and the look in hers. ”Cordelia looked blankly over the top of the old woman’s head as Rhea of the Cöos buried her face against the red cut in the shift and began to drink. They looked like the heads of enormous, snarling dogs. A puff of breeze sent more leaves showering down around him, and caused the stuffy-guy to creak nastily on his pole.
”“With pleasure. Why not a mailed fist? Crossed swords? Or a bird? A falcon, for instance—a falcon would have made a fine sigul. George fanned a hand in front of his face. ”“Of course it was superstition,” Roland agreed, “but you might be surprised at how well the riddles foresaw the crops.
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