ty curtains covered in stars and moons and planets! Lyra lay stiffly, too tired to sleep, too enced to question anything.

    er  goodnig, Pantalaimon plucked at  hing?”

    S once ing up cross-legged in t, alaimon c and looked at  er had given her.

    “ did ?” she whispered.

    “An aleter.”

    t in asking  meant. It lay al face gleaming, tely mac ing to places around t instead of ts of ttle pictures, eaced raordinary precision, as if on ivory  and slenderest sable brusurned to look at ted by a skull; a cy-six altoget even guess .

    “talaimon. “See if you can  up.”

    ttle knurled er isfying clicks. You could arrange to point at any of tures, and once to position, pointing exactly at ter of eac move.

    to be made of a duller metal t control its movement at all; it sed to, like a compass needle, except t it didnt settle.

    “Meter means measure,” said Pantalaimon. “Like ter. told us t.”

    “Yes, but ts t,” s dyou ts for?”

    Neit a long time turning to point at one symbol or anot, dolpe, compasses; candle, t, cs never-ceasing errant ood notrigued and deligy and tail. Pantalaimon became a mouse to get closer to it, and rested iny paton eyes brigy as che needle swing.

    “ do you ter meant about Uncle Asriel?” she said.

    “Per to keep it safe and give it to him.”

    “But ter o poison s te. Pero say dont give it to him.”

    “No,” Pantalaimon said, “it  safe from—”

    t knock on the door.

    Mrs. Coulter said, “L