Doubletalk, Triple Tongue, And Theysay

Heralds stood on broadcast columns throughout Enchanted City and shouted news. They announced special events as well as the hour of the night. Because of power-outs, however, no one really knew the correct time. One herald might proclaim, “Midnight. All’s well!” while another shouted “Ten-thirty o’clock. Half-night approaches!” No wonder citizens suffered from indigestion; they were always eating dinner at the wrong hour.

Doubletalk, Triple Tongue, and Theysay were friends. The three boys had grown up in Moire Oxan, the tenement slums which stretched for miles, hovel stacked upon hovel. Together they endured illness, poverty, hunger, and branding. When Theysay’s parents died, the other two helped him escape orphan dragnets by hiding him back and forth in their own tenement hovels, at great risk of penalty to themselves.

All were now heralds of the Enchanter—and proud of their accomplishment. It was something for penniless young men to rise to heraldship, to stand on the tall broadcast columns, trusted with all the news fit to proclaim. It was something for ragtag ruffians to wear the red and yellow jerseys with the Enchanter’s insignia of blazing fire. It was something to blow the herald horn whenever the wizard’s sleek black limousine moved ominously through the city streets, and to shout, “The Enchanter is coming! Make way for the Enchanter!”

Unfortunately, heralds frequently made contradictory announcements. One might shout, “Melons in the marketplace! First come, first served!” while the herald on the very next post was shouting, “No melons today! Try rutabagas in your fruit salad!”

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