Once lorek Byrnison  of sig a great  for Pantalaimon, “O go on! Im so frigired—all to deat ead of me, I do ly!”

    form, ing.

    “I just dont kno to do,” Lyra sobbed. “Its too muc...”

    So ting t he bare snow.

    “And even if—if Mrs. Coulter got to Roger first, take o Bolvangar, or  of vengeance....o ce c t to tear t like t?”

    But Pantalaimon tle by little, as torm of fear subsided, so a sense of ened by all means, but herself.

    “I  could be gained by wis. A final deep so go on.

    t by noo tars lay on it like diamonds on velvet. tssimes. Never  so brilliant and dramatic; c danced across t, t ot sunlit city, was clear and solid.

    t beloo ted o ridges  ot and self and far beyond, featureless, lifeless, colorless, and bleak beyond Lyras imagination. to t and  ains, great jagged peaks ting so bladelike edges as sars. to t longingly back, to see if sroops; but notirred on t even sure if sained snohe warriors.

    Pantalaimon flew o  in his owl form.

    “t beyond t all ruments, and Roger cant get away—”

    And as , t ts life, and t out altoget, for to be full of dark intentions, like ts not yet born.

    In the enfolding dark she heard a cry:

    “Lyra! Lyra!”

    “Im coming!” sumbled upruggling, at trengt ly-gleaming snow.

    “Lyra! Lyra!”

    “Im nearly there, Roger!”

    Pantalaimon ion: lion, ermine, eagle, , aken, a kaleidoscope of forms among t—

    “Lyra!”

    t, and saw w was happening.

    Fifty yards aarliging toget led to urned sledge, on teries and jars and pieces of apparatus, already frosted als of cold. ed by tiful spotted coat glossy ail moving lazily in the snow.

    In h she held Rogers daemon.

    ttle creature ruggling, flapping, fig a bird, t a dog, t, a rat, a bird again, and calling every moment to Roger raining, trying to pull a t-deep tug, and crying out o Lord Asriel and plucked ried again, crying and pleading, begging, sobbing, and Lord Asriel took no notice except to knock o the ground.

    t a able dark. t or more above the frozen sea.

    All tarlig ted o brilliant life. Like t plays beterminals, except t ten ting, gloaract of glory.

    rolling it...

    Or leading po; for t ran directly upo t for a cc o ts.

    And the Aurora was blazing again.

    he was nearly ready.

    urned to Roger and beckoned, and Roger  helplessly going forward.

    “No! Run!” Lyra cried, and  him.

    Pantalaimon leaped at tc ter alaimon let turned and battled  spotted beast.

    S-riging oo; or figurbid air, tentions, t came treams of Dust—

    And ts continual surging flicker picking out no lake, no rorees, so close youd t you could step from to t.

    Lyra leaped up and seized Rogers hand.

    Sore aed, because  again,  in toion, and tried to stop—

    But t stop.

    them.

    An entire shelf of snow, sliding inexorably down—

    t below—

    “LYRA!”

    beats, leaping in anguish Rogers—

    tigching hands—

    est wonder.

    At t ill, t of ar-studded, profound, was pierced as if by a spear.

    A jet of lig of pure energy released like an arro bo s of lig ore apart; a great rending, grinding, cruncearing sound reaco the sky—

    Sunlig she fur of a golden monkey....

    For ted; pers fall; and Lyra could see, over trampled sno, t of to tle, ail , t poo side. t a tentative pa, touched—

    And  played around tense anbaric po  chasm, and followed her up here....

    s, togetely: an undreamed-of thing.

    ill, quiet, at rest. Ss talking:

    —”

    ? eve gone beyond being alloo cross, if they wish.”