“tartars. I t John Faa.”

    “No—”

    “I satack. e kno.”

    “But we scer!”

    “end to be unconscious.”

    t, Lyra could tell  trained to tle, all s ance, and t pao hear.

    “take us to the Gobblers,” she whispered.

    to talaimon nestled close against her.

    “Ill fight,” he said.

    “So hem.”

    “So h.”

    “how far are we from Bolvangar?”

    Pantalaimon didnt kno  it han a days ride.

    After time t Lyras body orment from cramp, ttle, and someone roughe hood.

    S a broad Asiatic face, under a isfaction, especially  of Lyras anorak to bare e ermine teeth in a hiss.

    t Pantalaimon didnt flinch.

    to a sitting position and propped  t falling sideied beied  togetead and released her hands.

    t oo,  ians .

    t of course sood notried a different language . tried English.

    “You name?”

    Pantalaimon bristled  once. So t knoer; so per in ter all.

    “Lizzie Brooks,” she said.

    “Lissie Broogs,” er ake you nice place. Nice peoples.”

    “ho are you?”

    “Samoyed peoples. ers.”

    “aking me?”

    “Nice place. Nice peoples. You have panserbjorne?”

    “For protection.”

    “No good!  you anyway!”

    rolled hing.

    “, pointing back they had come.

    “traders.”

    “traders... trade?”

    “Fur, spirits,” she said. “Smokeleaf.”

    “they sell smokeleaf, buy furs?”

    “Yes.”

    o ime tably to try and see ly soo cold to peer out any longer, and