Ithi'Ka's brow furrows until the explanation... Nightshade's rationale for magic exceeds her own, that is certain.  "This is fine.  If he can walk into an open sewer grate across town, then you shall have a good excuse not to answer.  As far as the guardsmen-- They are already distracted, they do not know it is one of the military's own, do they?"  She shrugs, gestures with her head toward the entrance, one stray lock of white hair falling across her eyes.<br/><br/>"If this is so, then how would they know that one of the entertainers has not become... hysterical over a drug overdose, or made a mistake over an incapacitated drunk who wandered into the wrong room when looking for his trousers?  We just give them a customer who is too tipsy to remember much, and I give him headache.  It is much, much easier than to kill someone else, and we keep Robin out of sight, give him... ah.... counseling, help him recover.  I have some heartflow, if it helps with either situation."<br/><br/>The glimmer in Ithi'Ka's eyes is persistently growing, and from her movements it's clear that she's growing anxious.  "We move fast, and your industrial--"  she catches herself, corrects herself, not even noticing the strange humor of her slip, "--your industri<em>ous</em>Whisper Gnome may still be able to walk from entertaining the guardsmen."