GODSWAR: The Spear of Athena, Chapter 8

Quester had come up with an idea...

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Chapter 8.

Ingram had to laugh. It was typical of Quester to find the straightforward path that no one else saw.

Druyar began to chuckle, too, and soon he and Frederic were laughing together. "That… that funny! Not stupid, maybe good idea. But funny."

"That it was. Quite clever, Quester," Frederic said, a smile still evident. "A most interesting idea, in fact. Let us consider it."

"Not much consider," Druyar said. "Salandaras if born, or if married to Salandaras. Yes?"

"Well, that is of course one obvious path, yes. If one of you were to marry into the family, you would be one of them."

That wiped the smile off everyone else's faces, including Ingram's. Marry? That was a tremendous thing to ask. But, he thought, a trickle of hope beginning to flow, it's not impossible, and maybe…

Victoria was the first to speak. "Not… entirely impossible. Marriages of convenience are not unheard of, and while I cannot see this as an option for Urelle or Ingram, let alone Quester, it so happens that I am currently unwed."

Druyar sighed and shook his head. "Can't just say words. Have to mean words."

"What Druyar means is that you cannot have a pure marriage of convenience – not and be counted a member of the Salandaras," Frederic amplified. "I do not think that it is required that you be in love with your partner, or that there have been any specific period of development for the relationship, but the oaths of marriage for the Salandaras are binding and specific, and you must mean them when you swear the oath."

Victoria nodded. "I suppose I should have expected something of the sort. To what would I be committing myself?"

Frederic reached into the small pack leaning on the table leg near him, dug around, and pulled out a small book, which he flipped through. "Ah. Here." He read for a moment in silence, his brow becoming furrowed as he did so. "Most of the conditions seem… not unreasonable, and deal with your proper relationship with your pledged partner – defending them, supporting them, listening to their concerns, and some parts of the oaths deal with the level and extent of exclusivity in the relationship, possessions, other responsibilities… but I am afraid that two of the most important conditions would pose an issue.

"First, you would have to renounce all loyalty to any and all other countries, becoming a citizen of Salandar first and of the State of the Dragon King second, with no others holding your loyalty."

Victoria drew in a breath. "That … is something to give me pause. I am a loyal citizen of Evanwyl, and as a Vantage I am technically one of the Eyes themselves, although at rather a far remove at the moment. But go on."

"The second is that you renounce your prior name and family, becoming a Salandaras in all ways."

Ingram felt the spark of absolute refusal from both Victoria and Urelle before the older woman spoke. "That is, I am afraid, a dealbreaker indeed. I am a Vantage, and I cannot renounce that."

"Neither can I," Urelle said.

"In honesty, I cannot blame you," Frederic said with a sad smile. "But if you cannot pledge those two oaths, then marriage is not an option."

Ingram felt as though a vise was slowly closing on him. There's no other way into Aegeia! We have to get through here!

For a moment he considered just charging through, into the rear of the castle, seeking a hint or sign of the weakness of the Seal… but his training simply sat up and smacked him for the thought. This is a rightful and just ruler, one of those I am to protect, not betray. And even if I would… it's ridiculous. I know the stories of the Salandaras; Druyar would probably beat all four of us by himself.

"There has to be some way, sir!" he said, hating the way his voice wavered, showing his own desperation in his tone.

The two were quiet for a few minutes, then Frederic looked up. "What about that woman, Serena? Isn't she technically a Salandaras?"

"Yah, yah, she is," Druyar said, perking up. But then his brows came down. "But … granted that for help. Saved many of us. Fought shoulder-to-shoulder, too, after saving town."

"Yes, I remember now," Frederic said. "It's a perfectly viable route, but you would have to perform some great service to the Salandaras before you could be given honorary acceptance into the clan."

"And unless something uniquely suited to us just happens to turn up in the next few minutes, it would seem unlikely that this could be done in the next few days, or even weeks," Victoria said reluctantly.

"Yes." Frederic's mouth firmed with resolve. "Still, the Salandaras Clan has existed for thousands of years. I have to believe that similar situations have happened before. Let us see if the records have anything to tell us."

"Druyar not sneaky one," the Salandaras said with a grin. "Think straight forward, like sword blade. Let Guardian do twisty thinking."

Frederic smiled fondly at Druyar. "We each do what the other cannot. We both want a resolution to Ingram's problem without compromising our honor."

"Yes. Go look in records. I think here. Maybe slow, but sometimes think of things anyway."

The brown-haired Guardian led the way through a side corridor. "Druyar is not quite as slow as he makes himself out to be," he said.

"We had guessed as much," Ingram said. "Even with someone to help you, you don't survive Adventuring for that many years if you're truly an idiot."

"Truly. And he has occasionally surprised me and others by having a moment of brilliant insight. Still, he is right that complex thinking is my major part of our partnership – that and my mastery of natural forces, of course," Frederic said as they made their way down a long set of stairs, and then along another hallway. "The latter will likely not matter in our current problem, though."

"One possible problem," Quester said. "Do these other routes, such as being awarded membership, also come with the same strictures?"

"No," Frederic answered. "Marriage is a choice by the newcomer to become one of us; Clan-Through-Honor, or adoption, is a choice by the Salandaras, and this forces no other choices on the chosen."

They turned right and passed through an open set of double doors, of gray shardwood and bound with polished bronze. Enchanted, Urelle's mindvoice informed them. This whole room is well warded.

I am unsurprised, Quester said.

The room was over a hundred feet long, fifty wide, and twelve high, and the walls were covered with bookshelves, pigeonhole racks for scrolls, and a collection of other objects of various types ranging from a scattering of green crystals to a white-gleaming skull sitting in the center of one of the tables that ran up the center of the room.

"The Vault of Memories," Frederic said, gesturing around. "Every event of significance, and many of insignificance, throughout the clan's history is supposedly gathered here."

"I hope you have a guess as to where we should look," Urelle said, staring around with no little awe, "because there's no way we have a tenth of the time we'd need if we have to search everything."

"I do," Frederic said. "But I am afraid it will be the most mind-numbingly boring portion of the records. Over here," he led them to a series of shelves on the far side of the room, filled with rank upon rank of identical books, "are the membership records of the clan – simple notations of births, deaths, and marriages, as well as passage through the Crucible. If there is any other way to become a Salandaras, it will be hidden in these books."

"That makes unfortunate sense," Victoria said. "If we do not become so mind-fatigued that it all blurs out, the entry of a Salandaras who is not married or wed to the clan should stand out."

The little group divided up the six shelves of books between them, and began working their way through them. Six hundred books or I am still an egg, Quester said grimly. This will not be entertaining.

After getting the symbols used by the Salandaras to represent births, deaths, Crucible passage, and marriages firmly fixed in his head, Ingram found the records exactly as mind-numbingly dry as Quester had predicted. Page after page of names did, in fact, blur into each other, as he simply grew used to scanning for the symbols.

"Oh! What's this one?" Urelle asked, her voice shockingly loud after nearly an hour of silence broken only by the turning of pages.

"Let me see." Frederic scrutinized the page, then shook his head. "That is someone being sloppy. They started to mark marriage and then corrected themselves to birth – probably they were transcribing a number of events at once, catching up. But they weren't too careful about the correction."

"Balance," Urelle cursed. "I had hoped I had found something."

Another half-hour passed. "Frederic, I am quite sure that this is a new symbol," said Victoria.

"Hmm… My, yes, I have not seen that one before. Let me see…" Frederic muttered something and light danced on the page, was echoed from several of the other books. "Well, that isn't very helpful. Those other volumes will have entries with that symbol, but that doesn't tell us what it—"

"Pardon me," Quester said, "but there was also a glimmer from that shelf over there." He pointed to a shelf across the room and about eight feet from the floor.

"Over there?" Frederic's puzzlement was obvious. "Let's try again."

Sure enough, a green glint flickered on that shelf for a moment when Frederic repeated his spell. "Well, may Wind and Tree ward us. That's unexpected."

Urelle gestured and all the books near the glint – four or five of them – floated off the shelves and down to them.

"Yes, yes… now what's this?" Frederic had found an exquisitely thin book, more like a pamphlet, that had been stuck between two others. He opened it up, and then began laughing.

"What is it?" Victoria inquired.

"Something that would have made both your work and mine much easier had I known it existed. This is an actual key to the records – a summary of all the known and allowable markings to be used in the records. Someone – probably decades, perhaps centuries ago – put it up on that shelf for some reason, and it's never been put back where it belongs."

"So what is the symbol here, then?"

"Let's see… ah. Rather the opposite of what we were looking for. This means exiled from the Clan."

"Ouch. I guess that doesn't happen very often."

"This is the first I've heard of it," Frederic said, eyebrows both arched high. "But then, I doubt the Salandaras would want to call attention to such things, either."

"More importantly, are there symbols we should be looking for?" Ingram said, trying not to let too much of his impatience and worry show in his voice. "If we could find some such, that same spell of yours would really cut down our search time."

"That it would. My apologies, but understand, I spend half my life researching things; discovering a key glossary you never knew existed?" Frederic's brown eyes were practically sparkling with excitement. "That's like digging in a farmer's field and striking a vein of krellin." He bent over the little booklet again. "Hmm… yes. Here we go. This symbol means adoption into Clan. And this one… yes, I remember this in front of Serena's entry, it means Clan Through Honor."

"Adoption. Can you find that symbol?"

"Easily done. Everyone, go to the books we have out and sort out the ones that glow."

For a moment, Ingram was worried that most of the books would glow, but then he realized how unlikely that was; they hadn't seen that symbol in an hour and a half of searching.

Less than one out of ten of the books glowed this time, and they soon had all of them stacked on one table. They began leafing quickly through each, looking for that symbol.

"Looks like all of the kids so far were adopted very young – I'm not seeing any of them older than about three years old," Ingram said after a while.

"That makes sense, I am afraid. The Salandaras' way is hard, and children must generally be brought up in it to survive. They do not adopt often at all – most candidates for adoption would be brought to other families or cities. And as you see… many adoptees do not survive to be adults."

"The Crucible?"

Frederic bowed his head.

Ingram felt himself smiling. "Then that's the solution, isn't it? If Druyar will adopt me, then I have to pass the Crucible, and then I'm truly one of you."

"What if you get killed in the Crucible?" Urelle demanded.

"Look, not to minimize in any way what the Salandaras are like, they're still mostly kids who are what, eight, nine, ten? I'm sixteen years old and a Guilded Adventurer! Besides, if I can't get through this Crucible, how can I expect to survive whatever Ares has waiting for us?"

"The idea has some merit, young Ingram," Frederic said. "But, unfortunately, your age argues against it. As you have noted, the Crucible is intended for those significantly younger."

"They can't all have been the same ages. I mean, over thousands of years haven't there ever been exceptions?"

"It is, I think, simple to check." Once more Frederic muttered words that Ingram could not quite check, and the green foxfire light burned on most of the volumes; a second time, and perhaps half of them glowed. A third incantation, with a bit of strain showing on the Guardian's face, and only a few scattered volumes glowed; another, and only one glimmer was seen, on the table nearest Quester; two more repetitions of the spell, and this time there were no glows at all.

Frederic of the White Robe shook his head. "By combining the simple search of age with the Crucible symbol, I have surveyed the ages of those who passed the Crucible after their tenth year; as you could see, the oldest ever to pass was fourteen." He picked up the last volume to glow, leafed through it, found the entry. He then cast a similar spell again, looking weary, and several volumes on other shelves glowed. He chose one and paged through that one as well.

"The oldest to pass the Crucible was Jorna Salandaras, who had unique circumstances. She was adopted late – at about six years of age – and she was an Odinsyrnen, and so matured more slowly. Now while you could indeed argue that you have unique circumstances, I can't see them extending the age limit so far beyond precedent that –"

"I'm fourteen."

Ingram felt a spurt of both hope and fear go through him at Urelle's statement. "What?"

She looked at Frederic. "For another couple of months, I'm fourteen. And I know I'm human, but I haven't had any time at all to be raised in Salandaras society. I'm pretty well trained and I've been on Adventure with my aunt and friends, but I've still got to be less prepared than your normal Crucible entry. Couldn't that balance out my age?"

Victoria looked unutterably proud.

She's got to be terrified of the idea, Ingram thought, but she's not going to let Urelle see that. So Urelle shouldn't see me having that problem, either.

Frederic smiled, though a crease of worry was on his brow. "You realize that the Crucible is meant for Salandaras – warriors, almost to the last person. While this may make some of its challenges easier for a mage, others may be almost impossible. One of the blessings of the Salandaras is their strength, and you are –"

Urelle – only a couple inches over Ingram's height, and slender – stepped over to one of the long tables, gripped it, and with careful, slow deliberation, lifted the massive solid-wood table over her head, then brought it back down again, letting it come to rest without so much as a jar.

"… you are obviously not deficient in that category," Frederic finished his statement. He gave a half-disbelieving laugh. "It is in Druyar's hands, then. But perhaps. We have, at least, precedent, and the fact that we know and understand your urgency. It is, after all, not in the interest of the Salandaras to be manipulated by others, and if this is truly a false Ares, we should not be guarding his back door at all."

"Then let us put everything – including your newly-found key – back where it belongs," Quester said. "And then we can see what the Salandaras decides!"