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〃are you wise？〃
〃much more so than you。〃
〃well； you see； i cant tell。 are you a man？ you sound like a man。〃
〃baruch was a man。 i was not。 now he is angelic。〃
〃so。。。” will stopped what he was doing； which was arranging his rucksack so the heaviest objects were in the bottom； and tried to see the angel。 there was nothing there to see。 〃so he was a man；〃 he went on； 〃and then。。。 do people bee angels when they die？ is that what happens？〃
〃not always。 not in the vast majority of cases。。。very rarely。〃
〃when was he alive； then？〃
〃four thousand years ago； more or less。 i am much older。〃
〃and did he live in my world？ or lyras？ or this one？〃
〃in yours。 but there are myriads of worlds。 you know that。〃
〃but how do people bee angels？〃
〃what is the point of this metaphysical speculation？〃
〃i just want to know。〃
〃better to stick to your task。 you have plundered this dead mans property； you have all the toys you need to keep you alive； now may we move on？〃
〃when i know which way to go。〃
〃whichever way we go； baruch will find us。〃
〃then hell still find us if we stay here。 ive got a couple more things to do。〃
will sat down where he couldnt see sir charless body and ate three squares of the kendal mint cake。 it was wonderful how refreshed and strengthened he felt as the food began to nourish him。 then he looked at the alethiometer again。 the thirty…six little pictures painted on ivory were each perfectly clear： there was no doubt that this was a baby； that a puppet； this a loaf of bread； and so on。 it was what they meant that was obscure。
〃how did lyra read this？〃 he said to balthamos。
〃quite possibly she made it up。 those who use these instruments have studied for many years； and even then they can only understand them with the help of many books of reference。〃
〃she wasnt making it up。 she read it truly。 she told me things she could never have known otherwise。〃
〃then it is as much of a mystery to me； i assure you；〃 said the angel。
looking at the alethiometer； will remembered something lyra had said about reading it： something about the state of mind she had to be in to make it work。 it had helped him； in turn； to feel the subtleties of the silver blade。
feeling curious； he took out the knife and cut a small window in front of where he was sitting。 through it he saw nothing but blue air； but below； far below； was a landscape of trees and fields： his own world； without a doubt。
so mountains in this world didnt correspond to mountains in his。 he closed the window； using his left hand for the first time。 the joy of being able to use it again！
then an idea came to him so suddenly it felt like an electric shock。
if there were myriads of worlds； why did the knife only open windows between this one and his own？
surely it should cut into any of them。
he held it up again； letting his mind flow along to the very tip of the blade as giao paradisi had told him； until his consciousness nestled among the atoms themselves and he felt every tiny snag and ripple in the air。
instead of cutting as soon as he felt the first little halt； as he usually did； he let the knife move on to another and another。 it was like tracing a row of stitches while pressing so softly that none of them was harmed。
〃what are you doing？〃 said the voice from the air； bringing him back。
〃exploring；〃 said will。 〃be quiet and keep out of the way。 if you e near this youll get cut； and if i cant see you； i cant avoid you。〃
balthamos made a sound of muted discontent。 will held out the knife again and felt for those tiny halts and hesitations。
there were far more of them than hed thought。 and as he felt them without the need to cut through at once； he found that they each had a different quality： this one was hard and definite； that one cloudy； a third was slippery； a fourth brittle and frail。。。
but among them all there were some he felt more easily than others； and； already knowing the answer； he cut one through to be sure： his own world again。
he closed it up and felt with the knife tip for a snag with a different quality。 he found one that was elastic and resistant； and let the knife feel its way through。
and yes！ the world he saw through that window was not his own： the ground was closer here； and the landscape was not green fields and hedges but a desert of rolling dunes。
he closed it and opened another： the smoke…laden air over an industrial city； with a line of chained and
sullen workers trudging into a factory。
he closed that one； too； and came back to himself。 he felt a little dizzy。 for the first time he understood some of the true power of the knife； and laid it very carefully on the rock in front of him。
〃are you going to stay here all day？〃 said balthamos。
〃im thinking。 you can only move easily from one world to another if the grounds in the same place。 and maybe there are places where it is； and maybe thats where a lot of cutting…through happens。。。 and youd have to know what your own world felt like with the point or you might never get back。 youd be lost forever。〃
〃indeed。 but may we。。。”
〃and youd have to know which world had the ground in the same place； or there wouldnt be any point in opening it；〃 said will； as much to himself as to the angel。 〃so its not as easy as i thought。 we were just lucky in oxford and cittagazze； maybe。 but ill just。。。〃
he picked up the knife again。 as well as the clear and obvious feeling he got when he touched a point that would open to his own world； there had been another kind of sensation hed touched more than once： a quality of resonance； like the feeling of striking a heavy wooden drum； except of course that it came； like every other one； in the tiniest movement through the empty air。
there it was。 he moved away and felt somewhere else： there it was again。
he cut through and found that his guess was right。 the resonance meant that the ground in the world hed opened was in the same place as this one。 he found himself looking at a grassy upland meadow under an overcast sky； in which a herd of placid beasts was grazing； animals such as hed never seen before； creatures the size of bison； with wide horns and sh