“The third finger of the left hand is crooked. A blow from a quarter-staff broke it. And over the right eyebrow there is a small brown mole.”
“Good. You would know this apple from another?”
She nodded.
Merlin spread his arms dramatically, and then stared in silence at the fire. The eyes under the cowl glistened, and the harsh face with its savage sagacity looked hungry and exultant.
“We have two puppets and two strings! Speak to me, Isoult. Let me hear what you have to tell.”
She rested her chin on her fist.
“I have nothing to tell. I will wager that you cannot take the hood from that hawk and make him fly as you please.”
“Say you so! But a young man may be persuaded, and you—my daughter——”
“I, too, have the fettle of a falcon.”
“Am I a fool? But what have you done? How have you played with him?”