"I mean you no harm either," said a pleasant male voice. "I am alone."

The stranger remained invisible until he stopped a scant two meters away, and Will could finally see his mask, an elaborate creation adorned with white, brown, and lavender feathers.

"Good evening, Sir Messenger," called Day Timer with relief. "You must have an urgent message to be traveling so late at night. But you have no reason to hide from us."

"Forgive me," said the man in the owlish mask. He bowed, and his hair tumbled over his shoulders. "I have had ... misfortune. I was afraid, because I didn't know who you were."

"Wait a moment," said Data suddenly, stepping forward. "I recognize that voice. You are Amba.s.sador Fenton Lewis, are you not?"

The man stumbled back a step out of shock, stared at the masks confronting him, then doubled over with laughter. "This is rare!" he howled. "I didn't recognize a single one of you. Is that the android?"

"Amba.s.sador?" said Riker, rushing around the pony. With his back to Day Timer, he tore off his mask.

"Riker," exclaimed the befuddled owl. "I never thought I would be glad to seeyou ."

"Where is the captain?" asked Kate Pulaski. "And the others?"

"You've heard nothing?" asked the amba.s.sador.

Several masks swiveled from side to side.

Amba.s.sador Lewis touched his feathered mask and hesitated before removing it. "Ironically," he said, "I must live up to the rank of this mask and be the bearer of bad tidings."

"What is it?" asked Riker.

"Captain Picard and the others are dead."

Chapter Nine.

"WHAT?"GASPED KATEPULASKI. She ripped off her Herbalist's Mask. "The captain's dead?"

Will Riker lowered his head, almost wishing he could put his mask back on. "What happened?"

"We were attacked," Lewis answered, "by a band of thieves. They were led by a woman."

"Piercing Blade," said Data glumly.

Fenton Lewis shrugged. "That might be her name. We weren't given a chance to get to know them."

"You're the only survivor?" Riker asked, not bothering to hide the doubt in his voice. "How did you manage that?"

"And how did you come by that mask?" asked Dr. Pulaski.

Lewis held up his hands. "One question at a time, please. I know all of this comes as a terrible shock to you and you want to know every detail. I'll be happy to write a complete report, but for the moment, let me give you the short version."

"Please," urged Riker.

"After we survived the volcano eruption," the amba.s.sador continued, pacing thoughtfully, "we found that all of our equipment had been knocked out by the volcanic dust. It is highly magnetic."

"We are aware of that," Data remarked.

Lewis gestured at the immense trees. "We headed toward these woods in search of safety. Unfortunately, there are other dangers on this planet besides the volcanoes. We were ambushed and taken by surprise."

"Your Amba.s.sador's Mask didn't help?" an incredulous Kate asked.

Fenton Lewis paused dramatically. "It saved my life. The others were killed outright, and I was captured. The Lorcans took my mask, but they didn't want to leave me unclothed, so they gave me this mask." He pointed to the feathered mask, and the tone of his voice implied that it was vastly inferior to the mask made by Fazool.

"Not possible," growled Day Timer.

The others whirled around, having all but forgotten the Lorcan peddler sitting atop his wagon. He was shielding his eyes because all except Data and Greenblatt had removed their masks.

"Piercing Blade is uppity and devious," Day Timer explained, "but she isn't one to attack from hiding." He c.o.c.ked his mask before admitting, "She might kill one or two in a duel-"

"One or two!" snapped Fenton Lewis, glaring at the haughty Proprietor's Mask. "She's a murderer, I tell you." He whirled back to Riker. "I have been through a great deal, Commander, and I don't like having my word questioned."

Will Riker was consumed by worry and shock. He tried to put his mind on the more immediate problem: whether to take Fenton Lewis's story at face value, as truth. Riker didn't like or trust the man, but he couldn't deny having seen that ridiculous Halloween mask in the maskmaker's shop. And he had experienced the violence of Lorca firsthand. Will hoped, if all of it was true, that Worf had put up a good fight.

"Can you find the place where this happened?" Riker asked hoa.r.s.ely.

"I ... I'm not sure."

"You'd better think about it," said the commander. "I can't report the captain or anyone else dead until I find their bodies."

"Your story is unsubstantiated," Data told Lewis.

The amba.s.sador shrugged and pulled on his mask. "Very well. I'm not promising anything, but I'll do my best to lead you to the scene of the ambush."

"You came from the south," said Data. "Shall we go that direction?"

"All right," Lewis said, turning and marching off into the darkness.

"Are you coming with us?" the commander asked Day Timer.

"As long as you stay on the road and travel south, I am with you."

Conversation was rare during the slow walk before dawn. Even Day Timer was quiet, sensing his companions' grief. Kate Pulaski hadn't known Jean-Luc, Deanna, and Worf as long as the others had, but she could not conceive of them being dead. It was too much to absorb, too devastating. All she could feel was emptiness.

She found Commander Riker walking beside her. He glanced at her and then looked down. The shipmates were not in a hurry to take their masks off now.

"Are you going to let Geordi know?" she asked.

"I don't want to," Will replied, "until we find ... As far as I'm concerned, they're still missing."

"I understand," Kate said. Noticing that Amba.s.sador Lewis was far enough ahead of them to be out of earshot, she added, "You think he could be lying?"

"Don't you?" asked Riker.

"I agree with your decision to search for them" was all Kate could manage in reply. In reality, she wasn't sure she really wanted to know the whole truth. She wanted to keep some hope, even if it was just a form of denial.

With his amplified hearing, Data couldn't help hear the anguished conversation between Commander Riker and Dr. Pulaski. So that was grief, he thought. Data could only observe the emotion, because he didn't believe that Captain Picard, Counselor Troi, and Lieutenant Worf were dead. The android had evaluated both Amba.s.sador Lewis and Day Timer as reliable sources and had decided that Day Timer was far superior.

For one thing, the Lorcan was objective in the matter and had no vested interest. While he had exhibited a dislike for Piercing Blade, he had not wanted her to be misrepresented as a thieving murderer. This indicated a balanced view, and the peddler knew his countrymen far better than any of them. Although Lorca was a violent society, it was not without rules and conventions: even the raiders had observed the convention of wearing red masks. The Lorcans often behaved violently, but they were not savages.

The biggest doubt in Data's circuits stemmed from Amba.s.sador Lewis's new mask. It was a well-worn Lorcan mask of respectable workmanship. Though not on a par with the missing Amba.s.sador's Mask, the Messenger's Mask was surely of value. Why would cold-blooded murderers spare one life out of four if they were going to steal the Amba.s.sador's Mask anyway? And why give their victim a valuable mask in its place?

Data had observed the frequency with which masks were exchanged on Lorca. They were almost a unit of barter. Each member of their team had, for example, been granted a new mask. But it was in exchange for services rendered. Day Timer had given each of them an Apprentice's Mask in exchange for behaving like his apprentices. But n.o.body received a mask for nothing. Two undisputed facts-that a Halloween mask had shown up in a village mask shop, and that Lewis's original Lorcan mask had been exchanged for another-only indicated business as usual.

In fact, the fact that Fenton Lewis was alive and well strongly suggested to Data that the entire party had managed to survive.

"What are we going to do at this place called Cottage Meadow?" Deanna Troi asked Medicine Maker.

The jeweled green serpents angled in her direction, and the healer continued walking. "There will be many people there, every citizen and subject of importance. Piercing Blade has won a rank of n.o.bility second only to that of the king. But where is the king? Where is Almighty Slayer and where is the Wisdom Mask?"

The two walked in silence for the moment through the Lorcan dawn. They were at the end of the procession, having given up their ponies to Captain Picard and Piercing Blade. Apparently the band was approaching a well-known crossroad where they were likely to meet other travelers, and it was deemed necessary for the leaders to have mounts. Deanna welcomed the walk.

Medicine Maker trailed behind a bit to gather some sprouts and herbs. He stuffed the cuttings haphazardly into a leather bag slung over his shoulder, then caught up with Deanna.

"Our task won't be easy," he admitted. "We have to convince everyone we meet that Lorca can have a ruler who doesn't wear the Wisdom Mask. In my opinion, Almighty Slayer has been absent so long that he has abdicated the throne."

"What if he is at the fair wearing the Wisdom Mask?" she asked.

Medicine Maker clenched his fists. "All the better. Then Piercing Blade will challenge his right to wear it."

Deanna nodded solemnly. "What if somebody else has found the Wisdom Mask and is wearing it?"

"The same," answered the Lorcan.

"So we may be marching into battle."

The Herbalist's Mask turned toward her. Beneath the serpent eyebrows, a pair of very dark eyes glared at her. "You are free to do whatever you wish. Let's hope the others are easier to convince thanyou."

"I'm sorry," Deanna admitted. "I shouldn't be critical. I know you believe in the rightness of your cause and I respect that."

Medicine Maker's big shoulders heaved as he sighed. "You are not going to make a very good page. We should get you a different mask. What skills do you have?"

How could she explain her job in terms the Lorcan would understand? Deanna wondered. Finally she shrugged and said, "I play cards very well."

The Lorcan chuckled, and his voice echoed warmly within his mask. "Then we'll get you a Gambler's Mask. But be careful, or Cold Angel will win it from you."

"How many masks can a person have?" she asked.

"We have a saying," answered Medicine Maker. "'A person can have a hundred masks, but he can wear only one.'"

Deanna nodded appreciatively and they walked in comfortable silence for a few moments.

"Is it true," he asked, "that where you come from, people go without masks?"

"That's right," she replied.

"Don't your faces get cold?"

The Betazoid laughed out loud, enjoying the spontaneous release. "Yes, they do."

"Then it's absurd not to wear masks."

"But it can't be cold like this all the time," Deanna insisted. "What are the summers like on Lorca?"

It was Medicine Maker's turn to laugh. "Thisis summer."

"Oh."

"At least you knew enough to bring masks with you."

"We've adapted to your ways," she answered, "because we want to be friends. We don't believe in the people from one place trying to change how another people live."

"If you could change the way we live," said the healer, "then I'd be impressed."

"Why?"

His voice hardened. "Because this violent seizure of power has got to stop. Only the very strongest survive on Lorca. I don't blame Almighty Slayer for hiding.I certainly wouldn't want to fight duels all day long. He used to have a band of followers who defended him, but eventually they were all killed. Almighty Slayer has fought his share of duels and should step down."

"I agree with you," said Deanna. "So why are we marching off to fight? How will another battle change anything?"

"I need some of that sedge," he remarked, bending to pull up a scrawny sprig from the soil on one side of the road.

She waited for him, wondering what Medicine Maker looked like behind his elegant mask. Was he elegant, or was he a brute? Why should surface beauty matter to her? His mask expressed the person he was perceived to be by all who knew him, and that was good enough for her. She remembered how he had refused the sumptuous Amba.s.sador's Mask to retain the simpler Herbalist's Mask. It must mean a great deal to him.

"Go on," he said. "You don't have to wait for me."

"I want to," she answered, bending down to help him collect cuttings of the sedge.

"This is very good for stomachache," he commented, twisting a sprig between his fingers. A shaft of sunlight spilled down through the tree limbs and illuminated his jeweled mask and the tiny plant he held. Medicine Maker truly had a healing presence, and Deanna felt relaxed for the first time since arriving on Lorca.

"Don't any of you have spouses and children?" she asked.

"That's the life of a villager," he scoffed. After a moment, the herbalist reconsidered. "Maybe, after Piercing Blade is safely crowned ruler of Lorca, I'll take the time to think about such luxuries."

She nodded, wishing she could show him with her face how much she sympathized with him.

Suddenly the Lorcan bolted upright and froze. His mask swiveled slowly, like a radar dish.

"What is it?" breathed Deanna.