Colleen hesitated again, as he looked around him.
“Fear of the Grass people. He wants to annihilate them. When there’s not a single one left, then and only then, he says, will the Tree live again.”
Not one of the spectators recognised themselves in the description “Grass people”. Only Moon Boy shuddered.
“This new boss is about your age, Toby Lolness. Perhaps it’s him I’m most worried about. He is the son of a great man I once knew, El Blue. The boy’s name is Leo Blue.”
Toby didn’t flinch. So that’s who it was. The new master of the Tree.
“Leo Blue is going to get married,” Colleen went on. “He’s very young, but he’s crazy about a young girl from the farm at Seldor. A young girl from our region, in the Low Branches…”
Lila and Lola! All of a sudden, Toby could see the two Asseldor daughters in his mind’s eye. Just how far would Colleen’s description go? An Asseldor daughter marrying a tyrant called Leo Blue… Not even Toby’s imagination could stretch that far.
“The girl refuses to marry him.”
For the first time Toby gave a hint of a smile. So the Asseldor daughters hadn’t changed. He could almost hear their voices, their laughter and cheekiness.
“The wedding has already been called off once. The girl had shaved her head. Leo Blue didn’t dare appear with her in public. But soon, she’ll be his. Nothing will be denied him in the end.”
Toby was listening to each word. Which of the two Asseldor daughters could have done something so extreme? Shaving her head… Perhaps they had changed a bit, after all. Toby admired this show of strength.
A long silence filled the snail’s shell. Toby finally dared to dive into the shifting sands of his memory.
“I would like to ask you something. Isha Lee and her daughter…”
When Toby uttered this name, there was a great stirring among the crowd. A whisper circulated among the Grass people. Isha, Isha… Eyes lit up. Toby broke off.
A woman finally spoke.
“You mentioned Isha?”
“Isha is a daughter of the Grass,” a man continued. “She disappeared, fifteen years ago when she was expecting.”
Toby’s jaw dropped, his vision blurred. He was almost smiling. He’d had an inkling about this for a while now. Isha Lee was a grass woman. Toby’s eyes came to rest on the woman who had spoken.
These faces had always felt familiar. Now he understood why.
“Is Isha still alive?” asked the woman.
Toby turned to Pol Colleen. He was the one with the answer. Colleen didn’t react.
“Yes, Isha and her daughter are alive,” he said.
Toby didn’t take his eyes off the old writer.
“The Lees moved into Seldor when their worm beetles were massacred, two years ago. It’s the Lee daughter I’ve just been talking about.”
Toby’s eyes closed.
Pol Colleen said again, “Leo Blue is going to marry Elisha Lee.”
Elisha.
Toby stood up in the middle of the gathering. With a long hard stare in which the flames were reflected, he gazed at the faces surrounding him, one by one.
Outside, a slender figure was walking between the grass blades. Ilaya could make out the light seeping from the snail’s shell. She drew near. She had seen everybody leave the clump of reeds at nightfall. In the silence of this first autumn night, Ilaya sensed that something was wrong.
Ilaya was about to enter the corridor of the snail-shell when Toby appeared.
“Little Tree!”
“Yes, Ilaya.”
Immediately, she saw that his face had changed.
“Are you leaving?” she asked.
Toby took his time before answering.
“Yes.”
“You’re going back to the Tree.”
It wasn’t even a question. Toby was somewhere else. He kissed her forehead and walked away.
Ilaya stayed there, alone. Her heart froze, becoming hard as baked earth. All the tenderness she’d found again after so many months was swept away by this glacial wind. But this time, she didn’t fall. Far from it. Her lips traced a cold smile.
Little Tree wouldn’t get away from her. Vidof had died because of him. If Little Tree refused to replace him in her heart, then he would have to come to an end like Vidof’s.
Ilaya owed it to the memory of her fiancé.
Perched in his ear of wheat, suspended above the Grass, Toby saw the moon rising far away, behind the Tree. It was huge, and soon engulfed that other planet, making the maze of branches a blueish ball.
Suddenly, that faraway world seemed extraordinarily fragile and beautiful to Toby. The shadow of the Trunk rose up towards the huge planet, which trembled in the evening breeze.
The autumn leaves rustled almost imperceptibly, but Toby imagined the murmurings of life up there.
Sunday evenings in the Heights, or tea beside the great lake in the Low Branches, or an afternoon snooze on hot bark … all of these memories vibrated in the Tree and in Toby’s head.
How had he strayed so far from the thread of his life?
He looked up at a lone, shining star above him. Altair… The star his father had given him.
Toby couldn’t even hear the farewell song of the Grass people, which rose from the glittering shell. And he didn’t feel the furtive presence of somebody approaching from behind. Ilaya’s bare feet on the floor of the ear of wheat. Her eyes ablaze and in her hand an arrowhead.
Little Tree filled his lungs with the white airiness of the night, as if he were going to fly.
The living voice of his parents. Elisha’s eyes. These were reasons enough to set off on another adventure. Reasons to be Toby Lolness again.
EXCLUSIVE EXTRACT FROM THE FINAL
PART OF TOBY’S GRIPPING ADVENTURE…
On this particular morning, the small animal was leaning over to drink from the transparent lake, when the surface of the water began to tremble.
The woodlouse heard shouting.
What kind of animal let out cries like that? The woodlouse had never encountered anything like it.
Predators.
They were still a way off by the sound of it, calling out across the hills. Some blew their horns, others slapped their hands and let out terrifying “yaaah!” noises. The woodlouse reared up on his hind legs.
Just then, a figure appeared at the other end of the valley, striding towards the pond. From their silent movements and shortness of breath, he could tell this wasn’t a predator: this was the prey. Its panting was audible, but not the sound of its feet which barely touched the bark.
The bellowing of the horn resonated from across the valley. The animal on the run leapt to one side, but the sound rose up from another direction, and then another… The shouting encircled the valley now. The poor prey slowed its pace, jumped into the pond and stopped moving.
It was wearing a pair of trousers cut off at the knee. The rest of its body was covered in mud. A long peashooter, taller than itself, was strapped to its back. The woodlouse couldn’t decide what family of insects it belonged to.
The predators’ cries were even closer now. Without pausing to catch its breath, the fugitive waded further into the pond. Its head disappeared underwater. There was a brief moment of calm.
Suddenly, a dozen creatures of the same species rose up on all sides. The woodlouse flattened himself against the bark and froze. From the colour of his shell, he looked like a bump in the bark. But it was an unnecessary camouflage, since the hunters weren’t after him.
“Where is he?”
“No idea.”
“He hasn’t left any tracks.”
The men were wearing hats made from bumblebee fur. The bedraggled state of their thick coats betrayed their long journey.
“We can’t go any further. We have to head back up before the snow comes.”
A tall man with a double-pointed harpoon stepped forward.
“I’m staying, I’m not letting him get aw
ay. I know he’s here, not far off.”
In his anger, he sent the harpoon crashing against the woodlouse’s shell.
The poor animal didn’t flinch. Another man, who had crouched down to drink from the lake, said calmly, “You’ll do what you’re told, Tiger. And that’s the end of the matter.”
He stood up, wiped his mouth and pointed to a new group approaching them.
“We’ve got nine, including two young ones. Joe Mitch will be satisfied.”
The men were pulling a sled mounted on runners made from feather shafts. A second sled followed. They were carrying crates with a hole on each surface.
“It’ll take us ten days to get to the Great Border. We can’t lose any time.”
The man with the harpoon, Tiger, went to retrieve his weapon from the woodlouse’s shell.
“We’ll be sorry,” he whispered. “He wasn’t like the others, that one…”
They all started walking. The sleds glided over the bark. What was this peculiar caravan transporting?
The men looked tired. One of them was limping. They kept their heads bowed to avoid looking at the great mountain ridges they still had to cross.
The sad convoy was about to disappear on the other side of the valley. Already, they were far enough away for the rubbing sound of the feather runners to be barely audible.
But from the last box, something could be seen coming out of the hole and gripping the wooden slats, trembling.
It was a child’s hand.
Several minutes went by. The woodlouse stood up. The visitors had gone.
All he had felt was a burning sensation on his back, where the harpoon had jabbed him. Nothing’s more
solidly built than a woodlouse.
He shuffled off and the valley fell quiet again.
A head finally rose up out of the pond. The fugitive pulled his lips away from the peashooter, which had enabled him to breathe underwater. He scanned the landscape.
Nobody.
He stood up, his hair, face and body dripping with water.
It was Toby Lolness.
Toby. His body was stronger and more supple than ever, but there was a worried look in his eye. Once again, Toby had taken on the life of the eternal fugitive.
He left the pond and rapidly tidied the peashooter away into the long quiver on his back…
CAN TOBY RESCUE ELISHA, FREE HIS PARENTS
AND SAVE HIS WORLD FROM DEVASTATION?
LOOK OUT FOR TOBY AND THE SECRETS OF THE TREE
www.walker.co.uk
TIMOTHÉE DE FOMBELLE is a popular French playwright and has recently achieved international success as a fiction author with his stunning debut, Tobie Lolness: La Vie Suspendue (“Toby Alone”) and its sequel Les Yeux d’Elisha (“Toby and the Secrets of the Tree”). Timothée has also worked as a teacher, and in 1990 set up his own theatre company. He lives with his family in Paris.
FRANÇOIS PLACE Place is an acclaimed artist and a successful author in his own right. Since studying at the prestigious L’École Estienne, he has created an impressive array of work, including the children’s story Les Derniers Géants (“The Last Giants”) and Le Vieux Fou de Dessin (“The Old Man Mad About Drawing”). His art has illuminated many great texts and inspired many great authors.
SARAH ARDIZZONE (née Adams) is one of the most sought-after translators working today. She has won several awards for her work, including the 2007 Scott-Moncrieff Prize for Just Like Tomorrow (“Kif Kif Demain”) by Faïza Guène and the 2005 Marsh Award for Eye of the Wolf (“L’œil du Loup”) by Daniel Pennac. Sarah promotes translation as a creative process in schools.
INTERNATIONAL ACCLAIM FOR
Toby Alone
FRANCE
“A hero has been born. One that’s real, tender and tiny. Remember his name, it won’t be long before he joins the wizard Harry Potter in the pantheon of characters whose adventures captivate readers of all ages.”
Libération
UNITED STATES
“Witty, original and devastatingly entertaining.”
Kirkus Reviews
GERMANY
“France’s enchanting answer to Harry Potter.”
Die Zeit
SPAIN
“Rarely do we get the opportunity to witness the birth of a classic book… See it for yourself.”
Diario de Mallorca
BELGIUM
“[Toby Alone] contains all the ingredients to become a real classic.”
De Morgen
SWITZERLAND
“A great adventure story that will stay with readers because of the quality and style, but more so because of the originality of the universe that has been brought alive for us.”
Tribune de Genève
ITALY
“Toby is the tiny hero everyone would like to be.”
Avvenire
AUSTRALIA
“An engrossing and fast-paced adventure. I couldn’t put it down.”
Good Reading Magazine
AWARDS
Prix Saint-Exupéry 2006 (France)
Prix Tam Tam 2006 (France)
Prix Sorcières 2007 (France)
Grand Prix de l’Imaginaire 2007 (France)
Prix Andersen 2007 (Italy)
Prix Versele 2008 (Belgium)
Crayon d’argent 2008 (The Netherlands)
French IBBY List of Honour 2008
The China Times Best Young Adult
Book of the Year 2008 (Taiwan)
The Marsh Award for Children’s Literature
in Translation 2009 (UK)
For Elisha,
for her mother
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
First published 2008 by Walker Books Ltd
87 Vauxhall Walk, London SE11 5HJ
Text and illustrations © 2006 Gallimard Jeunesse
English translation © 2008 Sarah Ardizzone
The right of Timothée de Fombelle, François Place and Sarah Ardizzone to be identified as author, illustrator and translator respectively of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, taping and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data:
a catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 978-1-4063-3053-3 (ePub)
ISBN 978-1-4063-3052-6 (e-PDF)
www.walker.co.uk
Timothee de Fombelle, Toby Alone
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