e out in the open； where she could run； if she had to。
On and on she walked； and the streets became darker and emptier。 It was drizzling； but even if there'd been no clouds the city sky was too tainted with light to show the stars。 Pantalaimon thought they were going north； but who could tell？
Endless streets of little identical brick houses； with gardens only big enough for a dustbin； great gaunt factories behind wire fences； with one anbaric light glowing bleakly high up on a wall and a night watchman snoozing by his brazier； occasionally a dismal oratory； only distinguished from a warehouse by the crucifix outside。 Once she tried the door of one of these places； only to hear a groan from the bench a foot away in the darkness。 She realized that the porch was full of sleeping figures； and fled。
〃Where we going to sleep； Pan？〃 she said as they trudged down a street of closed and shuttered shops。
〃A doorway somewhere。〃
〃Don't want to be seen though。 They're all so open。〃
〃There's a canal down there 。 。 。 。〃
He was looking down a side road to the left。 Sure enough； a patch of dark glimmer showed open water； and when they cautiously went to look； they found a canal basin where a dozen or so barges were tied up at the wharves； some high in the water； some low and laden under the gallows…like cranes。 A dim light shone in one window of a wooden hut； and a thread of smoke rose from the metal chimney； otherwise the only lights were high up on the wall of the warehouse or the gantry of a crane； leaving the ground in gloom。 The wharves were piled with barrels of coal spirit； with stacks of great round logs； with rolls of cauchuc…covered cable。
Lyra tiptoed up to the hut and peeped in at the window。 An old man was laboriously reading a picture'Story paper and smoking a pipe； with his spaniel daemon curled up asleep on the table。 As she looked； the man got up and brought a blackened kettle from the iron stove and poured some hot water into a cracked mug before settling back with his paper。
〃Should we ask him to let us in； Pan？〃 she whispered； but he was distracted； he was a bat； an owl； a wildcat again； she looked all round； catching his panic； and then saw them at the same time as he did： two men running at her； one from each side； the nearer holding a throwing net。
Pantalaimon uttered a harsh scream and launched himself as a leopard at the closer man's daemon； a savage…looking fox； bowling her backward and tangling with the man's legs。 The man cursed and dodged aside； and Lyra darted past him toward the open spaces of the wharf。 What she mustn't do was get boxed in a corner。
Pantalaimon； an eagle now； swooped at her and cried； 〃Left！ Left！〃
She swerved that way and saw a gap between the coal…spirit barrels and the end of a corrugated iron shed； and darted for it like a bullet。
But those throwing nets！
She heard a hiss in the air； and past her cheek something lashed and sharply stung； and loathsome tarred strings whipped across her face； her arms； her hands； and tangled and held her； and she fell； snarling and tearing and struggling in vain。
〃Pan！ Pan！〃
But the fox daemon tore at the cat Pantalaimon； and Lyra felt the pain in her own flesh； and sobbed a great cry as he fell。 One man was swiftly lashing cords around her； around her limbs； her throat； body； head； bundling her over and over on the wet ground。 She was helpless； exactly like a fly being trussed by a spider。 Poor hurt Pan was dragging himself toward her； with the fox daemon worrying his back； and he had no strength left to change； even； and the other man was lying in a puddle； with an arrow through his neck…
The whole world grew still as the man tying the net saw it too。
Pantalaimon sat up and blinked； and then there was a soft thud； and the net man fell choking and gasping right across Lyra； who cried out in horror： that was blood gushing out of him！
Running feet； and someone hauled the man away and bent over him； then other hands lifted Lyra； a knife snicked and pulled and the net strings fell away one by one； and she tore them off； spitting； and hurled herself down to cuddle Pantalaimon。
Kneeling； she twisted to look up at the newers。 Three dark men； one armed with a bow； the others with knives； and as she turned； the bowman caught his breath。
〃That en't Lyra？〃
A familiar voice； but she couldn't place it till he stepped forward and the nearest light fell on his face and the hawk daemon on his shoulder。 Then she had it。 A gyptian！ A real Oxford gyptian！
〃Tony Costa；〃 he said。 〃Remember？ You used to play with my little brother Billy off the boats in Jericho； afore the Gobblers got him。〃
〃Oh； God； Pan； we're safe！〃 she sobbed； but then a thought rushed into her mind： it was the Costas' boat she'd hijacked that day。 Suppose he remembered？
〃Better e along with us；〃 he said。 〃You alone？〃
〃Yeah。 I was running away 。 。 。 。〃
〃All right； don't talk now。 Just keep quiet。 Jaxer； move them bodies into the shadow。 Kerim； look around。〃
Lyra stood up shakily； holding the wildcat Pantalaimon to her breast。 He was twisting to look at something； and she followed his gaze； understanding and suddenly curious too： what had happened to the dead men's daemons？ They were fading； that was the answer； fading and drifting away like atoms of smoke； for all that they tried to cling to their men。 Pantalaimon hid his eyes； and Lyra hurried blindly after Tony Costa。
〃What are you doing here？〃 she said。
〃Quiet； gal。 There's enough trouble awake without stirring more。 We'll talk on the boat。〃
He led her over a little wooden bridge into the heart of the canal basin。 The other two men were padding silently after them。 Tony turned along the waterfront and out onto a wooden jetty； from which he stepped on board a narrowboat and swung open the door to the cabin。
〃Get in；〃 he said。 〃Quick now。〃
Lyra did so； patting her bag （which she had never let go of； even in the net） to make sure the alethiometer was still there。 In the long narrow cabin； by the light of a lantern on a hook； she saw a stout powerful woman with gray hair； sitting at a table with a paper。 Lyra recognized her as Billy's mother。
〃Who's this？〃 the woman said。 〃That's never Lyra？〃
〃That's right。 Ma； we got to move。 We killed two men out in the basin。 We thought they was Gobblers； but I reckon they were Turk traders。 They'd caught Lyra。 Never mind talk…we'll do that on the move。〃
〃e here； child；〃 said Ma Costa。
Lyra obeyed； half happy； half apprehensive； for Ma Costa had hands like bludgeons； and now she was sure： it was their boat she had captured with Roger and the other collegers。 But the boat mother set her hands on either side of Lyra's face； and her daemon； a hawk； bent gently to lick Pantalaimon's wildcat head。 Then Ma Costa folded her great arms around Lyra and pressed her to her breast。
〃I dunno what you're a doing here； but you look wore out。 You can have Billy's crib； soon's I've got a hot drink in you。 Set you down there； child。〃
It looked as if her piracy was forgiven； or at least forgotten。 Lyra slid onto the cushioned bench behind a well…scrubbed pine table top as the low rumble of the gas engine shook the boat。
〃Where we going？〃 Lyra asked。
Ma Costa was setting a saucepan of milk on the iron stove and riddling the grate to stir the fire up。
〃Away from here。 No talking now。 We'll talk in the morning。〃
And she said no more； handing Lyra a cup of milk when it was ready； swinging herself up on deck when the boat began to move； exchanging occasional whispers with the men。 Lyra sipped the milk and lifted a corner of the blind to watch the dark wharves move past。 A minute or two later she was sound asleep。
She awoke in a narrow bed； with that forting engine rumble deep below。 She sat up； banged her head； cursed； felt around； and got up more carefully。 A thin gray light showed her three other bunks； each empty and neatly made； one below hers and the other two across the tiny cabin。 She swung over the side to find herself in her underclothes； and saw the dress and the wolfskin coat folded at the end of her bunk together with her