The subtle knife [electronic resource (EPUB eBook)] / Philip Pullman. Saved in: Processing (CPL) - eBooks (EPUB) - Children's Fiction. , 1, 4, |a The subtle knife |h [electronic resource (EPUB eBook)] / |c Philip Pullman. , |a New York: |b Random House, |c , |a 1 computer file ( Philip Pullman - Dark Materials 02 - The Subtle Knife · Read more · Pullman, Philip - Dark Materials 2 - The Subtle Knife. Read more.
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Download The Subtle Knife (His Dark Materials, #2) free ebook (pdf, epub, mobi) by Philip Pullman. Book details Author: Philip Pullman Pages. Will Parry in his search for his father and for a powerful, magical knife. The subtle knife Borrow this book to access EPUB and PDF files. Review Online The Subtle Knife: His Dark Materials, Book 2 -> http:// nvrehs.info?asin=BYSH4C.
Coulter work to destroy the Authority's Regent Metatron. They succeed, but themselves suffer annihilation in the process by pulling Metatron into the abyss. The Authority himself dies of his own frailty when Will and Lyra free him from the crystal prison wherein Metatron had trapped him, able to do so because an attack by cliff-ghasts kills or drives away the prison's protectors.
The book ends with Will and Lyra falling in love but realising they cannot live together in the same world, because all windows — except one from the underworld to the world of the Mulefa — must be closed to prevent the loss of Dust, because with every window opening, a Spectre would be created and that meant Will must never use the knife again. Also because each of them can only live full lives in their native worlds.
This is the temptation that Mary was meant to give them; to help them fall in love and then choose whether they should stay together or not. Lyra loses her ability to intuitively read the alethiometer and determines to learn how to use her conscious mind to achieve the same effect.
It is the physical manifestation of a person's 'inner being', soul or spirit.
It takes the form of a creature moth, bird, dog, monkey, snake, etc. An armoured bear's armour is his soul. Lyra Belacqua , a wild year-old girl, has grown up in the fictional Jordan College, Oxford. She is skinny with dark blonde hair and blue eyes.
She prides herself on her capacity for mischief, especially her ability to lie, earning her the epithet "Silvertongue" from Iorek Byrnison. Lyra has a natural ability to use the alethiometer, which is capable of answering any question when properly manipulated and read. When Lyra reaches puberty he assumes the permanent form of a pine marten.
Pantalaimon and Lyra follow her father, Lord Asriel, when he travels to the newly discovered world of Cittagazze, where Lyra meets Will.
Will Parry , a sensible, morally conscious, assertive year-old boy from our world. He becomes the bearer of the subtle knife. Will is independent and responsible for his age, having looked after his mentally ill mother for several years. She takes the permanent form of a large, shadow-colored cat. The Authority is the first angel to have emerged from Dust.
He controls the Church, an oppressive religious institution. He told the later-arriving angels that he created them and the universe, but this is a lie. Although he is one of the two primary adversaries in the trilogy — Lord Asriel is his primary opponent — he remains in the background; he makes his only appearance late in The Amber Spyglass.
The Authority has grown weak and transferred most of his powers to his regent, Metatron. He is extremely aged, fragile and naive. Lord Asriel , ostensibly Lyra's uncle, is later revealed to be her father.
He opens a rift between the worlds in his pursuit of Dust. His dream of establishing a Republic of Heaven to rival the Authority's Kingdom leads him to use his power to raise a grand army from across the multiverse to rise up in rebellion against the forces of the Church. Marisa Coulter is the coldly beautiful, manipulative mother of Lyra and former lover of Lord Asriel.
She has black hair, a slim build, and looks younger than she is. Initially hostile to Lyra, she realises that she loves her daughter and seeks to protect her from agents of the Church, who want to kill Lyra. Metatron , Asriel's principal adversary, was a human in biblical times Enoch and was later transfigured into an angel. The Authority has displayed his declining health by appointing Metatron his Regent. As Regent, Metatron has implanted the monotheistic religions across the universes.
He becomes vulnerable to the seductive advances of Marisa Coulter, who betrays him by luring him into the underworld to his death. He is the series' main antagonist. He is an old Englishman, appearing to be in his sixties. He normally wears pale suits and is described as smelling sweetly. He is ultimately poisoned by Mrs. Coulter, to whom he has previously been a lover. Mary Malone , is a physicist and former nun from Will's world. She meets Lyra during Lyra's first visit to Will's world.
Lyra provides Mary with insight into the nature of Dust. Agents of the Church force Mary to flee to the world of the mulefa. There she constructs the amber spyglass, which enables her to see the otherwise invisible Dust.
Her purpose is to learn why Dust, which mulefa civilization depends on, is flowing out of the universe. Mary relates a story of a lost love to Will and Lyra, and later packs for them a lunch containing "little red fruits", which her computer, "the Cave," had instructed her to do.
Iorek Byrnison is a massive armoured bear. Iorek's armour is stolen, so he becomes despondent. With Lyra's help he regains his armour, his dignity, and his kingship over the armoured bears. In gratitude, and impressed by her cunning, he dubs her "Lyra Silvertongue".
A powerful warrior and armoursmith , Iorek repairs the Subtle Knife when it shatters. Does he need healing? The Saint had knocked Roland unconscious, but aside from a red boot mark on his forehead the spellcaster should have no lasting marks.
A concussion seemed likely, though, Named or not. The mark, I noted, had gone from bright red from light pink but it still remained highly visible. His eyes, for once without trace of a coloured ring around the pupil, met mine.
I nodded. Behind us, as is mocking the quiet of the conversation now taking place, the crown continued lashing out around itself with tendrils of sorcery. Her aged figure still lay sprawled at the foot of the throne, still and silent. No one had dared to touch it. A band of five assembled before the eyes of princes and princesses of Procer had gone into broken Arcadia at the urging of the Black Queen, among them perhaps the two most famous heroes alive.
Neither the Regicide nor the Peregrine would return from that journey. The treacherous Tyrant of Helike would escape with but a curse, and from the heroes the only survivor would be the Rogue Sorcerer — a hero little known, and a mage to boot.
Sorcery was not well-trusted, in Procer, and seemingly rare in Levant. I blinked at her. It was a strange thing, to both love and be furious with someone in the same moment for the same reason.
The Army of Callow would carry your corpse to the gates of Salia to make a funeral pyre of it.
And I shudder to think of what the drow would be, without their designated conscience. Hells, Pilgrim, your death alone would have Levant on the warpath but the Saint and you?
I am the only practitioner among you, who best to shape this realm in what is needed of it? Even better.
Touched as I was, I was just as infuriated. There will not be war.
Godsdamned angels. And there is no injustice, Roland, in an old man being allowed to rest at last. The was a heartbeat of silence. At this crossroads, making this call. Liesse had been the crucible of my existence in a way nowhere else in this world could claim to be. Which of my triumphs and ruins had not been born of this place, or taken place among it? Twice, here, I had tricked life out of death. And the reply had been: at the threshold.
Not through. Not quite dead. And so, I thought, Archer might be wrong in this. Maybe I did still have a story at my back: twice living through death after twice being offered a crown. There was power in reiteration, in repetition, and few numbers had heavier hand on a story than three. Or, I knew, this might be where the pattern came to a close.
It could go either way, I felt. Yet even then, I had a better chance of living through this than any of the other three. Rolling the dice on poor odds had always been one of my worst habits, I thought, but why stop now?
You only lived once — give or take a few times. I began struggling, but she was Named and I was not: the disparity in strength could not be breached my mundane means. Go on, Tariq. Before she turns it around on us. Fear rose up in me, and I looked up. The Sisters were perched on the edges of the gutted throne room, one to the east and one to the west. They watched, silent. Are you worthy?