The temple to the Weaver was a small stone building tucked behind a tavern in one of the older parts of the city.
It was about as far from the magnificence of the Maiden's temple a few minutes walk from the Chief's hall as one could get. Barely a step above a stone house.
I knocked on the closed door.
Nothing.
I knocked again.
"Yes, yes, you'll get your money as soon as I-" A way too thin elven woman opened the door, and stared at me in shock.
"You're not the guild!" She said. "You're pilgrims?" There was hope in her voice.
We nodded. "Yes, my apprentice and I both worship the Weaver."
"No, no, here we call her the Storyteller." She said, stepping back to let us inside.
The inside of the temple was about as grand as its exterior. A few benches were crammed into the room in front of a shrine, with unlit candles and lamps placed haphazardly around it.
Behind the shrine was a massive statue of a spider, easily taking up a quarter of the room.
