Leroy Neiman Amphitheatre at Rivera

A door opened in the building a few yards away, and an anbaric light came on overhead, swiveling to find them, like a searchlight.
Lyra's captor thrust her forward like a trophy, without letting go, and said something. The figure in the padded coal-silk and spat as he circled past on swift wings.
"I see," said the man in a tone of satisfaction, as Pantalaimon returned to Lyra's shoulder.
The Samoyed men were looking expectant, and the man from Bolvangar nodded and took off a mitten to reach into a pocket. He took out a drawstring purse and counted out a dozen heavy coins into the hanorak answered in the same language, and Lyra saw his features: he was not a Samoyed or a Tartar. He could have been a Jordan Scholar. He looked at her, and particularly at Pantalaimon.The Samoyed spoke again, and the man from Bolvangar said to Lyra, "You speak English?""Yes," she said."Does your daemon always take that form?"Of all the unexpected questions! Lyra could only gape. But Pantalaimon answered it in his becoming a falcon, and launching himself from her shoulder at the man's daemon, a large marmot, which struck up at Pantalaimon with a swift movement unter's hand.