After Miles and Sally had changed their respective shirts, they and Amadeus finally made it downstairs. Awkward silence reigned for several minutes as Amadeus ate. Amy, who now had the baby asleep at her breast, grew strangely shy, her face flushing whenever she made eye contact with Miles; Sonic casually sipped his coffee, trying to hide how much he was enjoying Amy's discomfort; Knuckles gave the young fox a strange look between bites; and Sally picked at her food and periodically eyed the old fox, looking as if she were about to speak, then thinking better of it.

The red glassiness of both hers and Miles's eyes mutely testified their tears. He glanced at Sally. He must have broken down in private, and she heard him, he thought. That would explain Amy's hesitation to say anything: Prussian officers weren't supposed to cry. He was glad that they cared enough to spare him the embarrassment. He glanced at Miles, who'd by now gone through most of his plate and was pouring himself coffee. He glanced at Sally. Why would she have wept? The old fox's intuition itched: Vanilla had once written that she had a talent for remaining calm as others poured their hearts out to her. Something else must have happened, he realized. He made a mental note to speak with them tomorrow, and separately.

Amadeus cleared his throat, lifted a mug, and tapped it with a spoon. Everyone looked to him. He began. "I realize it has been a harrowing day, for all of us." He looked to Sonic, then turned his eye on Miles, Amy, and his little daughter, then on Knuckles and Sally. "The fault does not lie with any of you. The last thing any of us expected was a jailbreak, let alone a child murder within these walls."

He shook his head, now speaking to Miles more than anyone else. "I should have known Ketteler would do something like that, sooner or later."

Amy and Miles glanced at each other. Was that weary satisfaction on his face, and offense on hers?

He shook his head, now speaking to Miles more than anyone else. "I should have known Ketteler would do something like that, sooner or later."

Amy and Miles glanced at each other. Was that weary satisfaction on his face, and offense on hers?

"I will not lie to you," Amadeus continued, "Herr Hauptmann has gathered that an expeditionary force is on the way, but since we possess no telegraph lines, have no means of determining their progress with any accuracy. Do you have any questions?"

"Yes," Sally said, "Are you going to arrest Ketteler?"

For a moment, Amadeus said nothing. "No."

Amy gasped. "No? You're not going to do a damn thing?"

"Amelia."

Amy subsided.

"Amelia. I didn't say that." His voice softened. "I am going to speak in Mandarin now, for all of our sakes. If you understand any of it, do not let a word of what I say here pass your lips." He scanned the others. "Is that understood?" The others nodded, and he began to elaborate. "No," he said to Sally, "I'm not going to arrest him. That alone would not render him harmless, nor would it satisfy the Qing. I have something else in mind for him."

Sally took the hint. She too switched to Mandarin to answer: "You're going to have him killed?"

"I have a few friends in the Qing court. Through them, I'm going to arrange for the Qing military to arrest him. The Empress will deal with him then."

Miles looked relieved, but Knuckles and Sally couldn't help wincing. Amadeus didn't blame them: Qing law was particularly brutal for all criminals, but there was a certain vindictiveness reserved for murderers. Extensive torture and creative mutilation often preceded the offender's death. "What good would that do?" Sally asked.

"Three things: one, it will remove Ketteler from the premises, thus reducing the likelihood that he will do something worse; two, his arrest will give the Qing their pound of flesh, or perhaps a valuable hostage to use in negotiations with the Kaiser; and three, it will reduce the likelihood of others acting rashly in response to his foolishness."

Sally and Knuckles glanced at each other. Sally nodded glumly. "I see."

"Therefore," Amadeus went on in English, "in this delicate situation, it is vital that we, all of us, act as delicately as possible. Exercise meekness, as Vanilla taught you." He eyed each of the missionaries in turn. "Keep your swords sheathed and your tongues tamed. We could afford foolishness in the immediate aftermath of this morning's attack. We could afford outbursts born of our grief." His eye hardened. "So, until a full detachment of marines marches through the gates of this legation, I will not tolerate reckless behavior further, from anyone behind these walls. Is that understood?"

Everyone voiced their affirmation, though Amy was clearly lost.

"Excellent." He relaxed somewhat, and briefly scanned their faces. Not unkindly, he said: "Ketteler aside, I realize that a large portion of our present heartache is my own fault."

"How's that?" Amy blurted, "You didn't kill that kid."

"No. But it was my decision that caused Vanilla's death. I should have listened to her: she wanted to introduce me to her congregation ever since we married." He sighed. "But I forbade it. I reasoned that the risk was too great."

"You thought we'd all turn on her if we knew?" Knuckles asked.

"With the growing number of Boxers, I thought it was the wise choice. I thought that my presence would drain away the goodwill your people had for her."

Unbeknownst to Amadeus, the irony struck Knuckles like a train. He let out a laugh that was half a snarl. "It drained away, all right."

Sally spoke to Amadeus's questioning look. "There was a rumor–"

Knuckles forged ahead. "Half of them thought I was the one screwing your wife."

Miles and Sally looked sharply at Knuckles, Amy blushed and looked like she wanted to be someplace else, anywhere else. Amadeus did not speak. And did not speak. And did not speak. Finally, he heard his own voice, soft and chilly as a snowbank. "And what would give them that idea?"

Knuckles showed his palms. "I'm not the one who got preg–"

Sally put a hand on one of the echidna's rippling forearms and glared at him. He glared back.

"I'm sorry you were put in that position."

The two Quakers turned their eyes on the old fox.

"Vanilla stood up for you, didn't she?"

Knuckles's ire slowly gave way. "Yeah. She even told all of us she'd remarried."

"But not who her new husband was."

Knuckles shook his head. After a moment, Sally spoke up. "She told me."

Amadeus was genuinely surprised. "Did she?"

Amy, Knuckles, Tails, and Sonic all regarded her with equal surprise. Sally's cheeks reddened as she spoke. "She didn't tell me your name, but she told me who you were. What you were."

"And what did she say I was?" the old fox asked.

"An old soldier." She swallowed. "Like my father."

Like my father. Vanilla had written at length of the touchiness Sally displayed whenever asked about her father. An old soldier; to the Chinese at large, a foreign devil. He admired how succinctly Vanilla had managed to convey his logic–his cowardice–to her pupil. He gave a curt nod. "I am an old soldier. Too old, as it turns out: too old, too cautious, and my caution severed me from your fellowship. I'm sorry."

Silence as the other missionaries and officers all glanced at each other. Finally, Sally said: "I'm sorry, too."

Amadeus looked curious. "For what?"

Her eyes fell to the table. "For keeping your daughter a secret, until she worked up the courage to tell you. I knew you were an old soldier that lived in the Quarter, so it wouldn't have been hard to figure out who you were." She wiped her nose with a handkerchief.

Amadeus made an effort to keep the chill out of his voice, but failed. "Why didn't you?"

Sally hesitated, clearly not trusting herself to speak.

"Why?"

"She thought…" she trailed off.

"Yes?" Amadeus prompted.

"After the killings in Shangdong, she thought you'd immediately tell her to pack her things and leave for Tokyo, if you found out. She said she wouldn't be able to refuse you, if she told you in person." She looked up from the table, to meet the old fox's eye. "I believed her."

Amadeus felt cold adrenaline run down the back of his head, down his spine, into his bowels, his tail, arms, and legs. He slowly stood. Angry? Amadeus was not angry. Certainly not. Not at all.

"Herr Oberst?" Though directly beside him, Sonic's voice sounded like it was coming from far away.

He completely understood Vanilla's reasoning. He'd chosen divorce over leaving Miles to his fate. Why wouldn't he choose to remove his wife and daughter from harm's way, even at the cost of his wife's mission? Perhaps she thought…she thought... She thought I would just whisk her away? That I wouldn't allow her to prepare? That I would…Vanilla. Were you that terrified of me? I would have helped you every step of the way. I would have helped you rebuild elsewhere. We all could have…

Stop.

He was aware of his mouth moving. He was speaking in English. "Do you still believe I would?"

Sally was silent.

Stop.

He felt his voice ice over. "Not like that. Never. You had no right to hide my daughter from me. She had no right."

Stop. Stop. What are you going to say?

Angry? No, he was furious. At himself, at Vanilla, at Rosemary, at Ketteler, at God, at every, single, god, damned, person at this table! He saw Sally's mouth move, heard her voice, but no words registered. He wanted to shout at her, to rage and cry and curse. Damn you. Damn me. You killed her.

The condemnation formed on his tongue. He so, so badly wanted to give it air, that at first he thought he actually did say it. Then, as the expectant silence attenuated, he realized he hadn't spoken at all. Remembering himself, he swallowed the words, and spoke new ones: "Why didn't you bring her here? The university has one of the best hospitals in–"

Amy broke in, face flushed brilliantly, looking nearly as angry as Amadeus felt. "There wasn't any bloody time!"

The old fox reached again for his anger, intending to give the impetuous girl a properly scathing rebuke. At the sight of his daughter's eyes creaking open, the anger suddenly shrank from his grasp. His frustration came out in a regretful huff. He sounded much older when he spoke. He felt much older. "Was her labor so short?" How quickly did she come to the end? Vanilla, who were you thinking about, as the grave swallowed you? Whose hand did you reach for? Christ's, hers, or mine? Darkly, he reflected that if his plan for Ketteler backfired, he might get his answer soon enough.

"She was gone half the morning," Amy said, "and I told her every day, to let us know when her contractions started. She kept telling us she had another month before we'd have to worry! She must've–" Sahne was fully awake now, her mouth opening in a plaintive whine. Amy bounced the baby gently, trying to smile through her grief to keep her calm. Once the baby had settled back into silence, she continued: "She must've–" It was then that she realized what she was going to say.

By then, Amadeus had divined her train of thought. "Lied," he finished.

Sally put her face into the handkerchief and blew her nose. Her breath hitched: she was trying not to weep.

"She lied," he repeated, "But I can't say that t blame her." He hoped that statement in itself wasn't a lie. "She married two liars, Hazel and then myself. It's natural to lie." He looked to his only son. "Especially to protect that which we love. Our happiness, our jobs, a spouse, a child, the souls of strangers; we can and would tell any kind of lie, if it bought our treasures the security we desired for them." His eye swept over the other dinner guests. "But in the end, the truth comes out. After a certain point, it not only sweeps away the lie, but the treasure along with it." The old fox shook his head. "God help us. I've had enough of lies."