“We can learn many things from humans,” Sparkler tried.
“Nothing! We need nothing from those great clods! We are Tollins! We are…nyaargh! Yes, you seem to be leaning on it again. Would you mind moving off a bit? That stool is just for my leg, you know. I had it brought in specially. Well, there are other stools if you feel faint. If they’re all taken, you must make do without mine. Yes, I’m quite sure.”
Bleary-eyed with pain, the High Tollin waved a hand in Sparkler’s direction.
“To the cells with him. Execution in three days.”
CHAPTER THREE
NO HOPE AND NOTHING TO READ, EITHER
HE CELL WAS DARK AND DAMP and very far underground. The bars were wooden. Sparkler thought he could probably gnaw his way through them eventually, but he kept thinking that his parents would turn up at any moment and explain the quite silly mistake that had been made. They would all laugh and the High Tollin would pat him on the back and he would be allowed to go home.
He had spoken to humans of course. He knew there was the First Law, but it had been written when humans weren’t using Tollins as industrial supplies. Surely an exception could be made for extreme circumstances? He sat in the black hole and waited for rescue or death, whichever came first.
As the hours, perhaps even days, passed, he lost his sense that it would all be sorted out and grew slowly angrier. Imagine a squash for a moment, in a garden. You don’t see it grow, but it gets slowly bigger every hour. His temper was a bit like that, though probably impervious to snails.
When he heard footsteps, he was pacing the cell in fury at the stupidity of all High Tollins.
“Come to kill me have you?” he snapped. “I won’t go quietly, you know. I’ll…”
“Shhh,” a voice came back, along with an odd scent of flowers. Sparkler took a step back.
“Who’s there?” he asked. Had they come to torture him, perhaps immediately after bathing in lilac-scented water? No. Not those guards. Nettles, possibly. Lilacs, definitely not.
“Be quiet! The guards will hear you,” someone said. It was a female voice! It sounded a bit breathy, which Sparkler quite liked, though he thought that could be due to all those stairs leading down to the cells.
“I’ve come to get you out,” she said.
Sparkler was so angry by then that he reacted the wrong way.
“Oh really? Perhaps I don’t want to get out! Perhaps I would rather die for the cause of scientific knowledge—of all knowledge! Perhaps I would rather Tollins everywhere remember that I gave my life for…”
“I have the keys, you know,” she interrupted. “If you’d keep quiet for just a moment, I could find the right one for the lock. It isn’t easy in the dark and you making speeches isn’t helping.”
“Right. Sorry. I’ve been down here for a very long time.”
“Half the night, almost,” she agreed. The wooden keys clattered and the bars swung open.
“Where did you get the keys?” he asked. He still couldn’t see her, but she was somewhere very close. He could still hear her breathing.
“From a key box,” she said, suddenly reluctant.
“But only the guards and the High Tollin have keys to the cells,” Sparkler whispered. He was pretty sure she couldn’t be one of the guards, not with the smell of flowers. That left only one possibility.
“The High Tollin’s key box? Are you the lady who wraps his foot?”
He heard a sigh in the darkness.
“I honestly thought this would be a bit more romantic,” she said. “A midnight prison-break under the moonlight, a stolen kiss in the shadows…”
“Now hold on,” he said. “I haven’t even seen you. I mean, I’m grateful and everything, but for all I know you do this just for the kisses. Ow!”
The keys had come flying at him out of the darkness and he heard her steps vanishing into the tunnels. He could still smell the lilac though, which was nice.
He had to run. He had to do some serious thinking as well. He needed to reach the last place they would ever think to search.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE LAST PLACE THEY WOULD EVER THINK TO SEARCH
ET OUT!” GRUNION WAILED, heaving at the little door. “This is the first place they’ll think to search.”
“No, it’s the last place,” Sparkler declared, pushing on the door. “They would never believe I’d return to the very spot where I was arrested.”
“They would! You did!” Grunion said, but he could not hold the door. Sparkler flung it back and raced away down the tunnel to the workshop.
“If I’m wrong and this is the first place they look, then I don’t have much time.”
“They’ll arrest me too,” Grunion said miserably, as he followed behind. “I’ll be all alone in a cell, except for you, and then it’ll be out for execution and whack whack, off with my head.”
Sparkler paused as Grunion caught up.
“Axes don’t whack, you know. You’re thinking of some sort of stick. I think it will be more of a chop chop, though I honestly don’t know what it sounds like to the person being executed. I mean it could sound like quite a jolly swishing sound, then a sudden…” He stopped and looked along Grunion’s shelves.
“A sudden what?” Grunion said.
“Hmm? Oh what does it matter, Grunion? It’s almost dawn, I have a plan and I’m going to need your help!”
He held up the book of herbs. He had lost count of the time it had taken to copy each picture and every tiny word. He hardly needed them, they were so clear in his head, but he flicked through the pages and pointed in triumph.
“There, Grunion!” His voice fell almost to a whisper. “The Purple Death!”
“It says ‘Autumn Crocus,’” said Grunion, reading over his shoulder.
“Yes, Grunion, it does say ‘Autumn Crocus.’ Autumn Crocus is, in fact, what I need. However, there is no dramatic power in pointing to a page that could save my life and shouting ‘Autumn Crocus!’ is there? Anyway, if you look in the footnotes, which were incredibly pernickety by the way, it is also known as…the Purple Death!” He paused again for effect, but Grunion didn’t seem to appreciate it.
“You’re going to poison someone?” said Grunion in horror.
“What? No! If you had actually bothered to read the book while I was in prison, you would have learned that all medicine is a balancing act between killing and curing.”
“And which one are you…?”
“No time, Grunion. Follow me out onto the Common. We must find this plant or perish.”
Grunion wasn’t certain about being included in that “we.” Only moments before, he had been cheerfully waiting for the kettle to boil and trying to get a bit of bread to stay on his toasting fork. It was more than tempting to close the door quietly behind Sparkler and go back to his breakfast. He stood there for a moment, looking down at his single slipper. It would surely be ruined in the snow. He sighed and set off after his friend.
Sparkler was alert for danger as he ran under the snow. Humans can run over snow, of course, leaving footprints. On cold days when their wings freeze up, Tollins have to dig straight through, under the surface. Sparkler was half frozen by the time he reached the little copse of trees that sheltered an even smaller patch of ground. He poked his head out of a snowdrift and looked around, his heart pounding. The sun was up and there were no foxes or owls to be seen. He took a deep breath as he heard Grunion slapping his way along the snow tunnel behind him.
The world was quiet as he made his way between two trees, searching the ground for the slightest hint of color.
“Come on, come on,” he muttered. He’d seen them there, he was sure of it. Unless the snow had withered them…there!
“Here, Grunion!” he shouted, yanking at a fistful of purple petals. There was snow on some of the flowers and the cold was painful, but he didn’t mind as he gave them to Grunion to hold.
They set off at a run back down the tunnel in the snow.
“But
why did I have to come with you?” Grunion said irritably around his armful of petals. “I could have put the kettle on the fire and be enjoying a nice fairy cake.”
Sparkler skidded to a stop. “You wouldn’t!” he said.
Grunion looked at him in confusion for a moment. “Oh, I see,” he said. “No, it’s just a cake that fairies made, that’s all. Nuts and fruit and things.”
“I should hope so,” Sparkler said.
Back in the warm workshop, Sparkler set to work, drying the petals on the fireplace and chopping them into small pieces. Outside, the sun had barely cleared the horizon when they heard a dull thumping on the outer door.
“I told you they’d come here first!” Grunion wailed. Sparkler stood up to his full height and put on a proud expression.
“Let them in, friend Grunion. I am ready now,” he said with great dignity.
“Would you mind coming to the door instead? It’s just that if you wait there, they’ll track mud in.”
Sparkler deflated slightly.
“Right. I will be ready at the door.”
CHAPTER FIVE
TEA AND EXECUTION
UNDREDS OF CANDLES WERE LIT in the Hall of Tollins, deep under Chorleywood Station. Above their heads, humans clumped their way to work and wished each other good morning, completely unaware of the desperate drama unfolding beneath their feet.
There had never been a prison break before. It was the talk of the Hall, with lots of Tollins asking how it had been done. One of them knew, but she was saying nothing as she stood and eased her father’s foot onto its special stool. The High Tollin winced and gasped as the swollen object thumped into place, but his eyes were bright with excitement.
“Bring him to me,” he shouted. The Hall grew still. For a moment, the High Tollin thought the guards were struggling with the prisoner. In fact, they were trying to drag Sparkler in, but he was walking faster than they were and making it very difficult. As the High Tollin watched, one of them fell flat and rose with a furious expression.
Sparkler was bruised but unbowed. He had endured the sarcasm of the guards. He had even endured a brief and thorough experience of Community Guarding. (If he ever found himself alone with one of the guards and a sharp stick, that guard was going to be very sorry indeed.)
He saw the High Tollin was once again surrounded by his advisors. One of them had not been there before and Sparkler had a glimpse of blue eyes before she turned away. He thought he saw pity there and he would not be pitied, not that day.
The High Tollin brandished the wooden keys at him and Sparkler lifted his chin defiantly.
“How did you escape my cell, prisoner? What have you to say for yourself?”
“I say what I should have said the first time. I have learned from the humans, yes. I have learned many things that are useful for Tollins.”
The High Tollin frowned so hard his beard and eyebrows actually came together.
“You dare? You dare to plead your case when you are guilty not only of speaking to humans, but also of escaping my prison cells? Say how you did it and I will have the executioner go easy on you.”
Sparkler ignored the old Tollin’s rage as well as his surprisingly vicious gestures with the ring of keys.
“I have copied a book of herbs, a human book…”
“Executioner! Your biggest axe!” The High Tollin roared.
“In it, I have found that willow-bark can be used for headaches and to reduce fever. I have also found that the Autumn Crocus can ease gout when taken in small doses as a tea. It is said that…”
“Gout?” the High Tollin interrupted. The girl at his side beamed at Sparkler and he wasn’t sure why. The High Tollin’s gaze drifted over his enormous, swollen foot.
“He is lying to preserve ’is life, sah!” the guard said, worried by the sudden change of mood in the Hall. He’d been looking forward to the biggest axe, as well.
Sparkler pulled out a pouch of the crocus petals and waved it at the High Tollin.
“I’m afraid it is human medicine, sir. I have learned its use by breaking our most sacred law. I quite understand if you wish the execution to go ahead.”
“Um…” the High Tollin said. He watched with beady eyes as Sparkler went over to the executioner, who was staggering with an axe far too large for him.
“Shall I stand, sir?” Sparkler said brightly, “Or kneel?” He turned to the executioner Tollin, who wore a mask with little eye-holes. Unfortunately, the executioner had been summoned from his bed and he had the mask on backwards, so no one looked back at Sparkler.
“This herb cures gout, you say?” the High Tollin said, his voice a great deal quieter and more thoughtful.
“Not as fast as amputation,” Sparkler said. The High Tollin winced. His eyes were weary from pain and he looked longingly at the little pouch. Sparkler moved it back and forth and the old eyes followed.
“After studying the details of your case, I have decided that an exception can be made,” the High Tollin said solemnly. “I grant you a pardon for all crimes.”
“Yessss!” his daughter said, grinning at Sparkler as her father went on.
“Perhaps I have indeed been rash. Perhaps Tollins and humans can learn to live together, to share their knowledge. We could all benefit from education. I am always saying that, aren’t I, Wing?” His daughter nodded, blushing. “An ‘Academy’ is needed, a place where all knowledge is taught. I can see before me one bright young man who could be the very first professor. Over time, we…”
“No,” Sparkler said, firmly. The High Tollin paused, a dangerous light coming back into his eyes.
“What’s that you say?”
“No, sir. Oh I like the idea of an Academy, of course. If there is to be a first professor, I recommend the healer, Grunion.” He took a deep breath. “We spend our summers lying around drinking nectar and our winters growing thin. We can do better, but it won’t be enough to depend on the humans to teach us. The Law should stand. We will find our way on our own.”
“But you said they know so much!” The High Tollin wailed.
Sparkler shrugged. “We might catch up to them, or learn different things, I don’t know. I do know that we won’t try to learn for ourselves if it’s all just given to us. We must work for what we need. Let the Law stand and the humans go their own way. We are not humans. We are Tollins.”
The crowd applauded. Down by their feet, a fairy drew itself up to its full height. It talked of freedom and friendship, of forging bonds across the species. Unfortunately its voice was thin and squeaky and nobody noticed. As it reached a truly moving part about the rights of every fairy, someone stepped on it and its little voice was heard no more.
As the High Tollin’s advisors rushed away to make Autumn Crocus tea, Sparkler smelled lilac and turned suddenly. The High Tollin’s daughter Wing stood there, smiling shyly.
“It was you, wasn’t it, with the keys?” he said.
“It was me.”
“Well if I’d known you were pretty, that would have been different! For all I knew you had a beard or something!”
She looked coldly at him for a long moment.
“You need to work on your compliments,” she said.
“I know!” Sparkler replied. “There’s still so much to learn!”
THE END OF
BOOK TWO
CHAPTER ONE
PURE RESEARCH AND THE PROBLEM WITH PUMPS
T WAS THE MIDDLE OF A GOLDEN SUMMER and Chorleywood Common was filled with birds and insects and things, happily eating each other. Grasshoppers buzzed in the long grass; swallows swallowed, swifted or sometimes just sparrowed. An elderly heron stood on the edge of Darvell’s Pond, watching the water as if it contained the secret of life itself.
Sparkler was on a field trip for the new Academy. An entire class of thirty young Tillets had come out on the common to hear him speak. Grunion had insisted they would all enjoy the experience and Sparkler could hardly refuse his old friend, no matter what else wa
s worrying him. He pulled his thoughts together and tried to remember the question he had just been asked.
“As scientists, we never know the answers we are going to get. So we test the theories until we know. This is called the scientific method.”
Thirty small heads bobbed. Some made notes in tiny handwriting, while most of them just stared at him.
“Professor Grunion will be asking questions about this later, you know,” Sparkler said sternly. More heads dipped to write notes. Sparkler sighed as he saw one Tillet with her hand raised, yet again.
“Yes…Beryl, is it? You have a question?”
“Yeth. Why can’t you just anthwer the quethtion you want to know? I mean if you want to find out why the thky ith blue, can’t you work on that?”
Sparkler made a sound a little like “hrumph” while he worked out what she had said. He had no idea why the sky was blue and as two other hands shot up, he spoke quickly to divert their attention.
“There is nothing wrong with that approach, young Beryl. Some problems must be solved as they come up. For example, I have a team working on a way to clear floodwater from the Hall of Tollins.” He sighed at the thought, wishing he were back there. “But other scientists will do pure research, without looking for answers to anything.”
“Tho…they can never be wrong?” Beryl asked innocently. Sparkler shot her a sharp glance. He suspected she was brighter than she pretended.
“Well…yes, Beryl. You can’t be wrong exactly. All you can do is disprove a theory.”
“Thounds like a good job, thir, if you can get it,” she said.
“Yes, I suppose it does,” Sparkler said, refusing to rise to the bait. “For example, I have a theory that air actually weighs a great deal.”
“Oh, no, I don’t think tho, thir.” Beryl raised her palm, flat. “You thee, I can lift quite a lot of it and I’m not very thtrong.”