Huang Kuri - The Hundredth House Had No Walls

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FOR NG AND AP

The King was bored.

For five hundred years he had been King of the country of Myth and Shadow, and he was a good king, if a slightly bewildered one. The countryside rolled with treacherous forests rammed full of all the requisite enchanted creatures, and stories grew wild and weird in the fields. The people were happy, even when they had to chase their idle daydreams out of the back garden with a broom.

The King lived in a huge palace that he had dreamed into being all by himself, full of dark, mysterious corners and fierce, beautiful courtiers and lovely young women with dark hair and flashing eyes who could dance on their points for a day and a night and never set a foot fully on the ground. The King appreciated all of it. He had designed it for his own appreciation. Still, he was bored.

He could summon a few of the lovely young women to sing and dance for him and perhaps see to some of his less strictly aesthetic needs but that was just too easy, and anyway it always made him feel a bit awkward.

He could wander down to the Fields of Fancy and go on an absolute rager eating fairy fruit, and that might distract him for a decade, but it always gave him a brutal hangover.

He could do some work. Being the King of Myth and Shadow wasnt a lazy mans job. The stories werent just going to write themselves except, more and more, they seemed to.

The King was bored, bored, bored. He had everything a King could want, and he was still horribly, horribly bored.

He had never quite intended to become King. That was why he was good at it. When he had first arrived in the Kingdom, it was a grey and anodyne country, and he was a simple travelling bard and sometime sorcerer looking to make his name.

In fact, the bard thing had been the original plan. The King of Myth and Shadow, before he became the King, was the seventh son of a seventh son, which wasnt a big deal, really, and he didnt like to talk about it, although it did prove handy on the road when busking fell flat to be able to magic yourself up a serviceable tent and a hot meal just by wishing it.

Barding was the job of choice for enterprising young men with good hair who wanted to see the world, back when the world and the King had both been so much younger. When he came to the grey and anodyne country, all flat marshes and chalk skies, he stopped at the first inn, got out his harp and started pounding out a cover of Venus in Furs.

He hadnt even finished the song when the villagers begged him to tell them a story instead.

Its not that you cant sing, said the innkeepers wife, who was a kind and thoughtful person. Its just that we dont get a lot of stories around here these days.

You dont? said the young king, who was not yet the King. But I thought this was the land of Myth and Shadow?

It was, once, said the innkeepers wife, who was really too kind and too thoughtful to be stuck running an inn for a dull man who did not appreciate her. But as you can see, the Fields of Fancy are all blighted. Were lucky if we can harvest a couple of decent parables between us. The fairies and goblins are leaving the forests. As for shadows, there are hardly enough to fill the corners anymore. [cut Our exports are right down, and a]All the kids are moving to the city to become accountants.

Times are hard, the villagers agreed.

Alright, said the young king, and he started to tell a story about a storm of inspiration that rolled through a grey and lacklustre land, raining all sorts of wild notions down on the fields.

Immediately, a great gust of wind rattled the shutters, and the villagers ran to bring in the picnic tables.

How did you do that? cried the innkeepers wife. Its raining free verse out there!

Its just a talent I have. Its no big deal, said the young king, although he was secretly rather proud, and pleased to have made everyone so happy.

Can you do it again?

Sure, said the young king, and he started to tell a story about doorways that opened to stranger lands where elves and centaurs and unicorns and vampires and witches and all the less popular long forgotten creatures had retreated, bringing them back to the grey country.

Instantly, the door flew open, and a harried farmer rushed in demanding strong drink on account of a griffon having taken up residence on his roof.

That was brilliant! said the innkeepers wife, putting the kettle on for some nice hot tea, because the young man was working hard and starting to look a bit peaky.

Watch this, he said, and he started to tell another story, all about a herd of wild shadows wheeling in from the North and taking up gloomy residence in the forests and crannies and all the too-bright places in the land.

And that, too, was suddenly so.

After a while, the people of the no longer grey and anodyne country asked the young sorcerer to become their king.

In principle, of course, he said. He had heard a lot about kings, mad kings and bad kings and kings who were worse still by virtue of sheer spineless incompetence, and while he didnt know if hed do a better job, he certainly wouldnt do a worse one. But shouldnt there be some sort of election?

No, said the innkeepers wife, who by this point was also the young sorcerers personal assistant, because he worked very hard, but sometimes forgot to eat breakfast. Thats rather the point of Kings. If you want my advice, just give the people what they want. Youre good at that.

My life is generally better when I take your advice, said the young sorcerer. And so he became king, and built the palace, and the land of Myth and Shadow continued to prosper.

Ten years passed, then twenty, then all at once five centuries had gone by and the King still hadnt run out of stories. They came to him easily as breathing and dying and falling in love seemed to come to everyone else. Any time he wanted a new lover, a new toy, a new wing for his palace of Shadows, he simply thought about it and it happened. This, too, made the King feel awkward.

But more than that, he was bored.

He was bored of being rich and brilliant. He was bored of new lovers and new toys and bored of his palace, and he knew he shouldnt be after all, he had been so very lucky. Any of his subjects would have killed for his problems. Somehow that only made it worse.

So the King decided to do what kings do in these situations and go and wander the world in disguise as a normal, non-royal person. He took only a small entourage just twenty Knights of Wild Notion, plus their ostlers, servants and squires most of whom, as is traditional, were actually girls dressed as boys. It was really a very modest retinue, and the King could not understand what the fuss was about when they piled off the Acela Express at Penn Station.

The King had never really believed in New York City.