It was a dismal, grey day in Port Royal Jamaica. Pale light streamed through the shop windows, teasing the dust that ever floated through the building's interior. Will hummed a bit to himself as he worked; it took less energy than whistling and helped him keep a steady beat with his hammer. Watching the metal take shape as he worked it, the young man smiled. Lord Eddings, he was certain, would be extremely pleased with his work and only too happy to pay the hefty price Will had asked for the piece. The sword was still far from overpriced, but it would more than aid the slightly-below-noble-class lifestyle that he was able to provide for Elizabeth.
The thought of his wife made him grin widely. A year's worth of marriage had not dimmed their passion, and had served to draw them closer than ever. Certainly there were the troubles that all couples went through, but they were happy, Will was certain. Inevitably, thoughts of the past drew him to thoughts of Jack. Captain Jack Sparrow, he corrected himself silently. He hadn't seen the enigmatic pirate since the wedding, when Jack had dressed as a gentleman to attend.
Will remembered the suspicious look on Norrington's face when he'd asked the newlyweds about their friend, and the hilarity that had followed when the Commodore noticed Jack's infamous teeth.
Will plunged the near-finished blade into a basin of water to cool it and hung it in place to finish tomorrow. The day had grown very dark now, and rain slapped angrily against the windows. Glad the shop is so close to home, he thought. All it would take was the opening and closing of two doors and the crossing of a short hallway to bring him into the home he shared with Elizabeth. Suddenly, as he removed the leather apron that protected his clothes, the door to the shop swung open violently, slapping the wall hard. A figure was outlined darkly in the doorframe, leaning against the lintel almost casually.
"Can I help you?" Will asked politely. The figure moved a few feet into the room, revealing such adornments as a dark greatcoat, a tri-cornered hat, and, most importantly, a sword and pistol stuck jauntily in a sash- covered belt. Will drew in a sharp breath. Pirate.
Of course, he knew not all pirates meant to pilfer and plunder, rifle and loot. At least, not all the time. However, Will's experiences with pirates had taught him that not all pirates were like Jack.
"I need a sword," the figure told him. The voice was rife with piratical accent, but lighter than Will had expected. The reason for this, he realized as the figure stepped into the lamplight, was that the figure was female. She gazed at him through burning, dark eyes, her face a pale golden mask in the lamplight. She removed her hat, revealing cedar-colored locks braided and beaded away from her face. Moving forward to lean against a convenient table, she drew her own blade from its sheath. The steel was broken jaggedly about six inches from the hilt. Will took the destroyed weapon into his hands, touching it carefully.
The sword had been well-made, the steel folded more than twice and the balance must have been perfect when the blade was whole. A design, ending abruptly where the steel had shattered, wended its way gracefully along the metal.
"I can pay you handsomely for a new blade," the woman said. Her voice seemed slightly strained. Will placed the sword on the table and gave her and incredulous look.
"Yes, I'm certain you can," he said carefully. "But, will it be your gold, or that of someone you've plundered?"
"Mine," she said succinctly. "I do more than pillage, lad. Trade is a lucrative practice, as well." She drew out a small pouch that clinked heavily when she tossed next to the sword. The woman gasped as she threw it; it appeared she was not in the best of health.
"I'll pay extra if you tell no one about this." Will nodded. Of course, she would want no one to know that she was frequenting Port Royal, nor did he need the publicity that forging a pirate's blade would bring. Besides, he'd done as much for Jack, once upon a time.
"I'll need the other half of the blade," he said, "to measure length, weight, and balance. And, also for a rubbing if you want the same design engraved in the new blade. Also, I'll need a name." He sighed at her suspicious look. "Any name."
"Mari Cutlass," she told him boldly. "Captain Mari Cutlass. And, as for the other half of the blade," she flipped back the right side of her greatcoat, "that'll be a mite harder." Will's eyes followed her movements, widening in shock as he saw what she had revealed. Lodged firmly in the woman's thigh, allowing blood to trickle down an already soaked pant-leg was the other half of Mari's blade.