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“You gaze upon the picture of Isthil, goddess of justice and wickedness”

“I thought it ht be,” I said “This is old”

“This place was old before the first pyraer said

“Isthil is one of the seven in the other portrait,” I said

“Yes The Heptarchy, seven gods given dominion over the affairs of oddess of harvest and hunger Gabril, god of flesh and spirit Ash, god of peace and war Yusil, goddess of creation and destruction Ottan-ka, god of pain and joy”

“Isthil makes six,” I pointed out “Who is the seventh? The beautifulwell, I can’t tell if it’s male or female”

“That is Malech Malech is neither od of pleasure and denial Malechwell, you ods Soer necessary So But Malech, and Ash, too, have turned against man”

“Oriax,” I said, realizing it even as I said it “She’s Malech’s er As you are Isthil’s”

Messenger didn’t speak, leaving my statement to stand as truth

“The last picture I can’t evenIt’s just a sort of sun, or star, or” I frowned The picture of the Heptarchy and the portrait of Isthil were both realistic pictures within the limits of an earlier artistic sensibility This last was abstract—symbolic, perhaps

“The Source,” Messenger said

“And what is the Source?”

“The ultiods maintains a balance between ends of a spectruer Creation and destruction But the essential balance that transcends every other is between existence and nonexistence Existence is not a si It takes work It takes balance In our small e labor to maintain the balance”

This ithout a doubt the er had ever spoken to ness to answer questions was because an iht This was school I was deteret all from him that I could

“Where are we?” I asked Messenger “This place”