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together and deeply asleep.
    Blade straightened, glancing at the crow. A stab of disquiet went through him. Just how many precautions had Chaymin taken? The familiar seemed to indicate that he was close by, but was it his? It could belong to one of the concubines who occupied the bed. Was this a trap? Had Trelath planned it, using Chaymin as bait? According to Kerrion's information, Chaymin was not a clever man, but would Trelath have had time to set all this up, considering that he had only arrived that day, and then fought Kerrion? There was still time for Blade to leave without springing the trap, but he disliked being so easily deterred. There was a good chance that Chaymin was close by.
    Moving to the bathing room door, he pulled the curtain aside. The room was in almost total darkness, and all he could make out was the large copper tub. Creeping closer to it, he paused and listened. A faint snore confirmed his suspicions, and he stepped up to the tub, sensing the presence of the man who slept in it. He could not see who it was, however, and had no wish to kill the wrong man. Although he was fairly certain that it was Chaymin, an iota of doubt remained, and he had to be sure.
    Blade reached down until his fingertips brushed cloth, moving with infinite delicacy so as not to wake the sleeping man. Sliding his fingers up the satin that covered the man's chest, he found the warm skin of his throat and laid them against the nerve bundles just under his jaw. Chaymin shifted and sighed at his touch.
    Leaning closer, Blade whispered, "My Prince."
    Chaymin woke with a snort, demanding far too loudly, "What? What is it? Take your hands -"
    Blade pressed his fingers against the Prince's throat, and he slumped. The sound of chairs being pushed back warned Blade, and he slipped into the nearest shadow as heavy footsteps approached. Two guards entered the room, one carrying a lamp. They went over to the bath and peered down at the Prince, frowning. The man with the lamp started to reach out to shake him, but the other stopped him.
    "He is asleep."
    The first man bent closer, studying the Prince's peaceful face. "I heard him speak."
    "He must have been talking in his sleep. He is fine. If you wake him up, you will get a tongue lashing."
    The first guard grunted and straightened, turning to peer into the shadows. Blade froze, closing his eyes to prevent them from glinting in the lamplight. Some people were sensitive to a person's gaze, and this man was alert. As he sensed the guard's attention leave his area, he opened his eyes. The men went back to the door, where the suspicious soldier turned for a last survey of the room. Satisfied, they left, plunging the room back into darkness.
    Blade waited until his eyes had adjusted sufficiently to make out the tub, then went over to it. His hands traced the Prince's contours, finding that he was jammed into the tub, his arms at his sides. Locating the right place on Chaymin's chest, he drew a dagger and placed the point there, then pushed it in. The Prince stiffened with a gasp, one hand jerking up and striking the side of the tub with a faint bong before he went limp. Blade checked the pulse in Chaymin's throat to ensure that he was dead, then wiped his dagger on the satin nightgown and put it away.
    In the next room, the crow cawed and flapped. The assassin moved back to the door, intent on escaping before the bird's noise alarmed the soldiers. He peered through the curtain, making sure the soldiers had returned to their card game, then left the bathing room and flitted past the bed to the balcony doors. The crow cawed again, shuffling from side to side on its perch. In the next room, one of the guards cursed.
    "What is wrong with that damned bird?"
    Blade slipped through the doors and closed them behind him, using the pick to lock them. Once again, the chairs were pushed back as the guards went to investigate the crow's agitation, and Blade started up the wall before the alarm was raised.