Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in posting this. I wasn't quite happy with it, but I didn't quite know how to fix it. Finally, I just decided to go with it as is.

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Diego remained slumped against the man in the saddle in front of him and tried to retain his semblance of semi-consciousness. It wasn't that hard. It wasn't, truly, all that much of an act.

When they'd been attacked, his thrice-damned, excitable horse had, predictably, run straight into the confrontation. Only, five seconds later, to throw him and, for the second time in a handful of weeks, run off in a panic back towards the hacienda. He'd chosen the horse because it was precisely the sort that someone of Diego de la Vega's public personality would pick: beautiful and graceful and beneath the shiny exterior basically the most useless excuse for a horse in all of California. A real horseman would know it for trouble in an instant. But that was just the point.

Of course he hadn't ever planned on riding it into battle. He'd never thought to need any but Toronado for that.

_The horse at least was probably safely returned to its comfortable stall, while you, Diego, are tied up on the back of a bandit's horse. Who then, would you say is the stupid one?_

It was no good now to think on it now. The fall had dazed him and re-awakened the fierce pain in his side. He'd heard the shouts of his men and the gunfire overhead, but the battle had gone too quickly. By the time he'd gotten his breath back there had been a bandit standing over him with a gun pointed at him and his men were in full retreat.

By some miracle, the bandit had not shot him, just hit him sharply on the head. It had been poorly done, so he was dazed rather than unconscious, but he didn't let that on as they'd bound his arms tightly behind his back and shoved him up on a horse behind one of their number.

They'd been riding for some hours now, and Diego's disorientation had robbed him of any ability to tell where they might be heading.

If only his head would stop pounding, he might be able to concentrate.

_Yes, and if you weren't so foolish, you would not be in this mess in the first place. You should have listened to Felipe._

Diego heard voices ahead, and when he squinted over the shoulder in front of him, he could see perhaps a dozen men around a fire. He cursed silently. He would have a hard time getting away from this many men.

They arrived at the camp and the horse came to a stop. A small cause for gratitude there, at any rate.

A man came up to him and shook his leg. Diego pretended to stir.

"Get down. Domingo wants to speak with you."

Diego allowed himself to be roughly pulled from the horse and then shoved to his knees before one of the men sitting close to the fire. The man, presumably this Domingo, was roasting some meat on a stick over the flame and laughing with one of his companions. It was some time before he allowed himself to notice Diego, kneeling there.
Diego took the time to study him, though it was hard while trying to look appropriately fearful. The man looked about his father's age, though he didn't wear his years nearly as well. His long, mostly silvered hair was caught back in a ragged scrap of leather. The dirt and lines in his face were at odds with the fine coat and hat that had obviously been recently liberated from some caballero's wardrobe. It gave him a slightly comical air, but Diego knew far better than to judge by appearances..

The man finally stopped his pretended conversation with his friend and looked at Diego for a long moment. "Well, friend, have you no manners? Will you not thank us for our fine hospitality?"

The men around him laughed.

Diego shrank back against the men holding him in place, though it ran against his instincts to show even pretended fear to such a man.

The man cocked an eyebrow. "A man without humor. That is good. I do not think he will be doing much laughing."

He stood and drew a knife. Diego didn't have to pretend to flinch as its cold deadly edge pressed against his neck.

"Your name, Senor."

Diego swallowed, trying to think quickly.

The knife pressed a little harder.
"My name is Martin."

The edge of the blade scraped ever so slightly against his skin, drawing a line of blood in its wake that trickled in warm rivulets down his throat. Diego held his breath and the pressure eased the tiniest fraction.

"That does not tell us who you are."

Diego forced his breath to become rapid and shallow. "I am ranch manager to the Garcia lands in Santa Paula. Don Luis is friend to Don Alejandro de la Vega and sent me to help at the de la Vega ranch when he heard of the troubles."

Diego held the man's eyes and tried to look the part he'd ascribed to himself. It was true that Don Luis was friend to his father and his ranch manager was named Martin. He had to hope that none of these bandits knew any more than that. It helped that he had worn his plainest clothes this morning and that his recent sickness made him look less the refined caballero.

The knife fell and Domingo spun on the men who'd attacked Diego and the vaqueros.

"Caballeros ride to the de la Vega ranch five times a week and all you can bring me is a cow herder from another town?"

"He was giving orders to the de la Vega people. We thought he must be someone important," said the man just behind Diego's right shoulder.

Domingo spat in the dust at this feet. "What kind of caballero rides out with his vaqueros? I told you to attack the hacienda, not the trails."

"The de la Vegas have good people. The hacienda is too well defended."

"Then you should have gone on to better hunting grounds. We have men wounded, and for what? This man has no value to us."

"Wait," one of his men said. Domingo turned.

"I've heard of the Garcia place. It's one of the biggest in California and de la Vega is one of the richest caballeros in the pueblo. He might be willing to bargain for the life of his friend's man."

Domingo thought this over and nodded. "You are right, Esteban. And it is sometimes well to have a hostage you can afford to lose."

He grabbed Diego's hair and wrenched his head back savagely. "It seems you are going to be spending some time with us after all, cow herder. But that could end very quickly if you give us any trouble."

He let go of Diego's head with a violent push. "Put him with the others."

Others?

One of the men laughed and kicked Diego hard in the ribs. He gasped and tried not to let too much pain on his face as they lifted him by the arms and dragged him away from the fire. Eventually they dumped him on the ground and bound his legs with a length of rope.

"He's not going anywhere. Let's get something to eat and talk to Domingo."

There were sounds of assent above him and then footsteps faded a short distance away.

"I am surprised to see you, _Martin_."

Diego lifted his head. He knew that voice. It was awkward with his hands bound behind his back and his legs tied, but he managed to turn about enough to see a well dressed but disheveled caballero with his back leaning against a rock.

"Don Esperanza!" he said, struggling to sit.

The man was looking at him with a fierce expression of contempt. "I am surprised that an out of town ranch hand like yourself would recognize me."

This could be very bad. The bandits would know by now that Alejandro was in Mexico. If they figured out who he was, they would know that the de la Vega hacienda was empty, undefended. Ciro Esperanza was not a man known for his subtlety, and he'd never shown any hesitation in expressing his absolute disdain for Diego himself. If Esperanza let on that Diego was not what he was pretending to be, it could be disastrous. He was going to have to be careful, here.

"Don Esperanza, are you well? I was told that you were missing." Diego said, trying to keep his voice down. He'd heard from Juan that several important men had been taken on their way to town, but he'd been forced to admit there was nothing he could do about it. It hadn't stopped him from worrying over it, though.

Esperanza sneered. "And so you have come in a blaze of glory to rescue me? Forgive me if I fail to be impressed."

"Oh do be quiet, Ciro," said a second man, whom Diego just now saw was lying next to Esperanza.

It was Hernan de Carraco. His voice was weak and, to Diego's disquiet, his head was wrapped in a heavy bandage.

De Carraco struggled to sit up. Esperanza didn't look happy about it, but couldn't do much with his own arms bound.

De Carraco eventually managed it and looked Diego over for a long moment. "Forgive me, Senor Martin, but you do not look well yourself."

Diego fought to look calm. The older man looked ghastly pale and obviously speech was something of a struggle. "I will survive, but you . . ."

De Carraco shook his head and winced. "I know."

Diego tried to assess this new factor in the equation. He had already had a difficult task ahead of himself getting just himself free against so many men. Domingo, obviously the leader of these men, had an air of deadly competency around him that made Diego think he'd only get one attempt. But now he had these two to worry about. Leaving without them was unthinkable, but he could not begin to see a way for them all to find safety.
"I don't know why you're even speaking to him, Hernan," Esperanza said. "Being forced to mingle with outlaws was bad enough. I don't see why I should speak with cowards who hide behind the title of a peasant. Look at him, he looks about half-ready to faint and he's just arrived."

It was, unfortunately, a just observation. Diego had hoped getting off the horse would help his equilibrium, but it had not done as much as he had would like. The blow to his head had left a ringing ache in its wake and the kick to his side hadn't done him any good, either. The long ride with his men under the fierce sun had sapped more reserves than he'd anticipated and now he was barely able to keep himself sitting upright.

"Diego," de Carraco said softly, his face gentle with concern.

"I am well," Diego said. "And in any event it cannot matter."

Even Esperanza snapped his mouth shut at that.

Diego pushed himself back against the rock wall and rested his head against it. The bandits fortunately did not seem to be paying them any attention. Not that they needed to. All the camp's horses were on the opposite side of the fire and there were men posted along both navigable paths leading away. The brush was thick and slightly familiar, leading Diego to believe they were somewhere in the wilds to the south of the ranch of their neighbor, Don Ernesto.

"How long have you been here?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"About a day," Esperanza said. The belligerence had left his tone. A blessing there. Esperanza was known to be difficult. "We move every forty-eight hours or so."

Diego digested that. "Have they mistreated you?"

"I should think a vaquero like you would be used to a few bruises."

"You are not helping, Ciro" de Carraco said.

"Oh all right. We have had nothing specific to complain of, though they keep close watch," Esperanza said.

Diego was about to respond when he noticed Domingo watching. He froze, unexpectedly chilled. The bandits' leader rose from his position by the fire and wound his way over to his captives.

"I am glad to see you settling in so well, Senor Martin. As a part of your welcome, I would like to remind you that we do not take well to men who try to escape. So ask your friends here as many questions as you would like, it will do you no good."

Diego restrained his tongue. He did not like the look Domingo was giving him. It understood far too much. This man was careful and did not appear to be likely to do Diego the favor of underestimating him.

"No arguments? Good. It will work better for us all if you accept the fact that there will be no escape, nor rescue."

"Yes, your hero boy is dead!" yelled one of Domingo's men.

The men laughed loudly.

"No more Zorro to rescue you peasants from men like us," another shouted. "We'll rule Los Angeles within a month."

Instead of joining in, Domingo looked surprisingly disgusted.

"We will be leaving Los Angeles long before that," he said. "Once we trade these men for their ransom, we will be gone."

"You worry too much, Domingo," one of the other men said, coming over to wrap an arm around Domingo's shoulder. "This alcalde promised us he wouldn't come after us as long as we kept Zorro busy and a thousand in gold to any who brought him Zorro's head. He's kept his word so far."

"Yes," Domingo hissed. "And now that the alcalde has shot his fox himself, where do you think that leaves us? If you think De Soto is a man to be trusted, you are stupider than I thought."

Diego didn't think he could be surprised at anything the alcalde did any more, but this nearly knocked the breath from him. He'd been surprised enough that De Soto had done nothing to stop the outlaws, but he had never once thought they might be here at his invitation.

Domingo and his men fell into a heated argument, leaving Diego and the other two alone again.

"Zorro," de Carraco spat. "I should have known he'd have something to do with this."

It was Esperanza's turn to look surprised. Diego could barely pay attention.

_These men came here to look for Zorro. For you._

"Zorro! Don't you mean De Soto?" Esperanza asked.

"Don't worry, I am not forgetting about him," de Carraco said, his voice hard. "But you, like every other person in our pueblo, even de la Vega for all his sense of honor, have always been blind where Zorro is concerned. How many plots has the alcalde inflicted upon us just for the purpose of catching this bandit? And how many people have suffered because of it?"

Diego looked on, half-stunned. De Carraco was right. De Soto had done this just to get at him.

"You've always hated him. Zorro is a warrior and a hero," Esperanza said, clearly growing angry. "I have been proud to watch him fight the alcalde. I was grieved to hear of his death, but at least he found an honorable one, fighting the alcalde to the end."

"I know you at least agree with me, Di - I mean Martin," de Carraco was saying.

"An argument in my favor if I ever heard one," Esperanza hissed.

Diego leaned his head back and tried to reign in his thoughts. He did not need this. He couldn't deal with it right now.

_But de Carraco is right. This is because of you._

He shook his head. No, it was not. He didn't have a choice. He'd been shown the good Zorro had done. Los Angeles needed Zorro.

_You needed Zorro. You needed the excitement, the challenge. Admit it._

That was wrong. He knew that. It was just his exhaustion and surprised disappointment in De Soto talking.

But the thought wouldn't go away.

De Carraco and Esperanza's argument continued in intensity, though they kept it low. Now De Carraco was listing all the troubles Zorro had brought on their heads, and Esperanza was arguing how men like Diego made Zorro so necessary.

It was just his luck to be stuck with the two men who hated both sides of him more than anyone in the pueblo, perhaps including the alcalde.

Zorro might have found it amusing. Diego almost did himself.

Two men broke from the camp and came with water and a thin bean soup, finally ending the argument. Diego took what was offered, though the water was brackish.

After that, the three of them fell silent and Diego went back to assessing their chances for escape. It was clear none were available tonight.

He leaned back and resolved to sleep. He needed to rest so he might be ready. When the moment came, he needed to be able to take it.


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