"Do they think this is going to be a picnic?" asked Bowie.

"How many men do you think it takes to surrender to us?" said Austin. "Calvin Maker, you are worth your weight in gold. We didn't have to fire a shot, and here we are, victorious!" Austin kicked his horse and moved forward through the throng, the other white men following. Soon they were lined up near the front of the vast army, within earshot of the dignitaries coming from the city.

"We demand that you surrender!" shouted Austin. "If you surrender your lives will be spared!"

He turned to look for an interpreter, but apparently they hadn't kept up when the white men had ridden forward. No, there was one, and Austin beckoned him over. "Tell him to surrender," said Austin. "Tell him what I said."

But before the interpreter could go forward with the message, a befeathered Mexica standing on a huge litter borne by a dozen men began to speak.

"What's he saying?" asked Austin.

The interpreter listened. "He is the high priest and he thanks the people of... all these tribes ... for bringing so many fine sacrifices for the god."

Austin laughed. "Does he really believe these people came to offer sacrifice?"

"Yes," said the interpreter.

"What a fool," said Austin.

"There's a fool all right," said Bowie, "but it ain't him."

All at once, the reds who were surrounding them gave a great shout and dragged the white men off their horses. Bowie managed to get knives into a couple of them before they got him down. And Calvin was trying to work up some flames, but he couldn't get anything going before they had him down on the ground and hit him in the head with a club.

Calvin woke up in pain, and not just from his head, which was throbbing. He was also tightly trussed, and lying on a stone floor. He was also blindfolded.

He could make his bonds break apart, but he figured he ought to find out first where he was and what was going on. So with his doodlebug he worked on the threads of the blindfold and soon he had an opening he could see through. He was lying on the floor of a large dimly lighted room-a Catholic church of some kind, from the look of it, but not one that was used much. A couple of statues of saints stood against one wall, and there was an altar near the front, but everything looked shabby and dusty.

All the white men were sitting or lying on the floor, and at the doors stood heavily armed Mexica soldiers.

Calvin sent his doodlebug to see behind him, and sure enough, there were four soldiers standing over him. He was the only one of the white men with a special guard. Which meant the Mexica knew he was the powerful one. He was surprised they hadn't just killed him outright-but no, he was the prize, he was the one they'd be proudest to sacrifice.

Ain't gonna happen, he told himself.

He continued to lie still, checking the condition of the other men. It might still be possible to bring this thing off and snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

Then a door opened, putting a wedge of light into the room, and four women came in, carrying golden cups. They began offering drinks to the men, who took them eagerly, some of them even thanking the women. Calvin almost called out to warn them that the drink was drugged, but decided it was better to deal with it himself. One by one he went into the cups and separated the water from the drug, making it sink to the bottom of the cups and stay there, under the pure water. Except for the first few who had drunk, none of the others were getting any of the drug at all.

So when they got to him, Calvin offered no resistance. He pretended to be groggy-which wasn't hard, with his head hurting so bad. Pain shot through his head when he sat up, and he wished he'd paid more attention when Alvin tried to teach him how to heal injuries like this. But after the mess he had made of Papa Moose's foot, he wasn't about to start fiddling with his own head.

They put the cup to his lip and he drank eagerly.

No doubt they'd become complacent soon, thinking that even the great white wizard was under control.

Except, of course, only the first few men were acting drugged. The women were beginning to be confused, talking to each other, probably wondering why most of the men were still awake.

So Calvin put them to sleep, one by one, until they all lay unconscious on the floor. That was what the women wanted, and out they went. Out, too, went the Mexica soldiers, even the ones guarding Calvin.

As soon as they were gone, Calvin woke all the ones he had put to sleep. The drugged ones, though, were another matter. It was simple to separate the drug from the water in the cups, but impossible to do anything of the kind when the drug was already in somebody's blood. So they slept on while the others sat up and looked around.

"Talk softly," said Calvin. "There are still guards outside the door, and we don't want them to hear us."

"You bastard," said a man.

"Don't tell us what to do."

But they talked softly.

"Are you so stupid you blame me for this?" said Calvin. "I never claimed to be a mind reader. How should I know we were prisoners the whole way here? Did any of you guess it?"

No one had an answer to that.

"But I'm the reason the poison didn't work on you, once I realized the water was drugged. So don't get pissed at me, let's plan how to get out of here."

"Better plan fast," said Bowie. "Since you're the one they plan to sacrifice this afternoon."

"I'm hurt," said Calvin. "I would have thought they'd save me for last."

"They're not stupid," said Bowie. "And just so you know, they also told us-using our own interpreters-that if you didn't go willingly to be sacrificed, they'd kill all of us without even sending us to the god."

"Won't happen," said Calvin.

"The way we figure it," said Bowie, "we'll make our break for it while they're cutting your heart out."

"Good plan," said Calvin. "Of course, without me you won't know where your weapons are stored. You won't know how to get out of this room without getting caught. I think a few of you might make it as much as a hundred yards from this place."

They were thinking about this when suddenly the ground shook under them. At once, from the city outside this building, they could hear screaming and shouting.

Calvin broke open his bonds and stood up. None of the others were tied, so they also stood. But the windows were too high in the walls to see through.

The ground shook again.

"I think we ought to lie down again," said Bowie. "In case they come in and see us."

"They aren't going to," said Calvin.

"How do you know?"

"Because the guards at the door just ran away."

The door opened.

Bowie was in the middle of a snide remark about how reliable Calvin was when they realized that the man who stood in the doorway was not a Mexica. It was a half-black young man dressed like an American.

"Get ready to go," said the young man. "We got about a day to get out of the city before Popocatepetl blows."

"Before what?" asked a man.

"Popocatepetl," said the young man. "The biggest volcano. All that screaming out there, the ground shaking, it's because we just caused it to start spewing smoke and ash. And tomorrow, anybody who didn't get out of the city will be killed when the thing erupts all the way."

"Who's 'we'?" asked Bowie.

"My guess is it's my brother Alvin doing all this," said Calvin. "Cause this is his brother-in-law, Arthur Stuart."

At once there were cries of protest.

"Your brother is married to a black woman?"

"Somebody named him for the King?"

"We're supposed to listen to a slave tell us what to do?"

But Arthur Stuart's voice cut through the noise. "It's not Alvin," he said. "It's Tenskwa-Tawa. He's making the volcano erupt to stop the Mexica from offering human sacrifices. It's between reds, Tenskwa-Tawa against the Mexica."