「Master,」 said Lord Asriel. 「Yes, Im back. D in yuests; Ive got something very iing to show you.」
「Lord Asriel,」 said the Master heavily, and came forward to shake his hand. From her hiding place Lyra watched the Masters eyes, and ihey flicked toward the table for a sed, where the Tokay had been.
「Master,」 said Lord Asriel. 「I came too late to disturb your dinner, so I made myself at home in here. Hello, Sub-Rectlad to see you looking so well.
Excuse my rough appearance; Ive only just landed. Yes, Master, the Tokays gone. I think youre standing in it. The Porter k off the table, but it was my fault. Hello, Chaplain. I read your latest paper with great i.」
He moved away with the Chaplain, leaving Lyra with a clear view of the Masters face. It was impassive, but the daemon on his shoulder was shuffling her feathers and movilessly from foot to foot. Lord Asriel was already dominating the room, and although he was careful to be courteous to the Master in the Masters owory, it was clear where the power lay.
The Schreeted the visitor and moved into the room, some sitting around the table, some in the armchairs, and soon a buzz of versation filled the air. Lyra could see that they were powerfully intrigued by the wooden case, the s, and the lantern. She khe Scholars well: the Librarian, the Sub-Rector, the Enquirer, and the rest; they were men who had been around her all her life, taught her, chastised her, soled her, given her little presents, chased her away from the fruit trees in the garden; they were all she had for a family. They might even have felt like a family if she knew what a family was, though if she did, shed have been more likely to feel that about the College servants. The Scholars had more important things to do than attend to the affes of a half-wild, half-civilized girl, left among them by ce.
The Master lit the spirit lamp uhe little silver chafing dish aed some butter before cutting half a dozen poppy heads open and tossing them in.
Poppy was always served after a feast: it clarified the mind and stimulated the tongue, and made for rich versation. It was traditional for the Master to cook it himself.
Uhe sizzle of the frying butter and the hum of talk, Lyra shifted around to find a more fortable position for herself. With enormous care she took one of the robes—a full-length fur—off its hanger and laid it on the floor of the wardrobe.
「You should have used a scratchy old one,」 whispered Pantalaimon. 「If you get too fortable, youll go to sleep.」
「If I do, its your job to wake me up,」 she replied.
She sat and listeo the talk. Mighty dull talk it was, too; almost all of it politics, and London politics at that, nothiing about Tartars. The smells poppy and smoke-leaf drifted pleasantly in through the wardrobe door, and more than once Lyra found herself nodding. But finally she heard someone rap oable. The voices fell silent, and then the Master spoke.
「Gentlemen,」 he said. 「I feel sure I speak for all of us when I bid Lord Asriel wele. His visits are rare but always immensely valuable, and I uand he has something of particular io show us tonight. This is a time of high political tension, as we are all aware; Lord Asriels presence is required early tomorrow m in White Hall, and a train is waiting with steam up ready to carry him to London as soon as we have finished our versation here; so we must use our time wisely. When he has finished speaking to u