“Was this in your possession?” Ian asked, turning to the monk, whose hands had not stopped fletching arrows as they talked.
Brother Fletcher shook his head. “I did not have the foresight to save such a valuable tool as this when I left the monastery.”
“I got it from Brother Elias, a monk who settled in Allys,” Robin explained. “They did not want to leave it behind for thieves, or soldiers, to find. But he did explain every passage he could remember in exquisite detail. And Brother Fletcher can help fill in any additional lapse in memory.”
“I know every stone of that building,” Brother Fletcher confirmed. “I used those passages every day...for moving quietly during times of prayer, for remaining unseen.”
“For carrying extra food and ale back to your room, perhaps?” Ian asked.
Fletcher nodded, appearing unashamed at being so pointedly called out.
Ian turned his attention back to the map. “These passages lead directly to the cellars, which is where Gareth instructed Gautho to take the Majis prisoners.”
“And to the dormitory, which is where the soldiers are likely to be housed,” Robin added. “And to the abbot’s study, which, by all accounts, is where Gautho has set up his command. We could move through the monastery without anyone knowing we are there until it is too late.”
“How many entrances are there to these passages? Where are they?” Ian asked.
“Three main ones that are still accessible,” Brother Fletcher said, leaning forward to point at the map with the arrow shaft in his hand. “Here, on the north wall behind the vegetable garden. Here, in the cellar itself—though you have to be inside the monastery to access this one at all.” He tapped a spot at the edge of the paper itself. “And here is where the old smugglers used to bring their boats in. The sea caves are tricky to navigate, but quite hidden.”
Robin watched Ian’s face as he processed this information. She could see his eyes traversing the map.
“I see only one major flaw in this plan,” Robin said. She waited to continue until Ian was looking directly into her eyes. “It puts you in danger. And we still need you alive.”
“He does not need to be in the actual fighting for this to work,” Fletcher cut in. “He will be visible as the distraction in the front, and we can get him inside once it is over and we have handled the actual combat.”
“We?” Robin said, looking up quickly at the older man. “You are not coming with us. You will be staying here to protect the manor, remember?”
“I come on this one,” Fletcher said, his usually cheerful eyes entirely serious. “I used to live there. Like I said, I know every stone of that building.” Then he smiled. “And I cannot let you children have all the fun. Though I will deny having any fun; I am just a quiet monk, after all.”
“This passage here,” Ian said, pointing to the map. “It leads from the dormitory to the empty library. If you emerge here, you stand between the soldiers and their weapons, giving us a significant advantage.”
Robin smiled. Ian was in.
Chapter 31
Robin climbed up the tall ladder leaning against the side of the manor. Everything was ready for their monastery raid in the morning except for one final detail.
She had spent the previous day—after speaking with Ian—working with each member of her band to fully lay out their roles and responsibilities for the intricate and dangerous mission.
She had also spoken with several of the Lockwood villagers who could hold their own in a fight to fill out her small team of eight.
Seven. Her core group of bandits consisted of seven. Ulli, Lane, Nele, Jette, Rigelt, Liam, and Fletcher.
Ian made them eight.
She reached the top of the ladder, poking her head above the roof of the manor.
Ulli knelt on the wooden slats, a hammer in hand. The frequent rain had been rotting out the wood shingles, making roof repair a near constant task at Lockwood. Fortunately, wood was plentiful.
As if sensing her presence, Ulli looked over his shoulder when she climbed onto the roof itself. He sent her a nodof welcome. Setting down the hammer, he stretched his arms overhead and sat back against the roof.
Robin walked nimbly over the uneven shingles, sat next to him, and handed him a flask of brewed tea. “Willa made a new concoction,” she said.
Ulli unstopped the flask and tilted his head back to take a long drink. “It’s good,” he said.
“It tastes like the last one to me,” Robin replied. “But the honey is a nice touch.”
Ulli nodded.
