The fact that the gyptians had heard or seen nothing of Mrs. Coulter worried Farder and John Faa more than they let Lyra know; but they werent to know that she was worried too. Lyra feared Mrs. Coulter and thought about her often.
And whereas Lord Asriel was now 「father,」 Mrs. Coulter was never 「mother.」 The reason for that was Mrs. Coulters daemon, the golden monkey, who had filled Pantalaimon with a powerful loathing, and who, Lyra felt, had pried into her secrets, and particularly that of the alethiometer.
And they were bound to be chasing her; it was silly to think otherwise. The spy-fly proved that, if nothing else.
But when an enemy did strike, it wasnt Mrs. Coulter. The gyptians had plao stop aheir dogs, repair a couple of sledges, a all their ons into shape for the assault on Bolvangar. John Faa hoped that Lee Scoresby might find some ground gas to fill his smaller balloon (for he had tarently) and go up to spy out the land. However, the aeronaut atteo the dition of the weather as closely as a sailor, and he said there was going to be a fog; and sure enough, as soon as they stopped, a thick mist desded. Lee Scoresby knew hed see nothing from the sky, so he had to tent himself with cheg his equipment, though it was all iiculous order. Then, with n at all, a volley of arrows flew out of the dark.
Three gyptian me down at once, and died so silently that no one heard a thing. Only when they slumped clumsily across the dog traces or lay uedly still did the men notice what was happening, and then it was already too late, because more arrows were flying at them. Some men looked up, puzzled by the fast irregular knog sounds that came from up and down the line as arrows hurtled into wood or frozen vas.
The first to e to his wits was John Faa, who shouted orders from the ter of the line. Cold hands and stiff limbs moved to obey as yet more arrows flew down like rain, straight rods of rain tipped with death.
Lyra was in the open, and the arrows were passing over her head. Pantalaimon heard before she did, and became a leopard and knocked her over, making her less of a target. Brushing snow out of her eyes, she rolled over to try and see what was happening, for the semidarkness seemed to be overflowing with fusion and noise. She heard a mighty roar, and the g and scrape of lorek Byrnisons armor as he leaped fully clad over the sledges and into the fog, and that was followed by screams, snarling, g and tearing sounds, great smashing blows, cries of terror and roars of bearish fury as he laid them waste.
But who was them? Lyra had seen no enemy figures yet. The gyptians were swarming to defend the sledges, but that (as even Lyra could see) made them better targets; and their rifles were not easy to fire in gloves and mittens; she had only heard four or five shots, as against the ceaseless knog rain of arrows.
And more and more men fell every minute.
Oh, John Faa! she thought in anguish. You didnt foresee this, and I didnt help you! But she had no more than a sed to think that, for there was a mighty snarl from Pantalaimon, and something— another daemon—hurtled at him and knocked him down, crushing all the breath out of Lyra herself; and then hands were hauling at her, lifting her, stifling her cry with foul-smelling mittens, tossihrough the air into anothers arms, and then pushing her flat down into the snow again, so that she was dizzy and breathless and hurt all at once. Her arms w