Sept 1, 1813

The alembic leaked.

Felipe had spent two days making it (version after version of it) out of clay. Most of them had broken when Senora Lopez had fired them. Only one of the ones that survived had a tube wide enough for collection, and it leaked.

He tapped his fingers on the table to get Gilberto's attention. "Wax?" he signed. "Maybe?"

"I should let you learn the hard way. But no, it will melt when the apparatus gets hot, and even if it didn't, it would contaminate your product. You know, if you asked, Diego could probably get one from Monterrey."

"He said to make it."

Gilberto sighed. "And you are so diligent and responsible. He also said it was supposed to work."

Felipe glared at the stupid, ugly, leaking pottery...and glanced longingly at the book sitting on Diego's desk.

Two anatomy books (one in Latin), a pharmacopeia, a botanical encyclopedia, a surgical textbook, and a book on diseases and ailments had come back from Madrid. They were a treasure, and in the last couple of weeks, Felipe had become completely obsessed with them. He rushed through his assignments and chores so he could spend every free moment reading them. In the afternoons, when Diego was napping, Felipe curled up in the chair by the window and ran his fingers patiently over the detailed diagrams in the Latin anatomy. Early in the morning, before Diego rose he studied about medicines or diseases.

Diego, while still not 'well,' was so much better. He was passing water regularly (and, oh, Felipe understood the importance of keeping track of that now). His appetite was good. He sat in the garden again in the morning, and in the afternoons when Don Alejandro wasn't about he slipped into the cave to visit with Toronado or check on the progress of Felipe's still. His sleep was undisturbed two nights out of three. He didn't cough.

As relieved-as happy-as he was, though, Felipe was determined not to forget the lessons that horrible summer had taught him. Felipe had been too busy being afraid and sad to pay proper attention to what was happening to Diego. He hadn't even known what to pay attention to. But while Felipe had been caught in his ignorant terror there had been signs. What Diego was fighting, what he needed, getting better, getting worse...small, specific things would have given it all away, if only Felipe had known where to look, what to notice.

Well, not again. Diego wasn't going to slowly drown in front of him and Felipe just fuss and putter and not know. And he was going to know what Diego was taking, too. Not just the names, that wasn't any help, but how dangerous each one was and what the danger was and how you knew if someone was taking too much...

There was a lot to remember. And, with so many very thick books, where did you start? It didn't help that during the years the twins were away, Don Alejandro had taught biology mainly as stock breading, rather than the messy parts inside animals or people.

Gilberto checked his watch. "The chess game should be finished soon. We'll be missed if we stay down here much longer."

When they reached the hall outside Diego's bedroom they found Don Alejandro leaning against the closed door with his eyes closed.

"Father? What's wrong?"

He opened his eyes. "Nothing is wrong. He is asleep. On two pillows." He smiled. "Also, he beat me at chess. He hasn't since July."

For a long moment, no one said anything. There was nothing to say: Diego so ill he was losing parlor games was a heartbreaking thought. But he was better now, and he might stay better for a long time.

While Don Alejandro washed up and got ready for supper and Gilberto did-whatever Gilberto did when he was free-Felipe sat in the chair by the window in Diego's room, using the last sunlight to follow the trails of different blood vessels through the body.

It was only about an hour later that Diego stirred and woke slowly. Felipe-who was still holding the book even though it had grown too dark to read-set it carefully under the chair and lit a lamp. He sat on the edge of the bed and checked Diego's pulse, then shifted the lamp a bit and checked his color.

Diego raised a brow. "You might ask me how I feel."

Felipe shrugged. He shouldn't need to ask.

Diego chuckled. "It is polite," he reminded. "Besides, if you don't ask, I might think you don't care."

"Don't be stupid," Felipe answered absently. He was already thinking about what Diego would wear to supper. He was to eat in the dining room tonight, the first time in several weeks.

Diego's open laugh drew his attention back to the conversation. Felipe rolled his eyes impatiently. "You know I will always love you. All right? And I am sorry for calling you stupid. All right?" He nodded. "Are you ready to get up?"

Diego sobered suddenly. "Felipe..."

Patiently, Felipe patted his shoulder.

Diego sat up and took one of Felipe's hands lightly in his own. It was a rare gesture-Felipe couldn't talk this way, but sometimes the contact was worth it. "I don't even know how to begin to thank you. You've been so brave and so kind..."

Felipe took his hand back. "Don't start apologizing," he reminded.

"No, I promise."

Felipe smiled teasingly, "'Oh, how young I am!' Again. Please, no."

Diego didn't smile. "You have been braver than I. I do not know how I would have managed without you."

"Both of us," Felipe answered, shaping the words gently. "I need you too." Shyly, he added, "My dearest friend."

Diego closed his eyes. "Let me say thank you. Let me tell you how very proud I am. Please."

Felipe bowed his head. "I wasn't...I didn't...I couldn't..." He shrugged.

"Felipe, I know how difficult this is. I know what I am doing to you. My mother, when she was..." he swallowed. "I don't know how you endure this. In your place I couldn't."

Felipe leaned forward and leaned his forehead against Diego's shoulder. He couldn't think of anything to say. Diego hugged him hard for a moment. Then he patted his back and pretended to smile. "So. A big night tonight. What shall I wear to dinner, hmmm?"

z

Although Don Alejandro generally left Felipe alone to look after Diego, he had given the order that Felipe was not to skip meals. Bound to the letter of the law, Felipe shoved in a fist-sized chunk of bread and a chunk of cheese and washed it down with a cup of cow's milk before slipping out to watch the dining room from the shadows of the back hallway.

Maria was just bringing out the soup when there was a knock at the door. Felipe fumbled to brush the crumbs off his shirt and went to open the door.

It was Senorita Victoria. She patted Felipe's shoulder absently and called past him, "Don Alejandro? Senor?"

The de le Vega men rose as she turned the corner, following Felipe into the dining room.

"Oh!" she said. "I didn't realize-I didn't think about the time. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt dinner."

"Nonsense," Don Alejandro said. "You must join us."

She hardly seemed to hear him. She had finally noticed Diego was at the table. After a long look she smiled. "You're looking much better," she said. She had last seen him on Sunday, and he had improved even since then.

"Whereas you always look lovely," Diego answered.

She smiled more broadly at that. "And feeling better, too. You never bother with compliments when you're not feeling well."

Gilberto gave Felipe an impatient look he couldn't interpret. "Yes, he's very charming and gallant, shame there aren't two of him and all that."

Victoria gave him a brief scowl: she had never liked Gilberto's teasing.

He had never deigned to notice her disapproval. "Sit down, little Victoria, and tell us what has brought you to visit."

Maria had already brought out another place setting, and anyway, there was no more a polite way to refuse dinner than there was a way the de le Vegas could have refused to offer.

"The alcalde has captured the thief who stole the jewel of Guadalupe." She said, sitting down between Diego and Don Alejandro.

Don Alejandro frowned at her. "Yes, about a year ago, as I recall. Soon after he arrived. The man is imprisoned. The Devil's Fortress? Monterey?"

She was shaking her head. "They had kept him in the Santa Barbara presidio, hoping to find where he hid the jewel. He escaped. He was arrested by Mendoza right outside my tavern less than an hour ago."

"I can see why he came right back to Los Angeles, his visit worked out so well last time." Gilberto gave Diego a hard look and began to bolt his soup like a man who knows dinner is about to be cut short.

Victoria did not bother interpreting Gilberto's sarcasm. "He's hidden the jewel here. Obviously. They never found it."

"Jewel?" Diego asked. "I don't remember this bit of history." No, he wouldn't. If Don Alejandro had written about this in a letter, Diego would have been very sick when the letter arrived.

"Thief," Gilberto said between bites.

"I'd gathered that much, thank you."

Don Alejandro said patiently, "He stole the blessed jewel right from the alter in Santa Barbara. During daylight in the presence of a dozen people, although no one saw him do it. A month later our new alcalde arrested him."

"A month," Diego said. "He could have hidden it in half of Alta California with that much time!"

Don Alejandro was looking at Victoria. "They'll never find it without a confession," he said softly.

"And Luis Ramone is just the man to enjoy getting it!" she said.

Gilberto tutted at her. "I'm fairly sure it is not ladylike to discuss torture."

She ignored this. "There were no witnesses to the crime. What if he didn't do it? The fact that he might not know where the jewel is won't stop Ramone from trying to get the information."

"Even if he is guilty, he doesn't deserve what Ramone will do to him," Diego said very quietly.

"I promise you," Don Alejandro said, "If our alcalde gets that jewel, the church will never see it."

"But I don't know what we can do..." Victoria said. "I was hoping you would have some ideas..."

Gilberto had just downed the last of his bread. "We can always pray."

Felipe was fairly certain that Diego kicked him under the table. "What he means is, we should get the church involved. If Father Benitez were to make Ramone aware that he was watching the condition of the prisoner..."

Victoria was shaking here head. "He is not at the rectory. I thought of going to San Gabriel, but you know they have no luck with him."

Felipe, standing by the door to the kitchen, caught Diego's eye. Diego nodded, and Felipe said, "The priest is probably at the port. That fire yesterday, two people died."

"Where?" Victoria asked.

"San Pedro," Diego translated . "Ah. That makes sense. But how do you know these things?"

Felipe shrugged. "Everybody gossips."

Don Alejandro sighed. "For all the good it will do...I will fetch Don Carlos and we will pay a visit to the alcalde," he made a face, "tell him how impressed we are with the performance of his men in this matter. He might take the hint that someone will notice if he treats such a famous prisoner improperly."

Victoria glanced at him gratefully. "I was hoping you'd say something like that."

"You are welcome to join us," Don Alejandro said.

"I think that might weaken your point. Neither the governor nor the Church would listen if I complained."

Don Alejandro glanced at the twins, then at Victoria. "He's already had too much time...Diego, please excuse us. Gilberto-"

"Father," Diego interrupted apologetically, "I would prefer if 'Berto stayed here, if you can manage without him."

That earned him a worried look, but Don Alejandro only nodded. "Hopefully, this will not take long."

When Don Alejandro and Victoria had left, Gilberto and Diego didn't sit back down. Diego went to the kitchen to apologize to Maria and ask her to set aside something for his father to eat when he got home. Gilberto headed for the cave.

He was undressing when Diego and Felipe caught up to him a few minutes later. "I wish you wouldn't needle Victoria," Diego said.

"I wasn't needling her," he answered, picking up the black pants. "Well, Diego? What do you think? Will a threat keep our dear Luis in line?"

Diego's mouth pinched. "No," he said shortly.

Gilberto hesitated. "He is an escaped prisoner. And a criminal-"

"If he did commit the crime."

"-and the alcalde is within his duty to question a prisoner."

"There is no crime he could commit that would make him deserve the mercy of Luis Ramone."

Gilberto looked at Diego. "I won't bring him here."

"No. Take him to San Gabriel. They have a solid door that locks."

"So they do. Hmmm. When Ramone finds out, he'll demand they hand him back. Sooner or later they'll agree."

Diego shook his head. "He'll be too distracted."

"Oh? Ah. Yes. I see it." He grinned. "We'll need a jewel."

"What does it look like?" Diego asked.

"It's an emerald. Big. You don't remember this story at all? Big facets. Just find me a recipe. I don't want you up all night working on this."

"It shouldn't take too long-"

"You must be in bed when Father returns, and he might be as little as an hour and a half. God help us if he comes home and finds you missing."

So Diego lost that one. It was just as well. By the time he'd played with the chemistry books and sorted through the ingredients at hand he was clearly exhausted. He was asleep by the time Felipe had changed and put the light out in the sitting room.

When Gilberto slipped in the door, he was barefoot and silent. Felipe felt the floor move, though, and he pushed up onto his elbows, waiting, listening, just to be sure everything was all right.

"Diego? What is it?" Felipe could barely make out Gilberto's voice, but the worry in it made him slid out from the bedroll.

"Nothing," Diego said, "I'm fine, honestly."

"And the reason you are out of bed in the middle of the night?"

"Something has...changed? It sounds mad, I know, but the air is...lighter. Freer."

A short pause, then, "Diego, it has started raining in the mountains. And the clouds were piling up to the northwest."

"Rain."

"Maybe. Some, at least. We may all be in church this week, giving thanks for it." Another pause. "It's nothing you need to worry about. Get back in bed, Little Brother."

Felipe felt the movement he couldn't hear.

"Hold still." Felipe assumed Gilberto was taking his brother's pulse. This pause was very long, and Felipe, standing in only his nightshirt in the sitting room, started to feel cold.

"Satisfied?"

"Quite. Now, you will be happy to know Senor Montez is safely imprisoned at the mission and our holy jewel is drying in the cave. Well, three of them are drying in the cave. We'll see which one looks best."

"Wonderful," Diego said. "Well done."

"Thank you. As for the commanding officer of our garrison, tomorrow he will be too busy scouring the south fork of the Royal Road for the jewel to worry about the actual criminal."

"If he did commit the crime."

"Granted." Gilberto paused again. "Are you up to a serious conversation?"

"That depends on what the topic is, doesn't it?"

An impatient sigh and something that might have been a curse. "Tell me what Ramone did to you." He waited for an answer, and when one didn't come he pressed on gently, "I saw your face, Diego. Before. In the cave."

"We've had this conversation-All right, all right! He was...needlessly rough in my handling when Mendoza wasn't present. He gloated and postured. He invited me to beg."

"Tell me about that hot little room."

"I was thirsty. I couldn't breathe. I laughed at him anyway, I didn't lie about that."

"I know. I know, Diego, now tell me the rest of it."

"'Berto, he didn't do...half of what he clearly wanted to. My social position protected me. And the distraction of the riot outside. And the fact that I was so unsatisfactory a prisoner. As a tormentor, he was rather pathetic."

"Yes, you've said. So." He stopped, probably to think. "So. How much do you hate him?" Another space of quiet. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear that...?"

"Too much! Is that what you want? I hate him too much. I hate him so much I can hardly think." Diego seemed to remember himself and lowered his voice. "I hate him so much I am ashamed."

"Well, I should hope so! Not the ashamed part, that's frankly stupid. But hating him? How could you not hate him? For-so many reasons? Really, Diego."

"Hating him is a waste. And a sin. My hate blights my own soul and does nothing to him-"

"Oh, what utter crap. I mean yes, all of that is true. But it doesn't matter. Hating yourself for hating him has got to be as bad as for you as hating him to begin with. And expecting yourself not to hate him really is a bit much."

"'Berto, please."

"Well, really. It's too much to expect you to forgive him or lovingly turn the other cheek. Certainly not so soon. Diego, you are not a saint. As Felipe recently had to remind me...expecting you to be perfect is just too great a burden for anyone to bear."

"Is it? Because this doesn't feel like hubris. I am not striving for 'inhumanly perfect.' I just want this...ugly feeling to go away."

"Perhaps you could give yourself...oh, a couple of months anyway? Hmmm?"

"'Berto-" Diego's voice was muffled.

"I know. I know, I know, I know." Their voices dropped too low for Felipe to make out the words. And then there was silence.

Minutes passed, and still there was silence.

Carefully, Felipe stepped forward and peeked around the corner. Gilberto was curled up diagonally more or less across the foot of Diego's bed. Both of the twins were breathing like they were asleep. Felipe frowned at them for a moment, then took the extra blanket that was folded over the back of the chair and covered Diego's brother with it.

Z

Felipe didn't waken again until the door opened just before dawn. Don Alejandro, still in his night clothes, looked down at him fearfully. "Gilberto is missing," he signed. "His bed is not been slept in."

"Here." Felipe sat up. "He's here."

Don Alejandro looked very, very old, although that might have been an illusion from the poor light. He straightened his back and asked stiffly, "How bad was it?"

Oh! "Not bad! Not bad!" Felipe scrambled onto his knees. "Diego was-thinking!" He shrugged, not sure how to describe something they both knew so well anyway. "He thinks and he talks and then Gilberto," Felipe shrugged again. "They fell asleep."

His shoulders sagged and he nodded. "Ah. Thank you." He sighed. "I need Gilberto."

Felipe nodded and fetched him silently.

In twenty minutes Gilberto was back. He sat on the bed and shook Diego awake. "Forgive me, Little Brother, but I need your help."

Diego grunted unhappily, but sat up.

"It turns out there was quite a lot of rain in the mountains. Father wants to ride out and check for flood damage-You remember that one year. Anyway, he wants me with him, and I should go. Which means you must go to the pueblo and check the news. I'd send your little spy, but...there are people he cannot speak to, and this is a delicate matter."

Diego nodded. "Go. We'll take care of it."

So an hour later Felipe was driving the little gig into town. Diego cast a longing glance at the barn, but he was still dizzy almost every time he stood up. It wasn't safe to ride. Felipe gave him an encouraging look as he urged the team forward and signed with one hand, "Soon, maybe."

"Soon what?"

"Soon you. On a horse." The sign for horse took too hands, but Felipe took the expedient of pointing.

"Oh. Maybe."

Felipe looked at him curiously.

Diego ignored the question and turned the conversation to the fall round-up, which was less than a month away.

In town, they went to the church first. Father Benitez was seated on the tiny porch behind the rectory drinking chocolate. He rose at once and hurried over to offer Diego his hand as he climbed out of the gig. "Don Diego. How wonderful. I didn't think you'd be to visit me so soon. Have you eaten? You must join me for breakfast. I'm afraid I'm just now eating. I slept rather late."

"Busy night?" Diego asked.

"Traveling by donkey is very slow. And then, when I got back, imagine my surprise to find the head of the Mission San Gabriel waiting to speak to me."

"Oh?" Diego asked, taking the seat he offered.

In the act of taking an extra cup from Carlito, Father Benitez paused and glanced at Diego speculatively. Then he filled the cup and continued briskly, "They had quite a bit of excitement, apparently: Zorro appeared at their gate with Leonardo Montez. Whom he had liberated from the jail here in town." The way Father Benitez was not looking at Diego reminded Felipe of the way Gilberto had a habit of not looking at Diego when they were up to something. "The prisoner is quite secure; sadly, the mission has a cell that locks from the outside only."

"Ah," Diego said mildly. "We'd heard about the arrest, of course. Senorita Victoria came out to the hacienda last night. I'm not sorry to hear he's out of the alcalde's hands. The question is, can the mission keep him?" Diego sipped his chocolate.

Father Benitez put his own cup down, folded his hands, and looked directly at Diego. "I told the friar that I would handle the alcalde, if he chose to make an issue of the matter. Don Diego...Would you say it is necessary that Senor Montez remain at the mission?"

"Yes. For the protection of Montez. For the sake of any chance of recovering the jewel. For the sake of public justice in California."

His eyes narrowed. "I see. The proper authority should be here to claim the prisoner in a few days. I think we can put Senor Ramone off for that long." He smiled politely. "More chocolate?"

"No, thank you."

Father Benitez's eyes slowly measured Diego. Up and down. "I should ask how you are feeling. It occurs to me you might be exerting yourself?"

Diego smiled. "Oh, no. I've been a model patient. Ask Felipe."

"Since you offered," he turned to Felipe. "How is he?"

"He's good," Felipe said, not quite sure what Diego wanted him to say. He thought Diego might want Felipe to corroborate the fact that he was not Zorro, riding around the countryside half the night. Since Diego couldn't possibly sit a horse, Felipe's testimony seemed unnecessary, but he answered, "He behaves. Nobody lets him do anything. This is the first time he's been away from the house in...forever."

Father Benitez nodded mildly. "He is eating? Sleeping? Walking in the garden?"

Felipe nodded. "Dizzy, sometimes. But no trouble breathing."

"I am so pleased to hear it. Now. I hate to cut our visit short, but suddenly I have the urge to go visit San Gabriel." He stood up and took Diego's hand. "You will forgive me?" He chuckled. "It will take an hour or two to get there by donkey-"

"We could offer you-"

"Oh, no, Don Diego. You misunderstand. I am not in a hurry." He smiled benignly as he accompanied them to the garden gate.

Next they went to the tavern. It was nearly empty. With so many people getting water in the morning, not many had time to sit and chat at the tavern between breakfast and lunch. Victoria waved and called, "Good morning, Don Diego," and darted into the kitchen.

She emerged a moment later and presented them with glasses of orange juice and a plate of bread and cheese and cold sausage. She sat down beside them without waiting for an invitation-and Felipe could not have said why he did not find this the least bit rude-and popped her chin on her hand. "You have heard, of course, that Zorro solved our little problem single-handedly," she said smugly.

Diego bristled (although Felipe thought his affront was mainly a tease) and said stiffly, "Well, I'm sure my father did his best."

"I'm sure he was magnificent," she said cheerfully. "But you have to admire Zorro's directness."

"Oh," Diego's brows rose. "It's his...directness...you admire."

She gasped, "Diego! What a thing to say!" But she did not deny it. Instead, she changed the subject by nudging the plate toward him.

It was piled high with food. Diego glanced at it a bit warily. "Victoria," he began apologetically, "I had breakfast at home and chocolate with Father Benitez..."

"I'm sure you can manage some more. It's very good bread." Her smile faded. "Diego, you have lost weight."

The silence was sudden and unexpected and awkward. Diego broke it, finally. "I haven't," he said. "I am the same weight I was at this time last year. Sometimes, with my illness, there comes a little...swelling. It's faded now, and I suppose I look smaller."

She covered her mouth with her hand and blushed. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't mean-"

"Victoria," he said gently, "how shall we get along if we can never discuss my illness?"

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable," she said. She wouldn't look at him.

"I am not the one who is uncomfortable."

Her head snapped up, then, and she gave him a hard, open look. "All right, Diego. How are you doing?"

"I'm much better, thank you. My activity is still limited, but I'm not in any immediate danger. There. Was that so difficult?" He smiled encouragingly.

She didn't smile back. "Will you tell me? If you need anything? You won't make me wonder?"

"I promise," he said.

"I mean it, Diego. I'm not a little girl. I-"

"I know. In your place...I would demand the same."

"Thank you," she said softly.

"For what?" he asked. "For accepting your friendship? You can hardly thank me for that."

She sighed, a little exasperated. "You are the most gracious man I've ever met-and I approve of that, I suppose. But you might let someone else try being nice once in a while."

Diego laughed. "As you wish. You're welcome. Now. It has been forever since I've been to town. What has been going on?"

The news was interesting. The woman who did the garrison laundry was Pilar's mother and the garrison blacksmith preferred breakfast at the tavern, so Victoria had gotten all the gossip that morning. When the alcalde had learned that his prisoner had been handed over to the mission he'd been more astounded than enraged. Even more interesting, he'd roused the lancers and had them out the gate at dawn, but they hadn't been headed toward San Gabriel. They'd gone north, across country.

Diego and Victoria talked about this and that for a long time Felipe wouldn't have been able to tell that Diego had any particular interest in some of the gossip if he hadn't known already. After an hour or so, Victoria had to return to the kitchen to work on lunch and Diego collected Felipe and led him outside.

It was still hot, even though it was already September. There were heavy clouds to the northwest, but the air seemed no cooler. Felipe nudged Diego to see if he was all right.

Diego nodded. When he climbed into the rig, though, he paused for a moment before signaling to Felipe to head south rather than toward home. "How is it coming with the still."

Felipe made a face and answered with one hand, "It leaks."

"What do you think the problem is?"

Felipe made a worse face and said, "Drops come out."

That earned him a laugh. "Drops come out. I see. Felipe, perhaps if you tried less to replicate the way the model looks in the book and focused on what the device must accomplish."

"Capturing drops of steam," but 'steam' was a two-handed sign and what came out was mush.

Diego nodded anyway. "I do not require it to look elegant. And here we are..." They stopped at the edge of town, a comfortable little stone house the Pascals kept in Los Angeles because their ranch was a dozen miles away.

It seemed an odd place to go even before Diego asked for Don Emilio rather than Don Antonio. Diego squeezed Felipe's arm, gave him a hard look, and told him to wait outside.

Felipe assumed Diego was up to something. He was no special friend of Emilio Pascal's. Don Emilio was two years younger than the twins. That by itself wasn't important-Diego never cared who was younger or who was older...or even who was richer or who was smarter or who was stronger. He cared about who was kind, though. And Don Emilio, while never enthusiastically or creatively mean, wasn't kind.

Felipe watered the horses with the help of the Pascal's stable boy, and then sat to wait in the shade of a fig tree. The housekeeper brought out corncakes and milk. Felipe ate-politely, meekly. He knew how to be invisible.

It was half an hour before Diego returned. He said nothing until the house was well behind them. Then he said, "I want you to stay away from Emilio Pascal."

Felipe glanced back and shrugged. He hadn't visited him, after all.

Diego was frowning. "According to Father...Don Emilio was heading the faction in the ransom party that was trying to arrest Zorro."

Oooh. A threat to Gilberto. Felipe should have been able to predict this. He nudged Diego with his leg: Well?

"It turns out the explanation isn't complicated. Our old friend Emilio is an idiot. Self-centered, short sighted, completely lacking in either common sense or compassion." Diego laughed bitterly. "He isn't nefarious. He doesn't have a grand plan. He is not blindly committed to the letter of the law. As far as I can tell, he will pursue Zorro's capture because he is bored, on a whim! The only hope our people have for protection from exploitation and injustice is endangered on a whim."

Felipe glanced around. They were alone on the road.

Diego was completely caught up in his temper. "I expected to find-I don't know what I expected to find! An enemy I could hate or an opponent I could respect, I suppose. One or the other. But this man-He was always an idiot and an arse. And he is creating a danger for Gilberto. This, this, petty, stupid, short-sighted-!"

Felipe halted the rig, caught the reins between his knees, and smacked Diego firmly in the shoulder.

"Gilberto is worth ten of this idiot!"

Felipe shoved the arm firmly and signed, "Well...five, anyway."

Diego flinched as though he'd been struck. In the moment surprise had bought him, Felipe signed, "Everyone says, 'don't upset Diego, don't let Diego get distressed.' Do I want to see what happens when you get really angry?"

Diego buried his face in his hands for a moment. Felipe let him. For a few seconds. Then he prodded him for attention. "The idiot is no threat to Zorro."

Diego sighed. "All it takes is once. One knife from behind, one lucky shot. Bad enough we must contend with Ramone, with the lancers...If I must protect my brother from every idiot...I simply can't believe that on top of everything else..."

"It will be all right."

"That pinhead, Emilio, of all people!"

"Someone was going to be stupid," Felipe pointed out. "Someone is always stupid. We'll be fine. Zorro is smart. And fast."

A cart, laden with water barrels was coming up behind them. Felipe had to pick up the reins and continue on.

For about half a mile, they rode in silence. Diego leaned back and closed is eyes. Slowly his jaw unclenched, until he said, "I just wanted to see what we were dealing with. I wasn't prepared...so much could be lost to something so petty."

Felipe shrugged. "Zorro is very, very good." Which was true.

At the side gate, Diego stumbled getting out of the rig. Without comment, Felipe put an arm around his waist and walked him slowly into the house. After the last month, Diego's room felt a lot like a sickroom, so for a change he installed Diego in the settee in the library. Head elevated with a pillow, feet up on the arm: anything to give his heart a little rest after this morning's drama.

As soon as Diego was asleep, Felipe retrieved the surgical textbook from the shelf. Of all the medical books, he liked this one least: it was frankly horrifying. While anatomy was interesting and the book on diseases helped focus his fuzzy worries, Felipe did not even want to think about things like gangrene and frostbite and hemorrhage and wounds of the eye (yuck) and compound fractures and dislocated bones (bones Felipe had never even knew existed could be dislocated, never mind broken) and compression of the brain (how you treated that didn't bear thinking about!). Every chapter was more terrible than the last, and everything that Felipe understood was either disgusting or terrifying.

A lot of it he didn't understand. And some of it directly contradicted the other books.

But. Sooner or later Gilberto was going to come home with a musket ball in him, and by God, Saint Mary, and all the angels, Diego was not going to have to dig it out alone. Not if Felipe could help it.

At least they would probably not have to worry about frostbite.

At two o'clock, Felipe woke Diego and handed him the little bottle that held his afternoon dose. "Sorry," he signed. "It's time."

Diego rubbed his eyes with his free hand and downed the preparation in two swallows. "I'm sorry," he mumbled sleepily. "Thank you." He pushed his hair out of his eyes and took a deep breath. "Three conversations and I'm completely wiped out."

Felipe patted his arm. He thought the most likely culprit wasn't the conversations but the near-apoplexy that had followed them, but he wasn't going to say that. "You were very sick. It is going to take some time. Don't worry." He tucked the little bottle into his sash. He'd clean it in the kitchen. "You missed lunch. Come eat something."

Diego frowned. He drew Felipe down to sit beside him and hesitated.

"What's wrong?"

"Felipe." Diego folded his hands together and sighed. "I'm feeling much better, but...we don't know..."

"What?"

"You need to understand, my...my condition..."

Oh. Felipe could see where this was going, and if Diego didn't want to say it, well, Felipe could. "I know. You won't get all the way better. You'll never be well. I know. Father Benitez explained." Oh, this was harder to say then he thought it would be. He didn't want to go on, but Diego was so unhappy and worried, and he had a look that said they were going to have this conversation, so it was best to just get through it. "You're heart is sick and it won't get well. It is strong enough to...manage...mostly...if we keep the water out of you. Medicine helps, but it won't cure you." His hands fumbled stiffly and almost gave up over the next: "You'll be sick sometimes. And someday your heart will be too tired to get better and you will...die."

Diego nodded.

"You knew when you came home. I hadn't seen it. I didn't understand."

"I'm sorry."

"No apologizing!" Felipe answered automatically. Diego just looked at him, so he added, "Please don't be sad. Please." Please. You didn't die this time. I'm grateful enough for that.

Diego pulled him in and hugged him hard. When he let go-too soon-he leaned back and smiled sadly. "So. And I do not know why. And there is nothing I can do to cure it."

"Are you afraid?"

Diego looked surprised at the question, but he nodded once. "More than I would like."

"Dying?"

That earned him a sad little smile. "No, Felipe. Death holds the answers to so many questions. And while I would rather not have my answers just yet...No, I'm not afraid to die."

Felipe waited. He wouldn't force the question. Diego would see he wanted to know, and answer or not.

He answered. "The helplessness, I suppose. That I kept getting worse. I did everything I could think of, used every tool I could find, and I could hardly even slow it down. And I know it could happen again, will happen again...and meanwhile everyone I love is suffering so horribly with such terrible grief. Because of me. And I can't do anything about that, either. There is no comfort I can offer, nothing I can do to make the pain go away for any of you. And Gilberto-what he is doing is important and good, and I can't help him. Not enough. I can barely stay awake long enough to collect information. That he should have to do this alone..." Diego dropped his eyes. "Father needs help here at the ranch, and I can't ride most days, let alone chase strays. I-I promised I would teach you to fence. So many things... And there are things I have given up for myself, things I wanted, things I can't stop myself from still wanting...All the dreams I had that are lost now...For the first time in my life, I have a problem I can't defeat by either my brain or my effort, and I am losing everything to it."

Diego had spoken so quietly and reasonably, it was clear he'd given the matter a lot of thought. Of course he had; he was Diego. But it seemed to Felipe that he hadn't thought the matter through quite far enough. There was a piece missing. "It's a good thing it isn't needed."

Diego frowned in puzzlement. "What's good?"

More slowly, Felipe signed, "You do not need to solve this problem, yourself, alone. That's good."

"I don't..."

Felipe shrugged. "Doctor Hernandez, he's pretty smart. Your priest is much better. He knows things you don't." And hadn't that been a surprise? "The Older one isn't completely worthless; he's very good with you, when you're sick. And. There is a lot I don't know, but give me time. I'll catch up. I will."

Felipe realized he was looking at his hands. He had to look away-these next words were too hard to see: "You're right. We're sad. And you can't fix that. But we're...helping each other. Everyone is very kind. Yes. Everyone is very kind. And it helps. Isn't that strange? It doesn't hurt any less, but it is easier, not to be alone. It's better..."

He trailed off because Diego was just staring at him. Felipe wondered if he wasn't making any sense, or if Diego was having trouble concentrating on such a long monolog in sign, or if it was the thoughts themselves that beyond normal reason.

Felipe tried to find something else encouraging. Something. Anything. Because Diego was just looking at him. "And Zorro isn't alone, either. He is very good at fighting and tracking and scaring the alcalde, but you see the problems coming. Even sick, you see things coming. He needs you and you help him. And your father-he helps Zorro. And Victoria. And your priest, I think. He knows Zorro is good, even if he doesn't know yet how bad the alcalde is."

Very softly, Diego said, "I don't have to find all the solutions myself."

Felipe nodded. "You don't need much help, really...but the help you do need, you've got."

"And I don't have to face my illness alone."

Felipe nodded again. Actually that was the easy part. "I can't solve any of the problems, but I'll be here. Always. You're not by yourself."

"You humble me," Diego whispered.

Felipe gave him an annoyed look. "It isn't 'humbling' to need help. Everybody does."

"No-I meant...You have just lectured me so thoroughly and so gently. And such a hard lesson, and one I couldn't see myself...and should have."

Felipe patted his shoulder. "You needed a little help thinking. It's not a big deal. Now, come on. You must be hungry. Come and eat."

When Diego's father and brother returned a few hours later, Diego was again on the settee, his feet up, reading. As usual, Don Alejandro went straight to him and sat close beside him. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently.

Diego set aside the book and smiled placidly. "Quiet well," he answered.

"You seem pale, Diego."

"I may have pushed a bit, today," he conceded. "I went to the pueblo."

Don Alejandro's brows rose. "Overcome by the urge to go shopping?"

"Visiting friends," Diego answered. "Catching up on gossip."

Gilberto, leaning in the doorway and trying to fluff up his sweat-damp hair, caught Diego's eye interestedly. Diego answered in the affirmative with a tiny flick of his eyes.

Don Alejandro didn't notice the exchange. He was still trying to measure Diego's health with his eyes. "I realize you must feel frustrated, with your movements so restricted. But, Diego, it is so important-" Diego dropped his eyes in a show of submission that Felipe did not believe for a moment. Apparently it satisfied Don Alejandro, though, because he broke off and patted Diego's shoulder. "Just try to be a little patient, Son. You've gotten so much better." His eyes narrowed. "I realize you are no more likely to follow advice that contradicts your inclinations now then you were when you were sixteen, but perhaps I can remind you that I am head of this household, and as such I am obligated to look after your welfare."

Gilberto straightened up. "Father!"

"This does not concern you," Don Alejandro answered, his eyes pinning Diego.

Diego, for his part, looked genuinely subdued. "I understand you, Father. It won't be necessary to confine me to the house."

"I'm not threatening anything so extreme."

"I'll...master my impatience."

Don Alejandro went to his room to clean up after that. When he was gone, Gilberto gave Diego a smug look. Diego looked back with such earnest innocence that Felipe almost laughed. "So?" Diego changed the topic. "Did the storm hurt us?"

"Lost a calf to a flash flood," Gilberto answered. "Could have been worse. Come talk to me while I change. What's the gossip from town?"

Diego rose smoothly. The hand he laid on Felipe's arm might have been only friendly, if you didn't know he was checking his balance. "Father Benitez has taken it upon himself to intercede between the garrison and the mission, in the event they come to disagreement over the prisoner. I have no doubt he can hold Ramone at bay until an official delegation arrives to take charge of the prisoner."

"That's good news," Gilberto said over his shoulder as he led them down the hall. "I'm sure Zorro will be pleased, after all the trouble he went to." Frowning at Diego's expression, he added. "What?"

"There is more news. Instead of reclaiming his prisoner this morning, the alcalde took a party north, across country."

Gilberto froze. "North?"

Diego winced sympathetically. "North."

Softly, through gritted teeth, Gilberto said, "It was to be south. The south fork of the Kings Road."

Diego nodded. "I thought so. It appears he doesn't take direction well."

Gilberto turned on his heel and stalked away. Entering his sitting room, he took a smooth rock he'd been using as a paperweight from the desk and tossed so hard at the wall that it scratched the plaster. "That idiot! What an utter clod!" He kept his voice down: at least his temper was more or less under control. "The simplest thing! The simplest, little thing is too much for him. Mother of God! Should I draw him a map-?" He continued to rant while removing his shirt and tossing it at a chair.

Felipe nudged Diego's shoulder. What was the problem?

Diego sighed. "It would be much easier to plant the fake gem in the south fork. You know the place-the cover is excellent. In the dark it would have been very simple to get past the guards and position our decoy to be found tomorrow."

"I will have to lead the guards away," Gilberto said, pouring water from the pitcher into the basin on the dresser. "I'll need an accomplice to hide the gem." He plunged his face into the water and shook his head.

"I...can't do it," Diego said.

"I can," Felipe said.

"No," Diego said.

"No, what?" Gilberto asked, straightening up and toweling his head.

"No, Felipe can't do it."

Gilberto considered that. "He could. It's simple enough. And not the most dangerous thing he's done."

"I won't endanger him just to thwart Ramone."

"What danger? Do you think I can't take care of him? Or that I won't?"

"Of course I don't think-"

"Even when I didn't understand, Diego, I never let him come to harm. I was an absolute snot to him, I admit. But I would never have let him get hurt."

"This has nothing to do with you. The principle-"

Felipe squeezed Diego's arm. Stop.

Diego looked down at him. "I am not saying you aren't capable. I am saying I will not risk you just because I am angry at Luis Ramone."

Felipe pointed at Gilberto and raised his brows.

Gilberto shrugged. "Well, I would do this because I was angry at Ramone, but I would also be doing it even if it weren't personal. He's a horrible administrator and-no, don't get me started. And I'm doing it for the Church. And I'm doing it for that thief: someone kept dragging me to salons on civil society and cruel and unusual punishment."

Felipe wasn't sure what that last part meant. Diego sighed and translated, "He means he is against torturing prisoners on principle, even when they're guilty."

Felipe shook his head. "So? I have principles, too. And I'll be safe with him. Stop being difficult and taking responsibility for everything."

Diego snorted. "Principles. I've created monsters out of both of you. Fine. I withdraw my objection."

After supper, when bedtime came, Gilberto disappeared into the cave and Felipe slipped out to the barn. He saddled Sunshine and led him at a quiet walk out to the road. In a few moments Toronado cantered up beside him and-wordlessly-they rode north. After about an hour, Zorro motioned toward a thicket and Felipe hid Sunshine and then climbed up behind Zorro on the big black stallion.

He held on tightly. Although he had fed and groomed and walked Toronado occasionally, he had never ridden him before, and he was well aware that the twins were still smoothing out his temperament.

When they saw a glimmer of firelight, Felipe slid silently to the ground and took cover behind a large rock while Zorro galloped forward to draw away the lancers. In a moment, a thunder of hooves rushed away to the west, and Felipe crept forward. He paused outside the ring of firelight and looked carefully, waiting, listening as best he could (and painfully conscious of all the small sounds he might not be hearing) until he was sure the post was abandoned.

From a bag slung over his shoulder, he took a trowel and a small wooden box. There were holes here and there; rocks appeared to have been levered aside, the roots of a gnarled tree dug up. He picked a likely looking hole-not too deep-climbed in and dug around in the sandy soil. It didn't have to be very deep...

Far to the northwest there were tiny pricks and streaks of light. Storms again. Felipe wished the rain would come into the valley. Quickly, he buried the box, put away the tool, and raced back toward his horse. Done, it was done. As simple a job as Zorro had said.

~TBC