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

battery went flat. I didnтАЩt like rummaging about in his bag, but I opened it a little way
anyway.
There was no radio. A handful of clothing, a spare slickskin, a long, flat parcel
in a waterproof wrapping, that whispered, Iskir, Iskir.
I flicked the parcel open and snatched my hand back. There was blood on it,
from a thin, shallow cut. I put my hand to my mouth and, carefully, drew the
wrapping aside. Inside, was a long black knife: black blade, black shaft. It looked
almost of a piece, the metal and bone blending into one another so seamlessly that I
had to look hard for a join. My mouth flooded with the taste of iron.
I had a small weapon, but itтАЩs still in the rigger.
The door hummed and I hastily shoved the bag shut. Lailoken stood in the
entrance with a brace of limmerel, his face wind-reddened and smiling.
тАЬTheyтАЩre shoaling. You could almost pull them out of the water.тАЭ
тАЬOh, well done.тАЭ My voice sounded almost normal, I found to my surprise. I
kept my injured hand out of sight, behind my back. тАЬThatтАЩs dinner settled, then.тАЭ
Perhaps this was what marriage was like, all cheer and plans for supper, with
the hiss of secrets underneath. I got through the next few hours with difficulty, and
excused myself shortly after dinner. I told Lailoken IтАЩd cut myself on a weathered
sheet of metal. He seemed hardly to hear me.
My mother might have lived alone, apart from me, but that didnтАЩt mean that
she didnтАЩt communicate. She had friends all over the Reach: on the message boards
and the genealogy lists. One of them was a sea marshal named Kari Shoar. I sent her
a message, then went to bed and tried to sleep.
I could still hear it, in my restless dreams. Iskir, Iskir.
Around three AM, I found myself wide awake. The message-in section of the
console was blinking. I went to look at what Shoar had written.
IтАЩve not met Edri Lailoken myself. Some of the older guys here know him,
though he hasnтАЩt been out with the boats for years, since his accident. They say
heтАЩs a miserable old bugger, keeps himself to himself. WhatтАЩs he doing all the way
out at the Baille Atha light?
I hadnтАЩt voiced my suspicions yet, but I did so then. I did not feel able to
handle this on my own. I needed help and I asked Shoar to send a sea marshal out,
or come herself. Why would you take on someone elseтАЩs identity, unless you had
something to hide? And besides, identity theft in the Reach is not an easy matter.
Not easy, or cheap.
I did not sleep for the remainder of that night. There was no further reply from
Shoar; her part of the Reach was several hours ahead of Baille Atha, and she had
probably gone on shift. I watched the moon drift down over the ocean, sliding into
its own silver track, and still the whispering went on.
Towards dawn, there was a flicker of green in the corner of my eye.
Message-in, I thought, and ran to the console. But it was on another array to the
communications consoleтАФa small emerald light, telling me that the main door of the
lighthouse had been opened.
I should have waited. I should have locked myself into the lighthouse, a
princess in my tower, and made sure that the override switches were on lock.
Because I knew what Lailoken was, now, and where that black blade had come
from: a land of dark glass cliffs, of echoing forests, of experiments and spells.
Should have waited, but did not. I thought of that sad piled pelt in the base of
the lighthouse, of the selk singing at the oceanтАЩs edge, and I could not stay. I picked
up the harpoon gun on my way out; he had not taken it with him. I suppose he did