Disclaimer: The characters of Tessa Alvarado, Marta, Colonel Montoya, Captain Grisham and the Queen of Swords -- are copyrights of the producers, Fireworks Productions and Paramount. No infringement or revenue is intended. The story plot is original and copyright to the author, Maril Swan.

Certain references in this story are to events in Fallen Angel and Gitano.

On Card 11 we see the familiar figure of Justice. She has the scales of equality and impartial judgment in one hand, and the sword of decision in the other. In the Tarot, Justice represents the understanding that life is ultimately fair and just. Even though the vagaries of day-to-day life tend to make us doubt this fact, Justice reminds us that there is divine balance... Sometimes Justice is a signal to do what needs to be done. A time comes when responsibilities must be accepted, and accounts settled. The past will continue to haunt you if you do not recognize your mistakes and make amends for them. You will need to weigh matters carefully and perhaps make important decisions about your future course.
—Joan Bunning, Learning Tarot Online.

Corporal Garcia could still see the familiar black-clad figure riding at great speed ahead as he galloped his horse after her. The other soldiers had dropped out of the chase, their exhausted horses unable to keep up. She will not escape me this time, he promised himself resolutely. I will take her back to Montoya. My promotion is assured. He grinned to himself, kicking the horse's sweating flank.

He realized he was not closing the distance; his horse was labouring, its lungs heaving like a bellows. It had not much strength left. He slowed his mount to a trot, then a walk, watching the dust cloud on the horizon disappearing as his quarry sped on. He cursed her vehemently. She had snatched his victory away again, just when it looked within reach. Squinting at the far-off hills, he wondered where she was going. There was nothing ahead but a barrier of rock. A thought occurred to him and he chuckled to himself. Like a rabbit, she would retrace her trail and return as soon as she was sure he had given up. Of course... all he had to do was wait.

Garcia noted the shadows on the ground were lengthening; soon it would be dark. He sighed with dismay, not equipped for a chilly night in the open, without food or water. Resignedly, the soldier led his horse to some scrub brush, tying its reins to a bush, and sat down on the ground to wait as long as it took. He was hidden from view, down in an arroyo, and knew the darkness would cover him and his horse.

Tessa looked back and drew a relieved breath. The soldier had broken off the chase. There was no one following her now as she found the rock formation that led to the secret canyon. It was beginning to get dark as the horse picked its way through the narrow defile to the open meadow inside the canyon walls. As always, the sight of this beautiful place took her breath away. The serenity of the valley calmed her as the horse ambled toward the pool beneath the rock spring. Tessa slid off the horse, leading it to the water and allowing it to drink its fill.

The clear water looked too tempting to resist as she stripped off her dark clothes and plunged into the icy pool. She came up gasping with the cold, but so refreshed she laughed aloud. Climbing out, she put on her costume again.

The pool was fed by a small stream which sprang from the rocks. Putting her mouth under the stream, she drank thirstily, then refilled her canteen. She wondered how long she should wait until it was safe to return to her hacienda. Darkness had settled into the valley and Tessa began to think about Marta. She will be worrying by now, but there's nothing I can do about it.

Climbing back on her horse, she trotted it over to the small sod hut on the far side of the valley. Nearing it, her eyes were drawn to the mound beside the hut where she had buried Seamus O'Toole nearly a year ago. As always, the memory evoked a warmth of nostalgia as she remembered his laughing blue eyes and his shocking red hair. She smiled sadly. If only there had been more time, she thought again, as she dismounted and began to unsaddle her horse. But his spirit lives in this valley. She always felt safe here.

Except for El Gato, Tessa reminded herself. When those banditos had held this valley, they had almost ruined it with their campfires, tents and waste heaps. But after they left, Nature had eventually covered over all the harm their presence had caused. There was hardly a trace of them now, Tessa noted with satisfaction. She laughed shortly, remembering how irate Marta had been when she had seen the condition of the valley. "They even stole Seamus’ cattle," she had snapped. "There is no honour among thieves." Tessa laughed softly, remembering how Marta bristled with anger at the torn-up sod and the blackened earth where campfires had been. But it was the theft of the cattle that had unsettled her most. "He would have wanted you to have them," Marta had said. Just as well, Tessa thought, I don't really want to raise cattle. The vineyards are what I love. Just as Papa did.

Tessa lifted the heavy bag of gold from the saddlebag and placed it inside the hut. I'll divide it up tomorrow and give it back to the people, she decided, yawning widely. The hut contained a rough handmade cot that Seamus had built for himself. It looked inviting in the moonlight which streamed in the hut's only window. Maybe I'll just take a nap while I wait, until I'm sure they've given up the chase and gone back to the pueblo. Briskly shaking the blanket covering the narrow bed in case there was anything in it or on it, Tessa spread it on the cot. She laid down and was asleep almost immediately.

She awoke, chilled and shivering, in the early dawn. Leaping up, she exclaimed, "Madre de dios! I've overslept. It's morning!" Rushing outside into the grey light, she whistled for her horse. It trotted to her and she saddled it quickly. She replaced the gold in the saddlebag, and with a last wistful look around at her sacred valley, urged the horse into a trot, out through the defile and onto the open plain. Scanning the landscape, Tessa saw nothing to fear as the horse cantered over the hard ground.

Garcia had hardly slept. He awoke irritable and chilled to the bone as he threw off the smelly horseblanket and stretched. The sun was just rising, and he cursed. Had she slipped by him in the night? He squinted toward the hills and saw a small cloud of dust. Exhilaration filled him as he watched it coming ever nearer. He had been right; she was returning at last! Hurriedly, he rechecked his trap as she rode unsuspectingly down the trail toward him.

Tessa's horse snorted and quivered with anxiety as the trail narrowed and sloped into an arroyo between some scrub and rock. Alert to her horse's unease, she slowed to a trot entering the gap, looking about warily. A perfect place for an ambush. But of course, the soldiers would have returned to their barracks last night, she assured herself. Suddenly a rope came up off the ground across the trail, striking the horse on the chest. The terrified animal reared and leapt away, tossing Tessa to the ground. The hard impact stunned her momentarily then she found herself looking into the barrel of a pistol held by a grinning soldier. He dropped a pair of manacles beside her.

"Put these on," he demanded harshly. "And be quick. You are wanted, dead or alive, so don't try anything. I will kill you if I have to." His hard blue eyes radiated hate as he regarded his prisoner. His small wiry body seemed like a coiled spring, latent energy ready to be unleashed. Dark whiskers with a sprinkle of grey sprouted on his swarthy jaw and as he grinned down at Tessa, she saw an inexorable purpose in his face; he wanted to kill her but was restraining himself.

Tessa picked up the heavy manacles and snapped them onto her wrists. She waited in silence for his next move, looking for an opportunity to escape. But he had planned well.

Garcia stepped back a few paces, then said, "Get up. And don't move until I say." Keeping the gun aimed at her, he mounted his horse. "All right, start walking," he said, gesturing with the pistol toward the trail.

"Let me call my horse. It's a long way back to the pueblo," Tessa said. Her horse, Chico, stood a distance off, warily watching the two humans.

"And have you escape? Not a chance. You'll walk, that way you'll be too tired to try anything." He chuckled with glee as she started down the trail. What a coup this was! He, Corporal Garcia, single-handedly bringing in the Queen of Swords. He would get the reward and probably a promotion. The vision of Montoya pinning a medal on his chest made him grin widely. And, best of all, he would show that strutting rooster, Captain Grisham, who was the better man. His future looked as bright as the sun now shining on the plain as he followed his prisoner along the trail.

Hours passed as the sun rose high into the cloudless blue sky. A grim silence hung between the soldier and his prisoner as she trudged along, conceiving and discarding one plan of escape after another. Tessa looked back and saw Chico still following at a safe distance. She smiled fondly, turning back around. He was a good, well-trained horse, obedient but intelligent. Somehow she felt reassured by his presence, in spite of the seeming impossibility of her situation.

The midday sun burned down on the plain, the ground beneath her boots hot as coals as she tried to keep up a steady pace. Her throat was parched with thirst, and she longingly remembered the full canteen on her horse — and the gold in the saddlebag. If only she could ask for the water without his knowing about the gold. That gold belonged to the people.

Finally she stopped, the heat shimmer on the ground making her dizzy in the blazing brightness, her mouth almost too dry to speak. Trying summon up some moisture, she said, "I can't go much longer without some water. Please."

"Get moving, or I'll shoot you where you stand. No water. There's only enough for me." Garcia uncapped his canteen and took a few gulps, watching her masked face as he drank his fill. With a satisfied smirk, he wiped his mouth.

"Only a little water. That's all I ask. Why won't you give it to me?"

"Because I want you to suffer," he growled.

"Why? I've never harmed you."

For a long moment, he looked at her, unmoved by her beauty or her distress. Finally, Garcia spoke. "Perez was my friend."

Tessa looked up at him, uncomprehending. "Who is Perez?"

"Just one of the many soldiers you have killed," he answered, his voice hard with hate. "Fernan Perez had a wife and three children. Did you know that? Of course not. To you, he was just another soldier who got in your way, so you cut him down. For him and the others... that's why I want you to suffer."

She glanced down, avoiding those hate-filled eyes. "I don't know their names, but I do suffer for them," she said softly. "Not a day goes by when I don't pray for their souls."

Garcia was untouched by her sentiments. "Let me tell you the rest of their names, so you know who to pray for," he snarled. "Tomas Ortega, a young man about to be married, only he's dead now, thanks to you. Jorge Gomez, he was getting too old to be a soldier, about to be pensioned off. Pablo...."

He droned on, listing the dead soldiers and describing their lives until Tessa finally cried out, "Enough! Isn't it enough you torment me with thirst? Must you also torture my conscience?" Suddenly dropping to her knees, she gulped huge breaths of air as she tried to compose herself.

"Get up!" Garcia snarled. "We're only halfway there. Get up or I'll shoot you."

Tessa rasped, "Then you'd better do it, because I'm not going any farther without water." She looked up into his hard eyes, unnerved by the malevolence and gloating she saw there.

So this is how it feels to be Montoya, Garcia thought smugly, watching your enemy on her knees begging for mercy. He felt powerful — and he liked the feeling. But he knew if he brought in a dead Queen of Swords there would be much less glory for him. Only a live Queen would really satisfy Montoya, so that he could exact his revenge and make an example of her. And Garcia wanted to see her hang for the many deaths she had caused.

He tossed the canteen to her and she uncapped it quickly, taking a little water into her mouth, holding it there before swallowing it. "Come on, we haven't got all day!" Garcia shouted, urging his horse toward her.

Suddenly she flung the canteen at the horse, hitting its flank and making it leap away. The surprise move unbalanced the rider, and Tessa grabbed him, pulling him off onto the hard ground. He was stunned for a second, enough time for her to wrap the chain of the manacles around his neck and pull it tightly, cutting off his breath. He struggled for several seconds, then lay still. Tessa unwrapped the chain and checked his pulse. Still alive, she thought with relief.

A quick search of his uniform provided the keys to the manacles, and she unlocked them from her wrists, transferring the hard metal cuffs to his. Garcia started to come around, groaning as he shook his head dazedly. He found himself staring into the muzzle of his own gun in the hands of a very angry masked woman. His eyes widened in terror and as he tried to move, she warned, "I won't harm you, much as I'm tempted to kill you. Just don't do anything stupid, that's all I ask." Tessa whistled for her horse, and it trotted up to her side. Taking the canteen from the saddle, she drank deeply of the spring water. She refilled Garcia's canteen with some of her water and dropped it beside him.

"I'm giving you more humane treatment than you gave me, Garcia. I'll leave you some water, and your horse will be farther down the trail. The keys to the manacles will be in your saddlebag." Mounting her horse, she galloped off, leading Garcia's horse by its reins.

The door to the tunnel opened and Tessa stepped through into the hidden room. Marta rushed to her side as the younger woman stumbled, holding onto the door for balance. "Dios mio, where have you been, Tessa? Gone all night and all day!" Marta said sharply, as she helped her ward into a chair. "Look at you. What have you been doing?"

"Penance."

"I don't understand. You are covered in dust, and your face is so flushed, you look as if you're having a heat stroke."

Tessa stood up suddenly and turned away with a groan. "Marta, I can't do this anymore," she whispered. "So many deaths on my conscience. It's too much."

"Tell me what happened, Tessa."

As the younger woman choked out the story, telling Marta about the soldiers and their families, Marta took her gently into her arms, the way she had when Tessa was a child. "Maybe it's time for the Queen to hang up her sword and Tessa Alvarado to start living her own life again," Marta said. The torment in Tessa's eyes wrung her heart. Such a burden for one so young, she thought. She takes everything on her own shoulders. Aloud, Marta added, "Let someone else take up the fight, Tessa. You have done more than anyone could expect."

"Have I, Marta? Or have I made things worse?" Wearily, Tessa laid her head on Marta's shoulder. "But you're right. After today, she is finished. The Queen of Swords rides no more."

Grisham rapped on the colonel's door and entered with his usual swagger. Montoya looked up quickly, annoyed at the intrusion.

"Colonel, I have some very strange news for you. The widow of one of our soldiers found a bag of money on her doorstep this morning. Señora Perez. Her husband, Corporal Perez, was killed a few months ago by the Queen of Swords."

Montoya frowned as if trying to remember, then said, "Oh yes, Perez. Why would anyone leave her money?"

"Well, she only has a widow's pension, and they're pretty hard up, as I understand." Grisham shrugged. "Someone around here has a soft heart for a sob story, I guess."

The colonel's eyes narrowed, then he shook his head. "Impossible," he murmured to himself. "Anything else to report, Grisham?"

"Yes, sir. Dr. Helm says Garcia is fit for duty after his ordeal with the Queen. I've got him back on the duty roster."

Montoya suddenly hammered his fist on the desk, making Grisham jump. "Garcia! The idiot!" he snarled. "He let her escape." The colonel stood and began pacing. "I'm surrounded by inept fools!" he growled, looking significantly at Grisham. The captain clenched his jaw, his eyes hardening as he watched Montoya striding about the room. "Well, Grisham, what are you standing there for? Get back to your duties."

Grisham saluted and left quickly, his throat tight with suppressed rage.

A few hours later, Grisham returned to Montoya's office, summoned by the colonel. As always, he felt a sense of trepidation, never knowing what his commanding officer was planning. Montoya was a schemer, always working towards his own ends, and Grisham knew he himself was just a pawn in the game. His loathing for the colonel knew no bounds, but for the time being he was forced to do Montoya's bidding.

"Grisham, that interesting little piece of news about the money has turned into something quite extraordinary. I have had other reports from the soldiers that each of the widows whose husbands were struck down by the Queen has received a gift of money early today." Montoya chuckled, stroking his beard as he wandered pensively about the office. "My first impression, it seems, was correct. The Queen of Swords is leaving these gifts, a conscience offering, one would suppose." He laughed aloud at the thought. "Her soft heart will be her undoing."

"How does she know their names, Colonel? I mean, if we assume she is a Spanish lady, she wouldn't know any common soldiers, would she?" Grisham framed the question as much to himself as to the colonel. A suspicion crept into his mind, but he discarded it.

"Yes, indeed, Grisham. How does she know them? Someone must have told her." Montoya regarded Grisham closely, making him uncomfortable. "Someone has leaked information to her. How else can she know so much about everything that goes on here? Grisham, I believe we have a traitor in our ranks. One of the soldiers has betrayed us, passing information to her." The colonel sat down at his desk, meditatively drumming his fingers on the highly polished rosewood. "These gifts have followed closely upon Garcia's return. I have a suspicion it was Garcia who gave her the names. I've had my eye on him for some time, Grisham. He is ambitious and clever... and quite ruthless. I had high hopes for him. But I now think he has been playing a game of his own." Montoya sighed heavily, and added, "Bring Garcia to me. We'll get the truth out of him."

Corporal Garcia marched stiffly behind Grisham into Montoya's office and gave his colonel a smart salute. Garcia's eyes sparkled with joy as he expected a commendation from his commander for his bravery, his lone efforts to capture the Queen at the risk of his own life.

"Garcia," the colonel began. "You told us the Queen had captured you, manacled you, and then, by some miracle, you managed to escape. Is this not so?"

"Si, mi colonel," the corporal said, trying to suppress a grin.

"It is a lie!" Montoya snapped, his pale eyes brilliant with anger. "You and the Queen set this up to cover your absence from the pueblo while you were giving her information. How much has she been paying you?"

Garcia's face blanched, his voice caught in his throat, and he began to tremble. "Colonel, it is the truth," he pleaded. "She did capture me. I barely escaped with my life."

"You gave her the names of the dead soldiers, didn't you?" Montoya pressed, standing near the quaking soldier. "And what other things have you been telling her? Gold shipments? Tax collections?" The colonel grabbed the corporal by the tunic, yelling into his terrified face, "You are a traitor! Grisham, take note. You are a witness. Garcia, this is a summary courtmartial and you are found guilty of dereliction of duty and treason. The sentence is death by firing squad, to be carried out tomorrow at dawn. Grisham, take charge of the prisoner." Montoya pushed the soldier disgustedly toward the captain and turned away.

"Colonel," Garcia stammered, "Please, I will tell you the truth." Barely controlling his voice, the corporal began, "I had her trapped. She was in the manacles and I was bringing her back to you, when she played a trick on me and escaped. That is the truth," he said, hanging his head. "I have never betrayed you. I would not. Please believe me," he begged.

Montoya regarded the corporal closely, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Finally, he said, "I don't believe you. Take him away, Grisham."

Grisham opened the office door and signalled to two soldiers. "Take Corporal Garcia to the cells and lock him up. Post a guard." After they had gone, Grisham turned back to Montoya. "Garcia is a good man, Colonel, and a friend of mine. One of my most trusted soldiers. He's done a lot of dirty work for you and kept his mouth shut about it. You can't really believe he's a traitor. I'd stake my life on him."

"Perhaps you would like to trade places with him, then," Montoya said flatly. "The sentence will be carried out, Grisham. That is all," he added dismissively, going back to sit at his desk.

"Tessa," Vera Hidalgo called, catching the other woman's sleeve. "I haven't seen you in town for a long time." As Tessa turned to face her, Vera gasped slightly. "You should try to stay out of the sun, Tessa. You are becoming as dark as a peon," she chided with a pretty smile. "Come and have some coffee in the cantina. We have so much to catch up on."

Allowing herself to be led, Tessa sat down at one of the cantina tables. After giving their orders to the new proprietor of the cantina, Vera laughed lightly, leaning forward conspiratorially. "Do you not think it a strange coincidence that El Gato no longer preys upon us... and Se˜or Ortiz disappears at the same time? What if he was El Gato? What do you think, Tessa?"

Tessa shrugged nonchalantly. "I hadn't given it any thought, Vera. How have you been?" she asked, trying to feign interest.

For several minutes, Vera prattled on about the local gossip while Tessa sipped her coffee, nodding now and then as if she was actually listening. Her attention was recaptured when Vera said, "And such a surprise about Corporal Garcia! He is to be executed tomorrow for treason."

"Treason? What has he done?" Tessa asked, trying to keep her features bland.

"Captain Grisham told me Garcia was giving information to the Queen of Swords. Imagine, Tessa. A traitor in the ranks of the soldiers. No wonder she has been able to know so much and to escape so easily. I feel sorry for his family, though. He has a wife and two children."

"Thank you for the coffee, Vera. Now I must go. I have some business to attend to in town."

The black-clad woman turned as her friend entered the hidden room. Anger flashed across Marta's face as she watched Tessa buckling on her sword. "What do you think you are doing? I thought you said yesterday that you were finished with all this," she said sharply, gesturing at the sword and the mask which lay upon the cabinet.

"They're going to execute Garcia for treason, for leaking information to me. He's innocent. I can't let him die for me."

"This is none of your business, Tessa. It is a military matter, on Montoya's conscience, not yours." Coming closer, she took Tessa's hands, forcing her to look into her eyes. "This is a trap. I can feel it. Don't go. Leave him to his fate. He deserves it after the way he treated you."

Tessa pulled her hands away, avoiding the distress in Marta's eyes. "I have to do this. He was only doing his duty. He doesn't deserve to die for that." Almost inaudibly, she added, "I can't have his death on my conscience, Marta." She looked up, her eyes imploring the other woman for understanding, but Marta was already moving away, her shoulders rigid with anguish.

Marta strode across the room to the door, and turning, snapped, "Then go! And throw your life away for nothing! I wash my hands of it!" She fled through the door, leaving behind a wake of desolate silence.

For several seconds, Tessa remained staring at the door, breathing heavily, trying to decide what to do. Her hand hovered uncertainly over the sword belt, preparing to unbuckle it. Finally, she shook her head violently, and snatching up the mask, slipped into the secret tunnel which led to the stables.

It was quiet in the pueblo... too quiet, except for the sudden gusts of wind blowing dust around the street and making the torches dance. Dim moonlight showed the sleeping village was completely deserted, not even a soldier on guard. Tessa's scalp prickled with an intuition of danger as she scanned the other rooftops from her vantage point on the cantina roof. They're hidden, but where? she wondered. A soldier's helmet popped into view for a second behind the façade on a rooftop a few buildings over. She smiled. Just what I was waiting for, she thought, as she began to make her way toward him.

Creeping across the rooftops, which had become familiar territory for her, Tessa came up behind the soldier who was hiding and occasionally peeping out from his covert to scan the dark street. The gusts of high wind covered any sound as she quickly knocked him unconscious with the hilt of her sword. She stripped off his military tunic and put it on over her black costume, then fastened his helmet on her own head. She pushed his pistol into her sword belt.

Tessa climbed from the rooftop into an alley, glancing around nervously, expecting an attack from any quarter. So far so good, she sighed to herself. Now comes the hard part. There was only one way into the prison that she knew of — the front door. Pulling herself erect, she marched across the street to the prison entrance with a confidence she did not feel, up the stone steps, and entered the building. No one had noticed her yet, she hoped.

A guard was half-dozing in a chair near the cells, his feet propped on the desk. Tessa covered his mouth and struck his skull with the pistol butt, setting him down quietly onto the floor. She removed the keys from his belt and slipped into the corridor of cells. Voices floated toward her as she stopped at a corner of the corridor, male voices laughing and talking easily, familiarly. She paused, listening, while staying hidden. Stepping out into view, she saw a guard lounging against the wall, conversing with someone in the cell. A puzzled frown crossed her face; her stomach tightened with fear. Something wasn't right! Would the guard be laughing with someone who was about to die in a few hours?

The guard started, noticing someone in a corporal's uniform. Keeping her head down to cover her mask, she beckoned to him. He shrugged and came toward her. Tessa moved back around the corner, and as he followed, she landed a hard kick to his stomach and a knee to his jaw. He fell and lay still.

Moving quickly past him, she checked the corridor for other guards, then went to the cell door, trying the keys until she found the one that fit. "Come on, Garcia," she whispered urgently. "I'm getting you out of here." Garcia sat, watching her uncomprehendingly. "I mean you no harm," Tessa asserted, beginning to lose patience as he continued to remain where he was, sitting on the cell cot. "I'm trying to save your life, so get moving, or we'll both be executed!"

Garcia's eyes moved suddenly to a place behind her, and Tessa felt the point of a sword in her back. She froze with her hand on the cell door, her heart leaping within her. A voice behind her said, "Well, Señorita, looks like we're here for the same reason — getting Garcia out of prison." A soft chuckle, then, "This works out perfectly. I was going to blame you for this anyway." The sword moved away and Tessa turned to confront Captain Grisham, grinning at her. He turned to the prisoner and urgently beckoned. "Let's go, Garcia, unless you want to be shot in a few hours!"

Garcia laughed harshly, and standing up, pulled a pistol and sword from under his mattress. "Montoya was right, Capitán. She has too much heart for her own good. She fell right into our trap, just as the colonel said she would." He strolled toward the cell door and pushed it open, his pistol aimed at Tessa.

She glanced at Grisham. His face was flushed with anger and his eyes glinted dangerously. Grisham grated, "You mean this was set up between you and Montoya? The execution was a ruse?"

Garcia grinned widely, then the smile disappeared, replaced by a hard, calculating look. He turned the pistol toward Grisham, saying, "Of course. And now we get rid of the competition, kill two birds with one stone." Tessa watched the flintlock flare suddenly, the spark hit the gunpowder pan. She threw her weight against Garcia, causing the shot to ricochet wildy off the corridor wall. Another shot made her start as she regained her balance. Garcia crumpled to the floor, a round hole in his forehead.

Grisham held his sword in his left hand, the smoking pistol in his right as he regarded Garcia, dead, his eyes open in surprise. The captain quickly transferred the sword to his right hand, pointing it at Tessa before she could unsheathe her own. For a moment, he looked at her, indecision written on his face. Then the clamour of approaching footsteps galvanized him into action. He grabbed her arm and hauled her toward a dark, narrow hall leading away from the cells. A few twists and turns took them to the end of this corridor, then Grisham pushed open a door into a small courtyard. In the centre was a tall stake, placed there for the execution. He let go of her arm and stepped away.

"You're on your own from here, Señorita," he said breathlessly. "Get moving!"

"You're letting me go?" Tessa asked incredulously. "Why?"

"Maybe I don't like the way Montoya and Garcia set you up... without including me," he laughed. "Next time I catch you — and I will — it will be on my terms, not Montoya's."

Tessa looked into those cold blue eyes, searching for some rationale for his actions. She suddenly unsheathed her sword, and Grisham, alarmed, stepped back a few paces. She grinned, and said, "Until the next time then, Capitán," and saluting him, she ran across the courtyard, disappearing into the shadows of the buildings.

Grisham stood for several seconds, staring into the darkness, then with a wry laugh rushed into an alley which led to the street. He mussed his hair and unbuttoned his tunic, then hurried up the steps into the prison building. The corridor was crowded with soldiers as he shouldered his way through.

Montoya was already there, in front of the cell, gazing at the prostrate figure on the floor. Encountering Grisham's face in the group, he shouted, "Where were you while this was going on?"

"Off duty, sir," Grisham replied respectfully. "I was with a lady."

Montoya scowled, his face flushed and his eyes sparkling with anger. "If you spent as much time with your pants on as off, we might have a chance to catch the Queen!" he bellowed. A few restrained chuckles rippled through the soldiers.

"The Queen, sir?" Grisham inquired innocently. "Was she here tonight? I don't understand this. Why would she sneak in to kill a prisoner who was about to be executed?"

Montoya opened his mouth to speak, then guiltily looked away. "Who knows why she does anything?" The colonel disgustedly nudged Garcia's body and barked at the soldiers, "Get this fool out of here, and clean up this mess." He pushed his way through the soldiers. Grisham followed him with his eyes, a cold smile on his face.

Tessa stepped through the door into the hidden room, surprised to see a candle burning there. Marta started in her chair, evidently dozing, waiting for Tessa's return. A long uncomfortable silence grew as the two women regarded each other, each waiting for the other to speak.

Finally, Marta arose and turned away. The lone candle sharply accentuated the fine planes of her face and lighted a glitter of tears in her eyes. "So," she whispered, "You have returned safe. Thank God!" She turned back to face Tessa. "Do you know what is has been like for me tonight, all these nights?" She laughed harshly. "I listen and wait, then I pray and wait. While you are out risking your life, all I can do is wait. When you are gone too long, all I can think is: they have got her this time.

"Your father asked me to look after you, and I have tried. Since you were a child I have been your guardian and your teacher. Now you are grown and don't need these things anymore. So, what am I now? Just a servant?"

"No... Marta, you are my dearest friend. If I have treated you as anything else, I am sorry."  Tessa stepped toward the Gypsy woman, but Marta moved away, tightening her shawl protectively like a shield.

For a moment, Tessa stared uncertainly at the rigid back of her friend. Finally, she said, "I've made a decision, Marta. The job isn't done yet, and there's no one to do it but me. I can't do it alone." She saw Marta clench her jaw firmly and take a deep breath. This was news the Gypsy woman did not want to hear. "I need your strength and guidance. The Queen of Swords isn't one woman, but two. I have the youth and skill, but you have the wisdom. We make a team. I can't do this if you're not with me." Tessa waited, anxiously, watching the emotions working through her friend.

Marta drew a long breath, letting it out slowly. "If I had known when we were with my people, and you were learning all those skills, where it would lead..." She shook her head morosely, then continued. "I couldn't have stopped you, I suppose. What was started long ago has led us to this. We are in the hands of Fate. You can postpone your fate, but you can't avoid it. Fate is the Hunter, and he finds you no matter where you hide."

With a heavy sigh, Marta said softly, "I'm with you, Tessa. I won't desert you again."

Tessa embraced her friend warmly, and with a wry laugh, said, "You were right, Marta. I should have listened to you. It was a trap, and I walked right into it."

"And walked right out again," Marta replied, the relief evident in her voice.

"Not exactly. I had some help. And from a most unexpected source. You will never guess who saved my life tonight...."