Adam shook the compass, tapped the back of it, but nothing made any difference. He put the compass in his pocket and shrugged, the only thing to do, he decided, was to use the sun. The sun rose in the east, so that gave him a rough idea.
They plodded for two hours before Palustric, feeling tired, hungry and thirsty, called for a lunch break. They settled down under a gnarled elder tree, one of few blasted trees on the moorlands. Adam pulled Cari from his pocket so that he could sit more comfortably and ate a good meal, thanks to the goblin landlord, who prepared generous packed lunches.
Palustric suddenly pointed. “Look!” Cari was spinning round and round on the ground, reminding Adam of something he had seen recently.
“That’s it!” he cried. “A compass needle! Are you trying to tell us something, Cari?”
As if in answer, the orb stopped spinning round and began rolling in the direction of a track which ran off the route they had been following up to now. “It wants us to go that way. We’ll be all right with Cari, all we have to do is put it down whenever we don’t know which way to go. There! Mr Goblin Landlord.” Adam laughed defiantly. “We’ll see who can find his way in these unknown lands.”
They took the road down the valley, walking with a lighter step. Whenever they came to a parting of ways or a cross-track, Adam simply took out the orb, laid it on the ground and waited for it to roll away. In this fashion, they made steady progress until, by nightfall, they spotted a rooftop in the distance. It lay in a familiar fold of land, and Adam’s heart sank. Was it possible that following Cari had made no difference? Weren’t they back at The Traveller's Rest, yet again? After all, Cari was an elven orb; maybe it had betrayed them in the elven lands, perhaps feeling greater loyalty to the elves, who were well-known for their habit of misleading travellers.
“It’s not The Traveller’s Rest,” Palustric said, relieved. “Look, there’s a copse of trees we haven’t seen before.”
Adam unfolded the map, trying to work out the route they had taken. He struggled and pursed his lips, trying to make sense of their position. At last, he looked up. “I think we must be here.” He jabbed a finger at the map: “Sleight Valley. Anyway, let’s hope the owner welcomes travellers.”
The cottage had a well-kept look about it, and on the smartly-painted gatepost was a brass plaque. They stopped and read: I. Gloze, F.E.P.P. and underneath, Portrait Painter to the Famous.
“How many famous people will you find in this wild spot?” Palustric muttered and shrugged.
Adam shrugged, too, and led the way down the garden path to a heavy oak door where a brass bell hung from a brass chain. Adam eyed it doubtfully before giving it a vigorous shake.
Shortly, an elf wearing a paint-splattered, green smock and holding a paintbrush in one hand answered the door.
“Sorry to disturb you,” Adam said, “but we are travellers seeking shelter for the night. I wonder whether you take in visitors? We’d pay our keep, of course,” he added quickly.
The elf eyed them mischievously, and Palustric, who (like most dwarves) didn’t trust elves, would have turned away right then if the elf hadn't surprised him with: “Come in, I’ve been waiting for you!”
“You have…?” Adam stared.
“Do you find that strange,” the elf asked, “in this land?”
Adam frowned and looked at the walls in the hallway, which were lined with portraits of elves mainly, but also pixies, dwarves and goblins. Lar gazed at one portrait in particular and smiled.
“Yes,” said the artist, “you’re right, it's Lucky Liix of Elm-dale. I painted him many moon-risings ago…I've quite lost count. You know him, of course!”
“Ay,” Lar nodded. “Liix had been the most successful harebell farmer in Elm-dale, before disappearing without trace…” The pixy looked curiously at the painter, who put his forefinger to his nose and smiled oddly.
The painter led them into a large room where an open fire blazed near an inviting armchair. In the middle of the room was an easel and on the easel was a blank canvas, as if the elf were about to paint a new portrait. But it wasn't this that caught Adam’s eye. At the other end of the room were several newly finished works. In the middle was a portrait of a breathtakingly beautiful elfin maiden. In the portrait, she was wearing a blue satin gown with golden stars and her long hair curled down her shoulders like poured honey. Her turquoise eyes held him. They almost seemed alive, watching him from the other side of the room, from where they beckoned invitingly as if promising anything his heart set on.
“I can see you have eyes only for Success!” the artist laughed.
“Success! So that's Success,” Adam whispered; he looked at the painting for several minutes without speaking. When he finally dragged his eyes away, he had a shock. Next to the portrait of Success, staring out at him, was his sister. She gazed out so life-like that Adam gasped: “Emily!” He looked at the elf. “So, my sister has been here! How long ago? Where is she now? Is she all right?”
“So many questions!” the elf laughed impishly. “All the famous come here, sooner or later.”
“But my sister isn’t famous!” Adam exclaimed.
The elf looked at him. “Oh no? What's this then?” he reached to the mantelpiece and held out a magnificent dragonfly brooch, enamelled and studded with jewels. “She left me this. Beautiful, is it not? Have you ever seen such workmanship? Miss Emily is undoubtedly the greatest living goldsmith!” The artist’s eyes twinkled; his lip curled mischievously. Adam gazed in wonder at his sister’s brooch. Only Emily and he had seen the Fairy Queen on her dragonfly, so Adam knew it was her work. The elf’s smile broadened as he studied Adam’s reaction. “Time for answers later,” he chuckled. “First, I must paint your friends’ portraits.” He gathered together palette and paints and began to make sweeping strokes across the canvas, glancing at Palustric with that peculiar smile, his eyes sparkling with unshared amusement.
“But I’m not famous,” Palustric protested.
“Of course, you are!” the elf chuckled.
Suddenly, Palustric’s right arm began to fade away, then his left leg. The dwarf seemed to be petrified while Adam was rooted to the spot with horror. Palustric’s right leg vanished, then his left arm. The elfin artist giggled out loud at the sight of just the dwarf’s head looking down in shock at his missing body. Suddenly, the head disappeared too.
Adam leapt forward. “Fiend! What have you done? Where’s Palustric? Where’s Emily?”
The elf took a step backwards. “Now, is that the way to address I. Gloze— a Fellow of the Elfin Portrait Painters? I must get on with my work if no harm is to come to your dwarf friend.” He eyed Lar. Before Adam could stop him, Lar’s little greenish head, eyes even more squinting with surprise, had appeared on the canvas and disappeared from his body.
Adam sprang across the room as Lar disappeared limb by limb without a sound. The elf held up a warning hand. “Let me concentrate!” He began to create a familiar scene on the canvas around the dwarf and the pixy. The elf had painted every detail, including the slipped 'T'. The sign THE TRAVELLER'S REST was unmistakable, Adam would have recognised the building the elf had painted even without it. Just for a moment, Adam fancied that he saw the puzzled dwarf ring the bell of the inn, but when he blinked, the painting was quite still before him. He rubbed his eyes and turned to the elf, who laughed.
“Oh yes, they're back at The Traveller's Rest all right, where they’ll be perfectly comfortable.”
Back at The Traveller's Rest, the friendly goblin had a few welcoming words for Palustric and Lar. “Welcome back, my friends. Well, well, well, one less, I see! I must say, I was expecting all three of you, but it seems your friend has found Success.”
“I don’t think so.” Palustric shook his head. “We met some sort of crazy portrait painter—I'm not sure what happened after that.”
“I shouldn’t worry.” The goblin put an arm around the dwarf’s shoulder. “You’re all right here. After all, some people spend all t
heir lives seeking Success and never finding her. I’m afraid, my friend, you are one such person. Far better to put your feet up by my fire and consider what else you want from life, eh?”
As if to prove the point, the goblin fetched Palustric and Lar a steaming jug full of punch and began to chatter. “Take young Eror the elf, for example.” The goblin landlord grinned. “He’s famous everywhere in these lands. You might say he’s the perfect example: Success would never come to him! Yet he’s loveable and makes everyone laugh. Worth his weight in gold, I’d say.”
“Who is this Eror?” Palustric asked, helping himself to another glass of punch before settling back comfortably on to the cushions in the corner of the chimney nook and thinking that maybe life here wasn’t so bad.
“Eror isn't like the other elfin children,” the goblin laughed a wheezing laugh. “He’s a bit simple, you see. Do you know what he did last month? Ha! ha! His mother sent him to buy some salt and some pepper. Be careful to keep them apart, Eror, she said, giving him a large plate. I don't want salt and pepper all mixed when you come home.
“As he walked to the salt works, ha! ha! Eror hatched a cunning plan. Very cunning, oh yes! Ha! wheeze ha! He bought the salt and carried it very carefully on the plate to the pepper-grinder’s shop. There, he asked for a certain weight of ground pepper! And where shall I put it, Eror? the pepper-grinder asked. Here, said Eror, turning the plate over. Ha! ha! wheeze ha!” The goblin wiped his eye. “As he hurried home, he thought how cunningly he’d kept the salt and pepper apart. Salt under the plate and pepper on it!! Ha! Ha!” The goblin wiped his eyes again, and Lar and Palustric smiled. “When he got home, said he: Here's the salt and pepper, Ma! I haven't mixed them!
“But where's the salt? his mother asked. Here, he said, turning the plate over!! Ha! ha! ha! wheeze Pepper everywhere! When they'd finished sneezing…spilt pepper, you see…his mother chased him right down the High Street with her broom. Ha! ha!” The goblin slapped his knee and wiped his eye once more. “So, you see,” he added, “you can be famous and content enough, without seeking Success.” The goblin took out a blue, spotted handkerchief and blew his large nose noisily.
“I don't know,” Palustric shook his head doubtfully. “Perhaps it’s better to chase after Success than to be as simple as Eror!”
“But Eror's very much loved hereabouts—”
“Ay, that may be,” Lar said, “but the swineherd, even if he dresses in silk, still smells of the sty, is it not so?”
The goblin and Palustric looked at each other. They fell silent and stared into the fire, thinking on Lar’s words (which the goblin never fully understood).
They stayed until late, chatting and drinking by the fireside.
Adam sat down in the artist’s armchair, also by a log fire, and accepted a hot drink. He felt more relaxed now he knew that his trusty companions were safe. The elf interrupted his thoughts, “So, you still want to find Success?”
Adam nodded absently.
“Very well, I'd better paint you, too!”
16
The elf dipped his brush in his palette and began with broad sweeps on a fresh canvas which he had placed upon the easel. After a hard day’s march and with drowsiness sweeping over him as he sat in front of the fire, Adam hadn’t paid attention to the elf’s activities. He raised an arm to take another sip of his drink and was startled to see that the cup wasn’t there, nor was his right hand! As he stared, his entire arm disappeared to the artist’s chuckling. He looked down to see his right leg vanishing. He was about to protest when, dizzily, he saw the elf dissipate: not so, he had disappeared, not the artist.
He found himself tucked up in a warm bed; the curtains were drawn, the valiant stub of a candle by the bed feebly lit the room. Adam was about to sit up, get out of bed and discover his whereabouts when a wave of sleep swept over him. He couldn’t fight it, so, long after Palustric and Lar had set off from The Traveller’s Rest the next day in search of I. Gloze, Adam awoke refreshed.
He dressed quickly and, to his relief, found that even if he had been painted, he still possessed the map, horn and Cari. Adam looked around him to see a tidy if barely furnished room. He moved across to the window and threw open the shutters. The landscape was always the same; he could easily have been near The Traveller’s Rest or near the artist’s home. He had never known land with fewer landmarks than this; ever since they set off, the feeling of being lost had never left him.
Adam walked across the room to the door and opened it. Standing at the top of some broad stairs, he heard sweet voices drifting up from below. One step at a time, he slowly went downstairs. There, a small room contained four elves dressed in yellow-brown and wearing small, pointed caps above their pointed ears, who turned to smile at him as if they expected his arrival.
“Have you slept well?” a bright-eyed, youthful elf asked.
“Ay, thank you, but I’m rather confused.”
The elf smiled, adding to his dazzling good looks.
“Don't be. You came from I. Gloze, didn’t you?”
“Ay, but I’m looking for Success…and my sister.”
The elves smiled at each other as if sharing a joke which only they understood.
“Well, I’m afraid you’ve just missed them.”
“What! They were here, then?” Adam shot a worried glance out of the window.
“The night before last. I like Miss Emily,” the elf said in his lilting voice. “She gave me this.” He opened a silk-lined box lying on the table; on the emerald green lining lay another beautiful brooch. It was subtly different from the ones he’d seen in the last two days but equally as beautiful. Emily certainly was a fine craftsperson. The elf smiled. “She’s one of the greatest goldsmiths who has ever lived, did you know that?”
Despite its beauty, Adam hardly gave the brooch a second glance.
“I’d better be going if I’m going to catch them. Did they say where they were headed next?”
“Just a minute,” another elf said. She smiled at Adam in a way that he felt was mocking him gently. “I think you should have a plan, don’t you? You seem to be chasing after Success without too much thought. Apart from anything else, eat a meal before you rush off. You don’t know where your next one’s coming from, do you?”
Adam shook his head. “My plan is to find Success as soon as possible,” he said and was surprised when all four elves laughed their tinkling laughter until the tears shone in their beautiful eyes.
When they had finished, they didn’t offer any explanation, irritating him.
“Why did you laugh at me?”
The elves glanced at each other, and he feared that they were about to burst out laughing at his expense again, but the girl replied with the same mocking smile, “You must work out a way of finding Success. We can’t help, I’m afraid, but we can make you breakfast. Mayhap you should think about Success coming to you!”
Afterwards, the elves waved Adam good-bye. They had been kind, giving him a packed lunch to take but no advice, which he felt he needed more. Neither had they wanted to tell him who they were, insisting that they were ordinary elves.
As soon as he was out of sight of the elves’ home, Adam took out Cari, which to his delight, spun around like a compass and rolled decisively towards a track which led over the hills towards a little cluster of buildings on a hillside in the distance. Adam sighed. He missed his friends and was tired of all this marching, but if it was the only way to find Success, he would have to put up with it. He replaced Cari in his pocket and set off.
Meanwhile, Lar was trying to stop Palustric from jumping up and down furiously on his hat. They had tramped all day and come back to The Traveller’s Rest.
“Don’t do that!” The goblin landlord rushed out, fastening his leather apron behind his back. “Good hats are hard to come by these days! I’ve got a joint roasting over the fire, that’ll cheer you up— not everyone can find Success, you know.”
Adam tramped on into the elven village towar
ds the end of the day, only to find that Success had been there the day before and had left with Emily and one of the young elves who was a wonderful singer. The singer’s parents were very proud that Success had come to their child, who practised singing for several hours each day. They told Adam that their child fully deserved to go with Success.
“But where will she take her?” Adam asked.
The elves shrugged. It depended, they told him; she might take her to find Fame or even Wealth, but if she were unlucky or even silly, Success would lead her astray. They had warned their daughter to be on her guard. The elves would not tell Adam more. Sometimes when he asked questions, they smiled that mocking smile as if sharing a joke that he couldn’t understand. He had seen that smile too many times before, and now it annoyed him. On the other hand, the elves were hospitable and gave him a bed and food.
The next day, Adam, and Lar and Palustric, set off at about the same time from their separate starting points. This time, Palustric was determined not to arrive back at The Traveller’s Rest. The moorland wind had a keener edge that day. Lar, who was thinner and weaker than Palustric, shivered. His greenish face was very pale and his teeth chattered with the cold. Twice, he asked Palustric to turn back to the warmth of The Traveller’s Rest, but the stubborn dwarf wouldn’t hear of it.
As they sheltered in a hollow for lunch, Palustric realised just how much Lar was suffering. When he unlaced their pack, he noticed the pixy’s damp brow and the fever in his squint. When Lar refused his honey, Palustric knew that the matter was serious.
Palustric had only his leather jerkin, so he couldn’t even wrap a coat around his friend. What seemed certain was that a night on the moors would be the end of Lar. So Palustric told the pixy to move, promising that they would go back to the inn. But when Lar tried to stand up, he fell back in a faint. Alarmed, Palustric picked up his little friend, hoisted him onto his shoulders and began to run, stumbling and cursing over the rough ground, back towards the inn. Ignoring his tiredness, the dwarf ran for more than two hours, knowing that his friend’s life was in danger. All this time, the pixy lay unconscious like a sack over the dwarf’s sturdy shoulders.
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