The Chrestomanci Series: Entire Collection Books 1-7. Diana Wynne Jones

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      Benvenuto’s news caused a stampede in the Casa Montana. The older cousins raced to the Scriptorium and began packing away all the usual spells, inks and pens. The aunts fetched out the special inks for use in war-spells. The uncles staggered under reams of fresh paper and parchment. Antonio, Old Niccolo and Rinaldo went to the library and fetched the giant red volumes, with WAR stamped on their spines, while Elizabeth raced to the music room with all the children to put away the ordinary music and set out the tunes and instruments of war.

      Meanwhile, Rosa, Marco and Domenico raced out into the Via Magica and came back with newspapers. Everyone at once left what they were doing and crowded into the dining room to see what the papers said.

      They made a pile of people, all craning over the table. Rinaldo was standing on a chair, leaning over three aunts. Marco was underneath, craning anxiously sideways, head to head with Old Niccolo, as Rosa flipped over the pages. There were so many other people packed in and leaning over that Lucia, Paolo and Tonino were forced to squat with their chins on the table, in order to see at all.

      “No, nothing,” Rosa said, flipping over the second paper.

      “Wait,” said Marco. “Look at the Stop Press.”

      Everyone swayed towards it, pushing Marco further sideways. Then Tonino almost knew where he had seen Marco before.

      “There it is,” said Antonio.

      All the bodies came upright, with their faces very serious.

      “Reserve mobilised, right enough,” said Rosa. “Oh, Marco!”

      “What’s the matter?” Rinaldo asked jeeringly from his chair. “Is Marco a Reservist?”

      “No,” said Marco. “My – my brother got me out of it.”

      Rinaldo laughed. “What a patriot!”

      Marco looked up at him. “I’m a Final Reservist,” he said, “and I hope you are too. If you aren’t, it will be a pleasure to take you round to the Army Office in the Arsenal this moment.”

      The two glared at one another. Once again there were shouts to Rinaldo to stop making a fool of himself. Sulkily, Rinaldo climbed down and stalked out.

      “Rinaldo is a Final Reservist,” Paolo assured Marco.

      “I thought he must be,” Marco said. “Look, I must go. I – I must tell my brother. Rosa, I’ll see you tomorrow if I can.”

      When Tonino fell asleep that night, the room next door to him was full of people talking of war and the Angel of Caprona, with occasional digressions about Rosa’s wedding dress. Tonino’s head was so full of these things that he was quite surprised, when he went to school, not to hear them talked of there. But no one seemed to have noticed there might be a war. True, some of the teachers looked grave, but that might have been just their natural feelings at the start of a new term.

      Consequently, Tonino came home that afternoon thinking that maybe things were not so bad after all. As usual, Benvenuto leapt off the water butt and sprang into his arms. Tonino was rubbing his face against Benvenuto’s nearest ragged ear, when he heard a carriage draw up behind him. Benvenuto promptly squirmed out of Tonino’s arms. Tonino, very surprised, looked round to find him trotting, gently and politely, with his tail well up, towards a tall man who was just coming in through the Casa gate.

      Benvenuto stood, his brush of tail waving slightly at the tip, his hind legs canted slightly apart under his fluffy drawers, staring gravely at the tall man. Tonino thought peevishly that, from behind, Benvenuto often looked pretty silly. The man looked almost as bad. He was wearing an exceedingly expensive coat with a fur collar and a tweed travelling cap with daft earflaps. And he bowed to Benvenuto.

      “Good afternoon, Benvenuto,” he said, as grave as Benvenuto himself. “I’m glad to see you so well. Yes, I’m very well thank you.”

      Benvenuto advanced to rub himself round the stranger’s legs.

      “No,” said the man. “I beg you. Your hairs come off.”

      And Benvenuto stopped, without abating an ounce of his uncommon politeness.

      By this time, Tonino was extremely resentful. This was the first time for years that Benvenuto had behaved СКАЧАТЬ