Three to See the King by Magnus Mills

you.’
    The previous atmosphere of conviviality quickly returned to the table, and for the time being they stopped interrogating me about whether I had any spare pieces of tin. Then I remembered a question of my own.
    ‘By the way, Simon,’ I said. ‘How did you get along when it came to putting your house back together again?’
    This caused all three of them to look at each other and smile. It seemed my enquiry had triggered off some happy collective memory.
    ‘Oh, quite a disaster really,’ Simon replied. ‘None of the parts would fit properly.’
    ‘My fault, of course,’ added Steve. ‘We couldn’t tell the roof from the walls, the back from the front, or anything. It was like a pig’s ear when we’d finished.’
    He had now turned slightly pink and sat there with a bashful grin on his face, as if joyfully recalling some past foolishness. This was a complete change from the assertive confidence he’d shown a few moments earlier, and I was at a loss to explain why. Meanwhile, the other two appeared equally delighted that things had gone so wrong with Simon’s house.
    They exchanged further smiles, then Philip said, ‘Fortunately for us, Michael Hawkins had the solution.’
    A murmur of assent arose from his companions, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Mary Petrie glance at me.
    ‘Really?’ I managed to say.
    ‘Oh yes,’ declared Simon in an eager voice. ‘Michael built his own house of tin, you see, so he knew what had to be done. With his guidance we simply took mine to pieces and made it whole again.’
    That was lucky,’ I said.
    ‘Oh, it was more than luck,’ said Steve. ‘There’s so much that Michael has learned, because he’s lived out there so long. He’s studied the lie of the land, and he knows which way the wind blows, and when the sun will rise and set. He showed us the best place to build our houses.’
    ‘So that’s where you’ve all moved to, is it?’
    ‘Us and many others.’
    ‘Just to be near this Michael Hawkins?’
    ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And we’d like you to join us.’
    ‘Me?’
    ‘Well, both of you really.’ Steve now included Mary Petrie in his gaze. ‘Michael has requested it especially.’ ‘Well, why didn’t he come and ask us himself?’ ‘Because he’s far too busy.’ ‘What with?’ ‘He’s creating a canyon for us all to live in.’
    13
    All at once I felt as if someone had pulled a hidden lever and caused a trapdoor to open beneath me. Only Mary Petrie knew of my abandoned desire to live in a canyon, and I trusted her with the secret. Yet here was this upstart, this Michael Hawkins, taunting me from beyond the horizon by means of his three messengers. What, I asked myself, was so special about him that they flocked to be at his side? After all, he only dwelt in a house of tin, same as I did. Just because he’d learnt a trick or two about predicting the weather, and knew how to assemble a few composite parts, they spoke of him in hushed tones as if he held some great gift for them. Now, I gathered, his boundless abilities even encompassed the creation of a canyon!
    ‘What, on his own?’ I asked.
    ‘Oh, no,’ replied Steve. ‘It’s going to need many hands to undertake such a work.’
    ‘That’s what I’d have thought.’
    ‘So you’ll come will you?’ he asked.
    ‘Well, I—’
    ‘Michael can achieve great things with friends like us to help him!’ declared Simon, before I could even speak. There’s a space already set aside for your house, if you’re interested, and many people are looking forward to meeting you.’
    While all this talk was going on, Mary Petrie had remained silent. Even so, I knew from the occasional looks she cast in my direction that she was listening to every word. Now, as Simon, Steve and Philip sat and waited like supplicants for an answer, she spoke directly to me.
    ‘Won’t it be a bit of a palaver moving everything?’ she asked.
    That was all she said, but I sensed instantly that the verdict