Ignacio's Office

Ignacio directed his men to stand back for the de la Vega servants to take over with lifting and carrying Diego to bed. He paused and would have talked to Alejandro but the man was immensely distracted. Ignacio couldn't blame him.

He watched the servants shift the young man. They were not the gentlest men in the world, and there was a moment where Ignacio had flinched for Alejandro's sake. One of the men had almost dropped the young man. Ignacio was a little alarmed. Diego was so deeply asleep that he didn't feel the agony such a fumble should have sparked. Diego was drifting deeper into unconsciousness and it was never a great sign for recovery.

Alejandro didn't even acknowledge the Alcalde's existence as he followed his son into the hacienda. The teenager was at his grandfather's heels like a spaniel.

"Mendoza, ride ahead on my horse and get the doctor," Ignacio said briskly. "I need 5 lancers to remain to help secure the hacienda. The rest of you will return to the pueblo."

He climbed aboard Victoria's cart, without being invited, and half expected the woman to shove him off. Normally she would have had something to say about his intrusion.

"Senorita," Ignacio said. "You don't mind?"

"Huh?" She was glancing at the hacienda with longing in her eyes. She sighed, and turned her attention to him reluctantly. "What did you say?"

"Never mind," Ignacio said quietly. He had seen the despair in her eyes, concern for a man she obviously loved. "Why don't you stay? Don Alejandro relies so much on your strength…"

She stared at him with surprise, and he felt surprised as well. He was not normally so thoughtful. Speaking his thoughts was not normal for him either.

"I can't…I just can't…"

Ignacio took the reins, and had an urge to throw a blanket over her, but didn't push his luck. He urged the horse into a fast canter, and let the animal have its head a little. The horse knew its way home to its own stable. He glanced at the woman next to him.

Speech was not appropriate he realised, and soon became lost in his thoughts. The lancers were behind him, lost in the dust of the cart. He kept his hand near the pistol he carried, and his eyes were keeping a close watch for danger. He had no wish to be ambushed, either by bandits or a jealous Zorro – although the man always knew when Victoria was seriously in danger. This afternoon he was merely escorting the lady safely home to the tavern, and somehow he realised that Zorro would know that.

"Thank you, Alcalde," Victoria said softly, as he helped her down out of her cart. Pilar, the other tavern worker, came to meet the cart, and Victoria gratefully accepted her help. Ignacio was left with the cart. Glancing around, he realised there was no one else to stable the horse and unharness the animal. He sighed, and set about doing just that. It was beneath him, of course, but he knew how to do it. He felt for the animal, and made sure there was food and water for the horse.

The lancers were yet to arrive in the pueblo, and Ignacio needed to think for a moment. He grabbed a curry brush and began to brush down the horse. He felt for a moment as if he was back in his father's home, doing chores. It seemed to calm his mind, and empty it of all emotion.

The rhythm was soothing, and soon the horse was gleaming. It had never been groomed so well in its life, and it seemed to enjoy it. He heard the clamour of the lancers returning, and placed the curry brush down.

"Mendoza!" He yelled, striding out of the stables to seek his sergeant. "Where are you?"

"Here, Alcalde," Mendoza said with a rush of feet. "The doctor is on his way out to the de la Vega hacienda. Two lancers are escorting him…"

Ignacio glanced at him thoughtfully. Good work, he thought. "I want the men on high alert. Brownlow is a dangerous man. He may try anything."

He strode to his office and paused in the doorway, his eyes falling on Machiavelli's portrait on the wall. Did that man ever have any enjoyment in his life, any true friends? The pursuit of power was a goal that brought accomplishment and prestige. It also brought emptiness and pain. No real friends, no real family, and with Zorro around, no real power anyway. He was always around to thwart his ambition.

The pueblo loved the masked man, and they didn't even know who he was. It drove Ignacio to distraction. He did not have to threaten, to hurt people or to boast and brag to anyone. Although most of his actions were extremely well accomplished, almost as if he was showing off. If Ignacio upped the activity level in the pueblo, such as increasing tax levels, Zorro would counteract it with measures of his own. Like a chess game. It was sometimes exhilarating to have such an opponent. It was never boring with the Fox at large.

He made his way to his desk. It had been his predecessor's. He had heard rumours that the previous Alcalde had been the devil incarnate. Falling to his death at the Devil's Fortress, the man had had no one to grieve him. People said that out of the two of them, Zorro had been a lot more violent with Luis Ramon than himself. Ramon had been threatened a lot more physically.

Mendoza had told Ignacio of the time near Christmas a few years ago when Ramon had been at the point of a sword, and he had been sure that the blade would have been thrust through his heart. He had been punched in the face – repeatedly. Zorro had lost his senses for a moment, and Ramon had feared for his life. Mendoza had disliked his old Alcalde intensely, but the sergeant seemed to feel sorry for Ramon. Perhaps some sort of personal tragedy that Zorro had blamed the Alcalde personally for?

Ignacio knew he had never been seriously threatened by Zorro. Not in that way. Zorro threatened his reputation, not his life. He did loosely threaten, but as a matter of habit not of intent. Perhaps Zorro thought he was capable of change? To be an Alcalde worthy of supporting?

He wondered what it would be like to be supported by Zorro. The town was already supported by the masked hero. Sieges and visiting tyrants had been dealt with, Zorro always dealt with external threats as quickly as possible.

Ignacio traced the faint Z scars that covered the desk. They were few and light, but they were there. He sat on his seat.

Putting his head in his hands, he stared into space. He picked up a pen and began to doodle and write on the paper in front of him.

Who is Zorro? He stared at the question he had not meant to write. Who indeed? Did he really want to know?

Zorro is… He stopped. Did he really want to confront the unmasked Fox? All those bandits he brought in, that Ignacio took credit for with no reprisals… did he want to forgo future reward money? Zorro was the guardian angel of Los Angeles. Did he truly wish to expose him? Part of him screamed yes…part of him hesitated. My enemy's enemy is my friend…even Machiavelli attested to that. Did he truly want to betray that? No…not really, not deep down. He liked the way Zorro boosted his status when he felt like it. He wouldn't want to have to do everything that Zorro had done all by himself. He was curious, though. Who was the masked man? He needed to know, for his own curiosity.

Zorro is tall. The pen wrote, and he paused. Yes, he was tall. Very tall. What colour eyes did he have? He could have sworn his masked hero had blue eyes. Zorro has blue eyes. Zorro has money. Zorro was trained at Madrid. Ignacio paused and almost scratched that one out. How was he sure? He didn't know, all he knew right then was that he was right.

What else could he remember? What else could he reason out? He needed to look at Luis Ramon's files.