Selected Stories of Philip K. Dick (17 page)

“Sure.”

“Is it true? Are you really the King of the Elves?”

Shadrach flushed a little. “I guess I am,” he admitted, looking away. “That's what I am, all right.”

Dan's grin faded. “Hey, you trying to kid me? What's the gag?”

Shadrach became angry.“What do you mean? Sure, I'm the King of the Elves. And anyone who says I'm not—”

“All right, Shadrach,” Dan said, starting up the flivver quickly. “Don't get mad. I was just wondering.”

Shadrach looked very strange.

“All right,” Dan said. “You don't hear me arguing, do you?”

By the end of the day, everyone around knew about Shadrach and how he had suddenly become the King of the Elves. Pop Richey, who ran the Lucky Store in Derryville, claimed Shadrach was doing it to drum up trade for the filling station.

“He's a smart old fellow,” Pop said. “Not very many cars go along there anymore. He knows what he's doing.”

“I don't know,” Dan Green disagreed. “You should hear him, I think he really believes it.”

“King of the Elves?” They all began to laugh. “Wonder what he'll say next.”

Phineas Judd pondered. “I've known Shadrach for years. I can't figure it out.” He frowned, his face wrinkled and disapproving. “I don't like it.”

Dan looked at him. “Then you think he believes it?”

“Sure,” Phineas said. “Maybe I'm wrong, but I really think he does.”

“But how could he believe it?” Pop asked. “Shadrach is no fool. He's been in business for a long time. He must be getting something out of it, the way I see it. But what, if it isn't to build up the filling station?”

“Why, don't you know what he's getting?” Dan said, grinning. His gold tooth shone.

“What?” Pop demanded.

“He's got a whole kingdom to himself, that's what—to do with like he wants. How would you like that, Pop? Wouldn't you like to be King of the Elves and not have to run this old store anymore?”

“There isn't anything wrong with my store,” Pop said. “I ain't ashamed to run it. Better than being a clothing salesman.”

Dan flushed. “Nothing wrong with that, either.” He looked at Phineas. “Isn't that right? Nothing wrong with selling clothes, is there, Phineas?”

Phineas was staring down at the floor. He glanced up. “What? What was that?”

“What you thinking about?” Pop wanted to know. “You look worried.” “I'm worried about Shadrach,” Phineas said. “He's getting old. Sitting out there by himself all the time, in the cold weather, with the rainwater running over the floor—it blows something awful in the winter, along the highway—”

“Then you
do
think he believes it?” Dan persisted. “You
don't
think he's getting something out of it?”

Phineas shook his head absently and did not answer.

The laughter died down. They all looked at one another.

That night, as Shadrach was locking up the filling station, a small figure came toward him from the darkness.

“Hey!” Shadrach called out. “Who are you?”

An Elf soldier came into the light, blinking. He was dressed in a little gray robe, buckled at the waist with a band of silver. On his feet were little leather boots. He carried a short sword at his side.

“I have a serious message for you,” the Elf said. “Now, where did I put it?”

He searched his robe while Shadrach waited. The Elf brought out a tiny scroll and unfastened it, breaking the wax expertly. He handed it to Shadrach.

“What's it say?” Shadrach asked. He bent over, his eyes close to the vellum. “I don't have my glasses with me. Can't quite make out these little letters.”

“The Trolls are moving. They've heard that the old king is dead, and they're rising, in all the hills and valleys around. They will try to break the Elf Kingdom into fragments, scatter the Elves—”

“I see,” Shadrach said. “Before your new king can really get started.”

“That's right.” The Elf soldier nodded. “This is a crucial moment for the Elves. For centuries, our existence has been precarious. There are so many Trolls, and Elves are very frail and often take sick—”

“Well, what should I do? Are there any suggestions?”

“You're supposed to meet with us under the Great Oak tonight. We'll take you into the Elf Kingdom, and you and your staff will plan and map the defense of the Kingdom.”

“What?” Shadrach looked uncomfortable. “But I haven't eaten dinner. And my gas station—tomorrow is Saturday, and a lot of cars—”

“But you are King of the Elves,” the soldier said.

Shadrach put his hand to his chin and rubbed it slowly.

“That's right,” he replied. “I am, ain't I?”

The Elf soldier bowed.

“I wish I'd known this sort of thing was going to happen,” Shadrach said. “I didn't suppose being King of the Elves—”

He broke off, hoping for an interruption. The Elf soldier watched him calmly, without expression.

“Maybe you ought to have someone else as your king,” Shadrach decided. “I don't know very much about war and things like that, fighting and all that sort of business.” He paused, shrugged his shoulders.“It's nothing I've ever mixed in. They don't have wars here in Colorado. I mean they don't have wars between human beings.”

Still the Elf soldier remained silent. “Why was I picked?” Shadrach went on helplessly, twisting his hands.“I don't know anything about it. What made him go and pick me? Why didn't he pick somebody else?”

“He trusted you,” the Elf said.“You brought him inside your house, out of the rain. He knew that you expected nothing for it, that there was nothing you wanted. He had known few who gave and asked nothing back.”

“Oh.” Shadrach thought it over. At last he looked up. “But what about my gas station? And my house? And what will they say, Dan Green and Pop down at the store—”

The Elf soldier moved away, out of the light. “I have to go. It's getting late, and at night the Trolls come out. I don't want to be too far away from the others.”

“Sure,” Shadrach said.

“The Trolls are afraid of nothing, now that the old king is dead. They forage everywhere. No one is safe.”

“Where did you say the meeting is to be? And what time?”

“At the Great Oak. When the moon sets tonight, just as it leaves the sky.”

“I'll be there, I guess,” Shadrach said. “I suppose you're right. The King of the Elves can't afford to let his kingdom down when it needs him most.”

He looked around, but the Elf soldier was already gone.

Shadrach walked up the highway, his mind full of doubts and wonderings. When he came to the first of the flat stone steps, he stopped.

“And the old oak tree is on Phineas's farm! What'll Phineas say?”

But he was the Elf King and the Trolls were moving in the hills. Shadrach stood listening to the rustle of the wind as it moved through the trees beyond the highway, and along the far slopes and hills.

Trolls? Were there really Trolls there, rising up, bold and confident in the darkness of the night, afraid of nothing, afraid of no one?

And this business of being Elf King …

Shadrach went on up the steps, his lips pressed tight. When he reached the top of the stone steps, the last rays of sunlight had already faded. It was night.

Phineas Judd stared out the window. He swore and shook his head. Then he went quickly to the door and ran out onto the porch. In the cold moonlight a dim figure was walking slowly across the lower field, coming toward the house along the cow trail.

“Shadrach!” Phineas cried. “What's wrong? What are you doing out this time of night?”

Shadrach stopped and put his fists stubbornly on his hips.

“You go back home,” Phineas said. “What's got into you?”

“I'm sorry, Phineas,” Shadrach answered. “I'm sorry I have to go over your land. But I have to meet somebody at the old oak tree.”

“At this time of night?”

Shadrach bowed his head.

“What's the matter with you, Shadrach? Who in the world you going to meet in the middle of the night on my farm?”

“I have to meet with the Elves. We're going to plan out the war with the Trolls.”

“Well, I'll be damned,” Phineas Judd said. He went back inside the house and slammed the door. For a long time he stood thinking. Then he went back out on the porch again. “What did you say you were doing? You don't have to tell me, of course, but I just—”

“I have to meet the Elves at the old oak tree. We must have a general council of war against the Trolls.”

“Yes, indeed. The Trolls. Have to watch for the Trolls all the time.”

“Trolls are everywhere,” Shadrach stated, nodding his head. “I never realized it before. You can't forget them or ignore them. They never forget you. They're always planning, watching you—”

Phineas gaped at him, speechless.

“Oh, by the way,” Shadrach said. “I may be gone for some time. It depends on how long this business is going to take. I haven't had much experience in fighting Trolls, so I'm not sure. But I wonder if you'd mind looking after the gas station for me, about twice a day, maybe once in the morning and once at night, to make sure no one's broken in or anything like that.”

“You're going away?” Phineas came quickly down the stairs. “What's all this about Trolls? Why are you going?”

Shadrach patiently repeated what he had said.

“But what for?”

“Because I'm the Elf King. I have to lead them.”

There was silence. “I see,” Phineas said, at last. “That's right, you
did
mention it before, didn't you? But, Shadrach, why don't you come inside for a while and you can tell me about the Trolls and drink some coffee and—”

“Coffee?” Shadrach looked up at the pale moon above him, the moon and the bleak sky. The world was still and dead and the night was very cold and the moon would not be setting for some time.

Shadrach shivered.

“It's a cold night,” Phineas urged. “Too cold to be out. Come on in—”

“I guess I have a little time,” Shadrach admitted. “A cup of coffee wouldn't do any harm. But I can't stay very long …”

Shadrach stretched his legs out and sighed. “This coffee sure tastes good, Phineas.”

Phineas sipped a little and put his cup down. The living room was quiet and warm. It was a very neat little living room with solemn pictures on the walls, gray uninteresting pictures that minded their own business. In the corner was a small reed organ with sheet music carefully arranged on top of it.

Shadrach noticed the organ and smiled. “You still play, Phineas?”

“Not much anymore. The bellows don't work right. One of them won't come back up.”

“I suppose I could fix it sometime. If I'm around, I mean.”

“That would be fine,” Phineas said. “I was thinking of asking you.”

“Remember how you used to play ‘Vilia' and Dan Green came up with that lady who worked for Pop during the summer? The one who wanted to open a pottery shop?”

“I sure do,” Phineas said.

Presently, Shadrach set down his coffee cup and shifted in his chair.

“You want more coffee?” Phineas asked quickly. He stood up. “A little more?”

“Maybe a little. But I have to be going pretty soon.”

“It's a bad night to be outside.”

Shadrach looked through the window. It was darker; the moon had almost gone down. The fields were stark. Shadrach shivered. “I wouldn't disagree with you,” he said.

Phineas turned eagerly. “Look, Shadrach. You go on home where it's warm. You can come out and fight Trolls some other night. There'll always be Trolls. You said so yourself. Plenty of time to do that later, when the weather's better. When it's not so cold.”

Shadrach rubbed his forehead wearily. “You know, it all seems like some sort of a crazy dream. When did I start talking about Elves and Trolls? When did it all begin?” His voice trailed off. “Thank you for the coffee.” He got slowly to his feet. “It warmed me up a lot. And I appreciated the talk. Like old times, you and me sitting here the way we used to.”

“Are you going?” Phineas hesitated. “
Home?
”

“I think I better. It's late.”

Phineas got quickly to his feet. He led Shadrach to the door, one arm around his shoulder.

“All right, Shadrach, you go on home. Take a good hot bath before you go to bed. It'll fix you up. And maybe just a little snort of brandy to warm the blood.”

Phineas opened the front door and they went slowly down the porch steps, onto the cold, dark ground.

“Yes, I guess I'll be going,” Shadrach said. “Good night—”

“You go on home.” Phineas patted him on the arm. “You run along home and take a good hot bath. And then go straight to bed.”

“That's a good idea. Thank you, Phineas. I appreciate your kindness.” Shadrach looked down at Phineas's hand on his arm. He had not been that close to Phineas for years.

Shadrach contemplated the hand. He wrinkled his brow, puzzled.

Phineas's hand was huge and rough and his arms were short. His fingers were blunt; his nails broken and cracked. Almost black, or so it seemed in the moonlight.

Shadrach looked up at Phineas. “Strange,” he murmured.

“What's strange, Shadrach?”

In the moonlight, Phineas's face seemed oddly heavy and brutal. Shadrach had never noticed before how the jaw bulged, what a great protruding jaw it was. The skin was yellow and coarse, like parchment. Behind the glasses, the eyes were like two stones, cold and lifeless. The ears were immense, the hair stringy and matted.

Odd that he never noticed before. But he had never seen Phineas in the moonlight.

Shadrach stepped away, studying his old friend. From a few feet off, Phineas Judd seemed unusually short and squat. His legs were slightly bowed. His feet were enormous. And there was something else—

“What is it?” Phineas demanded, beginning to grow suspicious. “Is there something wrong?”

Something was completely wrong. And he had never noticed it, not in all the years they had been friends. All around Phineas Judd was an odor, a faint, pungent stench of rot, of decaying flesh, damp and moldy.

Shadrach glanced slowly about him. “Something wrong?” he echoed. “No, I wouldn't say that.”

By the side of the house was an old rain barrel, half fallen apart. Shadrach walked over to it.