"Who's the weak link, Allan?"
Not being funny, but... "That'd be me, wouldn't it?"
It really wasn't funny. Nothing about the situation was funny, and his wisecrack did nothing for his spirits.
Gisborne wasn't amused either.
"That's as may be. But you don't know where Hood and the Pact are. They do."
He sighed, the sigh of a man whose time was being wasted. Guy of Gisborne hated waste. Every measured word and look and movement that Guy made spoke economy, purpose.
He was like John in that respect. Or Will.
John. Will.
There lay the difference between him and the Sheriff. Vaysey was extravagant, theatrical, loud in speech and gesture. Vaysey was more like Much.
Much.
John. Will. Much. Which? Which?
"Which one will break most easily, A'Dale?" Gisbourne repeated his question.
For Gisbourne, emotion was almost always a means to an end. Allan knew this, knew that the next words he spoke were not supposed to comfort him, but merely to convince him to do what Guy wanted.
"I'll get the information I need anyway. This just saves time. If I target the weakest link, that means nobody else needs to suffer. Everybody wins."
Pain was a means to an end, as well. To most men, torture was an abhorrence. To Vaysey, it was a joy. To Gisborne, it was a scientific process; the steps to be taken to reach a desired result. It did not bother him in the slightest; his victims' screams did not keep him awake at night, but nor did he take pleasure in it. Unless it was someone he really hated. Someone like Robin.
Gisborne shifted slightly on his heels, a gesture which told Allan he was running out of time to make his choice.
John. Will. Much.
A dripping of water somewhere nearby seemed to count out the three names as they spun through his head, faster and faster. Logically, what Gisborne said made sense – the least suffering for the smallest number. Everybody wins. But Allan couldn't bring himself to choose a man, to say a name, to utter the word that would have one of his former friends taken from the dungeon and subjected to Gisborne.
He had said he wouldn't help Guy to kill anyone, and he wouldn't help him torture, either.
"Fine." Gisborne spun on his heel and addressed the waiting jailer. "Bring the woman."
Djaq. The name he hadn't dared to even think in case Gisborne somehow plucked it from his mind.
"No!" The word was out of his mouth before he had time to think. Gisborne turned to face him slowly, a raised eyebrow all he needed to signify that he was waiting for an explanation.
"Not being funny, but she's tough, for a girl. She'll be hard work..."
She would be, too. She would hold out, and Gisborne would keep hurting her. She would be half dead before he got a word out of her, and even that would probably only be one of her bloody scary Arabic curses.
Allan could see that Gisborne was not convinced. It didn't even occur to him that a woman could be as strong as a man. It was a blind spot of his, one that Marian had exploited several times.
"Besides," he went on, improvising wildly, "Her English isn't that great. Even if Hood's told her about the plan, she probably wouldn't understand properly. Waste of time, mate."
Gisborne gave a slight shrug. "Fine." Allan had barely released his breath before he spoke again.
"Bring the woman," he told the guard, before turning back to his servant.
"A lesson in first principles, A'Dale. Anyone can be broken. Enough leverage and anyone will give you anything you ask. Some break easily," he continued with a faint nod at Allan. "For some, the threshold is very high. Some men can endure a great deal before betraying their friends, their beliefs, their cause. It can still be done. It just takes longer, because these men will choose to take the pain themselves, rather than let others suffer. Self-sacrifice is an appealing notion to some people. They value other lives more highly than their own.
"So you change the leverage. Use another's life. If they are faced with a choice between causing suffering to someone else by speaking, and causing suffering to someone right in front of them by not speaking, suddenly the situation is a lot less clear. They feel much less like a hero." Guy took a swig from the canteen of water at his hip.
Allan did not like where this was going.
"Which one now, Allan? Which one will talk most easily, to protect the woman?"
This time Allan knew he had to speak. The right choice would mean the least suffering for Djaq. He offered up a silent prayer for forgiveness.
"That'd be Will. Will Scarlett."