As the man fell to the floor and the other was furthered lamed, Zatana felt a distinct sense of pride. Her job, her task, was one she had trained in since she could hold a knife and there were few who could match her. Perhaps such hubris made the appearance of the small black ball such a sour note in her night, or perhaps it was the stinging smoke that made her eyes water. Small favors to the cloth over her mouth and nose, disguises against her dark elf origins, though she still wheezed and gasped more than she thought reasonable. Twisting, she gripped the edge of the desk. Listening for the assassin or the wizard in the haze. As it cleared though, she snarled several curses in her native tongue seeing the blood trail leading to the window. The door was a small favor, and though he went out the window he was blamed.

Inclining her head to the wizard, her body sketched an ever so slight bow even as she broke into movement. [color=SlateBlue]"Aye, Lord."[/color] Her tone was slightly off, her eyes filled with dark fury as she slipped the sharp blade she held between her teeth. Her balance though was not as she swung out over the window sill and began to descend with drops and grabs onto handholds that made her shoulders ache and her toe throb as she felt them ram into the stone. Finally, she felt the solid flagstones and sprung after the trail of blood. He would [i]not[/i] escape her!

Releasing her blade, she caught it and spat out blood from where the sharp edge had slightly sliced her tongue. It would hurt for a time, but the wound would heal. The trail was obvious, two wounds to a single leg would leave the fight weak and a weak assassin would try to hide Zatana reasoned. '[i]Or I would.[/i]' The assassin who lived could try again, the assassin who was captured? No, death only would await for them. But with a trail so obvious where could he-?

Her reckless run had brought her around the corner of the stable, escape by horseback would not be possible if the gates were down, but he could gain distance and lose her in the city. Perhaps that had been his plan, but as she swung about the corner Zatana flung herself back as a pitchfork launched like a javelin towards her torso. As it was her armor took a deep tear across the chest and the dark elf gritted her teeth against the foolish mistake. [color=SlateBlue]"Trying for a horse? The entire city will be crawling with the Duke and Prince's men!"[/color] Privately she hoped the assassin would try to hop aboard the wicked mare that Zatana called her own. The man would surely prefer the dungeon after that. [color=SlateBlue]"Or would you rather deal with a dark elf's version of recompense? This particular city distinctly dislikes it, a shame."[/color] She crooned as she darted around the corner, rolling into the gloom within the dark stables. Listening for any movement that was not a horse. A second long knife in her hand as she put the wall at her back.