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Moments later, shouts of anguish and rage came from within, then shrieks as the girls were chased out. Someone shook the barred doors, and, finding them locked, retreated. Blade inched up the wall, focussing on finding finger holds and ignoring the ruckus, lest it destroy his concentration.
    As he climbed, he pondered the strange situation he had encountered in Chaymin's rooms. Quite clearly the Prince had been warned, most likely by Trelath, who had used his brother as bait for his trap. If that was the best Trelath could do, Blade was not impressed. Apart from a moment of disquiet, the precautions had not hampered him at all. The fact that Chaymin had been there, knowing that an assassination was planned for him, was surprising. If the Prince was as cowardly as Kerrion had claimed, it must have been Trelath who had insisted that Chaymin stay in his rooms.
    Reaching the top of the wall, Blade peered over the edge, then retreated with a soft curse. Two guards stood mere paces away, look around. The cries from below must have alarmed them, and now they were fully alert. He clung to the wall, his fingertips growing numb from the pressure, his feet lodged on a slight ledge in the bricks. Within a few minutes his grip would weaken, and then he must pull himself up or risk falling.
    If one of the guards below chanced to look up, he would be clearly visible against the pale wall, and since he was directly above Chaymin's balcony, that possibility grew stronger with each passing moment. Just then, a distant soldier shouted to the guards above him, and Blade listened to their footsteps move away. When he calculated that it was safe, he hauled himself over the edge and flopped down on the roof, gasping.
    Sweat sheened him, cooling in the night air as the warmth generated by his exertions ebbed away. Rising to his feet, he trotted along the walkway towards his quarters, keeping low. Guards ran about in the distance, most leaving the roof to search within the palace for the killer. Few would suspect that a man could scale the wall to the roof, and since the doors to Chaymin's balcony were locked, none would think to search outside.
    Above the rough wall he had scaled to reach the roof, he paused to watch for guards below. As the alarm spread, more and more men joined the search, and the chance of one spotting him increased. Fortunately, most rushed towards Chaymin's rooms. Lowering himself over the edge, he climbed down, dropping the last few feet to land with a soft thud.
    Blade ducked into the nearest shadow and froze as two men ran past, then slipped through a door into the palace. Proceeding with even more caution, he traversed the corridors that led to his chambers, alert for approaching guards. Twice he was forced to duck into doorways as men ran past, and he had to wait for several minutes to get past an alert pair, when they turned away briefly.
    By the time he reached his chambers, he sweated, and his hands shook from nervous tension. Locking the door, he sank down on the bed and lighted a lamp, stripping off his jacket to wipe the perspiration from his torso with a damp cloth. His fingertips stung, and, when he examined them, he found them raw. He poured himself a cup of wine and gulped it down, waiting for his heart to stop pounding and the tension that knotted his gut to ease.
    Never before had he come so close to being caught. It was the first time the alarm had been raised while he was still in the vicinity. When he had been an apprentice, he had attended guild meetings with Talon at which assassins had told gripping tales of armed men chasing them from their victim's houses. He had thought then that the assassins in question had been fools to allow themselves to be detected, and had never wanted to be in the same predicament. This was the closest he had come to it, and he found it unpleasant.
     
    Kerrion learnt of his brother's death at breakfast the next morning. Jadar delivered the news with a solemn mien. The King