"Kate Forsyth - Eileanan 05 - The Skull Of The World" - читать интересную книгу автора (Forsyth Kate)

As she walked toward the mouth of the cave, the pride all bowed to her and made the good luck
gesture, and she wondered somberly if she would ever see any of them again. She cast a despairing look
back and saw that both her teachers, the wise shaman and the stern warrior, were following close
behind. Although neither gave her any smile of reassurance or comfort, she was both reassured and
comforted, and left the dark, stifling warmth of the cave with a slightly lighter heart.

They led her around the side of the haven's valley and up the steep slope to the crown of the mountain.
With the sun at their backs they faced the Skull of the World, which bit into the sky as white and sharp as
the incisor of a saber leopard. Between them and the towering pinnacle were tier upon tier of
sharp-pointed, ice-white mountains, their spreading roots hidden in gloomy shadows. Isabeau stared in
cold dismay. How was she to climb all those mountains? How was she to find her path?

"The fastest route is not always the straightest," the Soul-Sage said. She pointed to the north. "That way
lie the snow plains of the Pride of the Fighting Cats."

"The glacier sweeps down from the Skull of the World," the Scarred Warrior said. "Although it has its
dangers, it is much easier to cross than the peaks. There the slopes are smooth and one can skim for long
distances before one needs to climb again."

"Are they not the enemy of the Fire Dragon Pride?" Isabeau asked anxiously.

"Remember you are on a sacred quest and therefore cannot be challenged by any you pass. They will see
your feathered staff and let you alone," the Soul-Sage replied.

Isabeau nodded, staring out toward the north. "What do I do once I get to the Skull of the World?" she
asked.

"You must be eaten, swallowed and digested," the Soul-Sage replied. "Only once the Gods of White
have devoured you may you be reborn as an adult."

Isabeau stared at her. "Do you mean that literally or metaphorically?" she said, unable to prevent her
voice from quavering.

The Khan'cohbans did not reply, their faces blank. Their language did not have such subtle distinctions.
Isabeau grinned, feeling a little bubble of hysteria floating up her throat. Their expressions only darkened.
Khan'cohbans did not have any sense of humor and abhorred any sign of levity in Isabeau. She
controlled her face with difficulty and said, "How am I meant to know what to do?"

"Have you not listened to the wisdom of the storytellers? Their tales are not only told to divert but also to
teach."

"But I mean how shall the White Gods tell me my name?" she asked in an exasperated voice.

"Speechless, you shall speak my name.

"Must you speak? Why then again,

"In speaking you shall say the same," the Soul-Sage said cryptically.