The Humming of Numbers Read Online Free Page A

said, glancing sharply toward the workshops behind them. Wool spinners and weavers were returning to conclude their day’s labors but paying no attention to anyone near the latrine. “That’s almost blasphemy to say you could do better than God.”
    â€œI think it is blasphemy, or it would be if I meant it.” Rory’s voice dropped. “But anyone can see that some of the rules come from men, not from God. How long would
people inhabit His earth to worship Him if we were all pure and chaste? He’d have to create new men from mud.”
    Aidan chomped hard on a grin. “You think He’d rather put up with a few carnal sinners?”
    â€œIt was His idea, obviously. If we weren’t meant to come together like animals, He could have made us more like plants.” Rory brushed his toes through the dust, musing. “God is probably relieved when monks and priests just take wives and don’t try to pretend. Fewer virgin births for the angels to herald that way.”
    â€œAi. You’d better never talk like that around anyone else,” Aidan warned, again eyeing the yard behind them. “Even the other novices might turn you in.”
    â€œAh, that’s why you’ll take vows before I ever will, my brother. You’re not more devoted. Just more cautious, I guess.” He stepped past Aidan toward one side of the latrine.
    Aidan stopped him with a grip on his arm. Rory’s glib tone had fallen flat. The older novice looked for a jest in his friend’s pallid gray eyes. None lay there.
    â€œDo you question your calling, Rory?”
    Rory gazed back, clearly wondering not how to answer, but whether he should.
    â€œYou can trust me,” Aidan murmured. “I won’t say anything.”
    With one hand, Rory smoothed the coarse cloth over
his chest. “I didn’t have much choice about coming here,” he said, speaking to the ground at their feet. “Less than you, even. My parents gave me and my younger brother to God so the rest wouldn’t starve. But, Aidan—” He looked up. “Have you ever heard God’s voice? Actually heard it speaking, I mean? Or an angel’s?”
    Aidan hesitated. The humming of numbers was not quite a voice, and although he hoped it came from God, he certainly didn’t hear it as words.
    â€œNot exactly,” he said. He held his breath, gathering nerve to say more. “But I—”
    â€œI have,” Rory said, his face more unreadable than Aidan had ever seen it. “Once. I was told that I will face Christ’s judgment in heaven before long and reminded to complete as much of His work as I can in the days I have left. That’s why I always volunteer to hand out the alms to the hungry. But I doubt I will ever take the tonsure and have a bald place shaved on my head.”
    Aidan wanted to tell Rory he must have been wrong about the voice or its message. He couldn’t do it. Even if he had never heard anything mystic himself, he had his own suspicions about his friend’s health. Rory’s admission confirmed them.
    While Aidan gnawed his lip and wondered what else he could say, Rory grinned.
    â€œThat doesn’t mean I want to see you go astray. If I’m
wrong, I’ll just be a lay brother working the fields or cutting stone for the new church. Only tonsured monks get to be scribes. So I figure my good works should include keeping a sharp eye on your soul. Forget about that girl.”
    Rory pulled free and slipped inside the privy before Aidan could collect his wits to respond. His eyes scoured the packed earth of the yard while his mind retraced Rory’s words. The idea that he was being watched and guided by a younger friend felt backward and shameful. Worse, he feared Rory was probably right.

IV
    R ory’s shocking admission briefly pushed Lana from Aidan’s mind. Not long after the two novices signaled a farewell outside the privy, however,