“Maybe he’ll be useful,” Elena had persuaded them. “I can think of a few things a little boy can get away with that none of us could.”

Now, she smiled and gave Much a wink.

Bernesdale. It’s where he had grown up, and it was the source of whatever terrible thing from his past gave him waking nightmares still.

“You’re going to climb that tree,” Elena explained, pointing to a gnarled oak to the east of the market ring. “Keep an eye out for any unwelcome visitors. You see anything you don’t like, you make a call like we promised, right? Nobody will think twice of a boy climbing a tree.”

That was something Elena had played up for a long time. Even years after she was old enough to resent it, her young face and small size had often let her avoid suspicion.

“What sort of ‘unwelcome visitors’?” Much asked, fumbling over the phrase.

“Gords,” she said. She could have said monsters. They’d already seen too many. Two of them had guarded the Sherwood Road just outside the town. Eventually one left to piss in the woods. John Little had taken care of him with a lovetap from his quarterstaff. They’d used Much to distract the other, a skinny lad with a limp, then Will had surprised him with the heavy butts of his twin blades.

As Much trudged away toward the tree with his mission, Arthur exhaled. “Are we ready to do this?”

Alan clicked his tongue and was away, along with Arthur and Tuck, to crouch by the ringwall with Will. “Alright,” John Little whispered next to her on the wagon. “Let’s steal some shit.”

SHE RUBBED HER HANDS between her legs for warmth. She and John would drive the cart into the ring of storehouses, under the assumption they were the least dangerous-looking of their group. The others would approach from behind the ringwall, using the oxcart’s dust cloud as cover, to meet at the back of one of the supply buildings. Tuck had suggested they focus on the one housing ale, but they’d settled on the one with farming supplies and smithing tools. Those items were irreplaceable, and invaluable to those with the right skills.

“What do we do if they catch us?” John whispered. “Robin never taught us that none.”

Elena had to smile. “It doesn’t work that way. We’re only guilty if we act guilty.”

“How do we act … not … guilty?”

“Listen. Real thieving isn’t about sneaking around in the shadows. If a guard sees you do that, they know you’re up to no good. The trick is to let everybody see you, but give them reasons not to care about you. It’s the easiest thing. Once they’ve decided you’re not worth worrying about—poof. You’re gone. They’ll never look at you again.”