"Liz Williams - Wolves of the Sprit" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Liz)

тАЬThe vitki,тАЭ I said. IтАЩd heard the word before; my mother had used it to
frighten me, when I was younger: donтАЩt go out on the ice alone, the vitki will come,
they will take you away and change you into something terrible.
тАЬWho are the vitki?тАЭ I asked now, and my mother answered, тАЬThey are the
wolves of the spirit.тАЭ
But that night, I dreamed of the selk, and of songs.
When I was nineteen, my mother died, of an infection in the lungs that might
have been cured if she had lived on the shore. But the winter storms had come again
and we were too far from a medical center. She went downhill fast, so quickly that I
could not believe it, and I do not think I believed until several days after I had sent
her body, in its burial pod, down into the green depths of the sea. I used to see her
all the same, standing by the light, a younger woman than I had ever known, and
nothing about this ever struck me as strange.
I ordered supplies, and a replacement pod, and carried on. That spring, I went
out onto the ice again, finding a freedom in not having to ask permission of anyone,
and visited the selk, but I did not hear them sing, neither that year, nor any year that
followed. I dreamed of it, all the same.
****
When the man appeared, I did not know at first whether he was real. I was
used to ghosts, by then. I took up the binoculars and watched him trudge over the
ice: an ordinary fishermanтАЩs slickskin, a half-moon of face under the hood. He was
dragging something behind him, something grey.
I went down to the intercom. Moments later, his voice came through.
тАЬIs anyone there?тАЭ
тАЬIтАЩm the lighthouse keeper. My name is Siri Clathe. Do you have ID?тАЭ
The scan glowed blue and data showed on the screen: Edri Lailoken, out of
Harkness, the registry numbers of a fishing rigger.
тАЬYouтАЩll do,тАЭ I said to Edri Lailoken through the intercom, and opened the
door.
He wasnтАЩt so much older than I was, perhaps ten years or so, in his early
thirties. When he pulled back the hood I saw blue eyes, dark hair, a face that was all
harsh, sharp angles. But he had a winning smile.
тАЬIтАЩve got a problem,тАЭ he told me. тАЬGot blown down out of Uist last night; my
riggerтАЩs a wreck. Spring gales, you see. Come up faster than the eye can blink.тАЭ
тАЬWhere is it?тАЭ
He gestured towards the northwest of the icefield. тАЬUp there, at the base of
the cliff.тАЭ
тАЬYou were lucky,тАЭ I said.
He grimaced. тАЬYou wonтАЩt say that when you see the rigger.тАЭ
He dumped a small pack on the floor and moved to open it, and it was then
that I saw what heтАЩd been dragging across the ice.
Dapple and pale, like a shadow made flesh. I felt as though heтАЩd brought in
the flayed skin of a man.
He saw me looking. тАЬI know.тАЭ His voice was very quiet. тАЬI found it.
SomeoneтАЩs been hunting.тАЭ
тАЬIтАЩll have to report this.тАЭ I felt sick. тАЬThe spring equinox was a fortnight
agoтАФyou know theyтАЩre sentient, now?тАЭ
тАЬOf course. But Siri, there are plenty of folk even in the Reach who think the
selk are nothing more than animals. Even when they plead for mercy under a hunterтАЩs
club.тАЭ