Dedication
FOR SOPHIE AND ARTHUR
CONN IGGULDEN
FOR ROB, MUM AND DAD
LIZZY DUNCAN
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Cast of Characters
Map
Book One
Romeo and Beryl
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
Chapter One
The Autumn of 1924
Chapter Two
When Slippers are Not the Right Choice
Chapter Three
Making Waves
Chapter Four
The Problem with Hedges
Chapter Five
The Problem with a Hair Trigger
Chapter Six
Why Hannibal Chose Elephants
Book Three
Bones
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
Author’s Note
About the Author and Illustrator
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
CAST OF CHARACTERS
BLUE THUNDER
WANGLE
DAWLISH
THE HIGH DARK TOLLIN (MAGNUS)
THE HIGH TOLLIN (ALBERT)
YELLOW PERIL
GRUNION
SPARKLER
WING
BERYL
PILFORD
Map
CHAPTER ONE
THE YEAR 1924, DURING THE REIGN OF KING GEORGE V
PARKLER 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 tidbits, 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-witted 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 dragonfly was known as “Blue Thunder” and brought its master all sorts of delicious things for the oven. His friend 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 truck 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 truck 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 dashing 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 stash.
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.
CHAPTER TWO
TEAM GRUNION
PARKLER 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 Band-Aids 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 feeding, 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 color, 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,” Spar
kler 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 Band-Aids 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 further. 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.
CHAPTER THREE
YOU CAN’T GO WRONG WITH A SWORDFIGHT
VER 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 like whispers in his mind as he strode through the lamp-lit tunnels. 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 dragonflies 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 turned to 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 their 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 strangled whisper. It was true in a way. He had written all the words. He just hadn’t made them up. He only 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 rejected 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 Romeo’s friend Mercutio myself. 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 of them to be actors.”