"Kate Forsyth - Eileanan 01 - The Witches Of Eileanan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Forsyth Kate)

"What else can she do?" Seychella asked, rather contemptuously.

"She does have a way with animals," Meghan admitted grudgingly. "She was talking to the birds
when she first toddled, and she can charm any coney, deer or snake."

"I spoke to a saber-leopard one time," Isabeau said, trying very hard to keep her pride out of her
voice. "It was frightening, his words were so fierce, but it was exciting too."
 "And what did the saber-leopard say?" Seychella raised an eyebrow.

From Isabeau's mouth came a deep purr that rose into a snarl at the end.

"Sweet sweet the wind rich in smell the step o' horned one the taste the smell the sweet chase the
pound o' blood the chase the dance the smell the taste o' flesh the sound o' muscles tearing oh die
beloved oh die!" Meghan translated, and smiled. Seychella snorted.

Isabeau lathered her hair with rose soap, and winked at Git├в the donbeag. The soap smelled
delicious. She and Meghan made it every year, some with rose petals for their calming properties,
some with lavender and some with murkwoad and trefoil for their healing properties. The
murk-woad was a luxury, since it was one of the precious essences that Meghan had brought to
their forest home from the outside world.

Although Seychella had promised Isabeau could listen as she and Meghan talked, Isabeau could
hear only snatches of their murmured conversation. What little she did hear only inflamed her
suspicions that somehow Seychella's visit was to do with her.

"So what are ye going to do with the lass?" Seychella said quite clearly as she poured herself some
more tea. Meghan's answer was inaudible, but the black-haired witch then said, "If she really does
have some ability, we must do what we can to help her."

Excitement filled her. Perhaps, at last, Meghan would begin to teach her the secrets of the One
Power. A wood witch, Meghan had always thought it more important for Isabeau to learn how to
heal, and to nurture plants, and speak the languages of the woodland creatures. So that is what
Isabeau had learned, at least until a few years ago when the coming of her menses had brought her a
surge of power that saw her red hair crackle and her blue eyes glow. Isabeau had always been able
to exercise her will in small ways and, simply by watching Meghan, had learned how to start a fire or
move small objects. The week her blood began to flow, she inadvertently started a fire by snapping
her fingers, when all she meant to do was light a candle.

Remembering, Isabeau grinned, and lay back in the bath, looking up at the scorch marks on the
wooden ceiling. "That is no' the thing to do when ye live in a tree," was all Meghan had said when
she came limping down the ladder to find Isabeau, frightened and in tears, desperately trying to put
out the fire. After that, the wood witch had agreed to give Isabeau occasional lessons, for she could
see her ward would keep on trying things in secret and the sooner she learned control, the better.

After her bath, in her soft shirt and leggings, Isabeau sat on the stool, combing her damp hair. She
was longing to ask questions, but knew that if she had something to do with Seychella's mysterious
appearance, she would soon find out. So she helped Meghan serve the thick vegetable stew that
was their normal evening meal and sat back in her corner to eat in silence.