Lyra and her daemon were carefully making their way through the dark meeting hall, making sure to stay close to the wall at all times so they couldn’t be seen from the kitchen. The three large rectangular tables in the center of the hall were already set, the silver cutlery and crystal glasses capturing the little light there was, and the long benches, placed in position for some time, were ready to welcome the guests. High on the walls, portraits of previous college directors stood out in the dim light. When Lyra reached the platform, she turned and looked back toward the open kitchen door and, seeing no one, moved further forward and stopped beside the tall table. There was no place for silver on this one; everything was set with gold, while the fourteen seats were not oak benches but mahogany chairs with velvet cushions.

Lyra stopped beside the director’s chair and gently tapped the largest glass with her fingernail. The sound of the crystal rang clearly in the meeting hall. “This is no time for games,” her daemon whispered to her. “Behave yourself.” The daemon’s name was Pantaleimon and he had transformed into a moth, a dark brown moth, to blend in with the darkness of the hall. “They make too much noise in the kitchen to hear anything,” Lyra whispered back. “And the steward never enters before the first bell rings. So stop making a fuss.” But just in case, she rested her palm on the crystal that was still ringing, while at the same time Pantaleimon, fluttering, passed through the half-open door of the staff room at the other end of the platform.