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Sep.2,2010“But if your subject matter is the physical world, how could you possibly offend? Especially this
community. We’ve been waiting for a long time to see the world start taking an interest in itself again. At the risk
of seeming boastful, I might point out that we have a few rather clever amateurs in natural science right here in
the monastery. There’s Brother Majek, and there’s Brother Kornhoer?a”
“Kornhoer!” The then glanced up warily at the arc lamp and looked away blinking. “I can’t understand it!”
“The lamp? But surely you?a”
“No,star trek credits, no, not the lamp. The lamp’s simple enough,wow power leveling, once you got over the shock of seeing it really work. It
should work. It would work on paper, assuming various undeterminables and guessing at some unavailable data.
But the clean impetuous leap from the vague hypothesis to a working model?a” The thon coughed nervously.
“It’s Kornhoer himself I don’t understand. That gadget?a” he waggled a forefinger at the dynamo “?ais a standing
broad-jump across about twenty years of preliminary experimentation, starting with an understanding of the
principles. Kornhoer just dispensed with the preliminaries. You believe in miraculous interventions? I don’t, but
there you have a real case of it. Wagon wheels!” He laughed. “What could he do if he had a machine shop? I
can’t understand what a man like that is doing cooped up in a monastery.”
“Perhaps Brother Kornhoer should explain that to you,” said Dom Paulo, laying to keep an edge of stiffness
out of his tone.
“Yes, well?a” Thon Taddeo’s visual calipers began measuring the old priest again. “If you really feel that no
one would take offense at hearing non-traditional ideas, I would be glad to discuss our work. But some of it may
conflict with established preju?auh?aestablished opinion.”
“Good! Then it should be fascinating.”
A time was agreed upon, and Dom Paulo felt relief. The esoteric gulf between Christian monk and secular
investigator of Nature would surely be narrowed by a free exchange of ideas, he felt. Kornhoer had already
narrowed it slightly, had he not? More communication, not less, was probably the best therapy for easing any
tension. And the cloudy veil of doubt and mistrusting hesitancy would be parted, would it not? as soon as the
thon saw that his hosts were not quite such unreasonable intellectual reactionaries as the scholar seemed to
suspect. Paulo felt some shame for his earlier misgivings. Patience, Lord, with a well-meaning fool, he prayed.
“But you can’t ignore the officers and their sketchbooks,cheap wow gold,” Gault reminded him.
20
From the lectern in the refectory, the reader was intoning the announcements. Candlelight blanched the
faces of the robed, legions who stood motionless behind their stools and waited for the beginning of the evening
meal. The reader’s voice echoed hollowly in the high vaulted dining room whose ceiling was lost in brooding
shadows above the pools of candle-glow that spotted the wooden tables.
“The Reverend Father Abbot has commanded me to announce,shaiya money,” called the reader, “that the rule of
abstinence for today is dispensed at tonight’s meal. We shall have guests, as you may have heard. All religious
may partake of tonight’s banquet in honor of Thon Taddeo and his group; you may eat meat. Conversation?aif
you’ll keep it quiet?awill be permitted during the meal.”
Suppressed vocal noises, not unlike strangled cheers, came from the ranks of the novices. The tables were
set. Food had not yet made an appearance, but large dining trays replaced the usual mush bowls, kindling
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putting in a mechanical librarian, Brother?”
“We find hints, Brother, that once there were such things,” the inventor growled. “In descriptions of the
Machina analytica, you’ll find references to?a”
“Enough, enough,” the abbot interposed; then to the librarian: “Thon Taddeo will need a place to work.
What do you suggest?”
Armbruster jerked one thumb toward the Natural Science alcove. “Let him read at the lectern in there like
anyone else.”
“What about setting up a study for him here on the open floor, Father Abbot?” Kornhoer suggested in hasty
counter-proposal.
“Besides a desk, he’ll need an abacus, a wall slate, and a drawing board. We could partition it off with
temporary screens.”
“I thought he was going to need our Leibowitzian references and earliest writings?” the librarian said
suspiciously.
“He will.”
“Then he’ll have to walk back and forth a lot if you put him in the middle. The rare volumes are chained, and
the chains won’t reach that far.”
“That’s no problem,” said the inventor. “Take off the chains. They look silly anyway. The schismatic cults
have all died out or become regional. Nobody’s heard of the Pancratzian Military Order in a hundred years.”
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Armbruster reddened angrily. “Oh no you don’t,” be snapped. “The chains stay on.”
“But why?”
“It’s not the book burners now. It’s the villagers we have to worry about. The chains stay on.”
Kornhoer turned to the abbot and spread his bands. “See, m’Lord?,”
“He’s right,” said Dom Paulo. “There’s too much agitation in the village. The town council expropriated our
school, don’t forget. Now they’ve got a village library,runescape money, and they want us to fill its shelves. Preferably with rare
volumes, of course. Not only that,cheap wow gold, we had trouble with thieves last year. Brother Armbruster’s right. The rare
volumes stay chained.”
“All right,final fantasy power leveling,” Kornhoer sighed. “So he’ll have to work in the alcove.”
“Now, where do we hang your wondrous lamp?”
The monks glanced toward the cubicle. It was one of fourteen identical stalls, sectioned according to subject
matter,buy world of warcraft gold, which faced the central floor. Each alcove had its archway, and from an iron hook imbedded in the
keystone of each arch hung a heavy crucifix.
“Well, if he’s going to work in the alcove,” said Kornhoer, “we’ll just have to take the crucifix down and
hang it there, temporarily. There’s no other?a”
“Heathen!” hissed the librarian. “Pagan! Desecrator!” Armbruster raised trembling hands heavenward. “God
help me, lest I tear him apart with these hands! Where will he stop? Take him away, away!” He turned his back
“If so, it strikes me as very mysterious that nobody’s heard?abut never mind that. Kornhoer listed a number
of documents and texts they claim to have and described them. If they exist at all, I’ve got to see them.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. If it’s a hoax, it should be found out, and if it isn’t, the data might well be priceless.”
The monsignor frowned. “I assure you there is no hoax,” he said stiffly.
“The letter contained an invitation to visit the abbey and study the documents. They’ve evidently heard of
me.
“Not necessarily,anarchy credits,” said Apollo, unable to resist the opportunity. “They aren’t particular about who reads their
books, as long as he washes his hands and doesn’t deface their property.”
The scholar glowered. The suggestion that there might exist literate persons who had never heard his name
did not please him.
“But there, then!” Apollo went on affably. “You have no problem. Accept their invitation, go to the abbey,cheap wow gold,
study their relics. They’ll make you welcome.”
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The scholar huffed irritably at the suggestion. “And travel through the Plains at a time when Mad Bear’s clan
is?a” Thon Taddeo broke off abruptly.
“You were saying?” Apollo prompted,archlord gold, his face showing an special alertness, although a vein in his temple
began to throb as he stared expectantly at Thon Taddeo.
“Only that it’s a long dangerous trip,rs money, and I can’t spare six months’ absence from the collegium. I wanted to
discuss the possibility of sending a well-armed party of the Mayor’s guardsmen to fetch the documents here for
study.”
Apollo choked. He felt a childish impulse to kick the scholar in the shins. “I’m afraid,” he said politely, “that
would be quite impossible. But in any case, the matter is outside my sphere, and I’m afraid I can’t be of any help
to you.”
“Why not?” Thon Taddeo demanded. “Aren’t you the Vatican’s nuncio to the Court of Hannegan?”
“Precisely. I represent New Rome, not the monastic Orders. The government of an abbey is in the hands of
its abbot.”
“But with a little pressure from New Rome . . .”
The impulse to kick shins surged swiftly. “We’d better discuss it later,” Monsignor Apollo said curtly. “This
evening in my study, if you like.” He half turned, and looked back inquiringly as if to say Well?
“I’ll be there,” the scholar said sharply, and marched away.
“Why didn’t you tell him flatly no, then and there?” Claret fumed when they were alone in the embassy suite
an hour later. “Transport priceless relics through bandit country in these times?” It’s unthinkable, Mess|r.”
“Certainly.”
“Then why?a”
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“Now let’s see inside that other package.”
“It contains only documents, sir,” the monk protested. “Of value to no one except the owner.”
“Open it.”
Silently Brother Francis untied the package and unwrapped the original blueprint and the illuminated
commemoration thereof. The gold-leaf inlay and the colorful design flashed brilliantly in the sunlight that
filtered through the foliage. The robber’s craggy jaw dropped an inch. He whistled softly.
“What a pretty! Now wouldn’t the woman like that to hang on the cabin wall!”
Francis went sick inside.
“Gold!” the robber shouted to his robed accomplices on the hill.
“Eat? Eat?” came the gurgling and chortling reply.
“We’ll eat, never fear!” called the robber,tales of pirates gold, then explained conversationally to Francis: “They get hungry after
a couple of days just sitting there. Business is bad. Traffic’s light these days.”
Francis nodded. The robber resumed his admiration of the illuminated replica.
Lord,buy world of warcraft gold, if Thou hast sent him to test me, then help me to die like a man, that he may take it only over the dead
body of Thy servant. Holy Leibowitz, see this deed and pray for me?a
“What is it?” the robber asked. “A charm?” He studied the two documents together for a time. “Oh! One is a
ghost of the other. What magic is this?” He stared at Brother Francis with suspicious gray eyes. “What is it
called?”
“Uh?aTransistorized Control System for Unit Six-B,cheap wow gold,” the monk stammered.
The robber, who had been looking at the documents upside down, could nevertheless see that one diagram
involved a figure-background reversal of the other-an effect which seemed to intrigue him as much as the gold
leaf. He traced out the similarities in design with a short and dirty forefinger, leaving a faint smudge on the
illuminated lambskin. Francis held back tears.
“Please!” the monk gasped. “The gold is so thin, it’s worth nothing to speak of. Weigh it in your hand. The
whole thing weighs no more than the paper itself. It’s of no use to you. Please, sir, take my clothing instead. Take
the donkey, take my bindlestiff. Take whatever you will, but leave me these. They mean nothing to you.”
The robber’s gray gaze was meditative. He watched the monk’s agitation and rubbed his jaw. “I’ll let you
keep your clothes and your donkey and everything except this,” he offered. “I’ll just take the charms, then.”
“For the love of God,runescape power leveling, sir, then kill me tool” Brother Francis wailed.
The robber snickered. “We’ll see. Tell me what they’re for.”
“Nothing. One is a memento of a man long dead. An ancient. The other is only a copy.”
“What good are they to you?”
Francis closed his eyes for a moment and tried to think of a way to explain. “You know the forest tribes?
How they venerate their ancestors?”
The gray eyes of the robber flashed angrily for a moment.
“We despise our ancestors,” he barked. “Cursed be they who gave us birth!”
“Cursed, cursed!” echoed one of the shrouded archers on the hillside.
“You know who we are? Where we are from?”
Francis nodded. “I meant no offense. The ancient whose relic this is?ahe is not our ancestor. He was our
teacher of old. We venerate his memory. This is only like a keepsake, no more.”
“Benedicamus Domine.”
“Deo? gratias?” asked Francis.
“Come in, my boy, come in!” called an affable voice, which, after some seconds of puzzling, he recognized
with amazement to have been that of his sovereign abbot.
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“You twist the little knob, my son,” said the same friendly voice after Brother Francis had stood frozen on
the spot for some seconds, with his knuckles still in position for knocking.
“Y-y-yes-” Francis scarcely touched the knob, but it seemed that the accursed door opened anyway; he had
hoped that it would he tightly stuck.
“The Lord Abbot s-s-sent for?ame?” squawked the novice.
Abbot Arkos pursed his lips and nodded slowly. “Mmmm?ayes, the Lord Abbot sent for?ayou. Do come in
and shut the door.”
Brother Francis got the door closed and stood shivering In the center of the room. The abbot was toying
with some of the wire-whiskered things from the old toolbox.
“Or perhaps it would be more fitting,” said Abbot Arkos, “If the Reverend Father Abbot were sent for by
you. Now that you have been so favored by Providence and have become so famous, eh?” He smiled soothingly.
“Heh heh?” Brother Francis laughed inquiringly. “Oh n-n-no, m’Lord.”
“You do not dispute that you have won overnight fame? That Providence elected you to discover THIS?a”
he gestured sweepingly at the relics on the desk “?athis ]UNK box, as its previous owner no doubt rightly called
it?”
The novice stammered helplessly, and somehow managed to wind up wearing a grin.
“You are seventeen and plainly an idiot,maple mesos, are you not?”
“That is undoubtedly true,mesos, m’Lord Abbot.”
“What excuse do you propose for believing yourself called to Religion?”
“No excuse, Magister meus.”
“Ah? So? Then you feel that you have no vocation to the Order?”
“Oh, I do!” the novice gasped.
“But you propose no excuse?”
“None.”
“You little cretin,maple mesos, I am asking your reason. Since you state none, I take it you are prepared to deny that you
met anyone in the desert the other day, that you stumbled on this-this JUNK box with no help,cheap wow gold, and that what I
have been hearing from others is only-feverish raving?”
“Oh, no, Dom Arkos!”
“Oh, no, what?”
“I cannot deny what I saw with my own eyes, Reverend Father.”
“So, you did meet an angel?aor was it a saint??aor perhaps not yet a saint??aand he showed you where to
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wits after a vocational vigil.
There was nothing to do but obey the command to return.
He walked to the shelter and glanced into it once again, to reassure himself that it was really there; then he
went to get the box. By the time he had it repacked and was ready to leave, the dust plume had appeared in the
southeast,world of warcraft gold, heralding the arrival of the supply carrier with water and corn from the abbey. Brother Francis decided
to wait for his supplies before starting the long trek home.
Three donkeys and one monk ambled into view at the head of the dust streamer. The lead donkey plodded
under the weight of Brother Fingo. In spite of the hood, Francis recognized the cook’s helper from his hunched
shoulders and from the long hairy shins that dangled on either side of the donkey so that Brother Fingo’s sandals
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nearly dragged the ground. The animals that followed came loaded with small bags of corn and skins of water.
“Sooooee pig-pig-pig! Sooee pig!” Fingo called,gw gold, cupping his hands to his mouth and broadcasting the hog-
call across the rains as if he had not seen Francis waiting for him beside the trail. “Pig pig pig!?aOh, there you
are, Francisco! I mistook you for a bone pile. Well, we’ll have to fatten you up for the wolves. There you are,
help yourself to the Sunday slops. How goes the hermit trade? Think you’ll make it a career? Just one waterskin,
mind you,cheap wow gold, and one sack of corn. And watch Malicia’s hind feet; she’s in rut and feels frolicky?akicked Alfred
back there, crunch! right in the kneecap. Careful with it!” Brother Fingo brushed back his hood and chortled
while the novice and Malicia fenced for position. Fingo was undoubtedly the ugliest man alive,swg credits, and when he
laughed, the vast display of pink gums and huge teeth of assorted colors added little in his charm; he was a sport,
but the sport could scarcely be called monstrous; it was a rather common hereditary pattern in the Minnesota
country from whence he came; it produced baldness and a very uneven distribution of melanin, so that the
gangling monk’s hide was a patchwork of beef-liver and chocolate splashes on an albino background. However,
his perpetual good humor so compensated for his appearance that one ceased to notice it after a few minutes; and
after long acquaintance, Brother Fingo’s markings seemed as normal as those of a painted pony. What might
have seemed hideous if he were a sulking fellow, managed almost to become as decorative as clown’s make-up
when accompanied by exuberant good cheer. Fingo’s assignment to the kitchen was punitive and probably
temporary. He was a woodcarver by trade, and normally worked in the carpenter’s shop. But some incident of
self-assertion, in connection with a figure of the Blessed Leibowitz which he had been permitted to carve, had
caused the abbot to order him transferred to the kitchen until he showed some signs of practicing humility.
Meanwhile, the figure of the Beatus waited in the carpentry shop, half-carved.
Fingo’s grin began to fade as he studied Francis’ countenance while the novice unloaded his grain and water
from the frisky she-ass. “You look like a sick sheep, boy,” he said to the penitent. “What’s the trouble? Is Father
Cheroki in one of his slow rages again?”
Brother Francis shook his head. “Not that I could tell.”
“Then what’s wrong? Are you really sick?”
“He ordered me back to the abbey.”