Magicians of Caprona - Diana Wynne Jones [53]
“I think—” Rosa began, and ended in a yell of exasperation. “Oh no!” The little pasta shells in the powder had turned into real sea-shells, little gray ones. “With creatures in!” Rosa said despairingly, dipping a spoonful out. “Where is Lucia?” she said. “Bring her here. Tell her I—No, don’t. Just fetch her, Paolo.”
“She’s gone to the chemist,” said Paolo.
There was shouting in the yard. Paolo passed the greasy baby to the nearest cousin and shot outside, dreading another sick yellow message about Tonino. Or there was just a chance the noise was Lucia.
It was neither. It was Rinaldo. The uncles must have left the Scriptorium, for Rinaldo was mak-ing a bonfire of spells in the middle of the yard. Domenico, Carlo and Luigi were busily carrying armfuls of scrips, envelopes and scrolls down from the gallery. Paolo recognized, already curling among the flames, the army-charms he and the other children had spent such a time copying. It was a shocking waste of work.
“This is what the Petrocchis have forced us to!” shouted Rinaldo, striking an attitude beside the flames. It was evidently part of his plan to enlist the young ones.
Paolo was glad to see Antonio and Uncle Lorenzo hurry out of the Saloon.
“Rinaldo!” shouted Antonio. “Rinaldo, we’re worried about Umberto. We want you to go to the University and enquire.”
“Send Domenico,” said Rinaldo, and turned back to the flames.
“No,” said Antonio. “You go.” There was something about the way he said it that caused Rinaldo to back away from him.
“I’ll go,” said Rinaldo. He held up one hand, laughing. “I was only joking, Uncle Antonio.”
He left at once: “Take those spells back,” Uncle Lorenzo said to the other three cousins. “I hate to see good work wasted.” Domenico, Carlo and Luigi obeyed without a word. Antonio and Uncle Lorenzo went to the bonfire and tried to stamp out the flames, but they were burning too strongly. Paolo saw them look at one another, rather guiltily, and then lean forward and whisper a spell over the fire. It flicked out as if it had been turned off with a switch. Paolo sighed worriedly. It was plain that no one in the Casa Montana could drop the habit of using spells. He wondered how long it would be before the enemy enchanter noticed.
“Fetch a light!” Antonio shouted to Domenico. “And sort out the ones that aren’t burned.”
Paolo went back to the kitchen before they asked him to help. The bonfire had given him an idea.
“There is quite a bit of mince,” Rosa was saying. “Dare we try with that?”
“Why don’t you,” said Paolo, “take the food to the dining room? I’ll light a fire there, and you can cook it on that.”
“The boy’s a genius!” said Marco.
They did that. Rosa cooked by relays and Marco made cocoa. The children were fed first, Paolo included. Paolo sat on one of the long benches, thinking it was almost enjoyable—except if he thought of Tonino, or Old Niccolo in bed upstairs. He was very pleased and surprised when a sudden bundle of claw and warm-iron muscle landed on his knee. Benvenuto was missing Tonino too. He rubbed against Paolo with a kind of desperation, but he would not purr.
Rosa and Marco were getting up to put the young ones to bed, when there was a sudden great clanging, outside in the night.
“Good Heavens!” said Rosa, and opened the yard door.
The noise flooded in, an uneven metal sound, hasty and huge. The nearest—clang-clang-clang—was so near that it could only be the bell of Sant’ Angelo’s. Behind it, the bell of the Cathedral tolled. And beyond that, now near, now faint and tinny, every bell in every church in Caprona beat and boomed and clashed and chimed. Corinna and Lucia came racing in, their faces bright with cold and excitement.
“We’re at war! The Duke’s declared war!”
Marco said he thought he had better go. “Oh no, don’t!” Rosa cried out.