John nodded and smiled, then nodded, and smiled again. “How do we do that?”

“These fellows here are following orders. They like following orders. We say, Well Captain Somebody told us these supplies needed to be moved right away, and now they’re more worried about going against Captain Somebody than they are about us. It’s about pretending you’re right, and making them doubt you’re wrong.”

John still didn’t seem to understand.

“I once snuck into some jeweler’s house on Greenhound Road in Nottingham. I thought I had the place to myself, but I walk in and find he has some sort of manservant, stiff and prickly and twelve ways of suspicious. He yells at me, but I say, ‘I’m supposed to be picking something up here, I’m sorry I’m late, could I get it?’ This prickled bastard lost everything he had going for him, and asked me what it was I needed. Soon enough he’s helping me fill my pockets and wishing me a good day.”

“Bollocks,” John said.

“Swear it.” Elena laughed. She’d eaten for a month that day.

Of course, the next time she’d tried the trick she’d been cracked on the back of the head before she’d gotten away. But there was no need to tell John that.

John tugged the reins and they were off. Up ahead, the silhouettes of the others huddled by the ringwall, waiting for them to rumble on by. Their cart clattered past into the great circular market area, pushing up a soft cloud of dirt. John drove their horses in a full wide round circle, easily seen by the gords that lingered at the fire. Not a one seemed to care. A cow-eyed farmer and his wispy daughter must have seemed about as threatening as pea soup.

After dismounting and securing the wagon, they moved with purpose, daring any gord to question them. They pushed through the main door of their selected storehouse as the others snuck in through the rear. Two through the front, four through the back, they wove their way through dark tables. Hammers and pitchforks, sickles and hooks, baskets and whips, harnesses, plows pushed against the side wall, sacks of seed, and wire thimbles. The six of them met in the middle, giggling like children. Alan couldn’t even close his mouth.

“Look at all this! This is the biggest take we’ll ever get! How much do we get to keep for ourselves?”

John Little cocked his head at Alan oddly. “What do you suppose is fair? Half? One in four?”

“Half’d be great!” Alan laughed. “But even a quarter’d be everything we ever need!”

“Every stitch of this,” John grumbled sharply, “is taken from another man’s hand. Every piece of this bounty of yours was someone else’s yesterday. They needed it. You think you ought to have it instead of them?”