Scarlet

John looked to Rob, and Rob leaned forward, wary of the other bodies in the place. “Ravenna.”

I craned forward, sure I heard him wrong. “What?”

“Ravenna. She passed us the information, and she’s going to try and get a map of the prison.”

I double-stepped forward, pushing at Rob’s big shoulders. “You stupid blighter, you’re going to get her killed!” I hissed.

John pulled me back. “Easy, Scar. Godfrey gave it to us. We didn’t go asking for it.”

“Well, you shouldn’t take the map! They’ll figure it out. Gisbourne’s smarter than all you lot and he will know, and he’ll tell the sheriff and the sheriff will kill her. I may be responsible for the rest, but you’re to blame for her, Robin!” I snarled. It weren’t true, and I knew so, but I felt sick and angry and awful hateful toward him.

Rob pushed John off and shoved me. I stumbled, more out of shock than pain. It were the least gentleman-like thing he’d ever done. “They are all my responsibility, Marian,” he said, spitting out my given name like a curse. “Every death and every pain that they bear gets charged on my soul—do you understand that?”

Fury and shame caught like kindling inside me. “You don’t get to do that!” I bellowed. Well, as much a bellow as I could muster, leastways. I caught his shoulders and kneed him in the bits, making him double over as John and Much each gave a moan for him. I heaved him onto the ground. “You do not get to be some goddamn martyr, you hear me? You are a pigheaded, stubborn, stupid boy and you are not going to put more people in danger. We will figure out the lay of this prison like we done the last. We will get them out and get them free without her help. And don’t you ever, ever call me Marian.”

I picked up the mop and started washing again as Rob struggled to his feet, red faced. John laughed, and Much covered a smile.

“You lot think this is funny?” I asked. “I’ll unman you too, if you wish it.”

They jumped back, and Rob grunted, “You haven’t unmanned me, and I resent the implication of it.”

“It were a warning blow,” I told him, shoving the mop ’cross the floor. “Next time I’ll try harder.”

Rob covered himself. “No next time, Scar.”

I could lie and say that I didn’t even notice him calling me Scar, but I did, and it thrilled me.

“Look,” I said, continuing to mop, “I might have a plan.”

Rob crossed his arms, but the others looked fair interested.

“Gisbourne’s mucked with everything in the castle, but there’s one sort can still get through.”

“Rats?” John asked with a chuckle.

“I don’t think she means animals, John,” Much said soft.

“A holy sort,” I told them, and I looked to Rob.

Robin’s eyebrows shot skyward. “You want us to impersonate the clergy?”

“He knows your secret,” Rob muttered to me, rearranging his monk’s robes as we walked behind Brother Benedict.

“Can’t lie to God.”

He jammed a hand in Benedict’s direction. “He’s not God.”

“He’s a monk, Rob.”

“So you never told me because I’m not holy enough?”

“Just hush. When this is done, we won’t never have to talk ’bout it again, and never see each other neither.”

“You’re really going to leave?”

“I told you I would.”

“You told John you would before too, and that didn’t happen.”

“I don’t tell you lies, Rob. I never talked about my past, but I never lied to you none, and I’m not lying now. Once the townspeople are safe, I’m gone.”

“Fine.”

“You’re the one who’s always telling me to go, ain’t you?” I snapped.

“I said fine.”

I glared at him, but I were hidden in the monk’s hood, so it went unnoticed. Dark were falling on us as we came to the castle, and the guard looked us over.

“Too many, Brother!”

“I was told you have a great many to tend to.”

The guard looked to the portcullis. “God’s truth. Go in,” he said, waving to the other guards to open the gate.

Honestly, this were what I liked best about being a thief—even a dirty one at that. Sometimes, if you just had a bit of ichor in your blood, you could walk where no one else could and do things that no one else dared. Like walk into Nottingham Castle with an escort that didn’t mean to lock you up.

We walked through the levels of the castle, past the old prison on the middle bailey and on up to the uppermost bailey. The guard led us to the side of the residences where, almost a full month past, I’d seen all the builders and guards going to and fro. Fool that I were! Why didn’t I look in on it? We would have known this all ages ago, and I would have had time for a proper plan.

There were a set of stairs carved into the ground, and we started going down into the rock that Nottingham Castle were built on. The staircase were narrow and bottomed out into a wide bailey with several guards, which meant that the entrance may as well have been Death’s own scythe; we’d never sneak in through that way alive.

The guards let us into a big U-shape of cells, thirty in all. Light were coming from lamps, but the air were thick and close, crawling over my skin. There weren’t no fresh air coming down, and that meant no vents, no way for me to sneak in nor out. There were a staircase leading lower in the far corner, and my mind went to it first.

I heard a whip crack from that way, and I guessed what lay on the next floor down. I hit Rob’s wrist, and while he and the others began to move to the prisoners and pray with them, I darted off to the side, going down the stairs.

I stayed close to the wall, not sure whether playing the monk or the darting thief would help me with whatever stood at the bottom of the stairs. I walked down slow, seeing the rough, carved-out wall. It were wet with water. I crouched low, looking into the room, then pulling back. There were a big fire and blood. Blood everywhere. The prison were bare weeks old, and it already looked soaked into the ground, draining into a grate in the center of the room. There were manacles and chains and a wall of torture devices that made my knees weak. Some were stuck in the fire to make them hot and ready. By the fire there were a block with a groove chipped into it, washed over with blood till it set and stained. I knew what that were for: cutting off hands like they done to Much.