“All his party were assembled to greet the little armada that had brought the Sea-Land tribe from their village a bit west of here. Their boats were drawn up on the shore, eight craft shaped like long whaleboats, each with a single gaff-rigged mast a third of the way back from the prow. They’d carried a score of men and rather more women from the village farther west along the narrow island’s coast. One of the women had headed straight for Ingolf, beaming and waving. More than the damp chill sal...t wind flushed Mary’s pale cheeks red, and her single blue eye snapped. Ingolf spread his hands. “Honey, that was more than a year before we even met,” he said desperately. “He’s nearly three, for . . . ah, Manwë’s sake.” The young woman of the Sea-Land folk held her child—and Ingolf’s—by the hand and beamed at them both; the toddler beamed too, showing gaps in his grin, and waved his free arm. The resemblance was unmistakable, down to the dark blue eyes, though the plumply pretty mother was half-Indian, her cheekbones high and hair raven-black.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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