The Tapestry (part 4 of 9)

The vaulted arches of the ambulatory amplified the staccato slaps of Stefen’s sandals as he ran. In the scriptorium, the monks raised their heads, pausing their thimble spikes over strips of perforated parchment. Their ruddy faces, chafed from hard water and plain soap, flushed with curiosity. Stefen ignored them; Father Alberic dealt with the deceased. He needed to know why Efran died.

Father Alberic stained the parchment with a blot of ink as Stefen burst into his office unannounced. Alberic frowned at the parchment, put down his pen, replaced his discarded skullcap, smoothed his robes, and looked over his reading glasses at the roster on the wall to identify his visitor.

Stefen clasped his hands together and waited for Alberic to recognize him and speak.

“Good morning, Brother Stefen,” said Alberic after reading the roster.

“Morning, Father Alberic.” His visual continuity reflex urged him to straighten the nameplate before him on the desk. “I am the bearer of unfortunate news.”

“Is there an injury among our brothers?”

“It’s Efran. I found him dead in the cloister.”

“No, not him.” A tear rolled down Alberic’s cheek. “He was our best encoder. We were close.”

Father Alberic uncapped a small funnel on his desktop and leaned forward to speak into the voice pipe.

“Brother Mark, please get someone to help you move Brother Efran from the cloister to the mortuary and ask Brother Thomas to prepare a burial mass.”

A tinny voice emerged from the funnel.

“Yes, Father Alberic, right away.”

Then Father Alberic turned to the sideboard behind his desk and filled two smudged goblets with port. He passed one to Stefen and raised his own in a toast.

“To Brother Efran, who lived, um, how many years?” he asked.

“Fifty-two. To Brother Efran,” Stefen raised the goblet and pretended to sip.

“Fifty-two? That’s far too young to die, even with our temporal hazards.”

“Yes, Father. I agree. Perhaps the mortuary should test his blood?”

After the Abbott had drained his goblet, he was back to business.

“Yes, see that it’s done, then go to Efran’s cell and collect his things. His correspondence should come to me, and the rest should go to the beggar’s bench in the Shared Sanctum.”

Alberic paused and stared out his office window toward the Elaran monastery while Stefen waited for his dismissal.

“Father, will you need anything else?”

“Anything else?”

“For Efran’s mass?”

“Efran’s mass? Oh, right. No, everything is fine. Just go now.”

“Yes, Father.”

Stefen bobbed his head and left the Abbott’s office. Outside the scriptorium, the monks had abandoned their desks to cluster in its doorway. They resembled a rank of brown owls watching Efran’s body, laid on a rolling table, travel past them to the mortuary.

#

Efran’s cell door wobbled on its hinges as Stefen entered. The tiny space smelled of dirty linen and old parchment. No vermin ran for the shadows. Stefen turned in the thin light trickling down through a clerestory. A low, narrow palette spread with a thin mattress and threadbare blanket leaned against the doorway wall. A small bookcase, overloaded with parchments and scrolls from the monastery library, held itself up against the far wall. At the back, under the window, Efran’s desk was bare except for a parchment with crop yield calculations. Stefen rolled it up and slipped it into his pocket. He’d check Efran’s estimate against the actuals later on.     

Stefen paced the small space, fidgeting with the Infinity bead. He bumped against the desk, and a pen rolled off onto the floor. A glass containment box hid beneath the bed. He kneeled and reached under to retrieve it, tugging at the unexpected weight. With a growing sense of dread, Stefen opened the lid. At first, he mistook the contents for a clump of old parchment scraps, but as he unfolded the specimen and saw the images, he recognized it as a piece cut from the Tapestry. A profane Excision. A tangible blasphemy.

The bed palette groaned in protest as Stefen sat. The glass box, which had cracked on one side, didn’t seal. Stefen read the radiation levels of Efren’s cell. No wonder he died of advanced age. A leak like this was fatal. One Infinity bead wasn’t enough protection for prolonged exposure. Stefen examined the Excision. The edges were rough. It had been hacked out of the Tapestry with a knife. A glass blade; metal would rust away on contact.

“This was not an impulsive act, Efran, you had help,” said Stefen. His words echoed in the bare room. Stefen shoved the Excision back in the box and wrapped it up in Efran’s blanket.

“This was a coordinated attack.”

The Infinity bead meant an Elaran was involved.

In the dormitory hallway, Stefen chanted the Litany of Infinity, forcing tears from his eyes as he ran to the Scriptorium with a crime in his arms. Did they mean to destroy the Tapestry? The monasteries? Had they forgotten the purpose of their world? Faith was their only hope.

#

The Tapestry (part 4 of 9)

Previously in The Tapestry, Efran's death is discovered and now Stefen races to save Faith from unknown enemies.

The Tapestry is a science fantasy featuring hidden truth, secret identity, and last minute rescue. Set in a clockwork world, it follows Alyse as she as she uncovers a break in the tapestry that runs her world, and Stefen — who isn't quite who he seems — racing to stop her before it all comes apart.

Ann Cudworth (also writing as A. C. Worth) is the author of short fiction in Metaphorosis Magazine, Exterus, and Sci-Fi Lampoon, and the anthologies Score—An SFF Anthology, Radicle, and Sages of Metaphorosis. She writes science fiction and urban fantasy, shaped by workshops at Odyssey Writing Workshop and the Sarah Lawrence Writing Institute, as well as Futurescapes and the Juniper Writing Institute.

Copyright 2026 Ann Cudworth. All rights reserved.
Read more at https://www.acworthwriter.com/