That very same morning, Tulann – the haggard man thrust into a world without his knowing – found his way to the southwestern dockyards with a sandwich from the morning market.
Three denaros still clinked in his pocket as he approached the foreman.
“A’ heard ya need some spare hands.”
The burly-armed foreman appraised him at a glance, distant.
“What’s your Maht?”
“Air.”
The foreman tilted his head to the sky. “Holy MAHA, AT LAST!” he guffawed, smacking his hands together. “Got too many waterers and metalers as it is. Come. I have a job for you.”
“What’s the pay?”
“Just enough, from the looks of your situation,” he said, striding towards one of the ships. “You coming or not?”
Tulann didn’t budge.
“It’s twenty denaros for a day’s work. What? It’s a simple hauling job, for Maha’s sake.”
“Forty,” Tulann shot back.
The foreman wished he didn’t smack his hands seconds ago. “Twenty-five.”
“Thirty-five,” said Tulann.
“Thirty.”
“Thirty-five.”
“Thirty.”
“Thirty. Five.”
“You’re in no position to negotiate.”
“Am I?”
The foreman gave a good pause, glancing at the dozens of ships that all needed unloading. Control of air was sorely demanded; it could very well be used on the wooden decks where water and earth could not find adequate footing to keep up the speed. What’s more, the more ships unloaded and repacked and went on their merry way across the sea, the larger the pie of profit he could claim.
“Do you know the songs?”
“Ye.”
“Gather this rope up with your air.”
Tulann did it easily with a simple chant. Now that he’d just ate, he could use his Maht better than he did last night.
“Guess you weren’t bluffing. Have at thirty-five denaros, but I don’t want to hear you complain about anything, you wisecrack,” the foreman sighed. “What’s your name?”
“Tulann.”
“I’ve registered you on the metal. The third ship has a lot of loose goods. Swirl them off the deck. I’ve got my assistant there to oversee you. He will pay you at the end of the day.”
“Right ‘way.”
“Oh, by the way – if any of the goods aboard the ship ‘mysteriously’ disappear into your pockets, I’ll know.”
Tulann sighed. That was the only way the world saw of him since he lost his fortune.
The work was far from hideously difficult in terms of the skill demanded, but it made up for it in the sheer volume of goods Tulann had to unload. He felt his jaw and voice tire, and eventually resorted to simple movements of air that did not require songs to drive. Three hundred rounds of repetitive movements swam his head, and he was soon hungry again.
Thankfully, the lunch bell tolled before he could collapse.
“Oh hey, a new face!” said a worker with red overalls, flanked by six of his fellow workmates. Tulann half expected them to haze or demand something of him, but was taken aback by their cordiality.
“First day? C’mere, tag along with us.”
Tulann followed them warily, but his suspicion eased as they plopped into a spacious tent of red by the corner of the dockyard, filled with hundreds of other workmen and workwomen, already in the midst of their meals. So women also worked here too to support their families, he thought.
“You can get some sandwiches there,” said the worker with the red overalls, pointing to an indoor stall whose smoke wafted out a jury-rigged hole in the ceiling. “That corner sells some cheap clam chowder, and that one sells bao-buns from the Empire. They come filled with meat or sweet, so take your pick.”
Tulann hesitated. He didn’t want to spend the last three denaros in his pocket before the day’s wages fell into it.
“Don’t have any to spare?”
“Na’, it’s just –”
“Take this,” said the worker in the red overalls, pushing five denaros into Tulann’s hand. “No need to pay me back. Just pay it forward to someone who needs it. Name’s Jack.”
“Aye. Tulann. Nice to meet ya,” he replied, returning two coins back to Jack. “A’ can eat with three.”
“If you insist.”
Tulann returned with his bao-buns, which he found to be the most affordable out of everything on display. There was a deal for the sweet red-bean filled ones, each as big as his fist – he could stuff his face with three of them for the cost of just a single sandwich elsewhere. No wonder the people of the Empire did so well, he thought.
When he came back, swirling the hot buns above his hand, there was a pile of coins in a mat in the center, with Jack and seven others around it.
“Wanna join?”
“What kind of game are y’all playing?” said Tulann, sitting down cautiously next to Jack.
“You ever heard of two-truths and a lie?”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Two-truths and a – ain’t that a kid’s game?”
“Sure is. The foreman would throw us into the sea if he ever saw us gambling, so...”
“Sounds fair,” Tulann replied. Once a wealthy, well-respected entrepreneur, he lost everything when an industrial Archon by the name of Alexander Heriz expanded his operations to his home republic, the Republic of Valderan. The Archon undercut everyone else in the sector, and Tulann, like the others, had to shutter his business. Chased by those who demanded their money, he ran from his home, sleeping from pavement to pavement, taking up jobs that the privileged deemed ‘odd’ or ‘dirty’, hoping that in the great western republics his life could begin anew. Buffeted by the squalls of fortune, he found his words become harsh and his manner of speech debased, for what was the use of elegance if no one saw it in him? But he was going to reforge his future, and here it would begin.
Even still, Tulann found it strange and undignified to be vying for his future by playing a children’s game. But did he have a choice?
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch. We see a lot of faces, and I reckon a lot of us have humorous stuff about ourselves to tell. It’s just to pass the dreariness of the docks.”
Tulann felt it somewhat odd that they picked two-truths and a lie out of all the children’s games out there. Perhaps it was the only verbal game that escaped the eye of the foreman and his assistants. Hey, as long as it pays, he shrugged.
“What about the money?”
“We put it into a pile everytime someone new comes in.”
“How much is there?”
“About seventy. All of it could be yours. Or anyone else’s really, if they play their cards better than you.”
Tulann’s ears perked up.
“Do a’ have to put mine in?”
“You’re new, so you’re safe.”
“Remind me the rules?” asked Tulann, tantalized by the prospect of winning.
“We go around person by person. Each of us states two facts about ourselves, and a single lie. The person who fools the most number of people across three rounds wins.”
“That sounds easy.”
“Oh? Careful, Mr. Greenhorn,” joked Jack, “though we don’t know a single thing about you other than your name so far, so you might just be able to win. Tulio won like that last time,” he said, nudging a worker in blue overalls next to him.
They all took a minute to come up with their concoction of truths mixed in with a single lie, and went at lightning speed around the circle for three rounds.
Tulann led the score at 12 people fooled, followed by Jack with 9, Tulio with 7, and five others with fewer points. Everyone else had finished their turns; only Jack and Tulann could go now.
It was Jack’s turn.
“Alright here goes. One. I’ve once shaken hands with the chancellor of Ascension. Two. I’m allergic to shellfish. Three. I’m actually from Cita de Lumière.”
“Oooh, this is a hard one,” they murmured, scratching their heads.
“What do you think, Tulio?”
“Ya know, I’ve never actually seen Jack try the clam chowder here. And we’ve been together for what, six months?”
“Ye.”
“So I think number two ain’t a lie. As for number one, him shaking hands with the chancellor seems too specific that it feels like a lie, but it stands out so much that it screams ‘obvious.’ I think he’s trying to bait us. It must be the truth.”
“So the third one is the lie?”
“Huh, maybe just.”
“Alright, vote away!”
Six of them were convinced that Jack being from Cita de Lumière was a lie, while two – including Tulann – voted number one as a lie.
“Hah! I got nearly all of you!” said Jack, racking his points up by six. He was now first place at 15 points; he was ahead of Tulann by three.
“I’m actually from Cita de Lumière, but left because I was fired from my old job and couldn’t pay the rent. I didn’t actually shake hands with the chancellor of Ascension. Damn specific, wasn’t it? I used reverse psychology on ya!” cackled Jack. “Oooh, all the money is about to be mine!”
“Not unless Tulann can dethrone you, aha,” jabbed Tulio.
“Oho, I want to see you try,” Jack jested, putting his arm around Tulann. “Alright, rookie, convince us with your choice of words.”
Tulann gathered his resolve. Just what could he say that would trick everyone around him? He would need to trick at least four people to guarantee his victory. Just now, Jack made his lie seem so obvious that people thought he was baiting them, and made them decide on the reverse. They wouldn’t fall for that same trap again.
Ah! What if he – Tulann – turned it the other way around? If he made an obvious lie now, people would think he was pulling Jack’s old trick, and would therefore vote on it being a lie this time around.
Yes, that could work. And in place of a lie, he would just say something that was true, therefore fooling everyone.
But just what to say? The truth must be so ridiculous and specific that it would look so obviously like a lie. And that is when the thought entered his head: he could use the outlandish events of the night before!
“A’right, here goes,” announced Tulann, suppressing his grin. “Number ‘un. A’ am from the Republic of Gaya. Two. A’ was once a millionaire. Three. A’ was sleeping at an inn one day when a freaking brick wall ‘sploded on me in the middle of the night and threw a package onto ma’ lap.”
“Man, he’s good,” said one of the workers, slapping his knee.
“Wow, number three is... oddly specific,” trailed off one of the workers.
“Once a millionaire, huh? I mean, you look old enough to have seen a lot of stuff in life,” said Jack. “Far more than me. How old are you, Tulann?”
“Fifty-three.”
“Oh, that ain’t that old. But hey, lots of stuff must’ve happened to turn your hair grey already.”
“Ye.”
“I mean, I guess this dead-end hauling job is what awaits most of us who have nowhere else to go,” Jack continued, his gaze forlorn. “Forget about it. Who cares. I think number two is true.”
“Number one is... hmm – if only your hair wasn’t greying, I could try to see whether it was black or coffee. Then I’d know for sure. But then you might be from the Republic of Heian instead of Gaya. Or any of the eastern ones, actually. Hmrf.”
“So it comes down to number one or three?” asked Tulio.
“Ain’t no way number three is true, man. Nuh-uh,” said another, shaking his head.
“You’re trying to use the same trick Jack used on us, ain’t ya? Make it so obvious it’s a lie that we think it’s the truth instead?” laughed Tulio.
Bingo, thought Tulann. Jack raised his brow, and for a brief moment, Tulann saw something strange shimmer behind his eyes, which vanished as quickly as it arrived.
“Sadly, I ain’t falling for that one again. A’right, let’s vote!” said one of the workers.
“Aye!” Jack concurred.
Five of them voted for number three – Tulann’s night at the inn – as a lie. One of them voted for number two – Tulann once having been a millionaire – as a lie, and only Jack out of all the seven who could vote decided that number one – Tulann’s home republic being Gaya – was a lie.
“It was great playing with y’all,” guffawed Tulann, as he gathered the 70 denaros in front of him with a breeze. “Only Jack is right.”
“WHAT?” they all shouted in unison.
“I knew it! I knew you were trying to outsmart me,” exclaimed Jack, clapping his hands. “But I outsmarted your outsmarting!”
“You’re not from the Republic of Gaya?”
“Na’. From Valderan.”
“Damn it.”
“My man, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” said Tulio, clutching his head. “So the whole stuff about the brick wall exploding happened?”
“Ye! Take a look,” said Tulann, furling up his pant sleeve, eager to prove that it was true. “A brick hit me hard in the left shin,” he said, showing the purple bruise to everyone.
“Oh man, that’s gotta have hurt,” said Jack, appraising the wound. It was very fresh. “How long ago was this?”
“Just last night.”
“Where in the world? Was the innkeeper trying to maim you for insurance money?”
“Na’, no ‘un was in the wall or anythin’ like that. Just happened on its own.”
“Man, give it to the divinities to give you the perfect line to say in two-truths and a lie.” They all laughed in unison, all except Jack.
“Just happened on its own?” asked Jack, rather closely.
“Dunno. A’ was scared outta ma’ wits, so didn’t look.”
“Where did you say this happened?”
“Oh, an inn called The Tuna or somethin’. Dun remember,” Tulann said, carefully pouring the coins into his bag.
“Was there anything good in the package?”
“Package?” Tulann asked, puzzled.
“The package that landed in your lap, as you said,” reminded Jack.
“Oh! Ye, right,” gasped Tulann. “Why do ya wanna know?”
“Just testing ya. Don’t want others to feel they’ve been cheated out of their money,” jested Jack, putting his arms around him. “Got anything good?”
“Eh, just some, uh,” Tulann paused, the kindness of the boy and the mysterious figure the night before surfacing to his memory, “well, when the pawnbroker opened it, there were just a couple of rusty old watches. A’ guess the previous owner of the house must’ve forgotten about it when they moved out. Got not much out of it,” he said, trying not to draw attention to the boy or his small inn. Only now did he realize Jack’s questions were more inquisitive than usual.
“You ran with it? You madman,” said Jack. “I would’ve just left it there, scared pantless.”
“Ey Jack, you comin’?” shouted his fellow workmen, already out of the tent.
“Be right there!” he cried back. “Well Tulann, welcome to the docks. I’ll show you the ropes and all tomorrow, but I figure you’re doing pretty well already.”
Jack headed out towards the direction of the ships. But when his workmen glanced back, he had vanished.