The hallways were a maze of stone blocks and ornaments. Wooden tables, tapestries, coats of arms and retired weapons littered the place along with the even gleam of lighting so people would not stumble about making more racket than was necessary. The lights, Zatana thought, she could do without. Though her race was used to the shadows according to the children's tales spread throughout the city, the dark elf's own profession was more used to the shadows. The Cleric Drana had raised many questions in the mind of the watcher and meeting her guards had only raised more. Suspicious of the cleric's guards, she had to admit Gordon was a talented speaker and one she wished to speak to again. Yet, she would see what the Prince's oldest advisor thought and perhaps in seeking his thoughts on the matter and cementing that the Prince's safety was her priority, she would be able to worm her way a bit closer to the old warlock. As knowledgeable as he must be if Zatana could get into his notes and records... It would be a very big and fat goose to send back to the Dread Coast and her grandfather. Though if the warlock proved anything like the fearsome dark elf, it would be a feat that would put her on the radar as a potential danger to her grandfather and he had not lived so long by tolerating dangers near him. Her lips thinned in dislike of that thought, she had no interest in the politics of the drow courts, nor would she- a bastard, though a female one- be accepted among them. The only way to gain acceptance would be to make herself the last of one parent's blood relatives. Even then the direct need to increase offspring might not drive the targetted parent to accept her back into the fold. Shaking her head, Zatana paused as she heard a ruckus up the corridor in the direction of Balthazar's room.

Losing her daggers she drew one of the long knives, dousing the candle set in its smokey holder. If anyone entered the hall from that direction, she would be partly concealed. Moving swiftly towards the door, the dark elf praised the insight of her mentor that he had cultivated the natural quiet steps that had always put those around her on edge for now it would give her a chance to observe before she rushed in blindly.  Rushing would do little and if you did rush it was best to be rushing to deliver death or to evade that final companion. There were several thumps and footfalls from people struggling in the old man's room. Considering her options, Zatana hesitated. To let Balthazar die would be an option if the assailants were attacking him and could pull it off, leaving the way open for her to secure the position for herself. Though, that would leave the network of spies without a master who was familiar with them and hamper her task of keeping the Royal Prince safe. Grimacing, she gently pushed the door ope with a booted toe and studied the scene quickly.

A Record Keeper was in the form of an adorable serpent and tangled about the feet of one man dress in black who seemed to be struggling with the paper creature. The other was suffering from an injured leg and was doing his best to attack the wizard who was trading blows of knife with magic. Two options ever were there always options. Never was there a simple choice. At last though, here was something she could excel in. A hunt, capture, and then questioning. Sliding into the room, she shut the door behind her. It would slow them if they tried to run and the door was closed. If they thought it locked? All the better. Aiming a kick at the head of the assassin tangling with the paper snake, she sought to knock him unconscious as she twisted and threw a small dagger drawn from her wrist with her free hand at the injured leg of the assailant tangled with Balthazar. The skill of the assassins was a mystery to her and she wanted to mock them. Challenge their abilities and draw them out to face her and test herself against their blades, but this was not the time. They were too close to the Prince even here and she, despite her desires, had her orders to follow. Zatana hated the youthful need for a challenge at times, it made doing her job so extremely hard.