“I hope you’ll sit next to me at dinner,” said Mrs. Coulter, making

room for Lyra on the sofa. “I’m not used to the grandeur of a Master’s

lodging. You’ll have to show me which knife and fork to use.”

“Are you a female Scholar?” said Lyra. She regarded female Scholars

with a proper Jordan disdain: there were such people, but, poor

things, they could never be taken more seriously than animals dressed

up and acting a play. Mrs. Coulter, on the other hand, was not like

any female Scholar Lyra had seen, and certainly not like the two

serious elderly ladies who were the other female guests. Lyra had

asked the question expecting the answer No, in fact, for Mrs. Coulter

had such an air of glamour that Lyra was entranced. She could hardly

take her eyes off her.

“Not really,” Mrs. Coulter said. “I’m a member of Dame Hannah’s

college, but most of my work takes place outside Oxford….Tell me

about yourself, Lyra. Have you always lived at Jordan College?”

Within five minutes Lyra had told her everything about her half-wild

life: her favorite routes over the rooftops, the battle of the

claybeds, the time she and Roger had caught and roasted a rook, her

intention to capture a narrowboat from the gyptians and sail it to

Abingdon, and so on. She even (looking around and lowering her voice)

told her about the trick she and Roger had played on the skulls in the

crypt.

“And these ghosts came, right, they came to my bedroom

without their heads! They couldn’t talk except for making sort of

gurgling noises, but I knew what they wanted all right. So I went down

next day and put their coins back. They’d probably have killed me

else.”

“You’re not afraid of danger, then?” said Mrs. Coulter admiringly.

They were at dinner by this time, and as Lyra had hoped, sitting next

to each other. Lyra ignored completely the Librarian on her other side

and spent the whole meal talking to Mrs. Coulter.

When the ladies withdrew for coffee, Dame Hannah said, “Tell me, Lyra

-are they going to send you to school?”

Lyra looked blank. “I dun-I don’t know,” she said. “Probably not,” she

added for safety. “I wouldn’t want to put them to any trouble,” she

went on piously. “Or expense. It’s probably better if I just go on

living at Jordan and getting educated by the Scholars here when

they’ve got a bit of spare time. Being as they’re here already,

they’re probably free.”

“And does your uncle Lord Asriel have any plans for you?” said the

other lady, who was a Scholar at the other women’s college.

“Yes,” said Lyra. “I expect so. Not school, though. He’s going to take

me to the North next time he goes.”

“I remember him telling me,” said Mrs. Coulter.

Lyra blinked. The two female Scholars sat up very slightly, though

their demons, either well behaved or torpid, did no more than flick

their eyes at each other.

“I met him at the Royal Arctic Institute,” Mrs. Coulter went on. “As a

matter of fact, it’s partly because of that meeting that I’m here

today.”

“Are you an explorer too?” said Lyra.

“In a kind of way. I’ve been to the North several times. Last year I

spent three months in Greenland making observations of the Aurora.”

That was it; nothing and no one else existed now for Lyra. She gazed

at Mrs. Coulter with awe, and listened rapt and silent to her tales of

igloo building, of seal hunting, of negotiating with the Lapland

witches. The two female Scholars had nothing so exciting to tell, and

sat in silence until the men came in.

Later, when the guests were preparing to leave, the Master said, “Stay

behind, Lyra. I’d like to talk to you for a minute or two. Go to my

study, child; sit down there and wait for me.”

Puzzled, tired, exhilarated, Lyra did as he told her. Cousins the

manservant showed her in, and pointedly left the door open so that he

could see what she was up to from the hall, where he was helping

people on with their coats. Lyra watched for Mrs. Coulter, but she

didn’t see her, and then the Master came into the study and shut the

door.

He sat down heavily in the armchair by the fireplace. His daemon

flapped up to the chair back and sat by his head, her old hooded eyes

on Lyra. The lamp hissed gently as the Master said:

“So, Lyra. You’ve been talking to Mrs. Coulter. Did you enjoy hearing

what she said?”

“Yes!”

“She is a remarkable lady.”

“She’s wonderful. She’s the most wonderful person I’ve ever met.”

The Master sighed. In his black suit and black tie he looked as much

like his daemon as anyone could, and suddenly Lyra thought that one

day, quite soon, he would be buried in the crypt under the oratory,

and an artist would engrave a picture of his daemon on the brass plate

for his coffin, and her name would share the space with his.

“I should have made time before now for a talk with you, Lyra,” he

said after a few moments. “I was intending to do so in any case, but

it seems that time is further on than I thought. You have been safe

here in Jordan, my dear. I think you’ve been happy. You haven’t found

it easy to obey us, but we are very fond of you, and you’ve never been

a bad child. There’s a lot of goodness and sweetness in your nature,

and a lot of determination. You’re going to need all of that. Things

are going on in the wide world I would have liked to protect you from

-by keeping you here in Jordan, I mean-but that’s no longer possible.”

She merely stared. Were they going to send her away?

“You knew that sometime you’d have to go to school,” the Master went

on. “We have taught you some things here, but not well or

systematically. Our knowledge is of a different kind. You need to know

things that elderly men are not able to runescape gold farmingteach you, especially at the

age you are now. You must have been aware of that. You’re not a

servant’s child either; we couldn’t put you out to be fostered by a

town family. They might have cared for you in some ways, but your

needs are different. You see, what I’m saying to you, Lyra, is that

the part of your life that belongs to Jordan College is coming to an

end.”