The Price of Independence - Rough - Day 14

Altman found himself nodding. “I have to admit I’d never thought of it in that light, uncle, never gave much thought to what the Conclave’s discoveries might be capable of doing out in the world.”

“Few do, and that’s the problem. Most lack the imagination, though even the imagination would do precious little good without knowledge of what the Conclave holds back. But enough of that, I didn’t call you here to argue Conclave politics. I’ve shown you the electrite, but that’s only half of it.”

Altman’s brows rose; Tremaine slowly got to his feet once more, selecting a book with a well-worn leather cover from a shelf of similar tomes. It was a small book, and thin, but he carried it as though the secrets of the ages were contained therein.

“This,” he said, laying the book down next to the box on the table, “contains all I’ve been able to record of my knowledge of electrite and its properties and effects.” Altman’s eyes widened. “I brought you here, nephew, in the hopes that you would continue my work.”

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The next morning was filled with a quiet awkwardness for Altman as he found his mind brimming with thoughts about the electrite and the secrets at his fingertips, uncertainty about what to reveal to his friends, and hovering over it all, sadness at the prospect of losing this incredible uncle he’d just discovered. It was a lot to take in over hot cereal, eggs and fruit.

“Alt, you’ve barely touched your food! You’re going to make your poor uncle think you don’t appreciate his culinary efforts, you ungrateful lout,” Deman observed, stuffing his own face with egg and toast. Kaylene ate impassively.

“Hmmm?” Altman offered, finally eating some of the cereal he’d done little more than stir till then.

“If you’re not going to eat, at least let us in on the big mystery. What was it that brought us all the way out here?”

The Price of Independence - Rough - Day 13

They retired to the study and Tremaine shut the door. No sooner had he done that than he let out a long breath, and Altman watched age catch up with the man before his very eyes. With a wan smile, his great-uncle took a seat by the fire.

“I can’t begin to say how grateful I am that you came, Altman. Time is growing shorter by the hour, and I have precious few of those left.”

He rose and moved to a small end table by the couch Altman sat upon. A lamp burned upon it, casting shadows that obscured the contents of the drawer Tremaine opened; he withdrew what looked like a dull gray metal box. Placing it upon the table between them, he unlatched the box and swung the lid over. In the dim light of the study, Altman saw a telltale blue glow. “Is that …”

“Electrite, yes. You know it by sight?” His cataract-covered eyes showed how impressed he was; electrite was rare indeed.

“Yes, I’ve worked with it before … very recently, indeed. I set aside some experiments with it to come here.”

“Then it’s even more appropriate than I realized that I brought you here, and saves considerable time.” His face bore a look of supreme satisfaction; Altman’s curiosity was burning him up from within.

“You brought me here to see this? Where did you get it? I found the tiniest little deposit of it in the hills at the head of the valley, but nowhere near enough to be of interest.”

“Ahh, but the source this came from is much, much closer than that. No more than a quarter-hour’s walk, at least for one as young as you. I’ll show you in the morning where this came from. It’s quite a sizable source, nephew. If the Conclave knew …”

“Why are you telling me this, uncle? We’ve just met, you don’t know me at all. If what you say is true, you’ve been sitting on a fortune for many years and told nobody. You’ve been in contact with the Academy and who knows who else at the Conclave, and obviously you’ve never let on what you have here, or—”

“Yes, yes. Or they’d have swooped in claim faster than a dog scratches flees. And you’re right, Altman. I don’t know you.” His cataract-clouded eyes looked somehow sharp. “But we are family, and there’s no one else. My time here is just about over, and the way I see it, if you do go running to the Conclave, there’s little enough I can do about it and even less reason I should worry about it. It’d be an awful shame for you if you did though.” He closed the lid of the metal box; Altman realized it must be lead, to shield against the radiation of the electrite.

“It’s true you could make a lot of money by letting the Conclave in on this little secret. Frankly, the deposit of electrite we’re talking about is the largest I’ve ever heard of, and for it to exist so close to them, right under their noses … well, they’ll be eager to get their hands into it.” He chuckled a little.

“Why don’t you tell them of it? There’s so much the researchers could learn and do with it. It almost seems a crime to keep it hidden away.”

“And that, young nephew, is exactly why I don’t tell them. What would happen to it if I did tell them, hmmm? They’d lay their claim, they’d build their mines and their roads, they’d dig their ores, they’d poke it and prod it in their labs, and they’d learn their secrets, and … what? And nothing, that’s what. That’s as far as it goes with them.” By the time he finished that tirade, his face was dark with anger.

“Oh I don’t blame Calland or my friends. They’re decent enough men, doing the best they can under the circumstances. But the Conclave council are fond of their secrets, and in my years studying electrite, I can tell you boy, it has some secrets all right. But what good does it do anyone when the secrets are kept hoarded, locked up?”

“It keeps—” Altman started.

“It keeps dangerous knowledge out of the hands of those who don’t know any better, of course. But the question becomes—”

“—Who are they to decide what’s too dangerous,” Altman finished.

“Yes. They treat the world as children, nephew, children too curious for their own good. I don’t know about you, but I tired of that kind of treatment many years ago.”

The Price of Independence - Rough - Day 12

They followed through into the large dining room where Tremaine bid them wait. Seated and warm, they talked for some time while their host puttered about the kitchen, bringing out bread and butter and meats and autumn’s vegetables. At last he disappeared downstairs to what looked to be a cellar near the cloakroom they’d passed on the way in.

The man was slow on his feet; Altman noticed he couldn’t move around very well, and he stopped frequently to catch his breath. But soon enough he returned with a bottle of wine. “Eat up, eat up, you’ve come a long way!”

At last the old man sat down to join them. The conversation was light and spirited, but Tremaine resisted Altman’s subtle attempts to swing it around toward his purpose in inviting him. “Ahh, nephew, that is not a subject for the supper table. We’ll discuss that at some length later so as not to bore your friends. But it’s good that you came when you did; I had feared that you might delay too long, or worse, not come at all.”

After some time, Altman was shocked to see how low the sun had grown in the sky. The food had been eaten, the wine consumed, the fire was starting to burn low and shadows were gathering. “Now then. You’ll all be here the night, so let me just get your rooms prepared.”

“Uncle, don’t you have anyone to help you with these things? You can’t do all this alone, can you?”

“Nonsense, nephew, nonsense,” he said with a hint of huffiness to his tone. “I’ve managed well enough all this time, and aside from that, where am I to find someone, hmmm? I came out here for peace and quiet, and find it I certainly did.”

“Perhaps we—”

“Don’t even suggest it, I won’t hear of it! You are guests and you’ll not lift a finger to work while you’re under this roof. Not at this kind of work, leastwise.” His nearly white eyes glinted as he said the last.

A good hour later, Tremaine was through setting the rooms while the guests talked around the dining table. Tremaine appeared in the doorway. He looked tired, but his voice gave not a clue of that. “Nephew— Altman, if you’d be kind enough to join me in the study? I do believe it’s time we discussed why I brought you out here, if your friends will be kind enough to excuse us?”

The Price of Independence - Rough - Day 11

It took several minutes after knocking at the door before it creaked open a crack and a wizened, cloudy eye appeared. A thin, reedy voice inquired, “Yes? Who’s there? Speak up, I haven’t got all day.”

“Uncle Eldrid? Eldrid Tremaine?” Now that he was here, he was feeling the pangs of trepidation, though he couldn’t put his finger on exactly why. Unease at the circumstances he found himself in, he supposed; visiting long-lost relatives was a new occupation for him after all.

“Altman Dolet? Is that you, boy? I’m pleased you accepted my invitation. Come in, come in!” The door swung open, revealing a short, stooped man, thin not just with age but of build, long grey hair spilling out of a dusty old hat of a fashion that had passed years and years before. He was dressed simply, everything with a faded look about it, from the soft leather slippers on his feet to the brown trousers, vest and light coat worn over his shirt.

They stepped into the foyer and the man—Tremaine—crinkled his eyes in puzzlement. “You didn’t travel alone? No, I suppose you wouldn’t at that. Well let me introduce myself then. I’m Eldrid Tremaine, Altman’s great-uncle.”

“Uncle, I believe you know Kaylene Aynesworth already? And this is my friend and fellow Academy graduate Deman Buxton.”

“Kaylene! Why it’s good to see you again, it’s been months. And Deman, did you say, nephew? It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, I’m sure.” Altman frowned and looked closer at his aged relation; his eyes were more than merely cloudy, he was well on his way to losing his sight to cataracts unless he missed his guess completely. “Come in, come in, is that all of you? Come on in, autumn’s cold may not bother you young folk, but it passes right through my bones, it does. Let’s get some food and drink in you and maybe Kaylene will grace me with the story of how she came to know my most impressive nephew.”

The Price of Independence - Rough - Day 10

“What a waste,” Altman muttered as the building vanished behind the foliage once more.

“I’ll say,” Kaylene agreed. “At least it wasn’t for nothin’. Your uncle bought the place years back, as I understand it, though why I couldn’t say. Tired of the city, I suppose.”

Altman looked back at Deman, who was bringing up the rear. He was lost in thought, a frown still pasted onto his face. He didn’t appear to have heard a word they’d said.

Before the house grew clearer. It sat on a small rise with a commanding view of the valley floor some distance from the Ralladran river. The trees thinned as they approached; a large area had been cleared around it once, and the woods had only gradually begun eroding the edges of the clearing. Oak dominated these woods, and one single mighty tree remained in the rear yard, so large the foliage was visible over the top of the house itself.

Smoke rose from several chimneys poking upward toward the sky. The slate roof was stone-edged, the ornamental blocks apparently designed to give the look of a castle. Altman frowned; they looked out of place and somewhat jarring. “Looks likely he’s home,” he said, curiosity growing with him.

They dismounted their horses and tied them outside the gate, entering the yard. A broad but shallow stone staircase led them to the main door.