"Impertinence accepted." Kate smiled.

Lieutenant Commander Data let go of Piercing Blade's sword arm. "I am sorry. You may have the Wisdom Mask, but you may not slay Almighty Slayer."

"I never wanted to kill him," she breathed, ma.s.saging her wrist. "All of you are from the same place ... this ship in the sky?"

"Yes." The android nodded, not noticing the man in the feathered mask sneaking up on Almighty Slayer, who was still lying dazed on the clay road.

The messenger s.n.a.t.c.hed the Wisdom Mask off the old man, laying bare a pale creased face with a gray beard. Ensign Greenblatt, who was closest to the perpetrator, grabbed for the mask with both hands. But Fenton Lewis had set his stolen phaser to kill, and he drilled her with a red beam. Greenblatt twitched for an instant before slumping to the ground dead, most of her torso eaten away.

Shock gave way to confusion in the early Lorcan dawn as Fenton Lewis darted into the shadows of the great trees. With their own phasers drawn, Worf, Riker, and Picard cautiously gave chase. But the cagey woodsman was not about to give away his position by shooting at them. He had the mask, a head start, and darkness.

"Spread out," whispered Picard, motioning Riker and Worf to either side. "But keep in eye contact, so we can use hand signals. I'd like to take him alive."

"Understood, Captain," said Worf with grim determination.

"Try not to damage the Wisdom Mask," Riker reminded them.

The three officers fanned out into the forest, stalking the most dangerous game of all. Away from the road and the lamps, darkness ruled supreme, and Will Riker found himself stumbling over a tangle of rotting branches and vines, wishing the sun would break through. He concentrated on keeping his footing. He glanced at the vague shadow that was the captain, and he saw an encouraging wave.

At least they were all together again, even if their ordeal was not over yet.

Kneeling beside the lifeless body of the young ensign, Dr. Pulaski looked up at Data and Counselor Troi and shook her head glumly. She pressed Greenblatt's eyes shut and reached into her inner pocket for her communicator badge. "Dr. Pulaski to theEnterprise," she murmured.

"Enterprisehere," answered Geordi. "This is Lieutenant La Forge. Please speak up, Doctor. The reception is not terrific."

"I have good news for you," Kate began, letting her happiness override her grief. "We have found Captain Picard, Counselor Troi, and Lieutenant Worf. They're all fine."

Kate could hear the exuberant cheer on the bridge of theEnterprise, and she hated to interject a note of sorrow. "But we have a body to beam up."

"Amba.s.sador Lewis?" asked Geordi.

"I wish," she muttered. "No, it's Ensign Greenblatt."

After a moment, the lieutenant replied, "We're not sure how well the transporters will work in that atmosphere."

"She's dead, Geordi," said the doctor, brushing a strand of blond hair from the peaceful freckled face. "You can't hurt her. Lock on to my signal." She set her badge on the dead woman's lapel.

"All right," said Geordi slowly. "Locking on."

"Good-bye, Ensign." The doctor smiled at the brave young woman before retrieving her medical insignia and stepping back.

The Lorcans stared in astonishment as Greenblatt's body dissolved in a shower of crystalline sparkles, leaving a slight indentation in the clay.

"Witchcraft," muttered Cold Angel.

"No," said Deanna Troi, "it's something your ancestors were able to do, but you've forgotten."

Piercing Blade bent down and picked up the discarded Amba.s.sador's Mask, which she handed to her cowering father. "Clothe yourself, Father. You deserve this mask more than these naked-faced off-worlders. Nowthey have our Wisdom Mask."

"Fenton Lewis is as much our enemy as yours," said Kate Pulaski. "Do you think we wanted to see one of our own people killed?"

Medicine Maker jumped off his pony and strode toward them, drawing his immense sword. "One life is a cheap price to pay for the Wisdom Mask."

Deanna Troi leapt in front of him, grabbing the hilt of his sword. "Please," she begged, "trust us. We don't think as you do. We consider one person's life more valuable than all your masks put together."

As the healer peered into the Betazoid's beautiful olive-skinned face, his anger abated and he shoved his sword back into its scabbard. "Then don't wear our masks. Show us who you really are."

"From now on, we won't wear your masks," vowed Deanna.

Almighty Slayer stood up, adjusting the gleaming Amba.s.sador's Mask. Its smooth curves and bold colors suited his wiry, energetic physique, and the others turned their attention to him, waiting to hear his words. "I have spent many days with these people," he testified, "and I am willing to believe that they don't want the Wisdom Mask for themselves. I can also vouch for the fact that they didn't trust the messenger, this Fenton Lewis. In fact, he made an earlier attempt to steal the mask, and Data protected me."

Piercing Blade lowered the Thunder Mask and pressed her fist to her shoulder to stanch the bleeding. "I am to blame. I let the messenger manipulate us into coming here. Picard warned me about him, but I was too eager to face you, Father."

Almighty Slayer limped to his daughter's side, blood still oozing from his thigh, and put his arm around her. "I always knew I'd have to face you, and that you would best me."

"For what purpose?" she asked bitterly. "Now we have lost the Wisdom Mask."

Kate Pulaski glanced at the tall healer in the jeweled Herbalist's Mask. He nodded, and together they walked to the reconciled father and daughter, seated them on the ground, and began to administer to their wounds.

"We brought Fenton Lewis here," the doctor admitted, ripping a gap in Almighty Slayer's pant leg. "And we take full responsibility for his actions. I'm sure Captain Picard, Commander Riker, and Lieutenant Worf are doing all they can to bring back the Wisdom Mask."

"They had better be," snarled Cold Angel, drawing his sword, "because you are our prisoners until they return it to us."

Chapter Fifteen.

FENTONLEWISthrashed through the woods like a hunted animal. He didn't care if his pursuers heard him; he knew they couldn't see him. He wanted to put as much distance as he could between himself and his pursuers before daylight flooded the woods. Thus far he hadn't fired a single phaser blast at them, but he was prepared to do so if they got too close.

He regretted having had to kill that young ensign. But the brutal murder had worked to his advantage, paralyzing everyone for those few precious seconds he needed to seize the mask and escape. The Lorcans were probably still in shock from the sight of all those naked laughing faces. Fenton Lewis grinned under his Messenger's Mask at the easy success of his heist, then clutched his prize all the tighter.

He was now the sole owner of Lorca's Wisdom Mask. He was the king.

Unfortunately, even if his escape went as planned, he still had his work cut out for him before he could claim the throne. Just wearing the Wisdom Mask wouldn't do. He had to a.s.semble a force of mercenaries, recruited from around the galaxy, to help him keep the Wisdom Mask. The ignorant and fearful villagers of Lorca wouldn't challenge him, but the well-heeled n.o.bility might. He would put them in their place quickly, by coming afterthem before they had a chance to come after him.

He hefted the pistol phaser. Until he a.s.sembled his royal bodyguard, the hand weapon would have to do. He knew the Lorcans would not stand up to a phaser, but the greedy Ferengi and the Federation busybodies were a different matter. He knew, however, that if the Lorcans accepted him as king, the Ferengi, the Federation, and everyone else would have to do the same. And as far as the Lorcans were concerned, his credentials were impeccable. He stroked one of the ruby crystals jutting from the rim of the Wisdom Mask.

A phaser blast sheared off some branches a good twenty meters away and far over his head. It was probably that hot-headed Klingon trying to flush him out, thought Lewis. But he wasn't going to play that game. If they wanted to catch him, they would have to track him down the hard way. He wasn't about to stand toe-to-toe with them and shoot it out.

Nevertheless, Fenton Lewis did try to deaden the sound of his movements, stepping over tangles of branches instead of leaping over them. He had no idea where he was going and was only trying to head in a straight line, to keep from accidentally doubling back and running into Piercing Blade. What a woman, he marveled. He would try to save her life, once he took over. In fact, he would save her for himself; having Almighty Slayer's daughter as his queen could only enhance his power.

Lorca was the perfect retirement home: a nonaligned, spa.r.s.ely populated wilderness where he would rule as an absolute despot. Of course he would be a benevolent despot, keeping his people happy but ignorant. Now that Lorcan masks were hot items on the black market art circuit, he could count on a steady income as king. The masks would also increase awareness of Lorca, making intergalactic tourism a strong possibility.

These were wonderful plans, but he would have to survive the next few hours if he was to carry them out. Behind him, he could hear the clumsy lumbering of his pursuers. They were no match for him in a short-term contest of survival skills, but they had theEnterprise to back them up. They could commit fresh troops to the manhunt and keep running him down until he was exhausted. He would have to find someplace to hide until theEnterprise gave up and moved on.

But where could he bide his time while a.s.sembling a force formidable enough to cower the locals? Not the upcoming fair, where there would be too much scrutiny and too much unbridled ambition. One of those backward villages might do, like the one where Riker and his party had been so warmly welcomed. He had spied on them during the mask presentation ceremony, and he was certain he could use the Lorcans' slavery to tradition for his own benefit. After all, didn't he possess their greatest icon? If he couldn't win over a bunch of superst.i.tious villagers, then he didn't deserve to wear the Wisdom Mask.

As if fate had been listening to his fevered plans, Fenton Lewis saw a light glimmering far ahead of him in the forest. It could be Piercing Blade, he knew, and he ran the risk of losing all as he cautiously made his way toward it. But he couldn't outrun a starship full of security officers forever. He needed to slow down his pursuers, somehow, and throw them permanently off his trail. If the light came from a party of Lorcans or from a village, maybe the Wisdom Mask would persuade them to help him. If not, maybe the pistol phaser would convince them.

A few moments later, Jean-Luc Picard saw the light as well. He had no idea how long or how far they'd been running or even in what direction. They could have doubled back on the others, but somehow he didn't think they had. This light was small, steady, and unwavering, like a streetlamp. He wondered whether Fenton Lewis would avoid it or keep running in that direction.

The only sounds came from Worf and Riker on either side of him, two big men who couldn't take a step without noisily crushing the forest debris underfoot. The captain stopped and waved to his subordinates to join him.

Reluctantly, they suspended the chase. "Captain," complained Riker, panting heavily, "I'm sure we were gaining on him."

"I'm not," answered Jean-Luc, taking a few deep breaths. He pointed to the light. "There's a village or something ahead of us. I don't want to risk shooting an innocent villager, and I think it's dangerous to sneak up on it."

"Commander Riker," said Worf, hardly winded, "is your communicator working?"

Will nodded. "I've kept it in my inside pocket."

"I wish we had done that," groused Picard.

The Klingon continued his thought. "May I suggest, Captain, that we ask theEnterprise to send reinforcements? With enough personnel, we can surround this area and close in on Lewis."

"Negative," said the captain, "until we have full daylight to work with. Lewis has a phaser, and we know he'll use it. I don't want any Lorcans or any of our own people to be caught in a cross fire."

"I think he'll head for that light," said Riker.

Captain Picard looked warmly at his first officer, immensely relieved to have him back at his side, beard and all. "Why do you think that, Number One?"

"Because he has the Wisdom Mask," answered Will. "With his ego, he'll want to try it out."

"I agree," seconded Worf. "And with the pistol phaser, he won't be worried about facing challenges."

The captain nodded. "Very well. Let's proceed toward the light ... with caution."

He motioned them forward, and the three bridge officers continued to stalk the renegade amba.s.sador through the murky forest.

Armed with medical supplies beamed down from theEnterprise, Dr. Pulaski made quick work of Almighty Slayer's and Piercing Blade's sword wounds. They were deep but clean, and no arteries had been severed. Medicine Maker could do little more than stand back and shake his jeweled-serpents mask in amazement.

"How did you stop the flow of blood so quickly?" he asked. "What is that instrument you used? Does its glowing tip cauterize the wound?"

"You'll learn all about that ... in time." She smiled enigmatically as she clamped a bandage around Piercing Blade's shoulder. In her own sickbay she wouldn't have bothered with a conventional bandage, but Lorca was not exactly a sterile place.

Almighty Slayer sat nearby, prodding his bandaged thigh with a grimy finger. "Pulaski," he said, "I've been sewed up by the best of them, and you do good work. You can still wear your Herbalist's Mask. In fact, youdeserve to wear it."

"No, thanks," replied the doctor, tying a sling around Piercing Blade's arm. "Your masks are beautiful, but they make us into something we aren't."

Kate slid the warrior's forearm into the sling and tugged on it to make sure it would hold. She wiped her hands and stood up. "Piercing Blade, you'll have to wear that sling for at least a week. No duels."

The Thunder Mask shook ominously. "I can't promise that. I can't rest until the Wisdom Mask is safe."

Kate shrugged. "Then you'd better keep your healer close by, because any fighting is bound to reopen that wound."

Like a recalcitrant child, Piercing Blade stood up and tore off the sling. "This isn't a time to sit like old werjuns. We need to find that mask."

"Aye," snapped Cold Angel, who had been prowling through the camp like the wild animal his mask depicted. "I say we can't believe these people from the sky. The thief who stole the mask is one ofthem."

Kate Pulaski looked helplessly at Lieutenant Commander Data and Counselor Troi. No one, including Deanna, knew what to say to the distraught Lorcans. They could not deny that they had brought Fenton Lewis with them to the planet. They had turned loose a plague of ruthless ambition, and, as in all plagues, the carrier was blamed as much as the virus.

More subtly, Deanna realized, the crew members' relationship with the Lorcans had changed since they had cast off their masks. Their naked faces made them alien again. Whereas moments before, they had been part of two Lorcan factions, now the "sky people" had reverted to type. That had to be, Deanna decided. They shouldn't try to shield the Lorcans from encounters with off-worlders. Their masks were already acclaimed throughout the galaxy. Not even the blackest clouds of soot and ash could keep Lorca and its remarkable culture isolated.

Also, the Lorcans needed the Federation to help them tame their wild planet. This was not, however, the time to try to explain that to them. Something had to be done to win back the Lorcans' trust, and it had to be done quickly.

"I, for one," declared Deanna Troi, "will give myself up as hostage-in guarantee of the safe return of the Wisdom Mask."

"No!" shouted Kate Pulaski. She appealed to Almighty Slayer, who remained seated on the ground, running his gnarled hands over the sleek contours of his new Amba.s.sador's Mask. "Vouch for us, Day Timer. Tell them we wouldn't steal the mask."

"I've already told them that," he said. "But I surrendered the Wisdom Mask, so I am not important anymore." He leveled his aged eyes at his daughter, who stared back at him with a mixture of emotions that confounded even Deanna Troi. "My daughter won and lost the Wisdom Mask in the blinking of an eye. She must live with that."

The old peddler struggled to stand, and Data rushed to help him to his feet and give him support. He nodded gratefully to the smiling android. "Perhaps Piercing Blade should remember that the Wisdom Mask chooses the ruler of Lorca-not the other way around," Data said. "If she is destined to wear it, it will be returned to her."

"Superst.i.tious nonsense," growled Cold Angel. "The Wisdom Mask goes to the strongest. The one with the quickest blade. That's how you held on to it for so many cycles, old man."

"True." The old man nodded. "That's how I held on to it. But do you know how I came by the Wisdom Mask?"

"I've heard this story before," sighed Piercing Blade.

"You can never hear it often enough," Almighty Slayer replied, leaning on Data for support. "I was a page, as green as any of these in your band. Oh, I had some skill with the sword, and I had strength and youth on my side-but I had no aspirations to the Wisdom Mask. I was part of Whistling Arrow's band, and we were chasing the old king, just as you have been chasing me. But Burning Cloud was a wily old man, and by the time we caught up with him, he was naked-faced. He had buried the mask, he said, instead of giving it up.

"I'm not proud to say," the deposed king continued, "that Burning Cloud died under our torture, never telling us where the mask was hidden. So our leader instructed us to retrace the king's trail, digging wherever we thought the mask might be. We toiled for weeks, digging up every stone and every mound of clay. Many gave up and went home to their villages, but I had no intention of returning to the farm, becoming a serf, chained to the land. I kept looking."

With Data's help, he rose to his full height and pointed to the shadowy clouds hovering over the tremendous trees. "It was on a morning darker than this. The others were asleep. The first ray of dawn broke through, and I saw a werjun sitting in an old tree. He seemed not the slightest bit afraid of me, as he sat there, eating a seed pod. After a bit, he swung to another tree, then another, and I followed. He moved so slowly, it was as if hewanted me to follow him.

"I found him perched upon an old stump, chattering comically and leaping about. Then, to my utter amazement, he reached into a hole in the stump and tried to pull something out. I could see that, whatever it was, it was too heavy for him, so I went to help. Imagine my amazement when I saw the red crystals glinting within that deep hole. I carefully drew the ancient mask from its hiding place, as the werjun watched calmly from a branch overhead. I had the Wisdom Mask, and it had been given to me by a werjun! I knew then thatI was destined to rule Lorca.

"Without a second's thought, I threw the Page's Mask aside and put on the Wisdom Mask. I had to kill many warriors, including Whistling Arrow, to keep it, but I held on to that mask for thirty winters and thirty summers ... until today. And I have maintained my friendship with the werjuns. So, Piercing Blade, you don't need to take hostages. You don't need to molest these visitors from the land of our ancestors. You only need to know that the Wisdom Mask is yours-if you are worthy of it."

The old warrior slumped against Data's shoulder and lowered his mask. "Now, my good friend, set me back on the ground. I have earned my rest."

The android carefully lowered Almighty Slayer to the ground, then turned to face his daughter. "I do not believe that the Wisdom Mask has supernatural properties," Data said, "but I do believe that a certain amount of patience is called for in the acquisition of it. You have waited this long. One would think you could wait until our comrades return."

"All right," declared Piercing Blade, looking pointedly at Cold Angel, "we shall wait. But only until the sun has risen above the treetops."

Picard, Riker, and Worf crept cautiously forward on their hands and knees, brushing aside the twigs before they had a chance to snap and alert the guards. A few hardy rays of sun infused the forest now, and they could see the guards confronting Fenton Lewis as he strolled brazenly into the periphery of the camp. They could also see the glint of red on the guards' masks.

Jean-Luc led them a few meters closer, close enough to make out the murmur of voices and see details of the camp. The light they had been heading toward was a disembodied globe that hovered steadily over three pre-fab geodesic huts, none of which appeared to be native to Lorca. As the red-masked guards escorted Fenton Lewis into the center of the camp, the globe strobed for a moment, then turned bright orange. Seconds later, the two silver-masked Ferengi emerged from their huts.

TheEnterprise officers inched forward until Picard held out his hands to stop Riker and Worf. He wanted to hear the conversation that was just beginning.

"What have we here?" asked a Ferengi, circling Fenton Lewis warily. "A Lorcan with a Federation phaser pistol?"

"Everybody stay in front of me," Lewis ordered, waving the weapon a.s.suredly. "I know how to use this phaser."