TOLLINS II: DYNAMITE TALES

TOLLINS II: DYNAMITE TALES Conn Iggulden Lizzy Duncan More tall tales about tiny people from the bestselling author of THE DANGEROUS BOOK FOR BOYS – now in paperback with all new black and white illustrations… But whatever you do, DON’T call them fairies!We return to Chorleywood, home of the Tollins – tiny creatures with wings who aren’t fairies and are about as fragile as a house brick. In three thrilling stories, they will face the trials of armed invasion, radio technology and… amateur dramatics.In “Romeo and Beryl,” Sparkler discovers an old human book and decides to put on a play of a story that is filled with great love and even more shouting. At the same time, a new craze sweeps Chorleywood, as Dragonfly racing literally takes off.In “Radio,” the Dark Tollins of Dorset invade in force, with a housecat leading the charge. Sparkler, Wing, and Grunion must find a way to save themselves, and possibly the cat as well.Finally, in “Bones,” the Tollins leave Chorleywood on a mission of mercy. The homes of the Dark Tollins are about to be blown up by humans! We will discover the importance of hot tea and toast in such desperate times. As well as jam, obviously. Once again, it’s Sparkler and his band of Tollins to the rescue! Dedication (#u806658c4-2c98-5759-8943-4fff9e8cc771) FOR SOPHIE AND ARTHUR CONN IGGULDEN FOR ROB, MUM AND DAD LIZZY DUNCAN Contents Cover (#ua43c127d-0b92-5f9a-b2f6-76e96b935cfa) Title Page (#uf0d4c4b5-9cf7-5744-9faf-a6cb21118f67) Dedication CAST OF CHARACTERS BOOK ONE - ROMEO AND BERYL (#u1d6ee084-a7a8-5aeb-9833-5a4065f7e275) CHAPTER ONE - THE YEAR 1924, DURING THE REIGN OF KING GEORGE V CHAPTER TWO - TEAM GRUNION CHAPTER THREE - YOU CAN’T GO WRONG WITH A SWORDFIGHT CHAPTER FOUR - YOU CAN’T DO IT WITHOUT A BALCONY CHAPTER FIVE - MAGIC AND FALSE TEETH CHAPTER SIX - APPARENTLY, THE SHOW MUST GO ON BOOK TWO - RADIO (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER ONE - THE AUTUMN OF 1924 CHAPTER TWO - WHEN SLIPPERS ARE NOT THE RIGHT CHOICE CHAPTER THREE - MAKING WAVES CHAPTER FOUR - THE PROBLEM WITH HEDGEROWS CHAPTER FIVE - THE PROBLEM WITH A HAIR TRIGGER CHAPTER SIX - WHY HANNIBAL CHOSE ELEPHANTS BOOK THREE - BONES (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER ONE - THE WINTER OF 1924 CHAPTER TWO - WOLFENSTEIN PROVES HIS WORTH CHAPTER THREE - WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE CHAPTER FOUR - THE IMPORTANCE OF HOT TEA AND TOAST CHAPTER FIVE - A TIME TO BREAK THE RULES CHAPTER SIX - WAITING IN THE DARKNESS Credits Copyright About the Publisher CAST OF CHARACTERS (#u806658c4-2c98-5759-8943-4fff9e8cc771) (#ulink_c4aba803-8661-5bb7-bd4d-8f31c074f538) Sparkler couldn’t help himself. The sun was a ball of pleasant gold, the clouds looked a bit like sheep with no legs and he was happy. The only cloud on his horizon, except of course for the ones that actually were on the horizon, (sheep, no legs) was his secret. A secret that made you happy was a difficult one to keep. He knew he had to tread carefully. Not everyone picked up after their dogs, you see. This particular secret involved books and not the ones he had so carefully copied out before, either. A new thing had come to Chorleywood that summer. Tollins do not often take much notice of human affairs and Sparkler could have missed it if he hadn’t been out training a dragonfly to hunt beetles. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. A dragonfly is a bit like a hawk on a smaller scale – a Tollin scale. They are fast and agile and they can catch almost anything in the air. Sparkler’s dragonfly would sit on his sleeve if he fed it titbits, but he was beginning to think that its four wings and glittering body were a sort of beautiful covering for what was, in the end, a very dim insect indeed. The one he was training seemed more interested in nipping his ears than bringing savage destruction to edible prey. It had been Sparkler’s idea to train the insects, but somehow, he just didn’t seem to have the knack for it. Half the dragonflies on Darvell’s Pond had been retrained for hunting, racing or even formation flying, while his just sulked and turned its back on him. He regretted naming it now, obviously. Grunion’s one was known as ‘Blue Thunder’ and brought its master all sorts of delicious things for the oven. Wing had one she called ‘Lightning’ and even her father had managed to train one he called the ‘Yellow Peril’. Sparkler shook his head as he looked at young Wolfenstein. It wasn’t a great name, even with the hint of wolf in it. It certainly wasn’t a great name for a dragonfly that seemed to prefer being fed by hand and sleeping to any hunting at all. He had come across his secret one bright morning as he had been trying to get Wolfenstein to respond to whistle signals. Sparkler had seen a heavy lorry arrive in a cloud of dust and he ducked down in the long grass to watch. Wolfenstein stuck his head up in the air and Sparkler had to sit on him to keep him still. The lorry had stopped at the new Memorial Hall, its brakes squealing. Sparkler watched in fascination as a man smoking a pipe began to unload wooden boxes. It was too interesting to resist and Sparkler waited until the man went inside before nipping across and peering into a box. Books! Human books wrapped in twine! He had never seen so many before. In fact, he hadn’t known there were so many books in the world. He and Wolfie were back across the road in the long grass before the man returned to finish unloading. There were now old ladies in the hall. Sparkler could see them through the window. He couldn’t see their legs, which gave them the look of ships drifting back and forth. He wondered if they had been in the boxes, with the books. In all honesty, that didn’t seem likely, but he was too excited to think straight. Sparkler had avoided human books almost completely since the time he’d cured the High Tollin’s gout, but they still called to him. He’d seen them lurking on shelves in human houses, sometimes covered in dust and unloved. He’d wanted to take them home and show them affection and respect until their covers were bright and glossy again. Now he knew where the humans kept their secret store. All right, not very secret. The man with the pipe and boxes was hardly creeping about and it was broad daylight, but a room full of books? That was something new. Sparkler knew he had to tell someone. A secret that good can give you indigestion. (#ulink_710ba251-6a16-52bc-bd50-3f12176f76df) Sparkler found the dragonfly racers slightly annoying. Grunion had certainly changed. It wasn’t just that he wore badges, or even the pride he took in the little cup he’d won for Pond Endurance. It wasn’t even the plasters he wore on his ears, or getting up at dawn to train. He had found a hobby and Sparkler was pleased for him. He just wished he wouldn’t take it all so seriously. “I can’t come on a raid with you,” Grunion said, leafing through a manual with pictures of racing harnesses. “I need to be here for Blue Thunder’s midnight feed, or he’ll be sluggish in the morning. If we’re going to beat that team of Red Needlers, he needs all the rest he can get.” “Is it a ‘he’, Grunion?” Sparkler asked innocently. “How can you tell?” “The markings,” Grunion replied, without looking up. “It’s the pattern of colour, you see, and the wings, which are…” His voice faded away as he became aware of Sparkler’s stare. “All right, I don’t know. I still can’t come on a raid with you. Human books are forbidden anyway. I’m not getting into that kind of trouble again!” Sparkler sighed to himself. He liked Grunion. The Tollin was kind and cheerful, but truth be told, he was a little bit timid. Not frightened, or cowardly, just not a fan of loud noises, surprises, or creeping about at night. “All right, Grun,” he said. “Good luck with the race tomorrow.” “We don’t need luck,” Grunion replied. “We?” said Sparkler. “Are you racing as well then?” “It’s an expression. We are the team, Sparkler. Blue Thunder and Grunion.” Grunion leaned closer. “You know, I think they have a damselfly in that pack of reds. That’s cheating, Sparkler! A damselfly!” “Goodness,” Sparkler said. “How, um, unsporting of them.” “Exactly!” Grunion replied. “Still, Blue Thunder is in fine form. I’ve only just finished waxing him.” “Him?” “Or her. It’s the pattern, or something. Or the wings.” Sparkler left his friend reading the instructions on a tin of wax with the High Tollin’s face on it. That was another strange thing. Just days after Sparkler had mentioned the idea in conversation, there seemed to be products all the racers had to have, from special racing harnesses, to ear protectors and body wax. Sparkler had even seen a poster for a thing he could have designed himself, which used a steel spring to launch targets into the air for training. The world was changing. Ever since he’d lit the first tiny forge and produced a misshapen lump of black iron, everything was different. It was as if he’d unlocked something in his people and they didn’t need him as much. He supposed he should be pleased about that, but somehow, he just wasn’t. He could have gone to Wing, or even old Briar. They would have understood the excitement he felt about a whole room of human books. Being turned down by Grunion had taken the fun out of it, somehow. Sparkler walked back across the common with his hands in his pockets, kicking idly at pebbles. That night, Sparkler went alone to the Memorial Hall and squeezed through a gap under the roof-tiles. It was the largest building he had ever seen and every scratching sound he made echoed back at him as if there were someone else in there. In the gloom, he flew down to the floor and fiddled with a piece of flint and iron that produced sparks. It wasn’t easy, as each spark left green lines across his vision, but he managed to light a small lamp. Iron was amazing stuff, he’d discovered. He was working on a needle compass, but the one he had made just pointed north. That was fine if he wanted to go north, but he didn’t always want to go that way. The lamp lit up a row of shelves and he looked up, then up again. There they were. Row upon row of books, stretching away into the distance. When he’d found books before, it had always been in a house, where he could be disturbed at any moment. Here, there was no one. He read the human sign above the door. ‘Library’ sounded a little bit like liberty and it was freedom of a sort. All human knowledge was there and it was his. In a sort of joyous trance, he walked to a low shelf and looked at his first title. “The Complete Works of Shakespeare,” he read aloud. Shaking spears sounded pretty exciting and he liked to see how things worked. It was perfect. He heaved the book out on to the wooden floorboards and opened it, placing the lamp where the light could spill across the page. He would read this one first and then work his way down the shelf. As dawn came to Chorleywood and the racing dragonflies were finishing their power breakfasts and being rubbed down, Sparkler was still there with that first book, his mouth hanging slightly open in amazement. (#ulink_c9135cfe-5551-5187-bb96-cc7c025e529a) Over the next week, Grunion’s Blue Thunder won the half-mile endurance, and the three-legged race was abandoned after furious arguments. There wasn’t another Race Day scheduled for a fortnight and some things returned to normal. Laden with play scripts, Sparkler walked along the tunnels under Chorleywood Station, heading for the Great Hall and the High Tollin, Albert. He hadn’t wasted the week. He was absolutely certain that he couldn’t admit to discovering plays from a human book. He had chosen one he thought would appeal to the High Tollin and copied the play on to a sheaf of his best paper. His packages rustled as he strode through the lamp-lit tunnels, like whispers in his mind. He glanced at the title as he went: Romeo and Juliet. Better than Macbeth anyway, which involved murdering a king. He was fairly sure the High Tollin would not approve of that. Romeo and Juliet also had murders, but this Shakespeare lad had put in a few comedy scenes as well. It had everything, in fact. The High Tollin was busy with his advisors. Sparkler was disappointed to see that they seemed to be designing a new poster for the races. The High Tollin’s daughter Wing was there and even she was engrossed in the conversation, talking about the possibility of using young Tillets as riders. Sparkler cleared his throat. When that didn’t work, he said “A-hem!” a little too loudly. The High Tollin put down the poster and beamed at him. “Sparkler! Did you see my Yellow Peril this morning?” “No, sir, but I’m sure it will clear up with a bit of cream,” Sparkler replied, shuffling his papers. The High Tollin blinked at him. “Yes… Now Sparkler, have you solved the problem of getting them to navigate long distances?” Sparkler remembered vaguely that he had been asked to work on something for the dragonfly teams. “Only if they want to go north,” he muttered. “Or south, possibly. East or west would be…” He paused for a moment, thinking it through and picturing a compass in his mind. “Oh,” he said, smiling. “Yes, I have, your lordship. But that is not why I’m here.” Before the High Tollin could reply, Sparkler stepped up to the throne and handed over four packets of paper, keeping one for himself. Wing took one and began to read it. The High Tollin looked confused, but he too opened the first page, while two of the advisors struggled to see over each other’s shoulders. “There are plenty to go around,” Sparkler said. He’d had a whole class of Tillets copying out his first draft. He wasn’t certain they’d managed the spelling of the trickier words, but the reaction had been good, at least. “What is this?” the High Tollin said, in the tone of a man who’d expected more diagrams. “It is… a play,” Sparkler said. “You read the words aloud, as if it’s real life.” He was dreading the next question. He’d thought of lots of ways to answer it, but if the word ‘human’ was part of it, he knew it would be the last he ever heard of plays. The book had set his imagination on fire. He couldn’t let the High Tollin stamp out the flames, he just couldn’t. “Did you write it?” the High Tollin asked, unaware of how the words sent a shiver through Sparkler. “Yes,” Sparkler said in a tight whisper. It was true in a way. He had written each word. He just hadn’t made them up. He just hoped William Shakespeare never heard about it. “I’m not sure I quite understand,” the High Tollin said, peering at the pages warily. “You read the words aloud, do you?” “Yes, my lord. You learn them first and then you speak them as if it’s all new. Other Tollins listen.” Sparkler saw the High Tollin’s eyes glaze over and struggled on. “There are swordfights, my lord.” “Brilliant!” said the High Tollin immediately, as Sparkler had known he would. All the Tollins were fascinated by the new swords coming out of the iron forges. Grunion used one of the prototypes to cut his toenails. “If you look… here, my lord,” Sparkler went on, “you’ll see a speech by an angry prince, a man of power and authority a little like yourself. He is angry with his people for fighting in the street… with swords.” “Brilliant!” said one of the advisors. The High Tollin frowned at him, then looked at the section Sparkler had indicated. “Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace…” he read. “Oh, I like that. That’s good, I shall use that.” “It’s also a love story, my lord, a love story with swordfights.” “And the prince wins in the end, I expect? Executes his enemies and so on?” “Well, yes, he does, in a way,” Sparkler said reluctantly. He wasn’t sure the High Tollin had understood the idea, but he hadn’t refused it outright, either. “That’s good, lad. Well, thank you for bringing this to me. I shall put it with that book of herbs you made.” “Yes, well done,” said one of the advisors. Sparkler glared at him until the advisor blushed and pretended to read the script. “I would like to perform the play, my lord,” Sparkler went on. “The Tillets are available for some of the smaller parts. I thought I might play Mercutio myself – Romeo’s friend. He dies in a swordfight.” “Brilliant!” the same advisor murmured. “Well… we are a little busy at the moment,” said the High Tollin. “Does the prince have much to say? I mean, would it take me long to learn the words?” Sparkler blinked. This was not how he had expected the conversation to run, or even limp. “I could have just your character’s lines copied out on to new paper, my lord. You could learn them in a month, I’m certain. I thought I might aim to perform the play at the end of summer, just before the leaves turn.” He saw the High Tollin was engrossed in the lines. “Once more, on pain of death, all men depart!” bellowed the High Tollin. His advisors were halfway out of the room before he called them back. “Oh, that was a great bit. I’m definitely using that one again.” “You might consider not shouting, my lord,” Sparkler said desperately. “Oh, you need a bit of shouting,” the High Tollin told him. “It makes people sit up and listen, shouting.” “I’ll have to hold auditions, my lord,” Sparkler added. “Auditions?” said one of the advisors. Sparkler glared at him again. “Yes, my lord. Anyone who wants to be in the play can read a few lines and then I choose the best ones.” “I see,” the High Tollin said. A dangerous tone entered his voice. “I don’t suppose there will be anyone else wanting to be the prince, though?” “I seriously doubt it, my lord,” Sparkler said, with a sigh. “Excellent,” said the High Tollin. “Shouting and executions. I am more than qualified, after all.” Sparkler gave in. Wing looked up from the play and grinned at him. “Yes, my lord,” he said. (#ulink_f9dd34c3-acec-5d42-8027-2683651d2660) “A rothe by any other name would thmell as thweeet!” “Yes… yes, thank you, Beryl,” Sparkler said. “I think I see the problem there.” The little Tillet looked downcast. “Ith it my brathe, thir?” “I’m sorry?” “My brathe, thir, on my teeth!” Sparkler didn’t want to hurt Beryl’s feelings. She’d always had a lisp, but he had to admit that the brace he’d designed for her front teeth seemed to make it worse. She had worked ever so hard copying out the scripts and it felt mean to refuse her a part. “The thing is, Beryl, there are only four female parts in the play. Lady Montague is a mature lady, as is Lady Capulet. The nurse is meant to be quite old, so that leaves…” “Juliet, thir, yeth, who ith quite young, like mythelf,” said Beryl firmly. She did not intend to be denied her part by a few lines of train track running round her teeth. Even Sparkler wilted against that diamond stare. “Right, Juliet then,” he said at last. “Let’s see how you get on during the rehearsals.” “Thank you, thir. You won’t regret it,” she said, beaming at him. “Next!” Sparkler called. He watched impatiently as the High Tollin’s guards shuffled up. Sparkler repressed a groan. This was getting out of hand. It was true he’d been given the Great Hall to stage the performance, but in return, the High Tollin seemed to want everyone he knew personally to be in it. Sparkler resolved to be firm. “Right. Which part would you like to audition for?” he asked. “What’s in a name?” the thin guard bellowed suddenly. “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet!” “That’s a line by Juliet,” Sparkler said, searching his script. He had never seen the guards so nervous before. The thin one had taken a position with his eyes screwed shut, his arms outstretched and his red face tilted up to an imaginary audience. “It is the east! And Juliet is the sun!” he roared. “That bit’s from Romeo, I think,” Sparkler said, wincing. The guard seemed to be lost in a world of his own. His companion looked on with tears in his eyes, shaking his head in silent wonder. “Arise, fair sun!” the thin guard shouted, drawing his new sword. Sparkler gaped as he waved it around his head. “And kill the envious moon!” “Some confusion there, I’m afraid,” Sparkler said in the pause for breath. The guard opened his mouth for another line. “Thank you! I’ve heard enough!” Sparkler said loudly. His tone seemed to reach the guard and he opened his eyes, beaming shyly. “Was it all right, sah? I’ve been practising with Daryl here. He says I’ve got ever such good volume.” “Well, yes,” Sparkler replied. “I can’t argue with volume. Volume, in fact, is the one thing no one could deny about your performance. However…” “I wouldn’t mind a small part, sah,” the fat guard put in suddenly. Sparkler supposed this was Daryl, though he’d never heard his name before. He sighed to himself. It was the High Tollin’s Great Hall, after all. It was the only place he could find with a balcony. “All right,” he said wearily. “You can both be in Romeo’s gang of Montagues and in the crowd scenes.” Daryl nodded to his thinner friend. “I told you we’d get it, ’Erbert,” he said proudly. “Next!” Sparkler called once again. Finding Romeo was the real problem, of course. In the play, he was meant to be young and handsome. There were young and handsome Tollins, but the news that Beryl was to play Juliet had made them vanish faster than frost in summer. To his frustration, Sparkler was left with just one Tollin lad, by the name of Pilford, who worked in the bakery. He was short and thin and his hair was too long, in Sparkler’s opinion. “So you want to be Romeo, do you?” Sparkler said doubtfully. “Don’t mind,” Pilford replied with a shrug. Sparkler peered behind him, but there was no one. Pilford was the queue. “Have you prepared any lines for today?” Sparkler asked. Pilford nodded. “Right then. In your own time, let’s hear them.” Pilford looked around him. The High Tollin’s guards were nearby, listening while pretending to read a script. Some Tillets were watching him, including one with enormous front teeth. He shrugged again. “Right. It’s the bit at the end where everyone gets killed. My mum cried when I did it.” “When you’re ready,” Sparkler said. “Romeo thinks Juliet is dead, though she isn’t,” Pilford went on. “Yes, I’ve read the scene,” Sparkler replied. “Wrote it, I mean. Er… in your own time.” “And he kills ’imself and then she wakes up! My mum was blubbering fit to burst when she ’eard me do that bit.” “Are we going to experience this treat today, do you think?” Sparkler asked. “So Juliet finds her love all dead and curled up and that, so she stabs ’erself! It was brilliant, that bit. I’d have put a swordfight in the background, just for added interest, you know, but it was pretty good anyway. My mum enjoyed all the ‘thees’ and ‘thys’ instead of just saying ‘you’ and ‘yours’ – she said it made it proper old-fashioned-sounding and ever so romantic. I think you have a fan there, sir.” Sparkler opened his mouth to send him away, but Pilford threw out an arm and began. His voice became larger somehow, so that it filled the space. “O, my love, my wife! Death that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty. Thou art not conquered; beauty’s ensign yet is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death’s pale flag is not advanced there…” There was silence in the Great Hall. The guards stood with their mouths open, though that was not unusual when they were off-duty. Beryl’s eyes glittered with tears. “I think we have a Romeo,” Sparkler said softly. Pilford’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry to hear that, sir. I was looking forward to having a go at him.” “No, Pilford. I mean you’re it. That was good.” “Really, sir?” Pilford beamed at him. “Mum will be ever so pleased.” (#ulink_0bacff06-bff0-5cf8-972b-09b8d898bf41) That summer was one of the hottest in Tollin memory and the Common basked in the warm days. Small human children ran about with big dogs, while some big children ran about with small dogs. The long grass was a tapestry of butterflies, with colours of red and gold and sometimes a bit of yellow, even. Dragonflies buzzed on Darvell’s Pond, chasing their own bright reflections on the water while Tollins on the bank shouted things like, “More angle on the turns, Flaming Death! You have four wings, so use them! Flaming Nuisance, more like!” Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/conn-iggulden/tollins-ii-dynamite-tales/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.