"Garry Kilworth - The Silver Collar" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kilworth Garry)

The Silver Collar
GARRY KILWORTH
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тАЬThe Silver CollarтАЭ is a departure for Garry, who usually writes contemporary or futuristic
science fiction It is the most traditional of the stories in this volume, a gothic fantasy in which the
vampire main character is never on stage. It shows the folly of those who believe love can
conquer all.

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The remote Scottish island came into view just as the sun was setting Outside the natural harbor, the sea
was kicking a little in its traces and tossing its white manes in the dying light My small outboard motor
struggled against the ebbing tide, sometimes whining as it raced in the air as a particularly low trough left it
without water to push against the blades of its propeller By the time I reached the jetty, the moon was up
and casting its chill light upon the shore and purple-heather hills beyond There was a smothered
atmosphere to this lonely place of rock and thin soil, as if the coarse grass and hardy plants had
descended as a complete layer to wrap the ruggedness in a faded cover, hiding the nakedness from
mean, inquisitive eyes.

As the agents had promised, he was waiting on the quay, his tall, emaciated figure stark against the
gentle upward slope of the hinterland a splinter of granite from the rock on which he made his home.

тАЬIтАЩve brought the provisions,тАЭ I called, as he took the line and secured it.

тАЬGood Will you come up to the croft? ThereтАЩs a peat fire goingтАФitтАЩs warm, and I have some scotch
Nothing like a dram before an open fire, with the smell of burning peat filling the room.

тАЬI could just make it out with the tide,тАЭ I said. тАЬPerhaps I should go now.тАЭ It was not that I was reluctant
to accept the invitation from this eremite, this strange recluseтАФon the contrary, he interested meтАФbut I
had to be sure to get back to the mainland that night, since I was to crew a fishing vessel the next day.

тАЬYou have time for a dram,тАЭ his voice drifted away on the cold wind that had sprung up within minutes,
like a breath from the mouth of the icy north. I had to admit to myself that a whisky, by the fire, would set
me on my toes for the return trip, and his tone had a faintly insistent quality about it which made the offer
difficult to refuse.

тАЬJust a minute thenтАФand thanks. You lead the way.тАЭ

I followed his lean, lithe figure up through the heather, which scratched at my ankles through my
seasocks. The path was obviously not well used and I imagined he spent his time in and around his croft,
for even in the moonlight I could discern no other tracks incising the soft shape of the hill.

We reached his dwelling and he opened the wooden door, allowing me to enter first. Then, seating me in
front of the fire, he poured me a generous whisky before sitting down himself. I listened to the wind,
locked outside the timber and turf croft, and waited for him to speak.
He said, тАЬJohn, isnтАЩt it? They told me on the radio.тАЭ

тАЬYesтАФand youтАЩre Samual.тАЭ