Read Online The Book of Dust: The Secret Commonwealth (Book of Dust, Volume 2) by Philip Pullman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Philip Pullman
Ads: Link
all the rose growers nearby. Nor is that all: given the nature of what the optical process discloses, there will be religious and political anger, panic, persecution, as surely as the night follows the day.
Tashbulak, 23 September
I have asked Chen to guide me into Karamakan. There will be gold for him. Rod Hassall will come too. I dread it, but there is no avoiding it. I expected it would be hard to persuade Cartwright to let us make the attempt, but he was all in favor. He can see the importance of it as well as we can. In any case, things here are desperate.
Tashbulak, 25 September
Rumors of violence from Khulanshan and Akdzhar, just 150 kilometers or so to the west. Rose gardens there have been burned and dug up by men from the mountainsâat least so itâs said. We thought that particular trouble was limited to Asia Minor. Bad news if itâs come this far.
Tomorrow we go into Karamakan, if itâs possible. Cariad begs me not to. Hassallâs dæmon likewise. They are afraid, of course, and my God, so am I.
Karamakan, 26 September
This pain is agonizing, almost indescribable, completely imperious and commanding. But it isnât quite pain either anymore. A sort of heart-deep anguish and sorrow, a sickness, a fear, a despair almost unto death. All those things, which vary in their intensity. The physical pain grew less after half an hour or so. I donât think I could have borne it for longer. As for Cariadâ¦It is too painful to speak of. What have I done? What have I done to her, my soul? Her eyes so wide, so shocked, as I looked back.
I canât write of it.
The worst thing I have ever done, and the most necessary. I pray there will be some future in which we can come together, and that she will forgive me.
The page ended there. As she read it, Lyra felt a movement at her elbow and sensed Pan drawing away. He lay down at the edge of the table with his back to her. Her throat tightened; she couldnât have spoken, even if she knew what to say to him.
She closed her eyes for a moment and then read on:
We have come 4Â kilometers into the region and are resting to recover a little strength. It is a hellish place. Hassall was very badly affected at first, but recovered more quickly than I am doing. Chen, by contrast, is quite cheerful. Of course, he has experienced it before.
The landscape is utterly barren. Vast dunes of sand from whose summit you can see nothing except more dunes, and yet more beyond them. The heat is appalling. Mirages flicker at the edge of oneâs vision and every sound is magnified, somehow; the passage of the wind over the loose sand creates an intolerable scraping, squeaking, as if a million insects lived just under the top layer of sand, and under oneâs skin too, so that just out of sight these hideous creatures were living a gnawing, chewing, tearing, biting life that eats at oneâs own inside as well as at the substance of the world itself. But there is no life, vegetable or animal. Only our camels seem unperturbed.
The mirages, if that is what they are, disappear as you look directly at them, but recombine at once when you look away. They seem to be like images of furious gods or devils making threatening gestures. It is almost too hard to bear. Hassall is suffering too. Chen says we should keep asking these deities for forgiveness, reciting a formula of contrition and apology that he tried to teach us. He says the mirages are aspects of the Simurgh, some kind of monstrous bird. Itâs very hard to make sense of what he says.
It is time to move on.
Karamakan, later
Slow progress. We are camping for the night, despite Chenâs advice to keep moving. We simply have no strength left. We must rest and recover. Chen will wake us before dawn so we can travel in the coolest part of the day. Oh, Cariad, Cariad.
Karamakan, 27 September
An appalling night. Hardly slept for nightmares of torture, dismemberment, disembowelingâatrocious
Tashbulak, 23 September
I have asked Chen to guide me into Karamakan. There will be gold for him. Rod Hassall will come too. I dread it, but there is no avoiding it. I expected it would be hard to persuade Cartwright to let us make the attempt, but he was all in favor. He can see the importance of it as well as we can. In any case, things here are desperate.
Tashbulak, 25 September
Rumors of violence from Khulanshan and Akdzhar, just 150 kilometers or so to the west. Rose gardens there have been burned and dug up by men from the mountainsâat least so itâs said. We thought that particular trouble was limited to Asia Minor. Bad news if itâs come this far.
Tomorrow we go into Karamakan, if itâs possible. Cariad begs me not to. Hassallâs dæmon likewise. They are afraid, of course, and my God, so am I.
Karamakan, 26 September
This pain is agonizing, almost indescribable, completely imperious and commanding. But it isnât quite pain either anymore. A sort of heart-deep anguish and sorrow, a sickness, a fear, a despair almost unto death. All those things, which vary in their intensity. The physical pain grew less after half an hour or so. I donât think I could have borne it for longer. As for Cariadâ¦It is too painful to speak of. What have I done? What have I done to her, my soul? Her eyes so wide, so shocked, as I looked back.
I canât write of it.
The worst thing I have ever done, and the most necessary. I pray there will be some future in which we can come together, and that she will forgive me.
The page ended there. As she read it, Lyra felt a movement at her elbow and sensed Pan drawing away. He lay down at the edge of the table with his back to her. Her throat tightened; she couldnât have spoken, even if she knew what to say to him.
She closed her eyes for a moment and then read on:
We have come 4Â kilometers into the region and are resting to recover a little strength. It is a hellish place. Hassall was very badly affected at first, but recovered more quickly than I am doing. Chen, by contrast, is quite cheerful. Of course, he has experienced it before.
The landscape is utterly barren. Vast dunes of sand from whose summit you can see nothing except more dunes, and yet more beyond them. The heat is appalling. Mirages flicker at the edge of oneâs vision and every sound is magnified, somehow; the passage of the wind over the loose sand creates an intolerable scraping, squeaking, as if a million insects lived just under the top layer of sand, and under oneâs skin too, so that just out of sight these hideous creatures were living a gnawing, chewing, tearing, biting life that eats at oneâs own inside as well as at the substance of the world itself. But there is no life, vegetable or animal. Only our camels seem unperturbed.
The mirages, if that is what they are, disappear as you look directly at them, but recombine at once when you look away. They seem to be like images of furious gods or devils making threatening gestures. It is almost too hard to bear. Hassall is suffering too. Chen says we should keep asking these deities for forgiveness, reciting a formula of contrition and apology that he tried to teach us. He says the mirages are aspects of the Simurgh, some kind of monstrous bird. Itâs very hard to make sense of what he says.
It is time to move on.
Karamakan, later
Slow progress. We are camping for the night, despite Chenâs advice to keep moving. We simply have no strength left. We must rest and recover. Chen will wake us before dawn so we can travel in the coolest part of the day. Oh, Cariad, Cariad.
Karamakan, 27 September
An appalling night. Hardly slept for nightmares of torture, dismemberment, disembowelingâatrocious
Similar Books
