Dralon and The Adventure in the Contrary World (English version)

The Lady of the Trails

"That spineless gnome!" exclaimed Odilda.

The professor paced backed and forth on a sidewalk on Portobello Road. She mumbled quietly, nervously smoking a chives cigarette with an imperial jade mouthpiece she had received during one of her many trips to China. She still remembered freeing a herd of wild camels - the only ones in the whole region of Khotan that could climb those insidious Himalayan peaks - from the terrible spell that had afflicted them for generations. For days, their cattle-raiser had begged her to accept the valuable mouthpiece, dating back to the Song Dynasty period, as a sign of gratitude.
Since then, she had never parted with it and had used it devoutly, especially in difficult circumstances such as the one she was in.

Meanwhile, another day had come and gone, and Odilda and the children had already walked for hours, combing the streets of London and searching every corner for clues. They had asked everyone and everywhere – even at the tourist bureau – but there was no trace of the Lady of the Trails.

"The lady of what?" people repeated, all day long, giving at the most some amused giggles.

No one seemed to have heard of her. Could it be that she just didn't exist?

Odilda felt like a hamster scampering on a wheel for hours without moving an inch. She had wasted a whole afternoon to follow a phantom.

"That trickster gnome gave us directions that lead nowhere! NO- WHERE!" she roared, as she continued to pace back and forth among the market's stands, blowing out white smoke.

"I told you!" said Peter, exhausted.

"Well..." said Michael, with an eager sparkle in his eyes. "We can still gain some profit from this!"

"Really?" replied Odilda, doubtful, placing her precious gift back in the inside pocket of her Sahara jacket. "I don't see how."

"Easy!" answered the boy, rubbing his hands. "Since the Lady of the Trails doesn't exist, no one forbids us from selling this junk, right?" Pointing to the colorful stands on Portobello Road, he wiggled his hips like a clumsy belly-dancer, jingling the sacks that were hanging on his belt.

"No! We can't!" exclaimed Kate, horrified. "Trogol gave them to us for a reason!"

"Well, then your dear friend Trogol should have spent a couple of extra seconds to explain how to find the Lady of the Trails, instead of leaving us alone, without instructions!" he retorted, stretching his neck to spy a potential buyer in the crowd.

"Wait!" said Peter, a sudden new light in his eyes. "Kate is right! If Trogol gave us these sacks, there must be a reason!" Moving close to Michael, he took them off his belt.

"Hey!" yelled Michael, fighting back. "What are you doing? We can get some good money for these!"

Peter emptied the sacks, one after the other. With great surprise, he saw various objects and tools fall to the ground. Some were so big he couldn't understand how they could have been inside.

"Four umbrellas..." he said, starting to list them, "a doormat, four receipts, a box of matches with starred heads, a map without any drawing, a rope..."

"So, junk!" said Odilda, frustrated.

"... some ancient coins, some colored powders, a deck of cards, a carpet beater, some corks, a ladder..." Peter continued his long inventory.

"A carpet beater?" asked Michael. "Don't tell me... besides talking of witches and goblins, Trogol wants us to keep his lamp clean!" He shook his head, disappointed, throwing the object on the sidewalk.

"And this?" asked Kate, handling a stick ending with a hand. "What's this?"

"Um..." grumbled Michael, pensive. "It looks like a back-scratcher."