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A golden-haired woman sat in a garden with a dozen birds perched on her every limb. Well. That one was a little familiar. She took another step.
A red-haired woman seemed to leap from a cliff, and below her, a hawk spread its wings with feathers of the same vibrant red. It swooped down and out over a forest where a man seemed to speak to the trees. Would the hawk save her? Carry her? Was magic such a burden that she’d thrown herself from the cliff to die? That seemed like something she might see in a temple, but it didn’t fit the overall tone of these paintings.
“But these people don’t seem unhappy,” she murmured, mostly to herself.
“I know.”
They didn’t seem to hate themselves, to understand the true evil, the depth of the curse she carried. They couldn’t be mages; they were too innocent. Too happy. She herself had never known peace like this.
Or power like this.
She took another step. Here, she could make out several people leaning over a bed. No, it was rows of beds, like an infirmary. Gods. They laid their hands on and around the people in the beds, and in the next paintings the ill were up and running, dancing, leaping back into the forest. Healers?
“These are mages? Why are they in a temple?”
“Don’t you see?” He walked toward her, gesturing wildly. “All of these ordinary people. All mages.”
“I don’t see. Why would they paint such an impossible scene? How will they find out they’re corrupted?” she asked, a note of anguish in her voice. “I’d give anything to be like this… to not know. But, surely, someone must tell them. Maybe it’s further down.” She dashed away from him, running her hand along the smooth stone, looking for a strike of black lightning or wailing, moaning crowds. Or some sign someone would tell them the truth of it all.
“No, no. Don’t you see? Look. Farmers, miners, caretakers. Healers.” He hurried past her, pointing at another. “Look, look at this one.”
She squinted. A circle of women and men standing in a field of grain, chanting, pillars rising around them. A shrine?
“They were priests, too,” he whispered. “It’s lies. It’s all been lies.”
“What has been lies?”
“That you’re evil. Look at you, Iseris. I’ve never known anyone so wholesome and good.”
“I’m not—I’m—” Her throat had gone as tight as Alekur’s bindings. “I’m not good. I try to be, but good deeds can never erase the burden of evil I carry.”
“So far, I’ve seen you calm down some dogs and heal us to save all our lives.”
“Did I do that? I had thought Selis did.”
“No, she said it was you. Tell me, what is so evil about that? None of the activities depicted here are different—all helping people. Just like you’ve helped me.”
“Us,” she corrected. “Don’t forget I was helping myself too.”
His eyes lit a little at the word. “Fine. Us. But think about it, Iseris. What if the truth is they just didn’t want you to have power over them?”
“But that would mean… that would mean… So many have been hunted down, killed…” She swallowed, fresh horror sweeping over her.
“Murdered. You tell me which makes more sense—your moral corruption or theirs?”
“But that’s… that’s so awful.”
“It is.”
“It can’t be true.”
“It can’t? Is it really so hard to believe that maybe you’re not evil, and they are?”
“I don’t even know anymore.” She staggered, trying to lean against the wall but miscalculating how far away she was. He caught her arm. “How do we know this isn’t just my corruption tainting you? I should never have begged you to come along.”
“Ordered is more like it. Thank you for doing that. It’s not your ‘corruption.’”
“How can we know?”
