Chu's ears pricked up at the sound of shouts at the other end of the German Legation. Lacking his scarlet robes, and with the brown bandage on his arm and the physical aftermath of the beating Knuckles had given him last week, it was the easiest thing in the world to blend into the crowds and slip around the rear of the complex unnoticed. Soon, with about forty or so Fists assaulting the front door, every sentry's attention would be fixed on them and not him.

Ping, a short red panda of about ten or eleven years, tugged on the undyed sleeve of Chu's tunic. "Are we going over?"

"Not yet. We need wait a minute for any guards over here, to rush over there. Then we can just go in and walk out while they're busy." The faint sound of shattering glass, and then the crack of a pistol. More shattering glass sounds, but as yet no further shots. Ping hugged himself and began rocking slightly: a nervous tic. "Just treat it like last time," Chu told him, "there's no reason to be scared."

Three nights before, Chu had boosted the boy over the wall, ordering him to find out where Liu and his boys were being held. He had done exactly that, and more: he'd even found a ladder near the rear wall, amid several empty buckets of paint. The ladder had been dusty, which indicated that it hadn't been touched in some time. This led Chu to pick the same spot for both entrance and exit.

Ping's eyes were wide with terror. "Chu, I could spring them out, but if they see us leaving, we're all dead."

"They won't see us," Chu stated, "They'll be focused on the gate."

Ping closed his eyes, inhaling. "What about the witches? What if they-"

"There's only one here, and she's the weak one," Chu interrupted, "If you see her and she sees you, don't let her speak. Kill her."

"Is this the same witch you shot? "

"No. This one's a pink hedgehog, probably dressed like us. Most likely, she'll find a place to hide, inside one of the buildings."

Ping turned on Chu in shock. "I know that girl!"

Chu made a sound that was almost a laugh. "Do you?"

"She pulled a nail out of Cixin's foot! She's a witch?"

"Quiet." Silently, Chu cursed himself. This was just perfect. Ping had been a thief before joining the Fists, and had struck Chu as a rather cool-headed boy. He's never felt the weight of a situation like this, though. More gently, he said, "She fixed up your friend, did she?"

"Yeah, we were stick-fighting by the train tracks, and he stepped on an old board and it stuck him. I thought he was going to die."

Chu paused. How to get this kid to see who she was? "Did you see your friend after that?"

Ping defocused for moment, before answering: "Only one time. He said he didn't want to be friends anymore."

Chu felt his jaw clench. "Why?"

"He told me he didn't want to steal anymore, and he said something about Shangdí not liking it." Ping looked at the ground. "I don't get it."

Chu saw his opening. "That's how they get you. They curse you with an ailment, then swoop in to save you, then make you their thrall."

Ping swallowed. "What if she curses us?"

Chu put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "These witches cast their spells with words. Whatever you do, if you see her and she sees you, do not. Let her. Speak. Got it?"

Ping nodded. "Got it."

"Good lad."

Amadeus took up position beside the open window to his office, which stood high enough to overlook both Legation Street and the gatehouse of the German Legation itself. In the hall outside his office, borne away in the arms of a maidservant, his daughter screamed. In the courtyard below, he heard Ketteler barking to a line of soldiers running up the steps to the top of the wall: "Shoot to kill, you whoresons! Kill them! Kill them all!"

Had the Boxers only come to throw sticks, rocks, and horse dung, Amadeus would have countermanded Ketteler's order. As he himself was fluent in Mandarin, Amadeus would have then gone down to address the Boxers' grievance directly, though from the protection of the gatehouse. Not that they'd be inclined to listen to a foreign devil, he thought bitterly. Still, the old fox believed that he could have at least stalled them: Vanilla had taught him that the proud Chinese were more inclined to listen to you, if you spoke their language yourself.

If the Boxers hadn't listened, Amadeus would have instructed the sentries to shoot over the Boxer's heads or into the air, to frighten them away. For all their talk of magic robes and sorcery, most Boxers ran at the sound of gunfire like every other undisciplined bandit. But when he looked out and saw a pistol in the hand of one, and several more with old rifles coming up the street to join them, Amadeus knew that whatever trouble these Boxers intended, they clearly intended to escalate it. The shot that ricocheted off the window frame cleared any doubts from his mind.

Just before the shot made him duck out of sight Amadeus saw his son with his men, ordering two to fetch a box of grenades, for the others to stay low behind the parapets atop the wall, and for each man to keep at least ten feet of space between them. Wise boy, he thought as he removed the broomhandle's wooden holster from his belt and began fitting it to the pistol's grip. If any grenades thrown had defective fuses and were thrown back, the space would reduce the likelihood of multiple men being caught in the blast. Shrapnel was still a danger, but it even so that risk was also reduced.

He heard Miles's voice ring out a command. "FEUER FREI!" More shots rang out, and the firefight began. Though she was now on the floor below, Amadeus heard his daughter's long and loud screams.

A feeling came over the old fox then. Up until now, he'd felt it three times: the first time, it was when Rosemary had made him chose between keeping her as his wife, or bringing Miles home; the second time was when Miles was eight, coming home from school with a black eye; and the third time was when he'd punched Ketteler last week, after Ketteler had casually threatened Miles's life. The combined sound of his daughter and the sight of Miles on the wall awakened that feeling once more. Crawling to the opposite side of the window, Amadeus came back up with the pistol-turned-carbine, and started shooting.

Though muffled, the increasing volume of the shouts and sporadic gunfire plucked Liu from his fitful sleep. The old boar concluded that he was still dreaming, for two reasons: first, he heard the characteristic growl of Chu's voice; and second, a short red panda, no more than nine or ten years old, was fiddling at the lock to his cell with a pick. A broomhandle was shoved down the front of the lad's belt.

"Not much time Ping, let's go, let's go, let's go," Chu's voice muttered as the lock's internal mechanisms clicked and rattled. The big cat himself appeared beside the boy: he'd traded his garish yellow-and-red face paints and scarlet robes for a simple, undyed tunic and pants. A chunky Webley revolver was in his right hand.

The old boar felt his mouth drop a good inch. "Chu?"

Peering out from the light brown fur and half-swollen cheeks of his face, Chu's golden eyes possessed a dangerous gleam that Liu had never seen before. The lock clicked, and the cell door swung inward. "Get the others out quick," Chu ordered the boy as he stepped into cell and pulled Liu to his feet, "He's over the wall first." He looked the old boar over. "You hurt?"

Liu then realized he wasn't dreaming. "Chu!" he laughed, "You're missing some teeth, what happen-"

"Quiet," the big cat hissed, "and ditch the fucking robes."

Liu lowered his voice as he obeyed. Beneath the scarlet robe of the Fists, he'd worn only a basic loincloth. In his youth, Liu had been almost as big as Chu was, but age and hunger had rendered him down: he was fit, but possessed an old man's drooping belly. "How'd you get in here?"

"The wall's only ten feet: I boosted the kid over the back wall, then climbed over myself. Follow me." He began to lead the old boar outside, hugging walls and checking corners as they proceeded. While it was hot inside the cell block, the direct heat of the drought sun baked their fur like nothing else, and the shade was only slightly less sweltering.

The sound of rocks hitting bricks and people gave way to exchanged gunfire, shattering glass, ricochets, and agonized screams. "Your work?" Liu asked.

Chu grinned, despite himself. "I told them to get the guards' attention."

Liu looked back up the path: about a eighty or so yards away, he saw Liao-dao, Wen, and Ping come around the corner, more or less tracing Chu's movements. "We're not going out the front door, I hope?" Liu asked after a minute or two. The gunfire was already beginning to slacken.

"Over the rear wall. We found a ladder to get out quickly."

Liu looked aghast. "We're going to jump down?"

"Afraid you'll break a hip?" Chu stopped, listening. The two men were at an intersection, created by the corners of four buildings. Chu, and then Liu heard sounds of running feet coming from their left. Chu suddenly flattened himself against the left wall; Liu mirrored him, while the other three piled into a doorway further back. Chu cocked the hammer of the pistol and waited for whoever was coming their way to either run by, or die.

Amy's legs pumped furiously. The mess hall, the mess hall, where was it again? She'd mostly eaten her meals with Tails and his father, which was located in- Oh shit, it was back the other- No, it's this way!

A flash of pink fur and brown cloth zipped straight across the intersection, and the running feet faded away. Chu motioned everyone forward. "Didn't get that witch, I see," Liu said as they detached themselves from the building and started moving.

"Don't worry about her," Chu snapped, "she didn't see us, but someone else might if we keep creeping along like this." He turned to Liu. "Can you run?"

"Yes, but not very-"

"Run." Chu broke into a dead sprint down the street, and Liu, Wen, Liao-dao, and finally Ping followed.

Amy turned around, now remembering that the enlisted men's mess hall and barracks were across the narrow street from those of the officers, but the entrance was on the far side. A multisyllabic curse unrolled from her lips as she backtracked and took a left at the intersection she'd just passed, and she found the mess hall entrance.

In the corner of her eye, she saw movement, and looked as she ran for the mess. Her body froze, and ice washed down her back into her stomach: though they were half-naked, she recognized the two otters and the old boar that Sonic had captured last week. They were sprinting down the street to the rear wall of the German Legation, led by a huge, brown cat, and tailed by- Her eyes fell on Ping, who stood fifty feet away. The little red panda was staring at her, as frightened of her as she was of him.

She saw his hand come up, and she realized too late that a pistol exactly like the ones Tails and Amadeus had drawn to defend her, was in his hands. Her heartbeat pounded inside her head. Dimly, she was aware of turning to run, as a small yellow flash emitted from the barrel.