“That’s not true,” Banage said. “I was trying to teach you discipline. Responsibility. You were always powerful, and there are rules that—”
“Oh, yes,” Eli said, surprised at how bitter his voice sounded. “How could I forget? You cared more for rules than you ever did for me.”
“I was trying to teach you respect for the spirits!” Banage shouted. “Obviously, I failed. Look at you, a thief and a degenerate, using spirits for your own selfish purposes.” He clenched his fists, his rings glowing brighter as his spirits reflected his anger. “When I think of what you could have been. What I could have made you—”
“I don’t have to listen to this,” Eli said, hopping off the table. “I freed myself from your expectations years ago, old man. If you’re going to be disappointed in someone, save it for yourself. You were a terrible teacher and a miserable excuse for a father. If I didn’t turn out the way you wanted, that’s entirely on you.”
Eli started to leave, but Banage moved to stand in his way. Eli reached out to push his father aside, but his hand stopped an inch from the old man’s arm. Banage was looking at him with an expression Eli had never seen on his face before. If it had been anyone else, he would have said the old man was on the verge of tears.
“I am more disappointed in myself than you will ever know,” Banage whispered. “When your mother refused to leave Whitefall’s Council, I took you away from Zarin and tried to raise you as best I could. Every night since you vanished, I’ve been haunted by regret for all I could have done to prevent it. I’ve hated you, Eliton. I’ve despised you, blamed you, but I never, ever stopped loving you.” His hands reached out, fingers trembling, to clutch Eli’s shoulders. “The day I first saw your bounty poster was the happiest day of my life, because that was the day I knew you were still alive.”
“And you sent your apprentice after me,” Eli said.
Banage flinched. “I had to. Whatever you may think, I am responsible for you, as a father and as Rector. I could not let you go on abusing spirits and flaunting the rules of the Court.”
Eli reached up and pried Banage’s fingers off his arms. “I’ve never abused a spirit in my life,” he said. “Ever. Ask Miranda, she knows. So would you, if you knew me at all.”
“And you think for that I should just let you do as you like?” Banage said, his voice growing heated again. “You’re one of the most powerful wizards I’ve ever seen, and yet you insist on being a criminal. If you will not willingly accept the responsibility and self-control that power demands, then it is my duty to make you. If you want to throw your life away, that’s your decision, but you can’t be angry with me for doing my duty!”
“Throwing my life away?” Eli roared. “You finally find me after fifteen years and that’s all you want to talk about? How I’m wasting my power as a wizard? Powers, father.” He looked away in disgust. “All I ever wanted was for you to see that I was worthy of your interest. Me. Not my power as a wizard or my future as a Spiritualist. Just me, Eli, your son.”
He glanced back out of the corner of his eyes, but Banage’s face was sterner than ever. Eli sighed and shook his head. “Obviously that’s too much for you,” he muttered, pushing past Banage and stomping toward the door. “Next time you want to have a private chat, don’t bother unless you’ve got something new to say.”
“Wait.”
Eli paused. He could hear Banage moving, but he didn’t turn back. He didn’t even want to look at the man anymore.
“Your mother is outside,” Banage said, his voice strangely thick. “Will you say something to her?”
“No,” Eli said, stomping down the stairs. “I have even less to say to her than I had for you.”
If he’d looked back then, he would have seen Banage put his head in his hands, but he didn’t. He ran down the stairs two at a time, ducking out at the second-to-last landing, the only landing that had a window. He wiggled through the narrow slit and dropped to the walkway along the sea wall, keeping the tower between himself and the gathered Spiritualists standing at the tower door. He could hear voices on the wind, Miranda’s, Josef’s, and another, a smoky, haughty voice from his memory. Eli stopped, nearly overcome by the memory of fragrant smoke. Then the wind shifted and the voices vanished. Free again, Eli walked to the very end of the sea wall and sat down in the crevice where the wall met the cliff. The fighting had been lighter here, and he was able to find a clean stretch of stone. The fog hid the ravaged battlefield, and staring into the blank grayness, he was almost able to forget where he was and why.