Of course, Latin hadn't changed in millennia. It was LatinSatanic flavored Latin at that-which flowed from the speakers in the book-stuffed library:

O Fortuna

Velut Luna…

High on one wall of the library hung an ornate, embossed certificate, in Spanish, signifying a high decoration for valor from the Republic of San Vicente. The gilt name emblazoned on the award was Patricio Hennessey de Carrera. Posted beneath the certificate, framed with obvious pride, hung a letter of reprimand-in English-from a general officer of the Army of the Federated States of Columbia. It was addressed merely to "CPT Patrick Hennessey." Both certificates-dated fifteen years prior, long before Hennessey's promotion to his terminal rank-described the same series of events, though in rather different terms.

The library was large, with bookcases covering three of the substantial room's four walls. Against the fourth, under the certificate and the letter of reprimand, stood a desk and chair, each made in the main of dark-finished Lempiran mahogany, hand crafted and richly carved. A man approaching middle age, just beginning to go gray at the temples and with a face weathered beyond its years with the wear of sun and rain, sat at the desk, eyes fixed on a book.

The book was one of many. Reaching floor to ceiling, the volumepacked shelves of the library held the essence of a lifetime's interest and study, more than seven thousand volumes in all. Even over the broad, deep desk more bookshelf space was stacked and-like the other shelves-filled to overflowing. Still more reference material resided on computer micro-discs inside cases stuffed to the brim.