Amy hadn't known what to expect when Tails brought her to the botanical gardens. But this…

It wasn't too large, about a quarter the size of the German Legation. But here, it was like there had never been a drought. A series of underground pumps cycled blue-green water between two artificial ponds, the larger of the two possessing a fountain that was–at the moment–turned off.

Smooth, carefully-sculpted paths of grey brick looped around the ponds, through a bamboo stand, and past dozens of pots and beds filled with a riotous array of flowers, herbs, and other small plants. Along the edges of the path stood more trees, cultivated in such a way that they formed a green awning above.

Tails knelt beside the larger pond. Amy sat cross-legged beside him. He took a handful of breadcrumbs from his pocket and held it out to her.

Amy looked puzzled. "Are there any ducks around here? I didn't see any."

Tails smiled. "Fish." He took a few crumbs and flung them into the water.

Amy watched a quintet of enormous koi fish come to the surface, hypnotically swirling with orange and yellow, black and white, red and pink! Their sucking mouths greedily slurped up the crumbs, and continued to slurp at the air when all the crumbs were gone. Amy, who hadn't seen a live fish in two years, was fascinated.

As they took turns tossing crumbs into the pond, they talked. "I don't get it," Amy said, "The belt was for delivering your sister?"

Tails nodded. "Your harmonica gave me the idea. But it's more than that. You protected her through the riot, too."

Amy pondered this, then said quietly: "That's pretty much all I had to give."

Tails yawned, then smiled. "Exactly."

Amy chucked another crumb into the water. The pig-nosed head of a softshell turtle intercepted it before the koi could. "I heard you playing it the other day. You're getting good." The turtle eyed her expectantly as its smooth, olive carapace came to the surface.

"Thanks." Tails aimed a larger crumb at the turtle's tail, hit it dead on. A pink koi slurped at it, and the turtle shot away into the depths.

Amy chuckled, then asked: "Is the belt your life's savings or something?"

"Near enough. It was the nicest thing I had." He shrugged. "Besides, your mission may need it more than I ever would."

Amy looked down at the belt. In the drought sun, the gold buckle had turned hot to the touch, but the cloth of her robe kept it from burning her. It was simply a warm weight on her belly. "You want me to pawn it?" She smiled. "Oh, Sal never told you?"

"What? What didn't she tell me?"

The smile turned to a grin. "Sal's rich."

Tails's eyebrows lifted. "She is?"

Amy nodded. "Back home, anyway."

"Oh. Oh." He blushed. "From the way you dressed and the way you were living, I just assumed–"

Amy waved it off. "Vanilla's rules. She said it's better that we live like the locals, and to learn how to fundraise for charity. We always had enough to keep everyone fed, though."

Tails digested this, then asked: "Would you mind keeping it anyway?"

She looked down at the buckle, herself feeling a little flustered now. Reflected sunlight turned the silver disc in the center nearly white, but she could make out the laurels, the crown, and the words Gott Mitt Uns emblazoned on it. God with us.

A potent motto, that. It was both a prayer in the face of overwhelming odds, and a battle cry. It comforted her that Tails served a king whose family lived by such knightly words. God with us.

She looked back at Tails. Unconsciously, she leaned toward him. She asked: "Do you mind?"

A little weight seemed to lift from Tails, and he smiled in reply. She liked that smile. He leaned toward her as well, till only a hair's breadth separated their lips.

"Do you mind?" she repeated, quietly now.

"Not at all." His lips met hers. It was a shy kiss, but still…it was a kiss.

"Rebuild?" Falun asked. "Where? How?"

Sally didn't want to tell Falun that, barring the money in her own personal accounts, Vanilla had forbidden her from dipping into what her father had left behind. Vanilla's exact words had been: "I'm not convinced you would part with your father's wealth gladly." When Sally had protested, Vanilla had then said: "No. It seems to me that you'd spend it all to rid yourself of him, and then regret it. Let it lie fallow, for now."

Well, "now" was over. Sally would build a hospital. Yes, with a full complement of nurses and doctors, not just Amy, and a chapel, just like the old one. While she was at it, she'd have the charred ruins of the neighborhood around it leveled, and everyone Vanilla had ever served would have a proper house. "My father left me a lot of money. I know it sounds crazy, but once this all is over–"

The pangolin kid looked sharply at her. "And how would you know 'over' means the Boxers losing? What if 'over' means 'over for us'?"

Falun glared at the boy. " Huang."

Sally felt the urge to give the boy a slap, and instantly suppressed it. "A fair question," she said mildly, "but I think they will. Help is already on the way."

" More soldiers?" Huang asked. When she nodded, he shook his head in disgust. "Great."

Falun's look was shrewd. "How many?"

"Thousands," Sally answered, "They'd have to send that much force to clear the Boxers out."

"Do you know when they'll come?"

Sally shook her head. "A week, maybe two if they run into trouble. But no more than that: they have cannons, and we have God. The Boxers have magic and kung fu; they may as well call on the power of Ra, for all the good that does them."

Falun chuckled. "Well-said."

Though she sounded confident, the stories of the martyrs–particularly the Apostle Paul's beheading–suddenly loomed large in her mind. Unconsciously, she swallowed. Ever since she'd decided to follow Vanilla out here, Vanilla had warned her that such a fate was possible for every missionary.

She suddenly wondered if Vanilla looked down at her from Heaven now, and knew what had transpired that night. What would she say to me right now?

Huang wasn't entirely mollified. "The Qing has cannons, too. I heard General Fuxiang brought a whole division of Kansu into the city last week."

Unlike the conscripts that made up the majority of the Qing military, Fuxiang's Kansu braves–Muslim warriors, primarily from northern China–had a well-earned reputation for ruthlessness. Five years ago, the Empress had sent them to crush a revolt in Qinghai; within a year, every one of the rebels had been put to the sword.

Cold fingers slithered around her stomach as she said: "That doesn't mean anything for us. Remember the riot? They might be here to keep the Boxers in line, now that there's more of them around." She looked about, then asked Falun: "Can you point out where everyone else is?"

Sonic was about to point out how some of the empty pits Kesagake had dug could be used as cover by an enemy, when he saw Sally and Falun get to their feet. "Excuse me, Sergeant."

The bear bowed. "Very good, Captain."

When Sonic jumped down from the six-foot barricade, the butt of the Yellowboy slung over his shoulder briefly jammed into his hip as he landed. It hurt. Distracted by the unexpected pain, he lost sight of Sally and Falun. " Scheisskopf," he muttered as he strode toward the group she'd been seated with. "Which way did she go?" he asked in English.

All he got were blank stares from the group, before comprehension dawned in the pangolin's eyes. The boy pointed toward the mansion. Sonic followed his finger, and caught a glimpse of Falun's head and Sally's hair beside him. Sonic nodded curtly and moved on. " Miss Acorn!" he called out, Miss Acorn!"

Sally and Falun turned, and Sonic winced as he caught up with them. "What's wrong?" Sally asked.

"Just landed badly," Sonic said, rubbing the spot. It was quickly growing more sore. That's going to hurt in the morning.

Two hours later and a few miles away, in what was once a small opium den, Chu sat in a circle with several Boxers, most of whom he didn't know very well; some exceptions to that were Liu, Lao-Dao, and Wen. A hole had been cut in the roof, allowing a shaft of sunlight to illuminate the center of the circle and the simmering cauldron within.

Standing by the entrance was Ketteler's interpreter–the rat who had informed them all of Ping's fate– and a slim, purple cat besides. They were flanked by a pair of Qing soldiers.

Chu stood to greet them, bowed, and the two civilians bowed back. He spoke to the interpreter: "Who's this?"

"Call me 'Blaze'," the purple cat answered. She patted the rat on his shoulder. "He wants to join you, and I have a job for you, if you're willing to take it on." She looked to the guards. "Leave us."

The guards, a blue kitsune and a red monkey, glanced at each other, then went outside.

"Call me 'Chu'," Chu said. "What do you mean, 'job'?"

Blaze produced a small, ornate silk purse from her robe and shook it. "The Qing wants Ketteler alive. This man and I want him dead."

Chu's ears perked up. "Go on."

The rat spoke up. "He and his colonel are going to meet with the Qing. He will be out in the open, vulnerable."

Chu smiled. "And you want us to kill them both?"

Blaze held up a hand. "Not him. Kill Ketteler, but not the colonel."

The big cat snorted. "Why not?"

The rat swallowed, growing more and more uncomfortable as the eyes of the Boxers bore into him and Blaze.

Chu continued, looking at the rat as he spoke. "Doesn't he carry out Ketteler's orders?"

The rat stammered. "Y-yes, but–"

"There you go."

Blaze began to make her case. "At the moment, he's the only German with any reason in this city. He can be negotiated with. I want you to make sure he escapes alive."

The hostility in the eyes of the Boxers turned to indignation. Chu frowned in suspicion. "What's in it for us?"

Blaze produced a small, ornate pouch from the sleeve of her robe. "Ten silver."

Chu glanced around the room. Nobody objected. "Fifty. Five silver for each of us."

Blaze quirked a smile as she produced a second purse from her robe. "Twenty as an advance, and the rest when you bring the colonel here alive."

Chu glanced round again. Silence, but the indignation had faded to avarice. What was one foreigner's life, next to a year's salary? He relaxed. "Fine. How do we get to them?"

"Ketteler will meet with the Qing's representatives at the Foreign Office." Blaze's smile curled with knowing irony. "I'm supposed to announce his arrest."

Chu half-laughed, half-grunted. "When's the meeting?"

"I will only tell you, if I have your word that the colonel returns to the Quarter alive," Blaze warned. " Alive."

"Alive. On my family honor."

Satisfied, Blaze tossed him the first bag, then the second.

Wen spoke up. "What does this colonel look like?"

"A fox, middle-aged, very tall." Blaze replied. "He's got one eye."

"Where's the Foreign Office?" Chu asked.

"Follow the south wall of Imperial City to the southwest corner, and you'll see it," Blaze said, "General Dong Fuxiang's troops will meet them at the north end of Chang An, then escort the column the rest of the way."

Liu's head snapped up from the bowls of herbs and other ingredients he'd been mixing, to later throw in the cauldron. " Fuxiang? The Fuxiang?"

Blaze nodded. "I have sourced some uniforms and weapons. You will need to wear them to get close."

Chu's grin widened, becoming almost feral. He liked this woman. "So when is the meeting?"

"Three days from now," Blaze said, "You will find your disguises at the north end of Chang An tomorrow."

After a few minutes of working out the little details, such as where to set up the ambush and the general timing of it, Blaze departed with a bow.

The interpreter stayed behind, plainly nervous. Chu guided him to the circle. "So," Chu said, "why join us?"

The rat didn't meet his eyes. "I told the whole Qing court what I told you. They still wanted Ketteler alive."

The other Boxers shifted to make room for Chu and the rat as they knelt into the circle. "Useless bastards," Chu muttered.

Numbly, the former interpreter nodded his assent. Then suddenly, he said: "The colonel has a son in the garrison. He ordered the death of a girl, and her mother and father. I told Blaze that he needs to die too, but she wouldn't hear it."

Chu's teeth ground together. The Germans loved killing children, didn't they? And I already agreed to let his father live. Shit. "Is this son coming with him?"

The rat shook his head, now plucking up the courage to look Chu in the face. "The colonel wouldn't risk it."

The big cat snarled. "Murderers."

Liu sounded thoughtful as he ground the herbs together with a mortar and pestle. "I have a suggestion. 'Alive' doesn't mean 'unhurt.'"

The interpreter shook his head. "I doubt Blaze would honor that distinction."