He would've gone earlier after her -- but the mission was, for the most part, tiring, and he badly needed rest. The Ottoman was eager to help, but not a fool; he knows the impulse to save and protect must be tempered with a sound mind, one that he won't achieve if he's just going to charge without so much as taking a few minutes to breathe and be still.

And when he was alright, and when he can feel his limbs again, he ran over the city looking for her, listening to the sounds in the quiet alleys and streets (they'd probably want to be uninterrupted, if this is something to be settled one on one), asking questions. Tracing the blood on the streets. He knows a petty grudge when he sees one. Too many of his children lose their lives for such things, he's not going to let that repeat even here.

It takes him a while, but he finally finds then. And when he does, he speaks to her with a grim voice. "Kanaya."

(He knew they were violent. He'd been warned. He wished they were rational, but even that, apparently, was too much to ask.)