“Damn. Took me more than two years to get as far as you have the past few months,” I said gently. “You’ve got a gift, kid. Well done.”
He looked up at me, his face earnest and uncertain. He gave me a tentative smile.
I answered him with a grin and squeezed his shoulder. “Well freaking done.”
“Engh,” he said, panting. He grinned wider. “You jerk. A gun?”
“Gun will kill you just as dead as a spell,” I told him. “Or a knife, or a club, or a rock. And when the dancing starts in the real world, you don’t get time to wonder what to do. You act or you get taken out. Anyone who knows what you are is going to come down on you fast and all at once.”
“Sounds like maybe it would be smart to start the fights,” Fitz said. He was struggling to get his breath back.
“Maybe. If you think someone is going to be a problem,” I said, “why not just shoot them in the back of the head? Every time?”
He frowned at me.
“It’s smart,” I said. “You survive. They don’t. They don’t get a chance to hurt you. Why not do it that way?”
“It’s wrong?” he asked. “I don’t want to win like that.”
I waved a hand. “ ‘Win’ doesn’t mean anything. There are fights you survive and fights you don’t. So why not do it like that?”
He searched my face. Shook his head.
“Because life matters, kid,” I said quietly. “Everyone knows that on some level. And whoever you kill might have someone who cares. They think their life matters, too. You go around killing folks, you create more enemies for yourself. More danger. You start killing, it breeds more of it—and you’re going to be alive for a very long time. You get a reputation as a killer, folks are way more likely to come at you hard and fast. Maybe with a high-powered rifle from a mile away. Maybe someone pulls a damned satellite out of space onto your head.” I sighed. “And it gets to you. You kill people with magic, it sticks to you. Like tar. You remember the guy you burned?”
He looked down and shuddered.
“Exactly. You want a life worth living, don’t go starting fights. Just be sure you’re the one to finish them.”
“You make it sound like I’m going to be some kind of monster,” he said softly.
I hunkered down and frowned at the burning target. “Look, kid. You have power. What I want is for you to only use it when it’s absolutely necessary. It’s best to start thinking about how and why you ought to do that now, rather than after things have gotten out of hand.”
“To save my life,” he said quietly. “Or someone else’s.”
“That’s the baseline for when it’s time to get serious,” I said, nodding. “What gets complicated is knowing when you’re standing in that place. Learning the signs. Seeing when the balloon is about to go up and doing the smartest thing you can when it does. Violence hardly ever comes out of nowhere.”
“That sounds complicated,” he said, his voice heavy and serious.
“Yeah,” I said. “Right now, you’re learninghowto be dangerous. But it’s just as important to knowwhenandwhy. We’ve talked about that a little. We’ll do more about that, too.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding gravely.
I blew out a breath. “Look. There’s no easy way to talk about this, sowe’ll just get right to it. I do dangerous work. It could get me killed. I don’t have plans to do it, but that’s something real. You get that, right?”
He nodded.
“Anything happens to me,” I said, “I’ve got a number for you to call. It will get you to Carlos Ramirez. He’s a Warden with the White Council. You meet with him, alone, and tell him everything. He’ll look out for you.”
“White Council?” Fitz said skeptically.
“I know,” I said. “Look, kid. Organizations can be shady as hell, no matter their intentions. I don’t trust them and never have. It’s people that can be okay. Ramirez is one of them. He’ll look out for you.”
“Look out for me how?”
“Get you set up so the Council doesn’t declare you a warlock out of hand. Train you. From a talent perspective, the two of you have a lot in common. Hell, he might be a better mentor than me.”
“But he’s a Council guy,” Fitz said.
