Standard declaration of non-ownership and profitlessness.

Everybody who has been waiting for about 9 months for this: I'm sorry. It came slowly, and it still isn't finished.

August 1, 1815

The first hour (when Don Alejandro stormed from room to room alternating outrage and threats) had been pretty bad. When he paused in the library for a long, hard look at Diego and then stalked out of the house, it got much worse. In the echoes of the slamming door the twins exchanged a panicked look and Gilberto jumped to his feet and raced after his father.

Diego attempted to give Felipe and Sir Edmond a reassuring look. "Father won't do anything rash," he murmured.

Gilberto was back in a few moments, not running this time. "He's outside chopping wood," he said.

"Is now the moment to be handling an ax?" Diego asked doubtfully.

Gilberto snorted. "Better an ax than a sword!"

Diego conceded the point with a sour face.

Sir Edmond sagged in the chair across from Diego. For the first time since Diego and Don Alejandro had returned from town and shared their news, he spoke. "Surely Alejandro understands that it is pointless to focus on this Palomarez person. It is the King who has betrayed his colonies. Even this far from Spain, I see little hope of – " He broke off and looked away for a moment. When he turned back, his face was firm with resolve. "No. No. By God, we will not go down without a fight!"

The twins gaped for a moment in astonishment, and then Gilberto raised his hands in protest. "It may not be that bad," he began.

"Sir Edmond, it is entirely possible that the king is not involved in this at all. Likely even. Palomarez…. Zorro disgraced him, destroyed a very promising career. Here. In Los Angeles. This may only be personal vengeance."

Sir Edmond stared at him, his rage not the least abated. "But why would – how? This kind of fraud, it could only be maintained for a few months – a year at best! What would be the point?"

Gilberto began to pace thoughtfully. "Extortion? He can't mean to run all these plantations by himself. For a certain monetary consideration…." He shrugged.

Diego whispered, "He may mean to destroy us. To bring us into revolt so that the army has cause to take his revenge for him."

Gilberto snorted. "I'm sure that would be satisfying, but dancing on the graves of your enemies won't provide for a luxurious retirement."

Diego looked about to argue, but Sir Edmond cut in. "The motive is less important than the method – if you are correct. Who is helping him? Is this a conspiracy within the palace?"

Gilberto considered. "He is famous enough to have powerful friends…."

"Don't overcomplicate it," Diego said. "He didn't have very much time, if you consider how long it would take to reach Spain. And the more people involved, the more opportunity for disaster. Whatever his plan is, it must be simple – and probably very quick."

Gilberto nodded and headed for the door.

"Don't bother him now," Diego protested.

Gilberto paused and said over his shoulder, "Father will be much less angry if he thinks of this as a fraud rather than a betrayal of the colony. And if we're to get any help from the actual authorities we'll need his voice."

Sir Edmond looked after him for a moment and then clumsily signed "fox?" to Diego.

"Killing Palomarez might bring problems of its own," Diego answered. "And he is a very good swordsman" Meaning it might not be possible to stop him without killing him. "He is disgraced, but he might be…missed. Then, too, his guards are armed and not afraid of Zorro…."

Felipe, unable to sit still any more, strayed to the window and then back to the fireplace. The weeks since Luis Ramone had died had been so peaceful, so reasonable. Except for one foray in pursuit of cattle rustlers, Zorro only rode out to exercise Toronado. There had been no nights dozing by the lamp in the cave, waiting up for Gilberto. There had been no rips to repair in Zorro's clothing. There had been no lies to tell Don Alejandro. Diego had traveled freely between the hacienda and the town without the inconvenience of an armed escort.

The town itself was more pleasant than Felipe could really remember. Mendoza was running the garrison fairly and keeping discipline. The little town council – ignored and powerless under Ramone – had set about sorting out the mandatory taxes and making a plan for collection. Things had been so quiet and so good. There had been time for lessons and fishing and picnics after church.

It had been wonderful, and now Palomarez had come to ruin it. He was a monster who had frightened even Ramone. Zorro had barely managed to drive him off last time.

Felipe's hands were hot and damp. He wiped them on his shirt. Zorro had handled Palomarez before. He had beaten him. Whatever his plan was – however evil – Diego was smarter.

Gilberto came back with Don Alejandro, who was much calmer now. He laid an absent hand on Felipe's shoulder and smiled thinly at Sir Edmond. "So," he said. "Gilberto has pointed out that it is time to start thinking."

Sir Edmond smiled back. "In principle, I am not opposed. But I confess, I can't see where to start. How many armed men did he bring with him?"

"Ten," Diego said immediately. "Resistance is possible, assuming our own garrison doesn't support them." He glanced at Gilberto. "I hate to think of the casualties, though."

Don Alejandro shook his head. "No," he said. "Gilberto is right. This is some kind of scheme, some fraud. We need to get word of this out..."

"To whom?" Sir Edmond returned doubtfully. "The governor? "

"Yes, the governor. And the presidios. And the magistrates. I know you don't think very much of the authorities, but they won't stand by for this."

Gilberto shook his head. "His ultimatum is two days, Father. That isn't time for anyone to come help us."

"No. I suppose we'll have to slow him - "

He was interrupted by a thunderous knock at the door.

In the startled, anxious silence that followed, Diego started to rise. His father waved him back down while turning to Sir Edmond. "No one touches a weapon," he hissed. "Whatever this is, if they come in armed we give them no excuse."

The knock came again. Alejandro ignored it. "Do you understand, Edmond? There are children in the house, women in the kitchen. Their lives are nothing to him."

Maria was opening the door.

Edmond nodded.

Palomarez was not especially tall, but his boots clicked loudly against the tile floor. His uniform was spotless and imposing compared to the faded and patched jackets of the local lancers. Flanked by four guards in sharp, white uniforms, he announced that he was claiming the hacienda for his residence immediately.

Felipe winced inwardly, bracing for the outrage that was sure to greet that, but Don Alejandro stood very still for a moment, carefully looked Palomarez up and down, and answered, "I suppose it would be counterproductive to refuse, since you'll only be imposing on us for a few days."

Palomarez gloated. "There is no point in deluding yourself. I own this rancho. I own everything between San Gabriel and San Juan, in fact." He smiled, making a show of looking around. "Very nice it is, too." His deep, cold voice made the hairs stand up on Felipe's arms.

Then Don Alejandro smiled. It wasn't his usual smile. It put Felipe in mind of The Fox. "The rancho is very nice," he agreed. "This part of California is very valuable; the fields, the pastures, the orchards…. Except it has no value at all, with no one to harvest the crops and tend the cattle. You say you have the land, but just the land?" He shrugged. "That isn't where the value is."

"Do you think the peons care whom they work for? You flatter yourself if you think they are loyal to you."

Unruffled, Don Alejandro shook his head. "I am not the issue. You, though….not so long ago you were choosing citizens by lot to execute as a ploy to capture Zorro. Cruel? Yes, I think everyone noticed. And then when Zorro arrived, you broke your bargain with him, so also untrustworthy. And now you show up with a document you claim comes from the king? You'll have an uprising on your hands. Hundreds of people will take up arms against you."

"Then we'll have hundreds of executions!" Palomarez growled.

"Afterwards you can use your land to bury the dead. It won't have any other use, with no one to work it." Don Alejandro smiled again. "Can I assume you will give us a few minutes to pack? Or are you casting us into the street with only the clothing on our backs?"

He started to turn away, but Palomarez took a step toward him. "Suppose. . . Suppose you are right. What…alternative do you suggest?"

Don Alejandro shrugged. "You might start by letting an impartial judge look over that document."

Palomarez waved a hand. "There is no one qualified. The magistrate is in San Francisco right now."

Softly, Diego said, "Impartial only means someone with nothing at stake – someone who neither owns land nor pays rent."

Palomarez stiffened. "I don't have to prove anything to anyone."

"As you wish," Don Alejandro said, turning away from him. "Felipe, you will pack for yourself and Diego. Gilberto I will have to ask you to pack for me. I must have a word with Juan and Maria – "

Scowling, Palomarez stepped in front of him. "Whom did you have in mind?"

Edmond

All the way to town he was thinking strategically. The third time he found himself evaluating a vantage point for an ambush he paused. Striking from cover with a musket was hardly like him. Edmond had always taken the direct approach.

Not that he was shying away from this burst of desperate ruthlessness. He had already lost Uri and twenty-three of their students to corruption and despotism. He would not see Alejandro de le Vega and his sons go the same way. He would not see this beautiful village destroyed.

"Edmond? Are you all right?"

"Yes?" he said absently, still considering the upper story of the inn. How good a view did it command of the plaza? He shook himself and climbed out of the wagon. "Sorry. I was woolgathering."

"Victoria has three rooms open. If we leave the boys the largest room, you and I can have privacy in each of the smaller rooms."

"Yes, that's fine…." Edmond's eyes strayed around the square.

"I need to go have a word with Mendoza - "

Gilberto caught his father's arm and lowered his head to say softly. "Let Diego speak to Mendoza, Father. You need to get busy writing letters."

Alejandro hesitated for a moment and then nodded. He motioned Edmond to follow him, and they wasted no time setting up at the small table in what was to be Alejandro's room. Two de le Vega cowboys would be waiting to take the letters north and south as soon as they were finished. For whatever good they might do.

Would the help Alejandro was asking for come? Edmond doubted it would. One disaster and outrage after another was repeatedly ignored by the government. If they bothered to send anyone at all, incompetence and sloppiness was the best that could be hoped for.

Of course, given the distances and the state of the roads, even if able help were likely it would not arrive in time.

His feelings must have shown. After Alejandro had laid out his seal and set the wax to melt, he reached across and laid his hand on Edmond's arm. "It isn't as bad as you think. The boys are right, I'm sure. This is some kind of fraud. Whatever profit Palomarez means to make from it must be done quickly. We need only hold him off for a few days. Tomorrow everyone will spend all day arguing over his document. The day after is Sunday, so nothing will be done. On Monday…." He shrugged. "We know the tavern keeper. Perhaps we can arrange to have at least the local lancers drunk off their feet. We'll think of something. Hmm. And somewhere in there Zorro is sure to show up."

Edmond would have found that reassuring if the twins had been more confident.

They sent the letters on their way and went to the tavern's main room for an early supper. The place was already crowded with caballeros, small farmers, and peons. Diego and Gilberto were – separately – trying to convince groups of young men not to storm the de le Vega hacienda and kill Palomarez outright. Predictably, Gilberto was sitting among men with suits and swords and Diego was speaking to cowboys and farmers.

Alejandro ordered food for everyone and turned the clusters of anxious conversation into a single meeting. What he said was not nearly as important as his utter calm while he said it. Most of the men seemed relieved at an excuse not to panic just yet.

Then Victoria and Pilar started bringing out food, and that seemed to settle things down even more. Two or three of the caballeros continued to pester Alejandro, but their 'disagreement' was never clearly explained. They wanted quick action, but wouldn't give a sound reason why. Alejandro smiled at them kindly and refused to be provoked.

He urged as many people home as he could, but with distances being what they were, of course, many would be sleeping in town. All the rooms upstairs were full, and the rooming house as well. Alejandro gave permission for half a dozen people to camp out in the unfinished new house.

When, finally, Miss Victoria had shooed the last stragglers out and barred the door, she motioned Edmond and Alejandro to follow her into the kitchen.

She poured them fresh wine – not from the pitcher she had been watering – and asked, "How bad is it really, Don Alejandro?"

He glared down at his wineglass and set it off to the side untouched. "If this new land grant is genuine, I'll burn the hacienda to the ground and salt the fields before I give it to him," he growled.

Miss Victoria blinked in astonishment. Alejandro had showed no trace of anger all evening, and how he was nearly white with rage.

"So… no hope of appeal then? To the king?" she asked.

"Oh, appeal won't be necessary. It isn't real. The king would hardly 'reward' Palomarez for being humiliated by Zorro by handing him forty miles of the richest land in Upper California."

"So there is nothing really to be worried about. It will all get sorted out."

"There is a great deal to be worried about," Edmond said. "Those elite soldiers who came with him might believe the grant is genuine. Bullets will kill as easily for a lie as for the truth."

"Time is our best ally," Alejandro said. "The longer this goes on, the more absurd the idea will become. And the more likely it will be that we will get help."

Edmond took a sip of his wine and sat on one of the kitchen stools. "You both know this scoundrel," he said thoughtfully. "Can he be convinced to … take offense?"

"A duel?" Alejandro asked. "Don't think it! He's twenty years younger than you are with better reach and no scruples."

Miss Victoria shook her head apologetically. "Zorro barely beat him last time."

Stung, he retorted, "On a good day, I can still match your Zorro."

They looked at Edmond uncertainly. He remembered belatedly that Zorro was a legend to them. It was pure vanity for mere humans to compare themselves to him. Alejandro was already making conciliatory motions and opening his mouth to humor him.

"Oh, please! I am Edmond Kendall. I have never been defeated in an adjudicated competition. Do you think Zorro hasn't sought me out to play?"

Miss Victoria grinned, Palomarez momentarily forgotten. "Really? How was it?"

Though this was hardly the time to indulge his rush of pride at the thought of Gilberto's skill, Edmond smiled. "Brilliant. Sublime. In all my life, I have only known one who could match him…." He wished he could share this moment and add that both of them were Alejandro's sons.

"There is the possibility that this is only a ploy to capture Zorro and restore Palomarez' reputation," Alejandro said. "That is something else to consider. If Palomarez were to get lucky…he must not be allowed to ride out of California with a prisoner."

Victoria nodded. "Perhaps there are some people I can…talk to…."

"He is an outlaw," Alejandro said, giving her a hard look. "No one must be caught helping him. Even assuming he would ever need it."

Victoria's eyes widened. "Oh! Do you suppose the plan is to be extortion, then? The land grant traded for Zorro?"

"What a thought," Alejandro said throwing up his hands. "Ugh. Don't repeat it. There are a few that would gladly go along with a deal like that."

She scowled. "Emilio Pascal, for one."

"That man who kept going on at you tonight?" Edmond asked. "Bit hotheaded. Why in the world was he in such a hurry to die?"

"Oh, it's not that," Alejandro said. "He is afraid that if this goes on too long Palomarez will subvert the peons and start an uprising on his behalf."

"On behalf of the madman who attempted random public hangings?"

Miss Victoria rolled her eyes. "You can imagine how he treats his renters and servants and cowboys, if Palomarez might look attractive in comparison! Not everyone is as fair as Don Alejandro."

"At least…if Palomarez is making an effort not to offend the poor he won't treat my people badly…." Alejandro said. "I told them to turn out the stock and abandon the place if he so much as even threatened violence to any of them."

Miss Victoria patted his arm. "They'll be all right, then. Juan and Maria are very sensible."

Alejandro nodded, but his worries were clearly not alleviated. It was a long moment before he took a deep breath and asked, "Edmond, did you see when the boys retired….?"

"An hour or so ago. Diego looked well enough. I wouldn't worry."

"They'll be asleep by now. I won't bother them."

Felipe

Gilberto firmly shut the door and then leaned against it. Diego sank down onto the larger bed and rested his elbows on his knees. Felipe looked from one to the other, waiting. When, after several long moments, nothing happened, he clapped his hands. "What now?" he asked when they looked up.

"We're thinking," Diego said irritably.

Gilberto smirked slightly. "I'm waiting for him to think of something."

Diego gestured horns at his brother. Gilberto only smiled thinly at the profanity. "We need more information, Little Brother."

"I know it."

"I'd like to get a better look at the thing. It must be a forgery, no matter how convincing it looked."

"Try not to enjoy it too much, eh?" Diego said a little sourly. "Well, at least we've got a room with a side window. That will make getting in and out of here easier."

"I want to go too," Felipe said quickly.

"No," Diego said at once.

"Just as far as the cave. Someone has to take care of the horse. Please."

"Not out the window," Gilberto said firmly. "Head for the privy out back and loop around."

"You can't intend to take him," Diego protested.

"Only as far as the cave. He'll be fine. Don't scowl like that. We'll be back in three or four hours. There'll even be time to sleep."

They left Viking and Sunshine in the ravine outside and crept down the passage to the dark cave. It took a few moments to get a lamp lit. As soon as there was light, Felipe set about fussing over Toronado while Gilberto began to change.

Felipe put down the water bucket long enough to protest. "You aren't supposed to fight."

"I don't intend to. Killing him outright would be a disaster for us if he still has powerful friends in Spain. But black clothing will be less noticeable if I have to creep around and listen at windows."

Felipe rolled his eyes and went back to watering Toronado

As it turned out, it wasn't necessary to do any creeping. Palomarez was entertaining in the library. Gilberto settled in at the spyhole to watch, smirking. When Felipe finished currying Toronado he crept up to join him. It was hard to stand quietly, waiting. Gilberto wouldn't share the peephole and whatever conversation he was following was too quiet for Felipe to hear.

Suddenly, Gilberto flinched and drew slightly back. He pressed one hand to his mouth and leaned closer to the tiny spot of light from the library. Felipe couldn't tell if he was holding in laughter or rage, and with Gilberto's attention on the outer room, there was no way to ask.

At last Gilberto stepped back, shaking his head in bemusement.

"Well?" Felipe prodded him.

"He's trying to sell our pueblo to the British."

Felipe thought that through twice. It didn't make any more sense the extra time. "What?"

"Yes, I know."

"But that is treason! He is a war hero!"

Gilberto nodded. "True."

"But it's stupid!"

"No-ooo, not really," Gilberto said, fitting the black mask over his face. "This way he gets paid and slips away before word gets back to Madrid or someone figures out his land grant is a forgery."

"But what would the English do with it?"

Gilberto paused, wincing. "The English might be able to hold it, if they had an army waiting somewhere nearby. Especially with rebellion in Mexico eating up so many imperial resources."

Felipe's hands went slack. Invasion? There was no thought so terrible.

Gilberto clouted him on the shoulder. "I doubt they're close. And even if they are, they won't be able to get a foothold if the local people resist him from the beginning. Stop worrying."

Stop worrying. Felipe rolled his eyes.

"Hand me my hat. He's left the documents behind. I want a look."

So Felipe handed over the black hat and watched Gilberto check his sword and his sash and slip through the secret door.

He spent an hour at the table, carefully crawling over the long page. All the lamps were lit and he had the magnifying glass. For a little while, Felipe had tried looking too, but as far as he could tell, the land grant was some paper with convoluted sentences on it. What else would a government document look like? It hardly seemed like this boring thing held all their lives and livelihoods in the balance….

Gilberto, though, seemed to find it absolutely riveting. He stared and stared, going over it an inch at a time. Sometimes he smiled. Sometimes he held the sheet up to the light. Sometimes he smirked.

Resigned to a long evening, Felipe settled himself on one of the work stools and rested his head on his folded arms. He almost wished he had stayed behind with Diego.

Felipe didn't realize his eyes had drifted closed until Gilberto' voice made them snap open in surprise. "Well, the signature is magnificent. The king himself would be deceived."

Felipe sat up and nudged him anxiously. Was it real?

Gilberto seemed almost surprised by the question. "Of course not. And it's easily enough proven. This is going to come to a very quick end tomorrow."

Felipe pointed to the lamp. "Quicker to just burn it now."

"We could. It's true that it isn't a crime to destroy a false document. But Palomarez might just press his point anyway. This is better, really. We have him, Felipe. Trust me." Smiling, he again checked his hat and his sword, lightly climbed the stairs and slipped out the hidden door.

Yawning, Felipe flicked open the spyhole and peered out. Zorro was across the room bent over the decorative table. Suddenly, he stiffened. Even has he turned he was reaching for his sword, but both movements stuttered as he flinched away from something.

Felipe pressed closer, trying to broaden his line of sight, but he couldn't see –

And then he could: Palomarez strode forward, grinning.

Zorro, his sword finally in his hand, stepped back once and then again.

Felipe's belly twisted into a hard, frightened knot.

Palomarez had his sword casually in one hand. He brandished some small object in the other. His voice, flat and loud, shattered the silence and made Felipe jump. "You have been poisoned," he said.

Poisoned. Felipe's breath caught in his throat.

Gilberto took a step to the side. Felipe could see his face now. Under the mask there seemed to be no expression at all.

"Oh, it's a very small cut, but that's all it needs. You'll be dead within a day."

Suddenly Zorro's sword flashed out. Something flew through the air to land neatly in his hand. And then, almost too fast to follow, Zorro was gone, diving into the shadows.

"You're a dead man!" Palomarez shouted after him.

The only answer was the sound of breaking glass.

Felipe's hands were shaking so hard, it was all he could do to close the spyhole.

Poisoned. But they had dealt with poison before. Could this really be worse than a rattlesnake bite?

Of course it could.

Felipe pressed his face into his hands and tried to think.

The only idea he came up with before he heard the squeak of the pulleys that protected the cave entrance was that they had to get to Diego. Or, if the poison was already starting to work, he had to get Diego here.

The knot in his belly eased a bit when he saw that Zorro's gait was swift and even as he stormed out of the tunnel. He flung his hat and mask across the room and slammed a small, brown bottle onto the worktable.

Hesitantly, Felipe reached for him.

Gilberto pulled away. "You saw, I suppose?"

"Where were you hit?" Felipe asked.

For an answer, Gilberto peeled out of the black blouse and tossed it onto a chair. There was a scratch on his shoulder, less than two inches long. It was already red and puffy-looking.

He was looking at death in that tiny wound. Again, for a moment, Felipe was too frozen inside to breathe. But doing nothing was the most frightening thing of all, so with shaking hands, he commanded Gilberto to sit and grabbed the water pitcher. Unsteadily, he scraped the work knife across the shallow wound and sluiced it repeatedly with water. When the pitcher was empty, he moved to take Toronado's water bucket, but Gilberto caught him by the arm. "Stop," he said.

"In the blood?" Felipe asked, his heart sinking.

"It…burns. A little. I feel hot."

Felipe squeezed his eyes shut tight.

"It's not bad," Gilberto said quickly "We have a little time." He lifted the bottle, unstopped it, and sniffed.

"What is it?" Felipe asked.

"I have no idea."

"Diego?"

Gilberto took a deep breath and managed a thin smile. "Diego. He may be able to figure something out. He will figure something out."

Felipe's hands twisted together.

"Hand me my clothes. I can't ride into town like this."

"Can you ride?"

Gilberto patted his shoulder. "We have a little time," he said again. "We will think of something."

Diego

The lamp flared and steadied to a piercing brightness. Stiffly, Diego pushed himself up and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. Felipe was fussing with the light at the little table between the beds. Gilberto was sitting on the small bed they had intended for Felipe.

Squinting and thick-headed with sleep, Diego swung his legs over the side. The floor was cold against his bare feet. "How did it go?"

"Not very well, actually."

Felipe spun toward him, his hands a frantic blur. "Hurt! He's hurt."

The chord of fear that struck cleared Diego's head with remarkable swiftness. "Who is what?" he asked.

Gilberto sighed. "There was a poisoned blade."

Diego stood up, ignoring a brief swell of dizziness. He patted Felipe on the shoulder and pulled over one of the straight-backed chairs so he could sit knee to knee with Gilberto. "Show me."

The cut was shallow – surely it had hardly bled – but that was no reassurance. It was swollen and red and very hot to the touch. Diego closed his eyes briefly, his teeth clinched together.

Gilberto handed him a small, brown bottle. The fluid inside was viscous and sour-smelling. Despite his rising panic, Diego managed to keep his voice even. "Tell me everything from the beginning."

As much as he wanted to, Diego didn't rush Gilberto along in his description of the forgery. There was fear and helplessness under the calm recitation. He needed Gilberto calm and steady, so he only nodded patiently as the story of the horrible evening unfolded. When Gilberto finished, Diego looked at the brown bottle in his hand. "A day," he said. "Plenty time. Far more than we'll need." He took a deep breath. "Tell me your symptoms."

"Nothing bad yet."

"'Berto, I need to know how this is progressing."

Gilberto flicked his fingers at the cut. "It hurts. It was a small burn at first. Now it feels like a hot poker." He shifted. "My shoulder aches down to my elbow. I feel hot all over."

Diego wished he knew what to make of that. He hardly knew anything about poisons. Still, he nodded as though Gilberto's suffering was no more than he expected and motioned him to lift his feet so he could start unfastening his shoes.

"What are you doing?" Gilbert asked.

"We're sharing that bed. You aren't' getting in with your shoes on. "

"I'm not getting in at all. I have to –"

"You have to rest. Right now, 'Berto, I need a little time to think. And you need to conserve your strength. We will surely need it later."

"I don't have time to rest! Diego…." Gilberto glanced away and swallowed hard.

"I promise you, Gilberto. I promise. You are not going to die. Not from this. But you must leave this to me for a little while."

Gilberto turned his face away from the light.

"Trust me. I will solve this."

"Of course you will," Gilberto whispered.

Felipe helped settle Gilberto in the bigger bed. Gilberto would not look at either of them, but Felipe had his anxious eyes on Diego. Both of them were relying on him….

Diego turned down the light and whispered to Felipe to lie down on the other bed and rest for a bit.

It was too dark to argue properly, but Felipe shook Diego's arm in protest.

"All right. If you want to do something now, go fetch Toronado and a set of Zorro's clothing."

Broadly, in the dimness, Felipe signed,Question?

"Hide them both in the church barn. It isn't ideal, but Father Benetiz and Carlito will hardly give us away."

Felipe looked at him in utter puzzlement for a long moment; perhaps that hadn't been the question he had been asking. Instead of trying to make his point again, however, Felipe nodded, squeezed Diego's shoulder, and climbed lightly out the window.

Diego scrubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath. Dear God, this was desperate. A day. They had a day, and it was Gilberto's life….

Diego went to the window and breathed the fresh air. Their problem? They did not know the poison, so they could only guess at how to treat it. A day was really very little time. Freedom of movement was limited, because town would be full of people. Gilberto would not be fit to ride as Zorro. Palomarez had a squad of elite soldiers with him.

This would be very discouraging, if Diego had time to be discouraged.

Their assets? Palomarez surely believed that Zorro was one man acting alone. Palomarez would have to pay attention to his absurdly complex plan to sell Los Angeles to the British (and Diego would have to give that more thought later). The populous would be against Palomarez and for Zorro. There was no alcalde anxious to make an arrest. They had the bottle of poison, but there was no way to analyze it in a matter of hours, no time to test different treatments –

Surely Palomarez had an antidote. He was too fond of his own skin to risk it in an accident….

For a long time Diego leaned against the window sill breathing the cool air and thinking. When Felipe returned, Diego sent him back out again to fetch a hollow reed from the creek. He turned up the light a little and set about cutting a pair of tiny, pointy fletches from a quill.