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

They stood in silence, regarding her. Although it was night, the moon rode high in the sky and cast a
brilliant light over the snow. They should be able to see the feathers decorating her staff, even if they
could not tell their color. Isabeau kept her eyes lowered and waited, though every nerve was strained in
anticipation of violent movement.

Then one of the men stepped forward, pulling back his hood so she could see his thick, curling horns and
the steep, dark planes of his face. One of his horns was broken and the thin line of his six scars gleamed
against his olive skin. He swept two fingers to his high forehead, then to his heart, then out to the view.
Isabeau lifted one hand to cover her eyes, the other hand bent outward in supplication.

Her response must have satisfied them for the warrior said curtly, "Come."

Isabeau nodded and gathered up her satchel and skimmer. She followed them down through the copse
of trees until they came to a smooth open slope. The Khan'cohbans strapped on their skimmers and
glided away quickly, with Isabeau following as fast as she could.

The Khan'cohbans gave her no respite, only waiting long enough for her to catch up with them before
climbing up into a steep ravine with long strides that left her panting along behind. At last the ravine came
to an end in a steep cliff. On either side were occasional clefts or caves, most quite shallow. Isabeau
could smell smoke, and the mouth of the largest of the caves was illuminated with the uncertain light of a
fire. It was close to dawn and Isabeau was stumbling with weariness. She followed them up the steep
rocky path until they reached the mouth of the cave, looking about her with interest. The leader of the
Scarred Warriors pointed at the ground. "Stay," he said.

Isabeau nodded, though disappointment filled her. She was cold, tired and hungry and had hoped for a
more comfortable resting spot than an icy rock ledge. As the Kahn'cohbans disappeared inside the cave
she wrapped her damp furs closer about her and squatted down in the shelter of a boulder. Buba flitted
down, silent as a snowflake, and perched on her knee, the round golden eyes inscrutable. Isabeau
smoothed down the tufted ears with one finger, allowed the owl to creep within her sleeve, then rested
her head on her arms.
She was woken from an uneasy doze by the sound of someone approaching. Isabeau jerked her head up
and saw a tall woman coming up beside her. The sky above the valley walls was pale, almost colorless,
and the light had the peculiar clarity that dawn brings. Isabeau stared at the Khan'cohban warrior and felt
a little shock as the woman bent down to speak to her.

"Iseult?" she said dazed, looking up into eyes as vividly blue as her own.

The Khan'cohban woman scowled, the blue eyes as cold as glacial ice. "Come," she snapped. "Old
Mother has granted you audience."

Isabeau stared at her without moving for a moment, thoughts jostling through her mind. The Khan'cohban
did not have blue eyes. Their irises were clear and pellucid as water. The Khan'cohbans did not have
pale skin liberally bespattered with freckles. Their skin was swarthy with white shaggy eyebrows. This
woman's brows were red and finely marked. Although her hair was hidden by her fur cap, Isabeau had
no doubt it would be as red as her own. Yet her features were unmistakably those of a Khan'cohban,
with strong, prominent bones, a beak of a nose, and heavy eyelids.

Isabeau followed the blue-eyed Khan'cohban into the cave, nibbling the tip of her glove thoughtfully. This
must be a descendant of the Firemaker's sister, who had been rescued from exposure in the snows by
the Pride of the Fighting Cats many years before. That would make her some kind of cousin to Isabeau