The Golden Compass
The Golden CompassIn the damp heart of Oxford's university quarter, where the centuries press close as a living thing, Julian Ashworth-Cross inherited a brass instrument he did not know he needed.It arrived in a parcel wrapped in oilcloth and tied with twine, addressed in the hand of his friend Margaux Duval-Lacombe—Margaux, who had been gone eleven months now, swallowed by something the...
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