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Part One

Oxford

One

The Decanter of Tokay

Lyra and her dae care to keep to one side, out of sight of the kitchen The three great tables that ran the length of the hall were laid already, the silver and the glass catching what little light there was, and the long benches were pulled out ready for the guests Portraits of for the walls Lyra reached the dais and looked back at the open kitchen door, and, seeing no one, stepped up beside the high table The places here were laid with gold, not silver, and the fourteen seats were not oak benches but any chairs with velvet cushions

Lyra stopped beside the Master's chair and flicked the biggest glass gently with a fingernail The sound rang clearly through the hall

“You're not taking this seriously,” whispered her daemon “Behave yourself”

Her daemon's name was Pantalaimon, and he was currently in the form of a moth, a dark brown one so as not to show up in the darkness of the hall

“They'retoo much noise to hear from the kitchen,” Lyra whispered back “And the Steward doesn't co”

But she put her pal crystal anyway, and Pantalaihtly open door of the Retiring Rooain

“There's no one there,” he whispered “But we must be quick”

Crouching behind the high table, Lyra darted along and through the door into the Retiring Rooht in here cas settled slightly as she looked, sending a fountain of sparks up into the chie, but had never seen the Retiring Roouests were allowed in here, and never females Even the maidservants didn't clean in here That was the Butler's job alone

Pantalaimon settled on her shoulder

“Happy now? Can we go?” he whispered

“Don't be silly! I want to look around!”

It was a large room, with an oval table of polished rosewood on which stood various decanters and glasses, and a silver s stand with a rack of pipes On a sideboard nearby there was a little chafing dish and a basket of poppy heads

“They do themselves well, don't they, Pan?” she said under her breath

She sat in one of the green leather ar down, but she sat up again and tucked her legs under her to look at the portraits on the walls More old Scholars, probably; robed, bearded, and gloomy, they stared out of their frames in solemn disapproval

“What d'you think they talk about?” Lyra said, or began to say, because before she'd finished the question she heard voices outside the door

“Behind the chair—quick!” whispered Pantalai behind it It wasn't the best one for hiding behind: she'd chosen one in the very center of the room, and unless she kept very quiet…

The door opened, and the light changed in the roo a las, in their dark green trousers and shiny black shoes It was a servant

Then a deep voice said, “Has Lord Asriel arrived yet?”

It was the Master As Lyra held her breath, she saw the servant's dae, like all servants' daemons) trot in and sit quietly at his feet, and then the Master's feet became visible too, in the shabby black shoes he alore

“No, Master,” said the Butler “No word from the aerodock, either”

“I expect he'll be hungry when he arrives Show hiht into Hall, will you?”

“Very good, Master”

“And you've decanted some of the special Tokay for him?”