His voice was a beautiful, smoky baritone. He sent Trip and Rat a pointed look.

“Yes. Good to meet you,” they said, tipping their heads and setting the bells ringing again.

“Bells are another part of our ceremony,” Harris said, following her gaze.

“Ancient cultures used bells,” she said, hating herself for knowing stupid things and for not being able to keep quiet when she was nervous.

“I’ve heard that Tibetans did.”

“Yes. They did.” Aria couldn’t believe he knew that. A Savage who knew more than just digging holes and starting fires. A spark of hope lit inside her. “They believed bells represented the wisdom of emptiness.”

“I’ve known a few people with empty minds, but I wouldn’t call them wise.” Harris smiled, his eyes flicking to Trip. “To us, bells are noises of lightness and good. Are you alone, Aria?”

“No. I’m with an Outsider.”

It was darker now, but by the soft light of the Aether, she saw his eyebrows furrow.

“I meant one of you,” she said, realizing they wouldn’t call themselves Outsiders.

“Ah . . . that’s good. This is dangerous land. I’m sure your companion told you.”

“Yes. He did.”

Trip snorted. “Nearly soiled myself when I heard you sneaking up on us.”

Rat lifted his big nose and sniffed the air. He shoved Trip in the shoulder. “Nearly?”

Harris smiled apologetically. “We have enough food to share and a fire going. Why don’t you and your companion join us tonight? If you think you can put up with these two.”

“I don’t think so. But thank you.” She realized she was gripping the handle of the knife so tight her knuckles throbbed. Why did she have a knife? She lowered it. As frightening as he’d looked with the mask on, Harris seemed friendly now. Far more than her Outsider, whose name she didn’t even know. And Harris talked.

“Well,” she said, reconsidering. “I could see what he says.”

“I say no.”

They all turned sharply toward the voice uphill. It was her Outsider. He was barely visible in the faint light of dusk.

Aria was just going to call out to him when she heard a sound like a wet slap, followed by the ringing of bells. Rat tripped and fell backward. At least, this was what Aria thought until she saw a stick—no, an arrow—lodged in his throat.

She didn’t think. She spun and ran. Trip caught her arm and trapped it, twisting the knife from her fingers. Then he laid the blade on her neck and thrust her arm behind her. Aria gasped at the burst of pain in her shoulder. His stench brought a sickening roll to her stomach.

“Lower your bow or I’ll kill her!” Trip’s voice exploded by her ear.