Aurora.”
There was a lightness in Lyra's head.
She heard Farder Coram say, “And does he?”
“Yes,” said the goose daemon. “They don't believe he can, because they think he is mad to believe in the other worlds in the first place. But it is true: that is his intention. And he is so powerful a figure that they feared he would upset their own plans, so they made a pact with the armored bears to capture him and keep him imprisoned in the fortress of Svalbard, out of the way. Some say they helped the new bear king to gain his throne, as part of the bargain.”
Lyra said, “Do the witches want him to make this bridge? Are they on his side or against him?”
“That is a question with too complicated an answer. Firstly, the witches are not united. There are differences of opinion among us. Secondly, Lord Asriel's bridge will have a bearing on a war being waged at the present between some witches and various other forces, some in the spirit world. Possession of the bridge, if it ever existed, would give a huge advantage to whoever held it. Thirdly, Serafina Pekkala's clan—my clan—is not yet part of any alliance, though great pressure is being put on us to declare for one side or another. You see, these are questions of high politics, and not easily answered.”
“What about the bears?” said Lyra. “Whose side are they on?”
“On the side of anyone who pays them. They have no interest whatever in these questions; they have no daemons; they are unconcerned about human problems. At least, that is how bears used to be, but we have heard that their new king is intent on changing their old ways….At any rate, the Dust hunters have paid them to imprison Lord Asriel, and they will hold him on Svalbard until the last drop of blood drains from the body of the last bear alive.”
“But not all bears!” Lyra said. “There's one who en't on Svalbard at all. He's an outcast bear, and he's going to come with us.”
The goose gave Lyra another of his piercing looks. This time she could feel his cold surprise.
Farder Coram shifted uncomfortably, and said, “The fact is, Lyra, I don't think he is. We heard he's serving out a term as an indentured laborer; he en't free, as we thought he might be, he's under sentence. Till he's discharged he won't be free to come, armor or no armor; and he won't never have that back, either.”
“But he said they tricked him! They made him drunk and stole it away!”
“We heard a different story,” said John Faa. “He's a dangerous rogue, is what we heard.”
“If—” Lyra was passionate; she could hardly speak for indignation. “—if the alethiometer says something, I know it's true. And I asked it, and it said that he was telling the truth, they did trick him, and they're telling lies and not him. I believe him, Lord Faa! Farder Coram—you saw him too, and you believe him, don't you?”
“I thought I did, child. I en't so certain of things as you are.”
“But what are they afraid of? Do they think he's going to go round killing people as soon's he gets his armor on? He could kill dozens of 'em now!”
“He has done,” said John Faa. “Well, if not dozens, then some. When they first took his armor away, he went a rampaging round looking for it. He tore open the police house and the bank and I don't know where else, and there's at least two men who died. The only reason they didn't shoot to kill him is because of his wondrous skill with metals; they wanted to use him like a laborer.”
“Like a slave!” Lyra said hotly. “They hadn't got the right!”
“Be that as it may, they might have shot him for the killings he done, but they didn't. And they bound him over to labor in the town's interest until he's paid off the damage and the blood money.”
“John,” said Farder Coram, “I don't know how you feel, but it's my belief they'll never let him have that armor back. The longer they keep him, the more angry he'll be when he gets it.”