I give a start myself as I realize he is a ghost. I nod, my gaze cutting back to Norrington.
“Pay my son no mind,” the ghost says. “For the moment, he is occupied.”
Son? I look from Norrington to the ghost. I see it then. The older man is shorter and stouter, but the resemblance is clear.
This is the elder Lord Norrington, whose death started all the trouble here, as his son seized his inheritance.
“I am sorry for the trouble my son has caused,” the ghost continues. “I am sorry for the trouble he continues to cause. I knew he was selfish and arrogant, but I thought he would come to love this area as I did and care for its people—”
The ghost gives his head a sharp shake. “Enough of that. You do not care about my regrets. Your situation—and that of young Nicolas—is the bigger concern right now. My son is calm, and so there is a chance you may be able to resolve this peacefully if you—”
“Enough,” Norrington snaps at Nicolas. “You do not know when to shut your mouth, boy. All I need to hear from you is one sentence. One decision. Do you admit this young man is your employer and allow us to escort him to the authorities? Or do you persist in this madness and insist on accompanying him there?”
When Nicolas opens his mouth, Norrington says, “Answer carefully. Remember who he is and who you are. He is the young son of a nobleman. I will demand compensation from his family, and that will be the end of it. You are a foreign pirate, wanted for treason. You saw what happened to your crewmates. Do you wish to swing?”
I step forward. “Take me to the authorities, sir. Dr. Dupuis had nothing to do with this.”
“Doctor?” Norrington snorts. “He’s no doctor.”
“Not unless he is a witch doctor,” one of the other men says, and they both cackle.
“Careful, child,” the ghost murmurs. “If you let Nicolas leave alone, I fear he will not get far. I know that any role my granddaughter has played is that of an innocent pawn, and I want to say my son is equally innocent. That he is a man of his word. He is not. The real choices here are whether Nicolas is allowed to run—and be quietly murdered—or turned in and publicly hanged.”
I glare at the ghost. “What happened to resolving this peacefully?”
I say the words aloud—I must—but I turn my gaze to Norrington, letting him believe they are for him. He replies that he’s trying to resolve it peacefully, sounding exasperated now. I barely hear him. My attention is on the ghost.
“Allow him to take Nicolas with you,” the ghost says. “There is a spot along the way where you can escape. I will help you. The trick is to let my son think he’s won. He will relax his guard. He expects to win. He always does.”
“We will both go with you,” Nicolas says. “I will not abandon my friend.”
Norrington snorts. “You are a fool, then. Come along.”
He waves to his men, who lead us at gunpoint through the trees.
“There is a spot ahead,” the ghost says as he follows. “Once we are past the trees and before we reach the cart. His men will bind your hands and feet at the cart. You do not want that.”
I only half listen to the ghost. I’m trying to figure out how to communicate with Nicolas, but I cannot get his attention. He’s looking from side to side. At first, I think he expects trouble. Then I realize he is looking for a chance to escape, and I relax. We are thinking the same thing, even if we cannot properly communicate.
As the ghost said, Norrington relaxes once we’ve agreed. He’s leading the way, tramping along the path, paying no attention to us. His two men have relaxed as well. Oh, they do not lower the guns pointed at us, but they’ve taken to taunting Nicolas, saying they cannot wait to see him swing, how they’ll bring their families for the entertainment.
Nicolas does not even seem to hear them. He’s surveying the woods. When the trees close in, he uses the excuse to brush against me. His hand slides into mine, and he taps my finger. He’s trying to tell me something—lay out a plan—but I do not understand. No matter. I will follow his lead. The forest ends just ahead. Once we are out, we can see the lay of the land and—
“Down!” Nicolas shouts, and he shoves me hard into the thick forest.
One of the two men starts to shout, but he’s drowned out by a crack of gunfire. Gunfire that comes from somewhere in the forest.
Nicolas half pushes and half drags me until I understand what is happening. An ambush. Someone is shooting—either at us or Norrington and his men. They fire back, but they’re armed with short-range pistols firing blindly into the forest.
“Go! Go!” Nicolas whispers, as if I’m not already on all fours, crawling as fast as I can through the thick underbrush.
Behind us, Norrington shouts and snarls at his men. He thinks one of Nicolas’s confederates is out there, firing at us. I glance around for the ghost and spot him back with the others. He’s looking about wildly, trying to find us. I want to get his attention—he can guide us out of here—but there’s no way of doing that without also getting the attention of someone with a gun.
We keep going until we reach a patch of thick broad-leaf plants. I wave to it, and Nicolas nods, and we hide ourselves in the patch.
“Is it your confederates?” I whisper in Nicolas’s ear.
He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. Someone loyal to his cause may have known of Norrington’s plans and intercepted. It could also be a trap from Norrington himself. He pretends to be taking us to the authorities, only to have us murdered by assassins, and even his own men could honestly attest to that.