“Good.” I flipped the sword and handed it to him. “Then give it a name and let’s go.” The evening was almost here, and the others were waiting for us. Carrion held the sword, turning it this way and that. After much consideration, he said, “It looks like a Simon.” “Simon?” “Yeah. Simon. Don’t blame me. That’s what it looks – ” He stopped talking and listened. “See. It likes the name. It wants to be Simon.”
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