right to ask that question. The Hagsgate faces tried not to move, but they did move. Drinn said carefully, "We never see the Bull, and we never speak of him. Nothing that concerns him can ours. As for unicorns, there are none. There never were." He poured the black wine again. "I will tell you the words of the curse," he said. He folded his hands before him, and began to chant.
"You whom Haggard holds in thrall, Share his feast and share his fall. You shall see your fortune flower Till the torrent takes the tower. Yet none but one of Hagsgate town May bring the castle swirling down."
A few others joined in as he recited the old malediction. Their voices were sad and far, as though they were not in the room at all but were tumbling in the wind high over the inn's chimney, helpless as dead leaves.
What is it about their faces? Molly wondered. I almost know. The magician sat silently by her, rolling his wine glass in his long hands.
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