Once Upon a Time in the North by Philip Pullman Page A

got that right," said Lee. "Anything else I got to do before I go and spend all my money?"
    "Customs," said the clerk. "Over by the main gate."
    Lee found the Customs and Revenue office easily enough, and filled in a form under the instructions of a stern young officer.
    "I see you have a gun," the officer said.
    "Is that against the law?"
    "No. Are you working for Larsen Manganese?"
    "I only been here five minutes and already two people asked me that. I never heard of Larsen Manganese before I landed here."
    "Lucky," said the Customs officer. "Open your kitbag, please."
    Lee offered it and its meager contents for inspection. It took about five seconds.
    "Thank you, Mr. Scoresby," said the officer. "It would be a good idea to remember that the only legitimate agency of the law here on Novy Odense is the Office of Customs and Revenue. There is no police force. That means that if anyone transgresses the law, we deal with it, and let me assure you that we do so without hesitation."
    "Glad to hear it," said Lee. "Give me a law-abiding place any day."
    He swung his kitbag over his shoulder and set out for the town. It was late spring, and the snow was dirty and the road pitted with potholes. The buildings in the town were mostly of wood, which must have been imported, since few trees grew on the island. The only exceptions he could see were built of some dark stone that gave a dull, disapproving air to the town center: a glum-looking oratory dedicated to St. Petronius, a town hall, and a bank. Despite the blustery wind, the town smelled richly of its industrial products: there were refineries for fish oil, seal oil, and rock oil, there was a tannery and a fish-pickling factory, and various effluvia from all of them assailed Lee's nose or stung his eyes as the wind brought their fragrance down the narrow streets.
    The most interesting thing was the bears. The first time Lee saw one slouching casually out of an alley he could scarcely believe his eyes. Gigantic, ivory-furred, silent: the creature's expression was impossible to read, but there was no mistaking the immense power in those limbs, those claws, that air of inhuman self-possession. There were more of them further into town, gathered in small groups at street corners, sleeping in alleyways, and occasionally working: pulling a cart, or lifting blocks of stone on a building site.
    The townspeople took no notice of them, except to avoid them on the pavement. They didn't look at them either, Lee noticed.
    "They want to pretend they're not there," said Hester.
    For the most part, the bears ignored the people, but once or twice Lee saw a glance of sullen anger in a pair of small intense black eyes, or heard a low and quickly suppressed growl as a well-dressed woman stood expectantly waiting to be made way for. But both bears and people stepped aside when a couple of men in a uniform of maroon came strolling down the center of the pavement. They wore pistols and carried batons, and Lee supposed them to be Customs men.

    All in all, the place was suffused with an air of tension and anxiety.
    Lee was hungry, so he chose a cheap-looking bar and ordered vodka and some pickled fish. The place was crowded and the air was rank with smokeleaf, and unless they were unusually excitable in this town, there was something in the nature of a quarrel going on. Voices were raised in the corner of the room, someone was banging his fist on a table, and the bartender was watching closely, paying only just enough attention to his job to refill Lee's glass without being asked.
    Lee knew that one sure way to get into trouble of his own was to inquire too quickly into other people's. So he didn't give more than a swift glance at the area where the voices were raised, but he was curious too, and once he'd made a start on the pickled fish he said to the bartender:
    "What's the discussion about over there?"
    "That red-haired bastard van Breda can't set sail and leave. He's a Dutchman with a ship tied up in