But they need more than Captain Blythe the hero, they need a dozen more men and as many guns . . . no, they need a miracle. On the other coffeehouse, Blythe could see men hanging off the outside wall rungs, or perched on sills, or skulking on deck and veranda—anything rather than face whatever it was that was breaking furniture in the main coffeeroom. Carmine’s strange attack had bought the Bower time, but it would not be long before the Queens’ Heads recovered from the crisis.

“Ahoy the Laurel Bower! The Duke himself commands you to pull to and surrender yourselves to him and his men!” The cry seemed to come from the veranda of the Queens’ Heads.

Blythe thought again of Carmine’s face as the shot had torn through his arm, and his chest exploded with anger.

“This is Captain Clam Blythe, and I challenge Vocado Avourlace, called Duke of Mandelion, to a test of pistols. I stand for the rights of the people he robs and oppresses, and will risk my body for my cause. I call upon him to stand against me for the Queens he claims to honor, and let the Beloved decide the Right of it.” Blythe could hear his own words echoing long after he had spoken them. He realized that little sculls were bobbing not far from the shore, and that the men on them were bellowing his words to a listening multitude on the waterfront.

“The Duke accepts.”

Praise be to Goodman Varple of Thieves and Vagabonds, and bless his ugly dog, thought Blythe. The Duke truly is mad.

“Mr. Hind, captain of the Queens’ Heads, shall be my second.” It was the Duke’s voice.

Blythe gave Stallwrath a questioning glance, and received a nod.

“Mr. Stallwrath shall serve as mine.”

While the crew of the Bower hurried to clear the deck, Blythe stood up, so that he could be seen by the men of the Queens’ Heads, the crew of the little boats bobbing nearby and the throngs at the riverside. If they shoot me like a dog now, it will be remembered . . .

His heart beat as a tall man in jeweled blues and golds climbed onto the roof of the Queens’ Heads, the wind splaying the locks of his pale gold wig until it seemed to circle his head like a halo. With a throb the highwayman remembered that, as the man challenged, the Duke would be allowed to take the first shot.