Black waters lapped at rotting piers beneath a sullen sky of iron-grey clouds. There was movement here, the quick furtive motion of rats, the flapping of raiton and raven wings, the scurrying of sailors hurrying to unload and get away. It was the twitching of a corpse transfixed by wires and jolted by lightning.

Into this quick, repetitive, yet feeble seizure strode a figure swathed in grey robes, walking down the gangplank with a speed born of determination. The captain stepped in front of the figure as its slipper-shod feet touched crumblingcobblestones, leached of color like all else here. "My lady, are you sure? Thorns is no place for a young woman by herself."

The shrouded figure laughed deep in her throat. "Neither was the place I grew up. I'll manage." She had to cut off a few more protests, but finally the captain let her go.

The streets of Thorns were not quite dead, like its inhabitants. Forges rang and goods changed hands. Smoke billowed into the sky. The woman went on, cloak flapping in the breeze, past workers breathing with difficulty in the warm haze and nobles dressed in stark, colorful contrast to their home, pretending they could push back the grey nothing that stalked them. You're sure about this?she asked the silence in her head.

Wish I could be, came the answer. Destiny doesn't mean much when there aren't enough to go around. Got a better chance than we did, though. The voice had not been so kind when she left Gem, but it had regained some of the humanity she remembered. Only some. I did have the dream.

First things first, the cloaked woman replied. Got to report in.

The great black palace of the Mask of Winters loomed before her, a huge pyramidal thing of ebon wood and jet stone. Beyond the mocking statue of the Mask himself, beyond the guardian undead, the golden doors stood shut. No one else approached the palace, so she walked up to the statue and around it. Stinking zombies crossed polearms in front of the door as she approached.

"I come as emissary to the Mask of Winters," she said, "from the Unconquerable Shadow." The zombies made no move to let her through. With a sigh she let her cloak fall. "Everyone always insists on getting my i.d.," she said crankily. "And here I am without it. Well..." She drew a pair of razor-sharp blades from the sheathes that hung at her sides. She wore a simple pantsuit beneath the cloak, made of fine cloth but without anything that might confine her legs or trip her up. She couldn't afford that; she was only human.

Before the zombies could lift their polearms, their heads hung limp from their necks, rotten flesh half-severed. Buffy seized the polearm from the one on her right and swung it in an arc, tripping the guards up like Keystone Kops. "How's that for a substitute? I'm here to see the Mask of Winters..." The gilded doors swung open to reveal a cluster of better-armed soldiers; these looked mortal, though with a foot in the grave already. "...or his representative will do. Wisdom Whispered? The Unrepentant Soldier? Um...Stern Ashikawa?"

"Your presence has not been announced to the Mask of Winters," the lead soldier growled.

Buffy bowed her head low. She couldn't fight trained mortal soldiers in armor like this. "I apologize. I can present evidence of my position if I can see someone in authority." They might kill her, which would suck; her life might be an echo of the real Buffy's, but it hadn't been too bad so far. At least the rest of her would be okay, which was a little comforting. A little.

"The Mask of Winters takes no interest in you, mortal." The rasp came from a Frankenstein's monster of a soldier who atrode up behind the guardsmen, scars faintly visible on its openly patchwork body, ninety-five percent of which went unconcealed by its bikini-bottom armor. "Tell me why you would expect him to, and you may live. The scent of the cowards called Yozi lies on you."

"I am an avatar of the Moonshadow caste, Unconquerable Shadow," Buffy said, "who must deal at times with the Yozis' champions and has learned a few of their works, which produced me." It wasn't even false...from a certain point of view, anyway. "I bring offers of cooperation and mutual aid."

"Hmm." The monstrosity before her bowed its head in thought. "You are correct. My duties do not cover such as you. You shall face the Mask, and he shall decide your fate." The full, dead lips parted, and the Unrepentant Soldier's mocking laughter echoed through the hall.

Chapter 67-Keep You Like an Oath

"I have to disagree with you," Scarlet Whisper said calmly. "You may not have been initiated when you attempted those exorcisms, but you are a sorceror now. You've described precisely the Fugue of Truth, and you cast it successfully. It revealed the one great magical deception in your life: that your sister wasn't your sister."

Buffy groaned. "Can we keep it between us? Ligier and Erembour and I think even Madelrada wanted me to learn sorcery. Cyan says there aren't enough Green Sun Princes to leave it to specialists. It's not that I mind learning, it's just that..."

"You don't want to end up having to cast battle spells for the Yozis and demon lords," Iron Siaka agreed. "For an Anathema, you're pretty honorable." She shifted to sit further forward. "Thing is, those powers aren't any more unholy than the basic magicks you know as an Exalt. You could slaughter an army without sorcery. It'd just take longer."

Buffy raised her head and set her jaw. "The Orchid-Eater was sure I'd pick it up eventually. He said most Infernals do. Even Cearr learned how to summon demons when I was in Malfeas last."

"Demons are dangerous, Buffy," said Whisper, "and many of them at least tend toward evil, but you have good friends who are demons, even those two you knew before ever coming here. Be cautious, not frightened."

"I might advise that you avoid summoning demons on Earth," Giles spoke up, setting aside his drink to polish his glasses. "But so far as I can determine, they're quite right about this world and time."

"You still want her to abandon her kingdom and go home," Scarlet Whisper accused. "I understand you trained her-and you trained her well-but she's grown beyond being your child soldier. She deserves to become as well-rounded an Exalt as anyone from our place and time."

"Which is my goal for her now as well," Giles said agreeably. "If she prefers to stay, I have heard that we have an adequate replacement to guard our world, and perhaps do more. And you're right: Gem needs her. Buffy, your choices are your own. I merely ask that you remember that power does not remove the consequences of your actions."

Buffy got up wearily. "Thanks for the advice, all of you. I've got a meeting of nobles that I put off till the rest of me got back. Then I'm making an announcement about my royal consort-"

"I still say you should send back a message to Mnemon accepting those Dynasts as her wedding gift," Siaka interrupted, still leaning back in her chair. "You can't afford to let her think of you as anything but an equal."

Buffy narrowed her eyes. Since returning, Siaka's underhanded ploy had been obvious-she expected Mnemon to be insulted-but Buffy wasn't entirely convinced her assessment was right. Mnemon loved one thing, power, and she'd secure it any way she could. "...then I'm going to split off a double to get good and bowlegged, and then I've got a Thing in Malfeas to get ready for. They're sure as hell gonna crow about getting the Perfect on their side."

"Suggestion, Buff," Siaka put in. Buffy blinked; it was the first time the Sidereal had dropped a nickname on her. "Those Dynasts are going to be Dynasts, and you ought to do a little of your own partying anyway. Delegate the Malfeas trip and do the getting bowlegged yourself. Even if the Yozis are pissed off that you sent a double, the worst they can do is kill her, not you. Take it from a Chosen of Serenity."

Buffy glanced at Scarlet Whisper, who said nothing and looked embarrassed. Giles was furiously cleaning his glasses.

"The duplicates are you, in every way that matters to other people," Siaka said. "I don't see why you don't keep one in Malfeas full time. Study, make connections...'enjoy the ambiance,'" she added wryly. "Merge with her whenever she comes back and bust up any mind control. Again, the worst that can happen is that she might get killed, and that could happen anywhere."

"I can't stay in direct contact across worlds," Buffy said thoughtfully. Siaka's suggestion was honest this time. "But maybe you're right. As long as I'm the one here in Gem, anyway. I can't get in the habit of spreading myself too thin." Could a double study the lore in Malfeas and bring it back inside her mind every so often? It was worth looking into.

Giles put a hand on her shoulder. "Whatever else you do, Buffy, please remember that at your core, you are human. I mean that in both senses: don't abandon your humanity, and don't presume that you've lost it because of your powers."

She nodded to him, offering him a smile. He couldn't see what it cost her on the inside. He was right, of course. He couldn't see how much she wanted to just let go. For a little while, Buffy had been so much stronger on the inside...and all it had cost her was herself.

"You, of all people, undercutting us!" Arbani Halan raged. "Your laws guarantee my monopoly!"

Buffy just nodded. "Yup. And you can make all the monopoly money you want. I'm not selling firewands. I'm selling hellwands. They're not any better than yours, and I can't help it if people think they are." Some people avoided the new weapon's reputation, but more were willing to believe a demonic flamethrower had to be more effective. Selling the things made her uneasy, but in the long run, cutting into House Arbani's profits could only benefit her. She didn't need the money; she could wreck him and then stop selling the things, and Creation's fledgeling firearm market would go bust, at least for a while while someone else tried to figure out his techniques.

Halan sputtered on for a few moments before a raised eyebrow from her stopped him. Circla Belusco spoke up next. "Despot, are you serious about putting on an exhibition match? Surely even one of your power could suffer an...accident."

"I could," Buffy admitted. "In principle. In practice, I'm not letting more than one Dragon-Blood fight me at a time. It'd take a powerful warrior Exalt to kill me and not get booed out of the arena for chanting spells or something. Them, we don't let sign up." She handed him some drawings. "These are the new arena designs. They're made for different kinds of sporting events." She had football, basketball, and baseball drawn up already and several more close to completion. "Look like something you can do?"

Belusco examined the papers. "Team events? Less direct combat...but a display of unparalleled skill, no doubt. This could be wonderful, Despot. Only grant me your imprimatur and we will set to work at once."

"You'll have it." She turned to the wrinkled old lady. "Iblan Bana, I know you're having labor issues since I freed the slaves. I didn't do it to undermine you."

Bana glared undiluted venom at her. House Iblan's profits were in the toilet, and here in Gem, toilets didn't even flush. She turned away without speaking.

Buffy rustled a parchment next to her. "I have a business proposal for you. Interested?"

"Malfean metals? You're serious?" Bana squinted at the papers as if unable to comprehend what she was seeing.

"You'll have the only market in Creation." There was nothing intrinsically evil about Malfean brass or lead, no matter how unnerving they might seem. Buffy began to pull the parchment away.

"I'll sign! Just, please, allow me to examine the fine print first." Bana grabbed for a brush.

"No fine print," Buffy said. "Guaranteed."

This was easier than she had expected. Less exhausting? Not so much. But definitely easier.

The march had run Buffy down. She was about as fit as a human could be, but climbing the back of the great rotting behemoth, trying not to breathe the smell, depending on an escort of undead to keep the maggot monsters away...that was beyond human endurance. And now she stood here atop Juggernaut, in the throne room of an undead monster that made the Master look like a baby vampire fresh from the crypt, and watched the face of the Deathlord turn toward her. She wanted to weep from relief as his calm, cultured voice said, "Bring the emissary a seat. She needs to rest."

A wisp of a shade of a spirit moved a padded chair over to her, and she sat. Don't obey him,Buffy reminded her. Don't accept any hospitality you don't have to. It was a slender reed, but according to everything she had heard the Green Sun Princes were a largely unknown phenomenon. If anything could surprise the Mask of Winters, her need to obey her original might, and then there'd be no need to pit Buffy's powers directly against his undoubtedly greater ones.

"Now," the Mask said gently, leaning toward her. "Tell me about this...'offer of mutual aid'."

"Buffy Summers is no friend of the Yozis," she said, beginning the perfectly true story they'd thought through in advance. "She's an Infernal by circumstance, not intent. As soon as she was able, she made a deal to have another of her doubles made a deathknight, Unconquerable Shadow. While one Buffy rules Gem as Despot, the Shadow maneuvers in the West, seeking more power for herself. I've come to offer you, and the Neverborn, our collective resources."

The Mask of Winters stood there like a statue for a few moments. Slowly, dreadfully, he began to laugh. "Audacious girl! What a little viper the Yozis have taken to themselves. Little avatar of an Exalt, I have no immediate use for such aid. I do not plan to expand my rule beyond Thorns, not, at least, for some time yet. But you are too valuable a pawn to merely cast aside. I sense that you have spoken no lies to me, and you have no power of your own, so I will keep you here in Thorns. Go back to the palace below when you have rested. We will find you a comfortable home, and should I have use for you, we will speak again." He began to turn-then whirled back on her. "Wait. Whose monstrance holds Unconquerable Shadow's Exaltation?"

Perfect! "The First and Forsaken Lion's, my lord."

The Mask of Winters returned to his maniacal cackling. He really was, in the end, just a powerful ghost, as caught up in his personal trauma drama as the teacher and student who'd bodysnatched her and Angelus. That was one hell of a thing to realize about a genius and world-beating conqueror, but she could see it, could practically smell it on him. She was still Buffy Summers, even without her powers, and Buffy Summers knew her forces of darkness. "That fool! No doubt he thinks to have you betray me. Well, he shall rue his mistake in good time. Go!"

She was on her feet before she could even remember Despot Summers had told her not to obey him or take his hospitality. It's okay, Buffy said in her mind. He's doing what we want. Watch out for any sign he's twigged to us, and remember there might not beany sign, but for now he's got us exactly where we want him.

"Operation Briar Patch is on target," Buffy said to Gunn. He was a nice guy, and a good demon hunter. Really it was too bad he'd spent so much time cooped up in Yu-Shan. He was never going to catch up now.

"Briar Patch," he said wryly. "I won't even ask."

"Good," Buffy said. "Two people can keep a secret if one of 'em's dead, and I don't wanna have to kill you. Settling in okay? I know you got dragged along on this whole 'save the cheerleader' bit, and then I didn't want rescuing." She offered him a beer.

Gunn shook his head. "It's warm. As for you...well, not like it's the first time, and you really do have a better handle on things than Cordelia."

"Not sure if I should be insulted by faint praise," Buffy said with a laugh. "She was basically just a puppet of the demon priesthood, right?"

Gunn made some pointy gesture at her. "Got it. Not that she realized it till she started getting overruled whenever she wanted something changed."

Buffy hunted through her limited supply of snacks. "Sure you don't want anything? Fruit? Jerky? Locusts? I'd kill for some chocolate fudge ripple right now. Guess I'll have to learn how to make my own."

"I'm good," Gunn said. "I wanna see this Calibration thing. No stars? None?"

"That's what they told me," Buffy agreed, "but I ought to get going. Five nights a year when you can pop straight to Malfeas and back. I've got to take advantage." She opened her mouth and breathed out streamers of bloody breath.

Gunn stumbled backward as a new Buffy materialized, clothed in a simple dress and sandals. "So it's not gonna be all booze and sexy times this time, is it?" the new arrival said regretfully.

"As much as you have time for," Buffy Prime reminded her. "Just remember the erymanthoi aren't anatomically compatible and you'll be fine."

The copy nodded doubtfully and hurried off. "You really are getting weird," Gunn muttered, half to himself.

Buffy stretched out her braid and patted him on the shoulder. "Gunn, when I was first called I could have taken your head off with a good punch. I've had demon bugs try to crawl up my neck and brainwash me. I've had my worst nightmares turn real. I've even been a muppet. Weird is what you make of it, okay? I've got powers. I use them to fight evil. Now let's go upstairs and watch the stars not come out. You with me?"

The heavens shimmered with a curtain of rainbow fire that made Buffy think of the auroras she'd never actually seen. Maybe that was what they were. Calibration was a strange time, and everyone here expected it to be. Gunn was off on another balcony by now, talking to Cordelia. Wesley and Giles were reading books about Calibration by the light of the sky and some glowstones.

Buffy was sitting on one of the highest balconies with Iron Siaka and Scarlet Whisper, waiting. One by one the Dynasts filed out of the tower. Assuming they'd told the truth, they'd been chosen for open-mindedness as much as attractiveness, and none of them would be a snake in her bosom. Not that she had enough bosom to keep a snake in anyway. Metaphors!

Cynis Darvin was freaky and perverted even by the standards of his kinky family. A Water Aspect, he seemed to think Buffy being Anathema was a special notch on his bedpost rather than a reason to have her slaughtered. He was maybe the least attractive of the five-his greenish complexion made him look sick to her-but he was absolutely as good in bed as his reputation suggested.

Nellens Vai, a Wood aspect, had unusually strong breeding for her house, and had said she had faith that Buffy could figure out some mystical method of getting her pregnant. The Nellens family needed more Exalts and would worry about strengthening the purity of the bloodline later. Vai was open-minded even for a Nellens. She was likely also right, one way or another. There were limits on Exalted power...out there somewhere. Buffy hadn't found them yet.

Ledaal Yaruch was a sorceror from the Heptagram. An older Air aspect, he had a tendency to spout Immaculate propaganda about Anathema even in her hearing, but he was just as nice to her in every other way even in the middle of a rant. It was almost as if he didn't remember what she was, unless he was talking about using her essence in his experiments.

Mnemon Ranata, on the other hand, smelled of open graves. If he wasn't so chill and easy-going, the necromancer would've been sent back without the others. He was handsome as a classic romance-novel vampire and just as creepy when he got going on his favorite subject. But he also seemed to realize he was too much of a fluke himself to have room to complain about what she was. If Mnemon had had things all her way, the whole group would've come from her house, but instead she'd had to search out Terrestrials who wouldn't just take the chance to cut down an Anathema.

Finally there was V'neef Usolt. She certainly had no interest in kids. Buffy had been surprised to hear that the butch Fire aspect was more conventionally-feminine than Vai by Terrestrial standards. Usolt saw Buffy (and to some extent, Vai) as a bit of fluff-pretty, but impossible to take seriously as an Exalt or Anathema. Real women were solid and as tough as any man. She wasn't really to Buffy's taste in women, but she did have...skills.

"I'm sure you're all wondering what's been taking me so long," Buffy began. "I'm not just screwing around. My advisor has suggested a proper course of action. Right now, I have a messenger catching up with Mnemon to thank her for her extravagant engagement present, and could we arrange the wedding as soon as possible." She gave that a moment to sink in. Same-sex relationships were nothing strange to Dynasts, but marriage, almost everywhere in Creation, was a way of tracking Terrestrial bloodlines and thus a man-and-woman thing. That was custom, though, not really law, and Mnemon was currently the most powerful woman in the Realm. If she declared a marriage to another woman, who would contradict her?

Each and every one of these Dynasts, it seemed. The balcony erupted in angry protestations. They were doing this as a favor to Mnemon; they were not under her thumb. They were Princes of the Earth, not Buffy's toys. She was Anathema and they had been polite about it!

Buffy began to laugh. The louder she laughed the quieter they got. "First: stop using that word 'Anathema'. I don't want to hear it from you." For once she didn't care about her compulsion powers. "Second, none of you are my slaves. I don't do that. You wanna go? Go. You wanna stay in Gem but not with me? Go wherever. You wanna undermine my rule? Go to hell. This is all politics. If Mnemon says no, she says no. I'll be waiting for her to come back and try again. Good luck to her, she'll need it."

They crowded angrily out the door. "Not how either of you would've handled it, I guess. I don't have much patience these days."

Iron Siaka just shook her head. "I suppose you'd better show them who's boss."

"You could have used a finer touch," Scarlet Whisper said, "but somehow I think that's not your style."

"This isn't exactly the method I'd have used for proposing to Mnemon," Siaka added after a moment.

Buffy removed her crown and studied it. "Let's just say this'll be my second political marriage and the first one ended in my unfortunate demon husband's death." She replaced the diadem. "It's all about the pursuit."

Buffy didn't much like the Shroudvaunt neighborhood. Sure, it was upscale. It was also very blatantly built on the suffering of others. There were some places where you could feel the rich had earned their wealth; not here. Here, even if you didn't think the zombie servants felt any pain, a few steps outside would take you into the Legacy district where the starving masses were trapped.

So she went there. Compared to most of the people barely surviving there, she might as well still be the Slayer. Against the few who had the strength and initiative left to rob a stranger in fine clothes, she still had five years of combat experience. They were bringing knives to a gunfight.

It was all relative, of course. Surviving shops dotted the district, though they grew fewer as you got deeper in. Families still lived in the homes here where they stood. More than survival was possible...with luck.

Those whose luck ran out were swept up by patrolling ghosts, solid here in the shadowland. Zombies shackled their hands and hauled them off to the bursting jails to die. There was only so much any mortal could do. Even her.

A figure huddled behind some trash cans across from one such bust caught her eye. The specter vanished into the house, leaving a band of inattentive zombies, and she rushed over to join the fugitive.

"My spot, lady," the kid said, and tried to shove her out. He was in his early teens, and scrawny. "They don't want you, not 'less you did sumpin."

"They're going to take that family unless you stop them," Buffy told the kid. She had seen this in her dreams. What happened next, she didn't know.

"Me? You crazy, lady. I'm nobody. I go out there, all that happens is they take me too. The Exalted'll come and kill the Mask. I just have to last till they do."

"You might," she said, "but there's someone who can do more than that. A Chosen One. You."

The kid laughed in her face. "If I'm the Chosen One, the world's in trouble."

"Nope," Buffy argued. "You have the power. You're the one boy in all the world who can stand against the zombies, the specters, and the forces of darkness."

The kid shook his head at her. "Then the world is outta luck, lady." He watched as the zombie patrol shambled off, prisoners staggering after them, and scurried away.

Buffy shook her head in irritation, worry, and faint amusement. She'd been hoping he'd rise to the challenge, but her dreams had brought her here for a reason. "See you round, kid."

Buffy was tired. Not sleepy-though in the past she'd have taken the cue to go catch some z's-but run down. Nobles and Dynasts and Iron Siaka, oh my. Separating out doubles to have fun had been a good idea. It even worked up to a point. But making the doubles cost her, too, and she had to get them back to get any benefit from it.

The Ebon Dragon wheedled her to take back his power. She had felt so much more confident, so much more determined. This time there'd be no getting rid of it, but TARA had promised she could force herself to behave.

No, it wouldn't be that easy. She wouldn't want to. She hadn't gotten as far as wrecking Gem that first time, but she would get there, and then what?

"I swear," she mumbled, "I swear I won't...I'll take care of the people who depend on me. I will. Just...let me stop...running down like this." The room swam before her eyes; she toppled forward onto the desk.

If Creation was a little off during Calibration, Malfeas was dowright weird. The city seemed to have separated out into a web of brass and stone, with isolated building-islands drifting through the sky. Layers below Buffy, the green sun shone through the netting.

She took a step and the rotten brass vines gave way beneath her, spilling her into the void. Sulumor reached for her, but the broken halves of the bridge were already drifting apart. Buffy sailed off through the stone and metal web of the Demon City.

A wordless song echoed through the void, and a hand caught her by the leg and pulled her in. Buffy lay there on a broad plaza tiled in blocks of lead and stone, breathing hard as the cracked tones of a flute whistled in the background.

"Malfeas's no place for mortals, Buffy Summers! Why you go a-sprawling? Stay on the ledges if you come here. Iarwain's not often free to roam and catch you."

Buffy struggled to her feet, looking around for the speaker with the singsong voice. "Iarwain?"

"Iarwain Benadar, as they called me. First and Fatherless. When the Wyld was all I walked there, waiting for Old Time to wake. Then the spark of creation caught, and I was there to greet my fellows."

Finally she got a good look at him. Her rescuer was a short man, white-bearded and white-haired, but brown as the proverbial nut. He wore a blue jacket made of something like denim and yellow-dyed leather boots. His face...something about his face made her eyes shy away from it, but she knew him anyway, and knew she had gone mad.

It was...Tom Bombadil.