Buffy squirmed, struggling to get comfortable, but no matter where she rolled she was lying on her sores. Her hair was falling out. Her teeth were falling out. She was rotting from the inside...again.

"I put it off too long," she said. "Everything's been so busy."

"And this is better?" Mnemon said quietly. Her left hand fidgeted on her chair arm.

"It sucks hairy goat balls," Buffy said, trying for at least a grin. Mnemon didn't give her one. "It's better than catching some Sidereal assassin's disease. Or some horrible Wyld plague. Or, hell, the Contagion. Just because my friends haven't caught it yet doesn't mean it's really gone."

"True," Mnemon said. "To unleash that on your world...or on ours again...I don't think we'd be so lucky a second time. But your friends don't have such protection?"

"We may just have been lucky. They need to find a way to be sure asap." Buffy began to cough raggedly and turned aside so she wouldn't spit blood in Mnemon's face. "I take it the wedding's off, right?"

"What? You said this was neither fatal nor contagious. Why would the wedding be off?"

Buffy tried to ignore the nausea rising in her gut. She didn't want to start vomiting again just yet. "Now you know what an Anathema really is. You've seen my real face."

"I have known what Anathema are all my life, Despot. I have fought them, faced powers more hideous than anything I have seen from you. And I have seen what you use your power for." Mnemon made an effort to...what was she doing? "If...if my mother were alive, and the Realm whole, I would kill you myself. Such would be my duty. But it is not your specific powers, however frightful, that make you dangerous." Her hand rose, crept over the covers, and gripped Buffy's, trying to avoid the sores. "There are those who would take this for weakness."

"I know..." Buffy fought to hold her gorge down. "...better. We'll never even be...friends, I know. Couldn't hope f...f..." She ducked her head into the pail and began to heave.

Mnemon waited several minutes for her to finish, then wiped her mouth with a soft silk cloth. "They say monarchs are rarely able to marry for love, and from what I have seen it is true. And they say I cannot love in any case. You are an exquisite monster of pride and terror, Despot Summers. You are loyal to your friends, yet kill your enemies without compunction or remorse. My mother defiled her pure Dragon's Blood with one mortal consort, Buffy. Only one. Think on that. If there is anyone I will ever love as my mother loved the founder of House Nellens...it would have to be someone remarkably like you." She leaned down and kissed Buffy's bloody lips. "I have no choice but to see to matters of state. Think of me as you are able."

Buffy was only able to focus on that for another ten minutes. But she did try.

Dawn Summers luxuriated in bodilessness.

She'd been afraid of this the first time she could remember it clearly, when Glory was teaching her. She'd still thought of herself as human, and evaporating into nothingness had terrified her. But she wasn't human-just a good facsimile.

A young man crouched in front of Ragara Myrrun. "Eat," he said through lips like grey granite. "Keep your strength up."

"I will not," Myrrun answered. "I cannot be tempted by the likes of you. My strength comes from your enemies, the Elemental Dragons, and from their avatars."

"You know that to be a lie," said Myrrun's mother. "You know that the Immaculate Dragons are a distortion of the Usurpers who overthrew the Solars."

"They are a metonomy," Myrrun said, "standing for the literal fact for those whose faith would be shaken. Through the Immaculate, we draw closer to unity, righteousness, and a better world."

"A better world?" laughed the porcelain doll on Myrrun's shoulder. "Better than what? Hunting and gathering and waiting for the next disaster to kill you off? My world sucks, and it's still a paradise next to yours."

"Paradise for the individual is often hell for the masses," Myrrun disagreed. "You have no doubt been beguiled by prosperity carried on the back of oppression. Through the Dragons we grow slowly, but we grow together."

"There can be a balance," the centaur argued. Maybe there was more of the Thought of Ea Gso left in her than she realized. "Different choices, different ways of life."

"Individualism grows like a cancer till it consumes all other ways of living," Myrrun said. "Diversity of thought proves a sham, for who would not run after the illusion of a better life?"

Dawn picked up the monk between her fingers. "I didn't bring you here to debate," she said. "I brought you here to save my sister." Myrrun laughed uproariously as she dropped him into her mouth.

Chapter 84-Dream Within a Dream

"It's too hot," Green Aurora complained. "Too wet. My fur-"

"I was supposed to get one of your society's best guides," Willow reminded her. "I took you instead, because they said they'd kill you for revealing their secrets. You're lucky I didn't leave you to die." A huge viper slid toward the Varajtul, and Willow zapped it. "You eat people."

"I've seen you-"

Willow cut her off. "As little as I can and survive. And I let them live. And it doesn't make me more spiritual, just the opposite. And-"

"You never stop talking about how you and your friends kill demons." Aurora struggled over a huge tree bole. "I'm sure you will say that they are lesser beings than yourself. Yet look at us!"

"It's not about them being 'less'. It's not even that they're evil," Willow insisted. "It's about protecting their victims."

"And mine, I suppose?"

Willow took a moment to study the posittion of the sun. "You're worse. Vampires don't usually enslave their victims for eternity. But if I can keep ensouling Angel knowing what he did to Drusilla, I can give you and your society one shot at redemption." She angled a little further south. "You've had to struggle to survive in the frozen North. And you're the product of your culture, which is something vampires can't say."

"You babble too much," Aurora complained.

"Some people find it adorable," Willow said. "I'm not stopping for the likes of you." She peered around, eyebrows furrowed. "Lazy Lob and Crazy Cob are weaving webs to wind me." She stretched out her hand and flung lightning.

A spider whose body was woven out of green vines and whose legs were jagged branches fell out of the trees. Green Aurora stepped up and poked it; its body was a little larger than her head. "Not so terrible," she said.

Willow winced. "We had to tempt fate," she muttered, as the forest around them came alive with spiders. "Welcome to Mirkwood."

Buffy tore the skin from her legs, working her way up painfully. As before, beneath the rotten flesh was soft flawless skin. "Never gets easier," she grumbled. "You guys better have the wedding preparations well under way. Not going to be delayed again."

Anya held out a black and crimson dress. "Mnemon's chosen the bridesmaid gowns. I hope they meet with your approval."

"What about me? Are white weddings a thing here?" Buffy bounded from the bed, feeling energized. She'd been passed out for a few hours this time and that was about as close as she got to sleeping these days.

"Mnemon heard they were only for virgins," Fred said slowly. "She hasn't chosen your wedding gown, but hers is, um...scarlet. I didn't try to explain the connotations of that."

"Just as well," Buffy said. "She wouldn't change." She threw the windowshades open. "Now the storm rolls in. What about decorations?"

"Up all over the temple," Shadow said. "Hope you don't mind statues of the Incarnae. They've all been good and cleaned, 'cause Leviathan and his bunch sure didn't care for anybody remembering the gods."

"I'm not even gonna notice," Buffy said with a grin, "unless they decide to open their eyes and make a fuss."

The doors opened and Mnemon strode in. Buffy pretended to scream and cover her eyes. "Mnemon, don't you know it's bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony?"

Mnemon's eyes widened for a moment. She covered them quickly, then gingerly dropped her hands to reveal a frown. "I will sacrifice to Venus to counteract the curse," she said, "if it is real. Is it real?"

The Scoobies all looked at one another. "It's...well, it's a superstition," Fred said. "I don't know if it's for real."

"Belief carries some power," Mnemon said. "I will make the sacrifice just in case. I see you're feeling better, Buffy. That pleases me."

"Me too," Buffy effused. "I feel a thousand percent better. I feel like running up and down the walls. I feel like...like...I feel like getting married."

Mnemon strolled up to her, towering over the Slayer. "Have you given thought to an heir?"

The Scoobies started inching toward the door, and Buffy giggled. "Not like that, guys. Apparently I can just...get preggo whenever I want. Since I learned the cloning thing anyway. The big problem is..." She glanced at the window nervously. "...Exalted buns take a whole year to cook. And a year here is fifteen months, not twelve. Don't ask the obvious questions cause I don't have answers."

Anya looked at Fred. "Did you know that? I mean, when you and Levi-?"

Fred nodded. "Actually it's pretty simple. I altered my body to make gestation faster. You know, like puppies. I ought to start showing in another half a month, and have the bahy a month and a half after that. Buffy, your hearthstone should be able to let you do the same."

"Three months?" Buffy tried not to goggle. "It'll be like I'm a balloon!"

"Maybe faster," Fred said, rubbing her belly.

"Stop the world," Shadow laughed, "I want to get on. Talk about your real-world applications for power."

"Careful," Anya warned. "The Neverborn won't like it."

"Speaking of Abyssals," Buffy said, "any chance of my last two bridesmaids making it back in time?"

"No word from either of them," Fred said, fiddling with her sleeves.

"And they're not showing up in the Loom," Anya said. "Maybe you better make alternate plans."

Tara woke up and stretched, careful not to disturb the sleeping elder next to her. Raksi slept when she chose and woke when she chose, and usually let Tara do the same. While the raksha delegation was here, they were staying in Mahalanka Without so that Tara could field demands without waking Raksi to leave Mahalanka Within.

She rose easily to her feet and rubbed her eyes, then took a moment to return to her female body. Being male wasn't the awful thing she'd feared, but neither was it particularly attractive. She thought maybe a week would be her limit, but that was a guess.

Tara unlocked the bedroom, then took a moment with her feet and joints before leaping into the trees. She could move easily like this through the interwoven branches, as if she were one of the omnipresent monkeyfolk that Raksi ignored. Raksi could be sweet when she wanted, but now that Tara's head was clearing she could see the cracks and the blind spots.

High in the air, she leapt for a window of the ancient Factualist Seminary of the Inviolate Heavens. No one had disturbed her work, though it seemed someone had tried to copy it like a ritual. Tara knew she hadn't had Willow's genius, or Fred's, but she wasn't any less college material, and with an Exaltation backing her up...well, she should be able to get somewhere with this.

Another precaution first. She'd started learning to extend her senses. Tara sniffed all around the ancient scratchboard and found only the scent of monkeyfolk. Raksi considered them far beneath her, a failed experiment. She never wore their form. They did seem a little less intelligent on average than humans, but only a little, so Tara didn't understand what was so wrong with them. Raksi might have concealed herself some other way, but for now, that was the best Tara could do.

She picked up a stylus and went to work.

"You're certain the Yozis approve of this?" Sulumor was aghast. At least, Buffy thought she was aghast. That pale face made it hard to tell. Xander would point out now that she was, in fact, a ghast, but that was neither here nor there.

"If it advances their plans, why not?" Of all her allies, Buffy was least sure where Sulumor stood. So far as she could tell, the Dune Woman genuinely revered the Yozis, out of gratitude for saving her life if nothing else. Something was off about her cloaked attendants, something that ate at the back of Buffy's mind, but what?

"I suppose," Sulumor agreed, "that access to the highest levels of the Empire is an advantage. Still...it suggests their plans are not in perfect accord." She gestured at Cyan.

"We knew that," Cyan sneered. "The Yozi are rarely at one with themselves, let alone each other. They want out; they have little else in common."

"If Buffy can get that kind of in with the Realm," Gryfa Theed said, "she could just as easily destabilize it as fix things." It was easy to talk with your mouth full when you could manifest more mouths on your hands. "What's this stuff again?"

"Popcorn."

"Good shit, Despot. Anyway, I got nothing against Nemmy. She's supposed to have an agreement with the Mask of Winters, though."

"The Mask of Winters is about as trustworthy as the Ebon Dragon himself," Meticulous Owl pointed out. "Maybe less, if that is possible. Mnemon knows as much."

"I know what?" Mnemon asked, stepping through the door. "That the Deathlords are liars and agents of Oblivion? Is there anyone who does not? Realpolitik, friends, is a necessary evil in these times, when the Mask openly rules Thorns."

"Got any plans to take it back?" Cearr asked. "Ya gotta lance a sore when it festers, if ya wanna keep the leg."

"Already on it," Buffy said. "We've got a friend there, busy diverting the Mask's attention towards Gem. Nobody can just bamf an army into my city, not even present company." She gave Mnemon a wink. "He can't move on me and still be ready for you, but if he doesn't he'll soon wish he had."

"I operate as openly as I can," Shadow said. "It's important that people know Buffy Summers can be in more than one place at a time."

"That I can strike anyone, anywhere," said former-radeken Buffy, bringing a tray of wine.

"Even at the heart of Thorns," Buffy Prime finished. "Without knowing my limits, he has to assume the worst."

"That's brilliant," Captain Feasalt said. "And you really can be in multiple places to coordinate, and to make more than one plan at a time, so even without your duplicates having powers of their own they represent a real strategic threat."

"Yup." Buffy took a drink of wine, then made a face. "Bleaugh. I'm the scariest scary on the block."

Son of Crows shook his head in disbelief. "And here I thought your reputation was overblown. With you on our side, I'm not sure what can stand in our way."

"...therefore Mela saith, let the lantern take care of itself..."

"Yeah, baby, preach it! Preach!"

The doors swung open at his approach, startling the couch's occupants. They began to rise, but instead he sat down across from them.

"I'm not certain I understand why you've called me here," Typhon said. The couch was comfortingly soft, an emblem of slow decay under the weight of entropy. The wine was well-chilled, symbolizing the cold death that would come once the sun turned black. The palace was quiet, demonstrating the ruin of meaningful politics in the Empress' absence. "Or how."

Tepet Fokuf smiled his vaguely senile, idiotic smile, and leaned forward, nearly dumping the neomah on his lap onto the floor. "No one trusts me with anything important," he whined. "If you were summoned here for a purpose, it can't be anything I did. Careful, Rianine." He clutched weakly at the demon's upper arm before she could fall.

"I suppose the same is true of your concubine?" Typhon supposed she was pretty enough. Neomah were all alike.

"Oh, dear, yes," Fokuf muttered. "I'm not even a thaumaturge. But there are a few people-only a few-willing to do me a favor every now and then. You understand? Would you like to share?"

Typhon shook his head firmly. "The dead do not partake in carnal pleasures." It was not true in the strictest sense, but it was what his masters desired, and it was certainly an image he chose to project under most circumstances. All desired what they could not have.

"Oh well," the Regent said, with an ineffectual wave of his hand. "I should get to the reason you're here."

Typhon scowled. "I thought-" He halted. Fokuf had pulled out a brazen automaton head from under the couch.

"Once the Empress' personal advisor," the Regent said, "but they finally fell out. Still, Eyem knows one heckuva lot."

"Wow!" the head spouted. "Check out those tits! Hey, what happened to Scarlet? Who's this dweeb?"

"He's not playing with a full deck," said Fokuf. "It's a shame." From under a cushion he removed another astonishing item: the Empress' diadem, hearthstone and all.

"They trust you with that?" Typhon tried not to gape.

"Well...not precisely," Fokuf said with a shrug, "but it's not as though I can attune to it, being a mere helpless mortal. I managed to talk a friend into letting me see it for a bit."

Typhon stood up, knocking the couch aside. "Explain this! What is going on? Why are we here?"

"Oh, nothing much," Fokuf said weakly. "Just that I've figured out how to access the most powerful weapon in at least two universes."

"So I came to you," the Slug said, wheezing. "Pardon, but being aboard a ship doesn't agree with me." "Slug" Nagezzer would never admit to his power or impeccable breeding. For one thing, it might hint that he desired the throne. No one on the heights would tolerate a cripple as Emperor.

"I'm glad you did. But are you truly willing to stand with me in this matter?" The Slug had long ago lost any chance of excelling in combat, with his injury.

"Whatever I can, I will do. Mnemon has the skill to sit on the Scarlet Throne-more so than you, perhaps-but she is plotting with Anathema. The Realm cannot survive that, whatever her intentions."

"I agree," she said, donning her Dragon armor. "Especially not if this artifact you speak of is real."

"It is a thing of terrifying power, Roseblack. And I can tolerate it on no finger but yours."

"You were waiting around in the engine bays in Luthe?" Alexander rubbed his temples. "I don't understand."

"I was not waiting around," Anya insisted. "I was practicing Sidereal martial arts exercises."

"All right." He was trying to be patient. He was trying really hard. "Why did you not come help us? Swims-In-Shadow and Moray and most of the enemy subs got away. Even the juggernaut got away."

"First," Anya said, holding up one finger, "I didn't think I could have done much damage to the fleet. Second, Sad Ivory told me very strictly to practice at the same time every day. Third, I'm pushing my boundaries getting involved in politics, even with Skullstone, until my paperwork clears." She pushed the three fingers forward. "That's just how it is."

"Paperwork?" Alexander hoped she could hear how appalled he was. "These are the evil undead we're talking about."

"And everybody in the Commission on the West and the Commission on Essence-Users has plans for dealing with them that I shouldn't disrupt if I can help it," Anya insisted.

"Ahn, you haven't worried about paperwork before this," Alexander pointed out.

"And it's gotten my butt audited, denied use of the Calibration gate, and given a subpar manse in Yu-Shan," Anya said slowly, as if talking to an idiot.

"Compared to the world ending, that doesn't seem all that harsh!" Did she really not understand?

"Listen to me," Anya ground out between her teeth. "As long as I can trust someone else to be the boots on the ground, it's part of my job to prepare for the next apocalypse. And the next one after that, and the next one after that. If we stop one apocalypse in a way that leaves us completely vulnerable to the next, that isn't a real win! Andthat includes if heavenly politics leaves me without the resources to help next time!"

Alexander took a deep breath. "Okay," he said. "There's something to that. We need to get the system fixed, but I understand what's happening. I have this plan to get the attention of the Unconquered Sun, and then maybe together we can-" Alexander broke off. Anya had moved when he mentioned the Unconquered Sun, moved so fast that he hadn't seen what she'd done. There was a switchklaive buried in his chest, and Anya was staring, eyes wide, at her hand holding the hilt.