The young warrior slipped from the grandmaster’s chamber, relocking the door and releasing his imaginary ward, allowing it to dissolve back into the potential. Rezkin passed a couple of slips in the corridor with a confident, casual gait, that of a man simply going about his business. The two were deep in hushed conversation and nodded without breaking stride.

Back on the main floor, Rezkin immediately made his way to the upper levels, slipping into the shadows as he did so. At one point, he had to duck behind a weapons rack to avoid a stray dart that missed its intended target. The trainee quietly scolded himself for the failure and collected the dart that had landed only inches from Rezkin’s hiding spot. The young man failed to detect the intruder and went back to practicing. His other shots were much more accurate, although not nearly sufficient.

The upper level was unoccupied, and beyond that was nothing but a dark recess and empty rafters. The heavy slate roof tiles permitted no access from the roof, which is why Rezkin intended to use it as his escape. Eventually, the assassins would figure out how he had entered the Hall, but since he would not pass by the sentries at the entrance, they would not be able to figure out how he left. If they realized they had been infiltrated anytime before his intended meeting the following day, they would believe him still in their sanctuary.

The center of the roof was held up by a central shaft as large as a tree trunk, which Rezkin would have to scale. He wrapped his arms and legs around the beam and proceeded to shimmy his way to the top. Once there, he held on to the shaft with his legs while he worked a heavy dagger between slate tiles at the top. The blade abruptly snapped but not before he had pried the tiles far enough apart to get a firm grip. He frowned at the useless dagger hilt as he shoved it in a pouch at his waist. It was a cheap dagger he had acquired from one of the bandits during his trek to Kaibain.