Mark was interested enough to own a sword with such a provenance? Now that was an intriguing bit of information.
The television was muted. Did Mark enjoy swashbucklers? I recognized Tyrone Power, dressed as a Spanish grandee. He hurled his sword to the ceiling of the room he was in, and it buried itself in the wooden beams, quivering from the force of his action.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a dog standing guard in the corner and whirled to face it, laughing at myself when I realized it was an extremely lifelike statue. I crossed to it and crouched beside it to examine the excellent rendition thoroughly.
Not metal, as I’d originally thought, but ceramic. The Rottweiler stood at attention, its ears c****d alertly, its docked tail erect, and from its mouth dangled a ragged square of
