As an answer the witch took an arrow from her quiver. She took her time selecting it: the best, the straightest, the most perfectly balanced. The cry was torn from Lord Asriel, and with the snow leopard beside her, with a roaring in her ears, Lyra's mother stood and found her footing and leapt with all her heart, to hurl herself against the angel and her daemon and her dying lover, and seize those beating wings, and bear them all down together into the abyss. The blackbird flew off his shoulder and vanished in midair, and there was the angel again, sulking in the half-light. Before they went back through, Will looked all around, sniffing the air, taking the measure of the world where Lyra was captive. "Balthamos," he said, "I'm going back into the forest now, to find a safe place to make the first opening. I need you to keep watch for me and tell me the moment she comes near, her or that daemon of hers." She watched every step he took down the river path, and saw quite clearly how he stepped onto the bird's back and sat cross-legged as it turned to glide away. Five minutes later they were lost to sight. In Mary's world they had a kind of picture that looked at first like random dots of color but that, when you looked at it in a certain way, seemed to advance into three dimensions: and there in front of the paper would be a tree, or a face, or something else surprisingly solid that simply wasn't there before. "I can't play cards," he said, "and I'm anxious to get on and keep traveling. If I went to the river, for example, do you think I could find a passage on a steamer going south?" She jumped up at once, and Will went with her. "Roger," she murmured. "Roger... where are you... I can't see..." Will called out, "Don't be afraid. We're not going to hurt you. Where are you going?" " "What is your name? Do you have names?" If he took to the sky, the enemy scouts who had spotted him, and lost him, would find him again at once; but if he stayed on the ground, it would take so long to get past this noxious pit that his message might arrive too late. But the boatman held up his hand. And by now Lord Asriel was weakening. He was holding fast to his blood-soaked consciousness, but with every movement a little more was lost. He could feel the edges of the bones grinding together in his skull; he could hear them. His senses were disordered; all he knew was hold tight and drag down. "No doubt, Lord Roke," said Lord Asriel. "But for reasons I don't understand, the girl is the focus of the Church's attention, and I need to know why. What are they saying about her?" He told the man what Baruch had said, and showed him the atlas. And Lyra began to talk about the world she knew. He cut a window into Cittagazze. They were deep in the parkland around the great house, not far from the edge of the forest. He stepped through for the last time and looked down over the silent city, the tiled roofs gleaming in the moonlight, the tower above them, the lighted ship waiting out on the still sea. And even in her sickness and pain, Lyra felt that she'd just been dealt the ace of trumps. "And will she come out alive?, But no, I know you can't predict. Is she, how is she, has she..." She reached a comfortable spot where three branches forked, tied the rope securely, adjusted her harness, and rested. She drifted into a sun-doped reverie until Atal asked: Then she visited the lacquer grove with Atal, having carefully explained what she was intending, and asked permission to take some sap. The mulefa were happy to let her, but too busy to be concerned. With Atal's help she drew off some of the sticky, resinous sap, and then came the long process of boiling, dissolving, boiling again, until the varnish was ready to use. Lyra looked up and held out her hand for the dragonfly. The great insect landed at once, its red and yellow gleaming like enamel, and its filmy wings stiff and still on either side. Tialys kept his balance as she held him at eye level. "That's no answer. Come on, tell me. What sort of engine is it? How does it fly? I couldn't see anything aerodynamic at all. But these controls.. .from inside, it's almost like a gyropter." Will's arm was strong around her, but he, too, was looking ahead, trying to peer through the wet gray gloom and to hear anything other than the dank splash of the oars. And presently something did change: a cliff or an island lay ahead of them. They heard the enclosing of the sound before they saw the mist darken. He said, "You will never be lost while this college is standing, Lyra. This is your home for as long as you need it. As for money, your father made over an endowment to care for all your needs, and appointed me executor; so you needn't worry about that." It was such an unexpected remark that he blinked. His daemon uttered the softest possible growl at the back of her throat, and settled down with her paws outstretched in the manner of the Sphinx. He said nothing. "Oh, they en't daemons," Lyra burst out compassionately; "and if my own daemon was here, you could all stroke him and touch him, I promise...” "Do you think I need anything else?"