I turned left after class because I usually turned right. It felt clever for about twelve steps. Then I reached a locked door. The academy had made several changes since the route I remembered from the game. None appeared to have been made for my benefit.
I checked the plate beside the handle. Staff access. Deliveries by arrangement. I could have asked somebody to let me through, which would have left a neat account of the route I was trying to make less predictable.
I went back.
Two students still stood outside the theory room. One glanced at the door I had tried, then returned to the conversation. Changing direction was easy. Doing it without looking lost required more preparation.
In the game, Cedric had followed an evening routine that made an assassin's work simple. The route had seemed like background until the knife arrived. A residence passage. A brief interval without anyone close enough to interrupt. Confidence doing most of the work before the attacker needed to.
