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No. 2220
“Bucket?” I turned to the athletic girl, who demurred, glancing away.
“I found her here, living with the mice-whatsits. She won't tell me her name, so I use the ancient Goblin word for 'porter' or 'one who carries things,'” blue offered, “Since that's what she does for me.”
I could not believe my ears. “Bucket, as in to carry water in?”
“What? No,” Sahara looked taken aback, her snake half coiling underneath her, “not bucket, 'Bucket', and please, please pleeeaaase stop using Nagat, it might be okay to use in here, because no one else will hear you, but out there,” she said pointing back to the double doors, “I will literally be killed for using a secret language with you.”
“Ma'am,” I sighed, “I speak two languages, English and high school level Spanish, so unless I'm asking 'where is the shoe store' this is the language I can use.” I stopped. I swore that I tried to say 'donde esta la zapataria?' but that's not how it came out. A piece of a puzzle slid into place, but my train of thought was derailed by Sahara's new line of inquiry.
“Very well, then I ask that you not speak when outside. Or don't go outside, your choice.... ah, what was your name?”
My mind reeled. I remembered my own name, certainly, but should I give it? Do names have power here? Should I adopt a different one and if I did, what should I choose? Should I make up a name completely, should I choose some other fantasy hero's name? In the end, it didn't matter. The snake-woman had taken my hesitation as permission to name me.
“How about Sweep?” She nodded, “Yes. I need someone to clean up around here. Sweep will do.” My heart fell. That was not the name of a great hero, nor, I realized, was it the name of someone able to leave of their own free will. I looked back at the entrance, and tried to estimate the weight of the circular stone. I was trapped.
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