She walked quickly away from the river, because the emba was wide and well lit. There was a tangle of narrow streets between there and the Royal Arctistitute, which was the only place Lyra was sure of being able to find, and into that dark maze she hurried now.
If only she knew London as well as she knew Oxford! Then she would have known which streets to avoid; or where she could sge some food; or, best of all, which doors to kno and find shelter. In that cold night, the dark alleys all around were alive with movement a life, and she knew none of it.
Pantalaimon became a wildcat and sed the dark all around with his night-pierg eyes. Every so ofteop, bristling, and she would turn aside from the entrance shed been about to go down. The night was full of noises: bursts of drunken laughter, two raucous voices raised in song, the clatter and whine of some badly oiled mae in a basement. Lyra walked delicately through it all, her senses magnified and mingled with Pantalaimons, keeping to the shadows and the narrow alleys.
From time to time she had to cross a wider, well-lit street, where the tramcars hummed and sparked uheir anbaric wires. There were rules for crossing London streets, but she took no notice, and when anyone shouted, she fled.
It was a fihing to be free again. She khat Pantalaimon, padding on wildcat paws beside her, felt the same joy as she did to be in the open air, even if it was murky London air laden with fumes and soot and gorous with noise. Sometime soon theyd have to think over the meaning of what theyd heard in Mrs. Coulters flat, but not yet. And sometime eventually theyd have to find a place to sleep.
At a crossroads he er of a big department store whose windows shone brilliantly over the wet pavement, there was a coffee stall: a little hut on wheels with a ter uhe wooden flap that swung up like an awning. Yellow light glowed inside, and the fragrance of coffee drifted out. The white-coated owner was leaning on the ter talking to the two or three ers.
It was tempting. Lyra had been walking for an hour now, and it was cold and damp. With Pantalaimon a sparrow, she went up to the ter and reached up to gain the owners attention.
「Cup of coffee and a ham sandwich, please,」 she said.
「Youre out late, my dear,」 said a gentleman in a top hat and white silk muffler.
「Yeah,」 she said, turning away from him to s the busy interse. A theater nearby was just emptying, and crowds milled around the lighted foyer, calling for cabs, ing coats around their shoulders. Iher dire was the entrance of a Chthonic Railway station, with more crowds p up and doweps.
「Here you are, love,」 said the coffee stall man. 「Two shillings.」
「Let me pay for this,」 said the man iop hat.
Lyra thought, why not? I run faster than him, and I might need all my money later. The top-hatted man dropped a on the ter and smiled down at her.
His daemon was a lemur. It g to his lapel, staring round-eyed at Lyra.
She bit into her sandwid kept her eyes on the busy street. She had no idea where she was, because she had never seen a map of London, and she didnt even know how big it was or how far shed have to walk to find the try.
「Whats your name?」 said the man.
「Alice.」
「Thats a pretty name. Let me put a drop of this into your coffee...warm you up...」
He was unscrewing the top of a silver flask.
「I dont like that,」 said Lyra. 「I just like coffee.」