"Jones, Diana Wynne - Chrestomanci 2 - 1980 - The Magicians of Caprona" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jones Diana Wynne)

standing at tall desks copying spells out of big leather-bound books. Each book
had a brass lock on it so that the family secrets could not be stolen. Antonio
and Paolo tiptoed through. Rinaldo smiled at them without pausing in his
copying. Where other pens scratched and paused, Rinaldo's raced.
In the room beyond the Scriptorium, Uncle Lorenzo and Cousin Domenico were
stamping winged horses on leaf-green envelopes. Uncle Lorenzo looked keenly at
their faces as they passed and decided that the trouble was not too much for Old
Niccolo alone. He winked at Paolo and threatened to stamp a winged horse on him.
Old Niccolo was in the warm mildewy library beyond, consulting over a book on a
stand with Aunt Francesca. She was Old Niccolo's sister, and therefore really a
great-aunt. She was a barrel of a lady, twice as fat as Aunt Anna and even more
passionate than Aunt Gina. She was saying passionately, "But the spells of the
Casa Montana always have a certain elegance. This is graceless! This isЧ"
Both round old faces turned towards Antonio and Paolo. Old Niccolo's face, and
his eyes in it, were round and wondering as the latest baby's. Aunt Francesca's
face was too small for her huge body, and her eyes were small and shrewd. "I was
just coming," said Old Niccolo. "I thought it was Tonino in trouble, but you
bring me Paolo."
"Paolo's not in trouble," said Aunt Francesca.
Old Niccolo's round eyes blinked at Paolo. "Paolo," he said, "what your brother
feels is not your fault."
"No," said Paolo. "I think it's school really."
"We thought that perhaps Elizabeth could explain to Tonino that he can't avoid
learning spells in this Casa," Antonio suggested.
"But Tonino has ambition!" cried Aunt Francesca.
"I don't think he does," said Paolo.
"No, but he is unhappy," said his grandfather. "And we must think how best to
comfort him. I know." His baby face beamed. "Benvenuto."
Though Old Niccolo did not say this loudly, someone in the gallery immediately
shouted, "Old Niccolo wants Benvenuto!" There was running and calling down in
the yard. Somebody beat on a waterbutt with a stick. "Benvenuto! Where's that
cat got to? Benvenuto!"
Naturally, Benvenuto took his time coming. He was boss cat at the Casa Montana.
It was five minutes before Paolo heard his firm pads trotting along the tiles of
the gallery roof. This was followed by a heavy thump as Benvenuto made the
difficult leap down, across the gallery railing onto the floor of the gallery.
Shortly, he appeared on the library windowsill.
"So there you are," said Old Niccolo. "I was just going to get impatient."
Benvenuto at once shot forward a shaggy black hind leg and settled down to wash
it, as if that was what he had come there to do.
"Ah no, please," said Old Niccolo. "I need your help."
Benvenuto's wide yellow eyes turned to Old Niccolo. He was not a handsome cat.
His head was unusually wide and blunt, with gray gnarled patches on it left over
from many, many fights. Those fights had pulled his ears down over his eyes, so
that Benvenuto always looked as if he were wearing a ragged brown cap. A hundred
bites had left those ears notched like holly leaves. Just over his nose, giving
his face a leering, lopsided look, were three white patches. Those had nothing
to do with Benvenuto's position as boss cat in a spell-house. They were the
result of his partiality for steak. He had got under Aunt Gina's feet when she
was cooking, and Aunt Gina had spilled hot fat on his head. For this reason,