Excerpt: The Clockmaker's Daughter (working title)

At long last he removed his most prized possession. It was a long polished mahogany box, with gold filament aspen leaves scrolling along its length. He delicately lifted the golden latch revealing, on a bed of stuffed red velvet, what to an ordinary man must have looked like a perfectly ordinary rapier in a perfectly ordinary black leather scabbard. The almond shaped pummel was simple unpolished steel, it did not contain any gems, nor was it decorated with gold. The cross, the basket, and the rings were steel as well, with no filaments or flower shaped cut-outs, but well suited to protect the hand. The hilt itself was wrapped in simple straps of brown leather, laced together in a pleasant enough pattern that would, none-the-less, never slip in the hand. Arturo pulled the blade out a few inches. The plain undecorated steel had a fine layer of olive oil still on it to protect it from rust and decay. It had done its job well enough. Arturo knew it was a fine blade, he could bend it in half and it would spring back true. He could swing it at a brick wall and the edge would stay keen. Perhaps no blade had ever been finer, though many had fetched a better price and most had been prettier.
“Master,” Jeremiah whispered in awe, “that is ‘Lackluster’, your finest sword. The sword you used in your first duel to the death.” Then he shook his head in dismay. “I can’t possibly accept that, any sword will do, but I don’t deserve….”
“’Accept it’? You thought I was going to give you ‘Lackluster?’ You thought I’d give to you my most treasured possession? The sword with which I killed Armondo De’Or on the field of honor. Ha! You may take whatever other sword you want, but she is for me.” Looking at his pupil’s dull miscomprehension he almost laughed again. “I’m coming with you, foolish boy. You’d just get yourself killed.”