it to her, and she had used it a lot as a schoolgirl. The other was that when Lyra had first found her way to Mary's laboratory, she had asked: "What's that?" and pointed to the poster on the door that showed the symbols from the I Ching; and shortly afterward, in her spectacular reading of the computer, Lyra had learned (she claimed) that Dust had many other ways of speaking to human beings, and one of them was the method from China that used those symbols,
toms shoes design.So in her swift packing to leave her own world, Mary Malone had taken with her the Book of Changes, as it was called, and the little yarrow stalks with which she read it. And now the time had come to use them.She spread the silk on the ground and began the process of dividing and counting, dividing and counting and setting aside, which she'd done so often as a passionate,
girls white tiny toms, curious teenager, and hardly ever since. She had almost forgotten how to do it, but she soon found the ritual coming back, and with it a sense of that calm and concentrated attention that played such an important part in talking to the Shadows.Eventually she came to the numbers that indicated the hexagram she was being given, the group of six broken or unbroken lines, and then she looked up the meaning. This was the difficult part, because the Book expressed itself in such an enigmatic style. She read:Turning to the summitFor provision of nourishmentBrings goo d fortun e.Spying about with sharp eyesLike a tiger with insatiable craving.That seemed encouraging. She read on, following the commentary through the mazy paths it led her on, until she came to: Keeping still is the mountain; it is a bypath; it means little stones, doors, and openings.She had to guess. The mention of "openings" recalled the mysterious window in the air through which she had entered this world; and the first words seemed to say that she should go upward.Both puzzled and encouraged, she packed the book and the yarrow stalks away and set off up the path.Four hours later she was very hot and tired. The sun was low over the horizon. The rough track she was following had petered out, and she was clambering with more and more discomfort among tumbled boulders and smaller stones. To her left the slope fell away toward a landscape of olive and lemon groves, of poorly tended vineyards and abandoned windmills, lying hazy in the evening light,
low price toms. To her right a scree of small rocks and gravel sloped up to a cliff of crumbling limestone.Wearily she hoisted her rucksack again and set her foot on the next flat stone, but before she even transferred her weight, she stopped. The light was catching something curious, and she shaded her eyes against the glare from the scree and tried to find it again."And there it was: like a sheet of glass hanging unsupported in the air, but glass with no attention-catching reflections in it, just a square patch of difference. And then she remembered what the I Ching had said: a bypath . . . little stones, doors, and openings.It was a window like the one in Sunderland Avenue in Oxford. She could only see it beRelated articles:
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