Three days. They'd been walking for three days. Buffy's feet weren't sore, exactly, but she welcomed any chance to sit down. Even for this. "Okay, I'm done." There wasn't any toilet paper out here. She wasn't sure there was any toilet paper in this world. "Don't you ever have to take a leak?"

Sulumor shrugged and yawned. "No. Don't you ever have to sleep?" Buffy had thought surely she could keep walking all day and get there faster that way, but Sulumor had denied it, and then had to sleep most of the night anyway.

"Your point is valid," Buffy said grumpily. The split rock was a lousy seat anyway. "I don't know if I packed enough food for the trip. You do have to eat, don't you?"

Sulumor laughed grimly. "I think there's a Malfean charm that lets you eat anything. Want to try some sand?" Buffy stuck her tongue out at the woman. "If you're hungry enough, I'll call up some locusts. They're magically delicious."

Buffy didn't mean to burst out laughing at that. Sulumor huffed at her and started to turn away. "I'm sorry. That was...you'd understand the joke if you' spent any time in my world. I know it wasn't intentional, and I am hungry."

The other woman shrugged at her. "They really are tasty. Locust Mana Plague."

A vast thrumming sound rose up from the sands around them, followed by a rustling like falling rain. The sands shifted, and from between the grains crawled insects like grasshoppers, though rather than brown or green these shimmered with every color of the rainbow. The faint moonlight sparkled on them for a few moments as they thronged around Buffy and Sulumor. The thrumming of their wings ceased. Buffy saw a few of them topple over. "They just...died?"

"They're here to feed us. They serve no other purpose. There is a greater charm that would cause them to eat any other food in the area, but it still lies beyond my grasp." She picked up a handful of locusts and began to pop them into her mouth, abdomen first.

Buffy took a few curiously into her hands. They did smell oddly sweet, like a loaf of spicy bread. She tasted one. "Like mom used to make," she said softly. "It's like...I can't remember exactly what."

"The effect is magical," Sulumor explained. "To me, they seem rather savory, like a good meal of roast meat, but I expect the flavor is quite different to you. Cecelyne expects repayment, but she is generous after her fashion."

"Hm." Eating the insects would have seemed gross not too long ago, but Buffy had gotten used to demon guts all over her favorite clothes. And they really were delicious, magically or not. She decided it was better not to ask how they were repaying Cecelyne. "Thanks for the food. I know that you're just acting on orders, but you've been nicer to me than most of the supposed good guys in this world so far."

That made Sulumor smile. "Ask yourself why that is, Buffy, and what loyalty you really owe them."

The tattooing was long and more than a little painful. "So the pain circuits were broken, but it still wasn't really safe to take it off. Or at least I was afraid to risk it. By that time I'd learned a lot about what you could gather in the woods. The Pyleans had agriculture, but some of the food they liked couldn't really be grown; you had to find it wild."

Sage of the Depths worked the needle. Some of the tattoos were flowing curves, but he had seemed surprised that other parts-on her neck, for instance-had formed into circuit patterns under his fingers. He wasn't totally unfamiliar with them-he knew Luthe's machinery-but he wasn't used to anyone else who understood such things. "How long did you live there?"

"A couple of years. I had trouble keeping track. Even the seasons there were different. I spent most of that time trying to work out the words and equations that would open a portal and let me go home, but I was missing key information. I must have opened a dozen portals, but in Pylea they were opening in a few fixed locations that weren't anywhere near me."

"But they were opening. Curious." Sage of the Depths began a long spiral pattern near the edge of her left breast. One like it already adorned her right. She'd been a little embarrassed at first, but the Sage had been utterly professional. Besides, it wasn't as if her boobs were anything to look twice at.

"Wormhole physics required it. They had to open somewhere in response to the sounds I was making. Wesley insists that it was a magical phenomenon, like an incantation. I suppose you could look at it that way, but it's as much a part of science as...well, the lights in here." She wasn't really sure they were electric.

"You can make these larger if you like," the Sage said. Fred blinked at him for a moment before realizing he'd changed the subject. "The essence of Lunar magic has to do with changing shape. If you want bigger breasts, it will be a simple matter for you to have them."

Fred blushed. "Well, that'd be pretty cool. I'll look into it." He must have read her expressions better than she realized. "It's not my top priority though."

"Of course not." Somehow the spiral pattern made her breasts look concave from above rather than convex. As if they were a pair of twin wormholes. The tattoos were meant to be symbolic, of course, but she hadn't thought about exactly what that meant. "So you were unable to leave Pylea on your own."

"If I'd been able to move freely I would have eventually found a spot where I could open a gate, but no, I had to wait. The wormhole areas were all under the control of the kingdom's priesthood. I guess it was a vital part of the economy, capturing slaves."

"It fills you with rage to see people enslaved, doesn't it?" The Sage was nearing the spiral's center.

"In my time, in my world, almost anybody would be furious. My home country fought a war to end slavery. It's horrible."

"You said your friend wasn't so enraged." The needle reached her areola, producing a flash of sharper pain.

"S-she was looking out for us first," Fred said, gritting her teeth. "Buffy was more worried about getting us all home than about changing anything here. And I understood, even if I didn't really agree, but it still made me angry. I know she wasn't pleased to see the slaves, she just...had other priorities."

The sharpest pain, and then that section was done. Sage of the Depths moved on. "I think my first test will be of your wisdom," he said. "There are many subsystems of Luthe that have long been inactive. Leviathan could repair them, but he no longer comes aboard, for he rarely changes form and never to anything that could walk these halls. Swims-in-Shadow and I come from a more enlightened time than this, but he was a shaman from a primitive tribe, and even I remember only the technology of the Shogunate, which was never so grand as that of the High First Age."

"You want me to try?" It wasn't even that much of a surprise that he asked, but she knew already that the technology aboard Luthe was more advanced even than she was used to.

"The Realm is destabilizing without the Scarlet Empress to guide it. Chaos lurks on every front. Most of Luthe's weapons have been unneeded for ages, but the time is perhaps coming when they must be fired again, whether we face Lintha pirates, hordes of Fair Folk, or ships crewed by the walking dead. I do not know if you can repair any of them, but I would like to see you try your hand."

She'd have to hunt for technical manuals. Well, hunting was hunting. And certainly she knew things that no one else of her own world and time publicly knew. Maybe she was up to the task. "I'll do it if I can."

Sage of the Depths chuckled. "You are a Lunar Exalt, child. Not that you already know all things, but remember: nothing is ultimately impossible for you." He began to make the first tattoos on her belly.

Fred thought of Buffy leaping from atop a spray of water and nodded. "There is no try," she said gravely.

First there was a speck on the horizon. Slowly it grew larger. Slowly, and then more rapidly as Xander adjusted his course. The ship was not all that large, but it bore three masts, and certainly it was larger than his little raft. Xander had figured out easily that he was sailing south, but that wasn't any help if he didn't know where land lay. The ship was east of him, bearing north, and finally someone must have spotted him, because a small boat was lowered into the water eventually and headed toward him. Xander stopped feeding the sharks. Having his rescuers eaten would be a bad thing. "Go on, boy," he said quietly, and hoped the big fish would listen.

The boat heaved up beside him, crewed by three short-haired, tattooed women. In his own hometown, he'd have said they looked extraordinarily butch in their short, open leather jackets, tight pants, and work boots, but you never knew what another culture would consider feminine when you weren't even on Earth any more. Two of the three had on midriff-baring shirts that did nothing in particular to their chests, but the third was wearing some kind of tight constraining wrap. "Ho, traveler! Not much of a boat you have there! Ship go down without you?"

Xander spread his hands and gave them a winning smile. "You have no idea how true that is, or how upset I was, ladies."

The women in the boat glanced at each other, scowling. Finally the tallest one sighed. "Get in the boat, man. Unless you intend to drift till you hit An-Teng. A shame if you died of thirst out here in the ocean."

"That would indeed suck," Xander agreed, though he'd discovered for himself that he could drink seawater. They had no way of knowing that, and it would probably still take weeks or even months to reach An-Teng. Wherever that was. "I'm sorry if I've offended you somehow."

They looked at each other again and shrugged as he climbed aboard, leaving his ruined pants and shirt but taking the bag with the scraps of the food Shaia had left him. "We'll discuss it on board Distant Obsidian Shores...outlander?"

"More of an outlander than you know, ladies." The shortest one, the one with the wrap around her chest, punched him in the ribs and glared. "Sorry. I don't know what I'm doing wrong, but I'm sorry."

"Just keep your mouth shut till you can talk to the captain."

Xander settled onto the lone remaining bench and stayed there, waiting, until they reached the ship. Closer scrutiny revealed that it wasn't only the rowboat that was full of women; everyone aboard that he could see was, and wore similar clothing and hairstyles. Only about one in five seemed to be attempting to conceal her chest, but they all tramped about the ship in pretty much the same manner, and not one of them had long hair save a couple who wore mohawks.

He bowed deeply while the boat was being loaded back up. "Might I ask where the captain is?"

A relatively light-skinned (and at that, heavily tanned from years of sun exposure) middle-aged woman in a better cut of coat bowed back to him, just a little. "I am Captain Tya Redfang Grelidaka of the Distant Obsidian Shores." One of the three who had picked him up whispered in the captain's ear. "I see. Welcome aboard, outlander. Before you give further offense to my crew, however unintentional, let me inform you: unless you're a Dereth who's lost her sash along with the rest of her clothes, everyone on board this ship is a man. Am I clear on that?"

Xander gulped and scratched his head. "Um. Sorry, Captain. Um, sir."

"Good. You'll be fine. We'll be in port in a day or two. Enjoy the trip."

"So far, nearly all the...charms I've learned are combat-related," Buffy said, a little dejectedly. "You mean I could have been feeding people too?" They'd eaten hearty and spent the next few hours trudging along slowly.

"You don't think it's worthwhile to be able to fight?" Sulumor frowned at her in puzzlement. "If my people had been there to attack yours, you would have been your friends' best hope of survival."

"Well, of course it's worthwhile. I just...Look, Mom once told me that all I ever did was react. And she was under a spell at the time, but eventually I figured out that there was some truth to it. If demons left humans alone-if people would leave each other alone-fighting wouldn't really be necessary. We could feed people, invent things, explore."

"It's not too late to learn those things," Sulumor said. "The ancient Solars lived for thousands of years. I would expect we'll do the same. Even Dragon-Blooded live a few centuries. You have time. And what keeps you from using your strength and invulnerability in construction, for instance? Or to explore places where no one else can go?"

"Just my mission, I guess. I was in college for a while-um, a kind of advanced school. But when Glory tried to kidnap my sister I ended up having to quit." Thousands of years? Surely that had to be a legend. But it wasn't as if Slayers ever died of old age. "Cyan told me a couple of times that I was perfectly capable of being super-smart if I tried."

"You are. And more easily than a Solar ever could. A Solar would have to learn an entirely different Excellency. You merely need the proper perspective. One of two proper perspectives, in your case. And you're no doubt right about what you said yesterday; I would gain little by being able to emulate She Who Lives in Her Name, for instance, but the Malfean perspective and the Ebon Dragon's are quite different, so your capabilities are expanded more than a little."

"How would I go about being super-smart? I'm not sure I can see how that works." Her shoes had gotten full of sand in that last dune. She pulled one of them off. How come Sulumor's weird sexy nun costume wasn't always itchy and gritty?

"Well, going with Malfeas...remember first to be bold, not timid. If asked, say what comes first to mind and don't be afraid. Think of strategy, or of weapons design. If you must do something peaceful, try to do it in a way that demonstrates how powerful you are. Don't just cook; rain food from the heavens. Don't just build; raise a temple to yourself." Sulumor grinned briefly at her; she thought Buffy should do that anyway. "As for the Ebon Dragon, everything must benefit you first and most, but that doesn't prevent you from helping others as well."

"I have to live in the world, so saving it is still a good."

"Exactly. The Dragon is subtle, but many esoteric theories require a subtle mind; he is secretive, but much knowledge is secret. Don't reveal your ideas to others unless paid, preferably at a sizable profit. Compete with other savants; the Dragon is a principle of opposition, not cooperation. If you have to share for some reason, leak the information instead of giving it openly, or tempt others to take it from you. And counter-intuitive though it may be, work amidst those who think the knowledge you seek is immoral. Just don't risk anyone storming your sanctum."

So if I ever make it home, go into stem-cell research. "I think I get it. What about you?"

Sulumor looked bitter. "I think my prior incarnation rather soured me on invention. But Cecelyne's method is easy. She is thorough and cautious, a careful planner. Yet when she reveals her innovations to others, she does it much as Malfeas does-as a great wonder, a miracle handed down to her followers."

Buffy looked up; something had glimmered in the distance, but it must have been the sun sparkling on sand. "To change the subject-Cyan said there was some kind of extreme hazing ritual that happens when we get to Malfeas. I didn't go through it the first time because they weren't ready for me yet, but...it sounded unpleasant."

Sulumor answered with a wry twist to her expression. "Ah. Yes, she would tell you about that. Fortunately, she misled you."

"Figures."

"The first Green Sun Princes were so treated. The very first circle, in fact, deployed as a full circle in creation about a month earlier than the date usually given. That is how long it took the coven to self-destruct. The Fiend easily manipulated the Slayer into killing the Malefactor and the Scourge into killing the Defiler, then each other. Lastly the Fiend killed himself. The Ebon Dragon, ironically enough, was the one to realize how badly they had mangled the personalities of their Chosen and demanded that the practice not be continued, out of sheer pragmatism. There may be unpleasantness when we reach Malfeas, but more likely it will come from our fellows, not from the Yozis or their souls. When I received my orders, you were in very good standing with our masters."

"And they won't be mad that I've done nothing for five days?"

"They know how long it takes to get to and from Malfeas, Buffy. They summoned you." Sulumor squinted into the distance. "We might see glimpses, but we will not be there for another day and a half, roughly speaking."

Buffy said nothing for a while until Sulumor turned to look at her. "Sorry. Just trying to think of ways to make the trip more bearable with my charms, since I can't go any faster."

Sulumor seemed to be counting up something on her fingers. "Not sure. From what you've told me, I can't think of much. I suppose we could stop and play around with them, or you could practice something new. Do you dance? Malfeas loves to dance."

"What?" Buffy's jaw dropped. "He's a city, isn't he?"

"And you think that stops him?"

"I know what you're thinking." Sage of the Depths watched Fred as they walked through the corridors. "But you have not considered it deeply enough. Did you not encounter the Dragon-Blooded in the Lap, and did they not attack you? They are traitors and usurpers and they deserve all that we have done to them."

"The Dragon-Blooded we met there were horrible, but they seemed to think we were insane monsters called Anathema." Hungry faces watched her surreptitiously. "But these people...what have they done? How long have they been living like this? How is this better than what they do?"

The Sage spun on his heel. "It is better because these are Traitorspawn, Unblooded. They cannot be trusted. They can never be trusted. They would betray us the moment they were free. Even if it were true what they said, that the Solars were mad, even then, why did they not try to help us? They were not our equals in power, let alone the Solars' equals, but they numbered in the hundreds of thousands. You say your world has levels of technology approaching the Shogunate's, and you had no Exalted at all. Why did they not seek a cure?"

"I don't know," Fred said plaintively. "I don't know their side of the story. Maybe they were too afraid of you. Maybe they tried and you treated it like a rebellion. I don't have any way of knowing."

"They came armed to the Calibration feast. They ambushed and murdered the Solars, and then they tried to track down both us and any Solars who escaped. They would have killed the Gold Faction had there been any strength left to it."

Fred threw her hands into the air. "I'm hundreds and hundreds of years too late to understand what happened, Sage. And these people have paid for what their ancestors did for the same amount of time. Haven't they been punished enough?"

The Sage sneered at her. "Never. They will never have been punished enough. Come along if you want to see the Essence batteries. Stop gawking at those who deserve their suffering."

Haltingly Fred followed him, searching. There seemed to be nothing living in the station but the people and some hydroponic plants. Maybe there were fish in the flooded lower levels, but that'd be useless up here.

A cockroach skittered out from underfoot.

Whatever she had to do.

Xander was dozing in a hammock in the cargo hold when it suddenly pitched him out. The ship was turning, and turning very fast. He struggled to his feet to see women...er, men...running every which way. Rather than stop anyone from going about important business, he hurried up the ladder to the deck.

A great ship was bearing down on them, a ship driven on black and silver sails. The Distant Obsidian Shores was trying to come around, and everyone aboard was grabbing up weapons or securing the rigging. Finally Xander spotted the captain on a higher deck and bounded up the stairs. "I'm guessing pirates?"

"The worst, outlander. Lintha raiders, possibly slavers. If you want to live, or even die well, prepare for battle. I'll have a spare weapon found for you."

Xander just nodded. He wasn't exactly inexperienced in a fight, and there was always the chance his new superpowers would turn the tide. Might be best to wait until the violence actually started before showing off, though; who knew what would happen if there were Dragon-Blooded on the ship? They might just pitch him to the pirates in hopes of buying them off. "Get me a sword, if you've got any." Probably he could handle that without killing himself.

"Auberge, get this man a sword and a spear! Go with him, outlander!" Xander scooted.

"You're sure you can handle this?" Auberge had added so many tattoos to the basic zigzags that Xander wasn't really sure what his face had originally looked like. He had a nice body, though.

"I think I can figure it out," Xander said, trying to conceal how nervous he was. "You slice with this side, right? And you stab with this end?"

Auberge lifted a beringed eyebrow and snorted. "Get up top. They'll be on us in a few more minutes."

The Lintha vessel was maybe a dozen yards away The hell with it. He dashed back up to the captain. "Look, Tya Redfang, I know you don't have much reason to trust a guy you picked up lost at sea, but I need to know something. If you had a choice between Lintha pirates and a Solar Anathema, which one would you pick?"

Tya Redfang stared at him a moment. "Right now, if the Anathema kept those pirates off my vessel I'd swear loyalty to him for a year and a day. But, Sun's truth, if you're talking about yourself, you are the worst Anathema I have ever heard of."

It was a sign! "Ah," Xander said, "but you have heard of me." The captain glared. "Look, just trust me and follow my lead. Got a crow's nest?"

Redfang grunted, and pointed to the nearest mast. "But you'd better get up there fast."

It was the work of a minute or so to reach the crow's nest. The pirate vessel drew abreast, and its crew hauled out boarding lines to toss.

Here goes...everything. Xander lifted his sword and spear. He drew in a breath, hoping to bellow out his words, knowing they might come out as a squeak instead...and his voice boomed out at a volume that might have drowned gales. Phantom-Conjuring Performance. "I am the Dread Pirate Roberts! There will be no survivors! No survivors!" Sunlight flared around him as if the ship had emerged suddenly from the shadow of stormclouds, though the sky was all but clear. And he leapt, seizing a line of the rigging as he fell. "The Dread Pirate Roberts is here for your souls!"

As his boots slammed onto the deck, he lifted his sword and slashed away the nearest boarding line. He heard more boots crash down beside and behind him, and glanced to one side to see a line of warriors of light beside him. They weren't really there; their swords did nothing to the boarding lines-but he saw the nearest Lintha draw back. Perhaps it was no surprise that the one to his left was Buffy, with Spike beyond her. On his right stood Willow and Tara, hands crackling with power.

He did what he could, swinging his sword fiercely at the boarding lines. It was easier than swinging it at a person, to be sure, but he'd do that if he had to. He wished it wasn't helping that the people about to start leaping aboard were green-skinned and red-eyed. "There will be no survivors!" Majestic Radiant Presence.

In spite of his best efforts, in spite of the Tya fighting next to him, the ships slammed together, and Lintha began to leap over the rails. A huge bruiser raised a sword laden with spiky protrusions, about to swing at him...and stopped, the terrible light of Xander's-well, the Dread Pirate Roberts'-anima reflected in his eyes. He turned and swung at the next nearest figure, but that was the illusion of Buffy, and his sword passed through it like a ghost. A sailor burst through the image, spearing him in the gut.

Got to keep it up. Keep going. Get them on the run. "My men are here! I am here! But soon, you will not be here! All your worst nightmares have come true!" Heart-Compelling Method. A shock ran through his arms as his sword bit into the chest of a pirate. "I am the Dread Pirate Roberts!"

Without warning, the few pirates who'd made it aboard the Distant Obsidian Shores began to jump back over the side. They were fleeing. They were fleeing already.

They were fleeing from him. And he'd managed to wound exactly one of them. "Well, hell, if I'd known it was going to be that easy, I'd have called my shark buddies."

Tya Redfang clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Huh, you got blood on your sword after all. I suppose I really should keep my word even if you'd done nothing but the light show. What in Sun's name was that? Most pirates are cowards at heart, but I've never seen Lintha run that way."

May as well press the advantage here too. "That, Captain, is the least of what a Solar can do." Not as if he were lying, after all.

The captain went to his knees. "In that case...Dread Pirate Roberts-or whatever the bleeding hell your name is-I swear that for a year and a day my ship is at your command, to sail where you say and carry what cargo you desire. Though I hope you'll let us offload at Abalone as planned. Never thought I'd say that to anyone, let alone an Anathema." He rose to his feet and crossed his arms under his breasts.

"Don't suppose I can get a kiss?" Redfang glared at him. He did that a lot. "So I can tell a friend of mine I kissed a guy and liked it." More glaring. "Ah, never mind. It's not that important." He started to turn away.

Redfang seized him by the shoulder, spun him around, and kissed him with great force. It wasn't a bad kiss, Xander decided, just unexpected. "Just be sure you use those words," the captain said. "I want to see this friend's face when you do."

Xander nodded, laughing softly to himself. Well, he'd tell Willow, as promised. But he wasn't going to explain, because he couldn't be sure if she'd congratulate him or chew him out. Guess being a superhero doesn't make life any easier or less strange.

Giles was starting to relax. The walls of Paragon were finally becoming visible, and after all there had been other villages along the road, places where they'd been able to stop and refresh their provisions. Their...escort, while not by any means friendly, had held to Sulumor's promises, and after the first day, when Angel and Spike had bedded down with them in the sand, he thought they might have actually begun to see at least those two as people. He shook his head. He still wasn't sure he could see Angel and Spike as people. Spike still lacked a soul, and while he had done his best to paper over it in his mind, to not blame Angel for Angelus' actions, his memories of being tortured remained vivid.

He supposed he shouldn't have worried quite so much. The Celestial Exalted were a tiny handful spread out over a vast world, and while the Dragon-Blooded were more common, they had also set themselves up as guardians of peace and order-however heavy-handed they might be. With no "Anathema" in the party, they'd been in relatively little danger from that quarter. And against ordinary brigands, they certainly had enough skill between them to have prevailed without the Dune People's protection. The only remaining discomfort was that he would far rather have traveled by day and slept by night. And bedded down on at least an air mattress. And had some tea. Surely that wasn't too much to ask for.

The sun was sinking over the hills-it seemed the days were a little longer here, an hour or so. Spike emerged from the sand and began getting dressed. At least neither he nor Angel had embraced the Dune People's idea of fashion. They too had begun to wake. Angel, apparently, had hit the snooze button, but Giles was certain he would be up soon as well.

There was a rush of sand. He frowned. One of the Dune People had vanished. "Willow, are you awake?" he murmured.

"Yuh-huh." She lifted her head from Tara's leg. "Tara, time to get up. Giles, what's going on?"

"I'm not sure. There's a disturbance." Another of the albinos disappeared in a swirl of sand. "There. Help me wake everyone, and fast."

Another eruption of sand. This time, however, their mysterious assailant had gone for Spike. "Oi! What's this all about?" He lashed out and struck the blurred figure in the face. She staggered backward, and now Giles could see her clearly.

She was a petite little blond girl, not so dissimilar in build from Buffy, though her face was a little rounder and her eyes a cold blue, and on it she bore a smile both brighter and colder than he had ever seen Buffy wear. "Well. Perhaps there will be a little fun in this after all."

Her massive sword arced for Spike's neck.