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

never be going home, she told herself sternly and bent once more to her task.

By the time the little owl had winged silently back to her shoulder, she had found only a handful of lichen
and bark and a few small nuts and was looking rather forlorn. Buba kindly offered to hunt down some
insects to share with her but Isabeau declined with a shudder. It was pitch-black in the valley and bitterly
cold, and she gladly followed the owl along the frozen stream, sinking up to her knees in the snow, until
she came to a massive old fallen hemlock.

Isabeau clambered around the roots, which were flung up into the air like hissing snakes, and jumped
down into the pit where the roots had once dug into the soil. Looking about her she gave a little murmur
of appreciation. If she could not have a cave, this little pit was almost as good. Not much snow had fallen
into the hollow, which was protected by the upflung roots, and there was plenty of firewood close to
hand.

She lit the fire with a snap of her fingers, blowing it into life and feeding it with scraps of bark and leaves
until it was burning merrily. She then ground the nuts and bark into a handful of grain, threw in some snow
and made herself a thick porridge for her dinner.

Leaving Buba to guard her sleep, Isabeau rolled herself in her furs. It was a clear night and she stared up
at the luminous stars through the fretwork of pine branches, feeling a pleasant, euphoric fatigue.

The owl woke her only a few hours later. Isabeau opened her eyes unwillingly. Every muscle ached and
the euphoria had faded into bone weariness. The bruises from her many falls were throbbing and she
gave a little moan and tried to burrow herself back into sleep. The owl bobbed up and down on her
chest, then, receiving nothing but another groan, pecked her sharply.

Isabeau sat up angrily. "What be the matter, for Ea's sake?"
Horned-hooh men pursue-hooh . . .

Isabeau rubbed her eyes and looked about her. All was still. One of the moons had risen and cast a pale
radiance over the black and silver landscape. For a moment Isabeau thought her gaze was swimming and
she rubbed her eyes again, only to realize that the black dots dancing across the landscape were the
shadows of people, swiftly skimming down the glacier.

Dressed all in white, the Khan'cohbans themselves were invisible but the cold moonlight caused them to
cast sharp shadows that swung and leaped as their skimmers sped down the slope in wide graceful
curves.

Isabeau crouched down, trepidation filling her. No doubt the Khan'cohbans had seen her wildly swinging
witch-light and had come to investigate. In her white furs, Isabeau knew she would be difficult to find. All
she needed to do was curl up in the snow and the searchers could pass within a mere foot of her and not
see her. She was a trespasser on the Pride of the Fighting Cats' territory, however, and concealing herself
could be misconstrued as hostile or deceitful behavior. After a moment's thought she stood up, scouted
around in the snow until she found a fallen branch and then caused it to ignite into a blazing torch. She
stuck it into a cleft between two rocks and then sat cross-legged on her skimmer to wait.

The Khan'cohbans saw her fire and turned swiftly, converging on her like birds to a thrown scrap of
bread. There were twenty or more of them and Isabeau had to breathe slowly and deeply to maintain her
air of calm.