The Magicians of Caprona by Diana Wynne Jones Page A

She seemed quite cheerful about it. “He has to help his brother,” she said, “with fortifications.”
    That brought home to Paolo and Tonino the fact that there was going to be a war. They looked at one another nervously. Neither of them was quite sure whether you behaved in the usual way in wartime, or not. Tonino’s mind shot to his beauti-ful new book.
The Boy Who Saved His Country
. He slurped the title through his mind, just as he was slurping his soup. Had Uncle Umberto meant to say to him, find the words to the
Angel of Caprona
, and save your country, Tonino? It would indeed be the most marvelous thing if he, Tonino Montana, could find the words and save his country. He could hardly wait to see how the boy in the book had done it.
    As soon as supper was over, he sprang up, ready to dash off and start reading. And once again he was prevented. This time it was because the children were told to wash up supper. Tonino groaned. And, again, he was not the only one.
    “It isn’t fair!” Corinna said passionately. “We slave all afternoon at spells, and we slave all evening at washing-up! I know there’s going to be a war, but I still have to do my exams. How am I ever going to do my homework?” The way she flung out an impassioned arm made Paolo and Tonino think that Aunt Gina’s manner must be catching.
    Rather unexpectedly, Lucia sympathized with Corinna. “I think you’re too old to be one of us children,” she said. “Why don’t you go away and do your homework and let me organize the kids?”
    Corinna looked at her uncertainly. “What about your homework?”
    “I’ve not got much. I’m not aiming for the University like you,”Lucia said kindly. “Run along.” And she pushed Corinna out of the dining room. As soon as the door was shut, she turned briskly to the other children. “Come on. What are you lot standing gooping for? Everyone take a pile of plates to the kitchen. Quick march, Tonino. Move, Lena and Bernardo. Paolo, you take the big bowls.”
    With Lucia standing over them like a sergeant major, Tonino had no chance to slip away. He trudged to the kitchen with everyone else, where, to his surprise, Lucia ordered everyone to lay the plates and cutlery out in rows on the floor. Then she made them stand in a row themselves, facing the rows of greasy dishes.
    Lucia was very pleased with herself. “Now,” she said, “this is something I’ve always wanted to try. This is washing-up-made-easy, by Lucia Montana’s patent method. I’ll tell you the words. They go to the
Angel of Caprona
. And you’re all to sing after me—”
    “Are you sure we should?” asked Lena, who was a very law-abiding cousin.
    Lucia gave her a look of scalding contempt. “If some people,” she remarked to the whitewashed beams of the ceiling, “don’t know true intelligence when they see it, they are quite at liberty to go and live with the Petrocchis.”
    “I only asked,” Lena said, crushed.
    “Well, don’t,” said Lucia. “This is the spell. …”
    Shortly, they were all singing lustily:
    “Angel, clean our knives and dishes
,
Clean our spoons and salad bowls
,
Wash our saucepans, hear our wishes
,
Angel, make our forks quite clean.”
    At first, nothing much seemed to happen. Then it became clearthat the orange grease was certainly slowly clearing from the plates. Then the lengths of spaghetti stuck to the bottom of the largest saucepan started unwinding and wriggling like worms. Up over the edge of the saucepan they wriggled, and over the stone floor, to ooze themselves into the waste-cans. The orange grease and the salad-oil traveled after them, in rivulets. And the singing faltered a little, as people broke off to laugh.
    “Sing,
sing
!” shouted Lucia. So they sang.
    Unfortunately for Lucia, the noise penetrated to the Scriptorium. The plates were still pale pink and rather greasy, and the last of the spaghetti was still wriggling across the floor, when Elizabeth and Aunt Maria burst into