“Knives are dangerous,” he told Aria. “You can do more harm than good if you don’t know how to use one. But I’ll teach you a few things. You move easily and you have good balance. If a situation comes up, you’ll know what to do.”

Aria handed Perry his bow. “All right,” she said. “Teach me.”

Perry had to come up with something to do while he watched them. He found a branch from a tree inside the courtyard and cut it down. Then he sat against the crate making practice blades as Roar showed Aria the different ways to hold a knife. Roar had a passion for the knife. He gave her too much information about the advantages of each grip, but she listened, rapt, absorbing it all. After an hour of constant talk, they settled on a hammer grip as the best for her, which Perry had known from the start.

Next they covered stances and footwork. Aria was a quick learner and her balance was good, just as Roar had said. Perry watched them moving past each other, his gaze turning from Aria to the Aether. From the flow of her footwork to the flow of the sky.

By the time Roar asked for the carved practice knives it was late in the afternoon. Roar showed Aria the best places to strike, angles to strive for, and bones to avoid, fluttering his eyes when he told her the heart was as worthy a target as any.

And then she was ready.

Perry stood as they began to move, their wooden knives held at guard. He told himself that it was Roar. That he’d made the edge of the practice knives as dull as his thumbs. But his heart was beating too fast for just watching simple drills.

They prowled for a bit; then Aria made the first move. Roar darted past her and struck, drawing the blade firmly across her back. Aria jerked back and whirled, her knife falling out of her hand.

Perry shot forward, lunging for Roar. He pulled up short a few steps away, but Roar glared at him, his eyes full of suspicion.

Aria was breathing hard, her temper bright red, pure wrath. Perry’s muscles shook, wound tight with surprise and rage.

“First rule: Knives cut,” Roar said, his tone brutally cold. “Expect it to happen. Don’t freeze up when it does. Second rule: Don’t ever drop your weapon.”

“All right,” Aria said, accepting the lesson. She picked up the blade.

“You staying, Scire?” Roar asked him, lifting an eyebrow. He knew Perry had rendered to her.

“Why would he leave?” Aria said. “You’re staying, right, Perry?”

“Yeah. I’m staying.”

Perry crossed the roof and then climbed on top of the elevator box, the highest point on Delphi, and watched her train in stunned silence. He shook his head. How had he ended up rendering to a Dweller?