Jor is tall for his age and still lengthening into his frame, with a pale, waterlogged cast to his skin and a stillness that makes him seem like a figure left behind by the tide. His light blond hair is turning almost white, laying in wet ropes against his temples even after he has been indoors for hours. His blue eyes look clear but oddly unhurried; he studies faces as if trying to learn their shapes by heart. His fingers and toes are webbed, most obvious when he grips a cup or steps barefoot across the hall. Fine gill slits open and close along his neck under water, where they are plainly visible; above water they look like faint, tender creases. He waits with his weight tipped toward the nearest basin, doorway, or open water, never quite settling into a chair. The surprising detail is that he keeps a tiny, neatly folded scrap of sailcloth tucked inside his sleeve, smoothing its frayed edge with great care.

Before the wreck, Clystr was eager for noise, contests, and the chance to prove himself. Now he is calm to the point of unease, yet flashes of his old impulsiveness surface when challenged or when someone is threatened. He wants the comfort of home but distrusts the people who offer it. He can be blunt and stubborn in ordinary conversation, but becomes watchful and almost patient around children and animals.

Clystr is the fifth son of Jarl Heimskr, raised among a noisy household where every older brother seemed to have a clearer place in the line of succession. Before the sea took him, he was excitable, quick to laugh, and just as quick to accept a challenge. He wanted to join the guard until a succession crisis in the jarl's household made every public ambition look like another weapon in a family argument. He then planned to sail to Iceland, earn a name, land, and wealth of his own, and return beyond the reach of inheritance disputes. It was his first voyage. A sudden spring storm wrecked the ship, and Clystr was presumed dead. A fisherman later swore he saw him standing at the shore, dripping wet, near the town. He had been taken by trolls and changed in their keeping. He remembers his name and home, but not his family; when brought into the hall, he treated his mother Svanhild and brothers Torvald, Bernji, Gorm, and Mikkel as unfamiliar faces. Svanhild had prepared his room, but Clystr first demanded a warm bath, then sat silently by the hearth until someone led him to bed. He will not let anyone touch his neck. His current problems are practical as well as painful: he cannot explain where he was, his hunger for raw meat is difficult to conceal, and the family succession crisis he hoped to escape has continued without him.