Читать книгу TOLLINS II: DYNAMITE TALES - Conn Iggulden - Страница 13

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.