Magicians of Caprona - Diana Wynne Jones [56]
Tonino understood it was meant for a smile and smiled back, as well as he could for his chattering teeth.
“Here.” Angelica loomed back through the room to the pile of puppets and heaved at the Hangman. She returned with his black felt cape. “Put this on.”
Tonino wrapped himself in the cape and blew his nose on the blue cap and felt better.
Angelica heaved more puppets about. “I’m going to wear the policeman’s jacket,” she said. “Tonino—have you thought?”
“Not really,” said Tonino. “I sort of know.”
He had known from the moment he looked at the Duchess. She was the enchanter who was sapping the strength of Caprona and spoiling the spells of the Casa Montana. Tonino was not sure about the Duke—probably he was too stupid to count. But in spite of the Duchess’s enchantments, the spells of the Casa Montana—and the Casa Petrocchi—must still be strong enough to be a nuisance to her. So he and Angelica had been kidnapped to blackmail both houses into stopping making spells. And if they stopped, Caprona would be defeated. The frightening part was that Tonino and Angelica were the only two people who knew, and the Duchess did not care that they knew. It was not only that even someone as clever as Paolo would never think of looking in the Palace, inside a Punch and Judy show: it must mean that the two of them would be dead before anyone found them.
“We absolutely have to get away,” said Angelica. “Before she’s better from being hanged.”
“She’ll have thought of that,” said Tonino.
“I’m not sure,” said Angelica. “I could tell everyone was startled to death. They let me see you being put through the floor, and I think we could get out that way. It will be easier now we’re bigger.”
Tonino fastened the cape around him and struggled to his feet, though he felt almost too tired and bruised to bother. His head hit the chande-lier too. Huge flickering shadows fled around the room and made the heap of puppets look as if they were squirming about. “Where did they put me through?” he said.
“Just where you’re standing,” said Angelica.
Tonino backed against the windows and looked at the place. He would not have known there was any opening. But, now Angelica had told him, he could see, disguised by the painted swirls of the carpet and confused by the swinging light, the faintest black line. The outline made an oblong about the size of the shoddy dining table. The tray of supper must have come through that way too.
“Sing an opening spell,” Angelica commanded him.
“I don’t know one,” Tonino was forced to confess.
He could tell by the stiff way Angelica stood that she was trying not to say a number of nasty things. “Well I don’t dare,” she said. “You saw what happened last time. If I do anything, they’ll catch us again and punish us by making us be puppets. And I couldn’t bear another time.”
Tonino was not sure he could bear it either, even though, now he thought about it, he was not sure it had been a punishment. The Duchess had probably intended to make them perform anyway. She was quite mean enough. On the other hand, he was not sure he could stand another of Angelica’s botched spells, either. “Well, it’s only a trapdoor,” he said. “It must be held up by one of those little hooks. Let’s try bashing at it with the candlesticks.”
“And if there’s a spell on it?” said Angelica. “Oh, come on. Let’s try.”
They seized a candlestick each and knelt beside the windows, knocking diligently at the scarcely-seen black line. The cardboard was tough and pulpy. The candlesticks shortly looked like metal weeping willow trees. But they succeeded in making a crumbly hollow in the middle of one edge of the hidden door. Tonino thought he could see a glimmer of metal showing. He raised his bent candlestick high to deliver a mighty blow.
“Stop!” hissed Angelica.
There were large shuffling footsteps somewhere. Tonino lowered the candlestick by gentle fractions and scarcely dared breathe. A distant voice grumbled. … “Mice then” … “Nothing here. …” It was suddenly