El Telar (The Loom)

I am the Loom, the weaver of threads into cloth. The millstone brings me flour; I do not bake bread — I weave fabric. Each thread is a strand of what is known, each pass of the shuttle brings it into cloth. The pattern is set by the Pattern Book: this weave for a trip card, that weave for an experience grid. I turn the raw material of information into the finished garment of display.

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A weaver from Granada once asked me for a new pattern. She wanted the cloth to carry not the price, but the scent of orange blossom in the courtyard. I told her: I weave thread, not perfume. But the Scribe came and dyed a new spool — the colour of orange blossom — and from that day I could weave the blossom into the border of every cloth. The weaver was right. Thread carries scent if you name the colour.