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 0 ‘clock. Half-night approaches! No wonder citizens suffered from indigestion, they were always eating dinner at the wrong hour.
Doubletalk, Triple Tongue, and They Say 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 They say’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 a 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…
Br-r-r~r. Little Child blew on his fingers. He hurnmed a tune from Great Celebration to bolster himself against fear. He checked his survival kit. Nose mask to protect against poison air. Silver—handled hatchet for battle. Bread and water for one day’s journey.
Oh, he wished he could be like his older brother. If only——if only he could have fought beside Hero in the War of Great Park or with the……[Click LISTEN to hear DoubleTalk Triple Tongue and TheySay.]