The Compendium of Srem by F. Paul Wilson

1
    Tomás de Torquemada opened his eyes in the dark.
    Was that…?
    Yes. Someone knocking on his door.
    â€œWho is it?”
    â€œBrother Adelard, good Prior. I must speak to you.”Even if he had not said his name, Tomás would have recognized the French accent. He glanced up at his open window. Stars filled the sky with no hint of dawn.
    â€œIt is late. Can it not wait until morning?”
    â€œI fear not.”
    â€œCome then.”
    With great effort, Tomás struggled to bring his eighty-year-old body to a sitting position as Brother Adelard entered the tiny room. He carried a candle and a cloth-wrapped bundle. He set both next to the Vulgate Bible on the rickety desk in the corner.
    â€œMay I be seated, Prior?”
    Tomás gestured to the room’s single straight-back chair. Adelard dropped into it, then bounded up again.
    â€œNo. I cannot sit.”
    â€œWhat prompts you to disturb my slumber?”
    Adelard was half his age and full of righteous energy—one of the inquisitors the pope had assigned to Tomás four years ago. He seemed unable to contain that energy now. The candlelight reflected in his bright blue eyes as he paced Tomás’s room.
    â€œI know you are not feeling well, Prior, but I thought it best to bring this to you in the dark hours.”
    â€œBring what?”
    He fairly leaped to the table where he pulled the cloth from the rectangular bundle, revealing a book. Even from across the room, even with his failing eyesight, Tomás knew this was like no book he had ever seen.
    â€œThis,” he said, lifting the candle and bringing both closer. He held the book before Tomás, displaying the cover. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”
    Tomás shook his head. No, he hadn’t.
    The covers and spine seemed to be made of stamped metal. He squinted at the strange marks embossed on the cover. They made no sense at first, then seemed to swim into focus. Words… in Spanish… at least one was in Spanish.
    Compendio ran across the upper half in large, ornate letters; and below that, half size: Srem .
    â€œWhat do you see?” Adelard said. The candle flame wavered as his hand began to shake.
    â€œThe title, I should think.”
    â€œThe words, Prior. Please tell me the words you see.”
    â€œMy eyes are bad but I am not blind: Compendio and Srem .”
    The candle flame wavered more violently.
    â€œWhen I look at it, Prior, I too see Srem, but to my eyes the first word is not Compendio but Compendium .”
    Tomás bent closer. No, his eyes had not fooled him.
    â€œIt is as plain as day: Compendio . It ends in i-o.”
    â€œYou were raised speaking Spanish, were you not, Prior?”
    â€œAs a boy of Valladolid, I should say so.”
    â€œAs you know, I was raised in Lyon and spent most of my life speaking French before the pope assigned me to assist you.”
    To rein me in, you mean, Tomás thought, but said nothing.
    The current Pope, Alexander VI, thought him too… what word had he had used? Fervent. Yes, that was it. How could one be too fervent in safeguarding the Faith? And hadn’t he previously narrowed procedures, limiting torture only to those accused by at least two citizens of good standing? Before that, any wild accusation could send someone to the rack.
    â€œYes-yes. What of it?”
    â€œWhen…” He swallowed. “When you look at the cover, you see Compendio , a Spanish word. When I look at the cover I see a French word: Compendium .”
    Tomás pushed the book away and struggled to his feet.
    â€œHave you gone mad?”
    Adelard staggered back, trembling. “I feared I was, I was sure I was, but you see it too.”
    â€œI see what is stamped in the metal, nothing more!”
    â€œBut this afternoon, when Amaury was sweeping my room, he spied the cover and asked where I had learned to read Berber. I asked him what he meant. He grinned and pointed to