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

Isabeau repeated the words to herself, having to fight down anther gurgle of disbelieving laughter. The
Khan'cohbans were very fond of riddles, proverbs and aphorisms, which often made for very tedious
conversations. Isabeau had never been very good at guessing riddles, but she knew better than to
demand an explanation.

The Soul-Sage crossed her hands at her breast, then swept them out, palms flat. The Scarred Warrior
repeated the gesture of farewell, and then together they turned and made their way down the side of the
hill without a backward glance, leaving Isabeau alone on the crest of the mountain.



Swooping and swaying, Isabeau reached the end of the valley and came to a halt with a little flourish of
snow. She leaned on her staff, panting, and threw back the shaggy hood so she could see. All around her
the rim of the mountains cut into the greenish sky like the jagged edge of an eggshell.

Below was another fall of white land, much broken with rocks and stands of trees. It dropped down to a
great smooth sweep of ice, carving a path through the mountains like a giant's road.

Isabeau's heart lifted at the sight of the glacier, and she had no hesitation in setting off down the hill once
more. Her body bent and swayed as she drove through the snow, having to leap or twist as natural
obstacles bounded up at her. A branch whipped her across the face and she fell several times as her little
sleigh skidded on ice or hit a concealed boulder. The euphoria of skimming was zinging in her blood,
however, and so she merely swung herself upright again, using her staff, and sped on her way.

Soon it was too dark to see, but Isabeau conjured up a witch's light and sent it bobbing away before her,
the sharp blue light revealing cracks, crevasses and concealed rocks much more clearly than daylight
could. The owl took to the wing and flew before her, showing Isabeau the safest route down the
mountain.

It was a swift, dangerous, heart-jolting journey, but Isabeau had thrown away all caution, the adrenaline
pumping through her system like the sweet intoxication of moonbane. She should have been injured time
and time again, but some sixth sense seemed to warn her of obstacles so that her body was swerving
away even before her eyes discerned the danger. Many times her wooden skimmer launched off into the
night sky as the slope fell suddenly away, but somehow she always managed to land squarely, her
headlong pace only quickening. She skimmed so swiftly and skillfully that it was as if she took flight,
following the owl on wings of crackling blue light.

The dark floor of the valley rushed up toward her, then suddenly her skimmer hit a patch of ice hidden by
a light dusting of snow. Isabeau skidded sideways, spun out of control, then cartwheeled high into the air.
She came down with a great crash into a bank of snow, all the breath knocked out of her.

Buba came down to rest by her face, hooting softly in concern. The witch's light had winked out so all
was dark.

Buba, dearling, I need ye to fly about for me and find me somewhere to shelter, Isabeau thought.

Why can you-hooh not snooze-hooh through noon-hooh as Owl should-hooh? Buba grumbled.

But you ken I am no' an owl, Buba, Isabeau replied, smiling despite herself. I like to do things during
the day and sleep at night.