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Several men among the guests frowned and slapped the hilts of their dress swords, but somehow getting room to draw their blades involved moving quickly away from the pirate.
Suddenly and jarringly, the bald man laughed, a deep, booming mirth like storm surf crashing on rocks, and Shandy recognized him.
Then the two Navy officers had drawn pistols and were shouting for the guests to move aside, and a number of men were reluctantly moving in on Shandy, waving the sort of swords one orders from a tailor, and Sebastian Chandagnac was loudly demanding that the officers shoot the pirate instantly.
Women screamed, men tripped over chairs, and Shandy leaped up onto the table, drawing his saber in midair, and he kicked the punchbowl onto the floor as he sprinted down the table toward the front door; MacKinlay's pistol banged deafeningly, but the ball splintered the wall paneling above Shandy's head, and then he had leaped off the end of the table. MacKinlay's companion was pointing a pistol of his own directly at Shandy's chest, and Shandy, helpless to do anything else, lunged at him, caught the long pistol barrel with his saber blade and got a fast corkscrewing bind on it that sent it flying out of the officer's hand before he could fire.
Men were slipping and cursing on the wet floor behind him, and a couple of swords were noisily dropped, and Shandy leaped to the side, whipped his blade around, and put his point against MacKinlay's chest. Everyone froze. The pistol finished clattering across the floor and clanked against the wall.
"I believe I'll surrender," Shandy said into the sudden silence, "but before I do, I want to tell you who Joshua Hicks is. He's - "
Sebastian Chandagnac had dived for the dropped pistol and now came up with it; sitting, he fired it at Shandy.
The ball exploded the head of Lieutenant MacKinlay - and as the body cartwheeled away and the screaming and crashing resumed, louder, Shandy's uncle scrambled up, drew his own dress sword and ran at him. Shandy parried the blade easily, though his white gloves were gleaming red along the seams, and he rushed in and, one-handed, grabbed his uncle by the throat.
"Beth Hurwood, the girl you're holding," he snarled. "Where is she?"
The bald man Morcilla had stepped forward as if to interfere, but at this he paused.
"Upstairs," wept Sebastian Chandagnac, his eyes closed, "locked room."
Women were sobbing and several men stood nearby with drawn swords, glancing at one another uncertainly. The second Navy officer had drawn his sword but seemed reluctant to approach while Shandy was apparently holding a hostage.
Shandy's left thumb was on his uncle's larynx, and he knew he could crush it as easily as he could break an egg; but he was sick of deaths, and didn't think he'd derive any sense of fulfillment from watching this scared little man flop around on the floor choking to death on his own throat bones. He switched his grip to the man's collar.
"Who ... are you?" Sebastian Chandagnac croaked, his eyes wide with horror.
Suddenly Shandy realized that, clean-shaven and with all the new lines of age and weariness in his face, he must look very much like his father had when Sebastian would have seen him last ... and of course this man didn't know that his nephew John Chandagnac had come to the Caribbean.
Having decided not to kill him, Shandy found that he could not refrain from stirring up the man's guilt. "Look me in the eye," he whispered chokingly.
The old man did, though with much trembling and moaning.
"I'm your brother, Sebastian," Shandy said through clenched teeth. "I'm Francois."
The old man's face was nearly purple. "I heard you had ... died. Really died, I mean."
Shandy grinned ferociously. "I did - but haven't you ever heard of vodun? - I've only come back from Hell tonight to fetch you, dear brother."
Apparently Sebastian had heard of vodun, and found Shandy's claim all too plausible; his eyes rolled back in his head and, with as sharp an exhalation as if he'd been punched in the belly, he went limp.
Surprised but not really dismayed, Shandy let the body tumble to the floor.
Then, almost side by side, Shandy and the bald man sprang for the stairs; presumably Edmund Morcilla was pursuing the pirate, but it was hard to be sure they weren't both racing toward some common goal. A few men with swords leaped quickly into their path, and then even more quickly out of it, and a moment later Shandy was bounding up the stairs three at a time, panting and praying that he wouldn't pass out quite yet.
At the top of the stairs was a corridor, and he paused there, his chest heaving, and turned to face the man who called himself Morcilla, who had stopped two steps short of the landing. His eyes were level with Shandy's.
"What ... do you want?" Shandy gasped.
The giant's smile looked cherubic on his smooth face. "The young woman."
There was more shouting and crashing below, and Shandy shook his head impatiently. "No. Forget it. Go back downstairs."
"I've earned her - I've been monitoring this house all day, ready to step in and interfere at the first indication of soul-eviction magic - "
"Which didn't take place because I undid Hurwood's plan," said Shandy. "Get out of here."
The bald man raised his sword. "I'd rather not kill you, Jack, but I promise I will if I have to in order to get her."
