Zatana watched 'Sacred Order's Cleric of the Dead', a very interesting name, as the woman left the battlements. There was something there that bothered the dark elf, and she was sorely tempted to follow the woman to uncover if a simple rest was all the woman was after. If she had not been set on seeing the Prince back to the safety of the keep, Zatana probably would have followed Drana. Tired or not, that was information she could pass onto her grandfather and use to get into Balthazar's good graces. The lack of trust from the old wizard was entirely understandable from a professional viewpoint, though it was incredibly irritating to her sensibilities of wanting to do her job well. The clashing orders of keeping the Prince alive, gathering information and then following any other orders she was given was a thankless task. One that Zatana would succeed in and complete to the utmost of her ability and achieve the outcome desired. It was merely a question of whose outcome it would be.

The city itself was recovering from the first of the siege's waves. A tide of enemies that would come and go and crash against the walls until they receded for good or the walls buckled to their onslaught. A thing of beauty when it was read about and terror to behold. Her thoughts were puzzling over the poetry of war and mysteries that she had yet to solve when Prince Leonidas spoke, his tone joking. While he might not have expected a reply, he was given one. [color=SlateBlue]"Of course, Your Highness. I shall inform him of your injuries, including the gash to the shoulder and the stab wound to your forearm. Along with diverting your protection to covering a orc with a heavy weapon and thus leaving yourself exposed."[/color] The dark eyes locked onto Leonidas as the drow gave a polite smile that befitted the crueler of her race. It was horribly rude of her, Zatana knew, to speak thus to the Prince but she was sorely tempted to take his hammer and beat it into his skull that she was his protector. Yes, she would be whatever was needed at the time, but his safety was of the highest consideration in all of her instructions. If she had to countermand orders to be assured of it? So be it. [color=SlateBlue]"Unless, you would rather-?"[/color]

The trade square had been given over a party, and Zatana had perched in the shadows and listened in amusement when the Prince and Balthazar wore the Duke down into hosting a celebration for the men. It was needed, the dark elf admitted, but it was not a place for one of her kind. Bergkoff's residents did not care for the drow and when they were full of drink and a siege sat on their doorstep? They would have swords and sharp opinions close at hand. Her presence would only cause problems, and Zatana was loath to sit on a roof and listen to the festivities. Surrounded by so many soldiers, what harm could the Prince come to? Her mind filled with possibilities and Zatana couldn't but grimace at what her imagination could drag up from the depths. Having remained in the war room, Zatana had attempted to allow herself to doze while listening to the absent chatter. A simple trick of catching cat naps here and there to keep yourself reasonably rested in a warzone. Her weapons cleaned and checked for when she next would have to hurry off to intercept some form of trouble. If there was any trouble, the news would reach the war room and Zatana relatively quickly. The center, the brain, of an operation was exactly where the rogue wanted to be. One dark eye opened as she surveyed the room as she shifted restlessly. This fight was not over and the enemy was still out there.