“Who... Who are you?” Gwillam asked fearfully. But Lut recognized him right away.
“It is Dad’s cousin Fyn,” he whispered to Gwillam. “They look alike, see?”
Indeed the man who stood before them was tall and blond, with bright blue eyes and a prominent cleft chin. But whereas Gunnar’s face almost always bore a cheerful and phlegmatic expression, Fyn’s looked grim. So grim that Lut asked, right away, “What has happened?”
“Much,” said Fyn, tersely. “Your home has been attacked. We must go there now. Come, I will take you.”
He would answer none of their panicked questions, just seized them by the hands and stepped forward. They felt the deck of the Able Drake spin away from under them. The scene flickered and changed. Gwillam kept his eyes squeezed shut, terror-stricken by the sensation of
