HOW TO BLOW UP TOLLINS. Conn Iggulden

       Dedication

      FOR CAMERON AND MIA

       CONN IGGULDEN

      FOR MAXWELL AND DARCY

       LIZZY DUNCAN

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Dedication

      CAST OF CHARACTERS

      BOOK ONE - HOW TO BLOW UP TOLLINS

      CHAPTER ONE - THE YEAR 1922, DURING THE REIGN OF KING GEORGE V

CHAPTER TWO - SERIOUS AND DETERMINED MEN WITH BEARDS

CHAPTER THREE - THE VITAL IMPORTANCE OF SALAMI

       CHAPTER FOUR - TALKING TO BEARDS

      BOOK TWO - SPARKLER AND THE PURPLE DEATH

       CHAPTER ONE - HOW AMPUTATION CAN BE A BLESSING

       CHAPTER TWO - THE HIGH TOLLIN MAKES THINGS QUITE CLEAR

       CHAPTER THREE - NO HOPE AND NOTHING TO READ, EITHER

       CHAPTER FOUR - THE LAST PLACE THEY WOULD EVER THINK TO SEARCH

       CHAPTER FIVE - TEA AND EXECUTION

      BOOK THREE - WINDBAGS AND DARK TOLLINS

       CHAPTER ONE - PURE RESEARCH AND THE PROBLEM WITH PUMPS

       CHAPTER TWO - WHY ROAST BEETLE IS ALWAYS THE RIGHT CHOICE

       CHAPTER THREE - HIGH HOPES

       CHAPTER FOUR - HIGH TEA

       CHAPTER FIVE - LOW PLOTS AND HOT WATER

       Credits

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       CAST OF CHARACTERS

       CHAPTER ONE

       THE YEAR 1922, DURING THE REIGN OF KING GEORGE V

      Tollins are not fairies. Though they both have wings, fairies are delicate creatures and much smaller. When he was young, Sparkler accidentally broke one and had to shove it behind a bush before its friends noticed.

      In addition, fairies cannot sing B-sharp. They can manage a very nice B-flat, in quite a sweet voice, but B-sharp comes out like a frog being run over by a bicycle. Tollins regard fairies as fluttery show-offs and occasionally use them to wipe out the insides of cups. Tollins are also a lot less fragile than fairies. In fact, the word ‘fragile’ can’t really be used about them at all. They are about as fragile as a housebrick.

      Before that summer when the world changed, Sparkler had looked forward to a full life containing nothing more dangerous than wrestling angry bees off flowers, or occasionally dancing with other Tollins at the full moon. He loved to dance, even when he trod on the toes of the others, or tripped over a fairy ring. Fairies never tripped, or fell over, so when they tried to take part, Tollins always began a singing competition instead. In the key of B. If the fairies stamped their little feet and rose to the challenge, they sounded like silver bells being dunked in soup before they gave up. Tollins enjoyed that.

      When Sparkler was born, his parents enjoyed a simple life of fluttering around at the bottom of people’s gardens. The most exciting thing that had ever happened to them was being chased by two little girls, until they were fortunately distracted by a pony. Adults were no danger. They just couldn’t see Tollins, even if they were really close.

      At first, the Tollins had thought nothing of the serious men with large beards and even larger boots who suddenly seemed to be everywhere, measuring things with bits of string and nodding to each other. Yet in just a short time, they had transformed the little village of Chorleywood. First they had run rails for clanking trains, then they built their firework factory. It had very thick walls and an extremely thin roof, just in case.

The Tollins hadn’t minded the fireworks being tested. Some nights, Sparkler had gathered with his parents and grandparents to watch the serious, bearded men light them, one after the other. None of the fireworks went whee or had colours back then^*. They just went bang and made the men jump and clap their hands together, almost like the children they had once been.

      The ‘Great Firework Discovery’ had been an accident, really. One of the youngest Tollins had crept too close to a firework on the bench of the factory. While no one was around, the little one climbed into the tube of something called a ‘Roman Candle’. Just as he was tasting a pinch of the black powder inside, it all went dark and he was trapped.

      The other Tollins searched for him, of course, but there was no sign. That night, the first fireworks were the usual sort, jumping and spluttering, but then the Roman Candle was lit, and the world changed forever.

      Sparkler had been there, sitting on a wall with his family. He still remembered the way the Roman Candle leapt into the air, trailing a shower of blue sparks before exploding with a bang that knocked one of the men down. The man’s beard was on fire when he stood up, but that didn’t stop him cheering as he patted the flames out.

      In the silence, in the night air, the Tollins heard the voice of the little one they had lost.

      “Heeeeelp!” he yelled. The older Tollins looked at each other and their wings vibrated so fast you could hardly see them. They leapt up into the darkness and one of them caught the little Tollin as he fell.

      He was bruised but alive, though his wings were in tatters. Those would grow back in time, but he also seemed to have gone deaf and couldn’t understand the questions they were all asking.

      “What?” he kept saying. “I was in the firework! No, in it! Didn’t you see? What?”

      Deep under Chorleywood station, the High Tollin had called a council of seniors together to discuss the problem. While his parents spoke at the meeting, Sparkler had tended to the burned one who kept shouting ‘What?’