The Magicians of Caprona by Diana Wynne Jones Page B

the kitchen.
    “Lucia!” said Elizabeth.
    “You irreligious brats!” said Aunt Maria.
    “I don’t see what’s so wrong,” said Lucia.
    “She doesn’t see—Elizabeth, words fail!” said Aunt Maria. “How can I have taught her so little and so badly? Lucia, a spell is not
instead
of a thing. It is only to
help
that thing. And on top of that, you go and use the
Angel of Caprona
, as if it was any old tune, and not the most powerful song in all Italy! I—I could box your ears, Lucia!”
    “So could I,” said Elizabeth. “Don’t you understand we need all our virtue—the whole combined strength of the Casa Montana—to put into the war-charms? And here you go frittering it away in the kitchen!”
    “Put those plates in the sink, Paolo,” ordered Aunt Maria. “Tonino, pick up those saucepans. The rest of you pick up the cutlery. And now you’ll wash them properly.”
    Very chastened, everyone obeyed. Lucia was angry as well as chastened. When Lena whispered, “I
told
you so!” Lucia broke a plate and jumped on the pieces.
    “Lucia!” snapped Aunt Maria, glaring at her. It was the first time any of the children had seen her look likely to slap someone.
    “Well, how was I to know?” Lucia stormed. “Nobody ever explained—nobody
told
me spells were like that!”
    “Yes, but you knew perfectly well you were doing something you shouldn’t,” Elizabeth told her, “even if you didn’t know why. The rest of you, stop sniggering. Lena, you can learn from this too.”
    All through doing the washing-up properly—which took nearly an hour—Tonino was saying to himself, “And
then
I can read my book at last.” When it was finally done, he sped out into the yard. And there was Old Niccolo hurrying down the steps to meet him in the dark.
    “Tonino, may I have Benvenuto for a while, please?”
    But Benvenuto was still not to be found. Tonino began to think he would die of book-frustration. All the children joined in hunting and calling, but there was still no Benvenuto. Soon, most of the grown-ups were looking for him too, and still Benvenuto did not appear. Antonio was so exasperated that he seized Tonino’s arm and shook him.
    “It’s too bad, Tonino! You must have known we’d need Benvenuto. Why did you let him go?”
    “I didn’t! You
know
what Benvenuto’s like!” Tonino protested, equally exasperated.
    “Now, now, now,” said Old Niccolo, taking each of them by a shoulder. “It is quite plain by now that Benvenuto is on the other side of town, making vile noises on a roof somewhere. All we can do is hope someone empties a jug of water on him soon. It’s not Tonino’s fault, Antonio.”
    Antonio let go Tonino’s arm and rubbed both hands on his face. He looked very tired. “I’m sorry, Tonino,” he said. “Forgive me. Let us know as soon as Benvenuto comes back, won’t you?”
    He and Old Niccolo hurried back to the Scriptorium. As theypassed under the light, their faces were stiff with worry.
    “I don’t think I like war, Tonino,” Paolo said. “Let’s go and play table-tennis in the dining room.”
    “I’m going to read my book,” Tonino said firmly. He thought he would get like Aunt Gina if anything else happened to stop him.

Chapter 6
    Tonino read half the night. With all the grown-ups hard at work in the Scriptorium, there was no one to tell him to go to bed. Corinna tried, when she had finished her homework, but Tonino was too deep in the book even to hear her. And Corinna went respectfully away, thinking that, as the book had come from Uncle Umberto, it was probably very learned.
    It was not in the least learned. It was the most gripping story Tonino had ever read. It started with the boy, Giorgio, going along a mysterious alleyway near the docks on his way home from school. There was a peeling blue house at the end of the alley and, just as Giorgio passed it, a scrap of paper fluttered from one of its windows. It contained a mysterious message, which led Giorgio at