Ithi'Ka checks for any drain entrances that might offer access.  She expects to find no other gate but the one they left behind at the path, so she checks her haversack-- the rope, of course, she's left on the dead pimp in the city.  "Looks like the wall or the gate," she says softly as she trots back to the guard's booth.  Fetching one of the fallen guards' chairs, she shooting a look of mild embarrassment and teasing warning to the monk.  "Don't laugh," she whispers as she places the chair against the wall.  ((if there are any stately trees on the opposite side from her, she'll choose one of those points for shadow.))  "This tactic is approved by many a master thief."  Standing on the chair, she's still a good three feet shy of the wall's top, but her tiny frame doesn't cause it to creak in the least.  She then extends slings her bow over her shoulder and reaches up, gripping the wall's top, easing up to peek over.