In my room at the Pangol Inn, I close my eyes and I see... a tapestry. It is grand, intricate and woven from beautiful glittering threads; as fine as the tapestries of my childhood. When I was young, I used to watch Grue weaver-women as they practiced their trade. I was somewhat mesmerized at the speed in which they wove their labyrinthine designs without snarling or tangling the threads. My tapestry is not always so beautiful. It has snarled in places and almost been unwoven once. Yet, I…