Weavers

They say the weavers make a sound. That's the first thing to know about 'em--some kind of stringed music, in no key we know and out of tune. It's not even a choice, it's just a fact of 'em. They can fly, and take the shape of men, and I'm pretty sure they want me dead. As the robes in Cevant'll tell you, I haven't got any proof, but the fact that you're readin' these words should make a point about the worth of my words, eh? I used to think that the weavers were a rich man's superstition, somethin' to blame other than each other for all the things money can't fix.

It's true that stories of weavers are popular in the silk district, I'll let you imagine why. It'd probably help to know the about the curse, the only other thing I'm fairly sure about. I've heard a hundred variations from half as many drunk loudmouths, but there's a consistency: A Cevanti court-wizard felt the legends hit a bit too close to home, or rather to the basement. He, or his allies in the cabal, or some monstrous patron of his, put a curse on the name 'weaver'. Anyone who talks of weavers, if they talk it too loudly or to too many, goes mad as a hatter. Magic being the finicky art that it is, writing doesn't trigger the curse... but scrolls about this subject have a way of startin' on fire, if you catch my meanin'.