Ever since January, Tonino would not go to the library, nor any bookshop. Elizabeth knew it was not because her son had become bored with literature, because she saw him reading as often as ever, with Benvenuto settled protectively on his lap always. Yet, here was the strange thing: it was only the same five books. Books he bought for himself maybe a year or so ago, or books from when he was very little. These latter books perplexed Elizabeth the most. They were far below Tonino's reading level, and he had known well how each delightful story goes for years. Tonino hadn't touched those little books in years, for that matter; but there he was, reading the same five stories he knows by heart over and over and over again.
The only relatively new book Tonino had become possessed by in recent times was The Boy Who Saved His Country. However, that was not merely a child's obsession - that was a spell. A most devious spell . . . It made Elizabeth's blood boil and eyes sharpen to think of it.
Despite Tonino's conspicuous absence from Caprona's library and bookshops, he managed to receive new books in the manner of gifts. It was a common occurrence, because everyone knew fantasy stories were the best gift you could give a boy like Tonino.
He read none of these. The book Tonino got from Marco at his birthday party practically disappeared. It was the next installment of a series Tonino had rather taken to last December. Tonino accepted the gift graciously enough, smiled even - but there are details a mother is keen to notice in her child. She saw how Tonino's anxious palms left marks on the dust-jacket; how he did not skim through the pages with the usual excitement of anticipating what sort of journey is to take place within the binding, instead picking at the book's corners until the edges were fuzzy. Behind his eyes, Tonino looked as if he were lost someplace dark, and it saddened Elizabeth deeply. He did not open the book at any point after having accepted it from Marco, and the beautiful book was never seen again by anyone at the Casa.
No, Tonino had not become bored with literature. Elizabeth was certain it had far more to do with what happened to him in January.
One can only imagine what went through Elizabeth's head when Tonino soon left for England, to study at Chrestomanci Castle; and what horror of thoughts haunted her when she recieved news that Tonino had been abducted and in mortal danger, for the second time in his young life.
One can only imagine what went through Elizabeth's head when Tonino then left for France with the Chant family, in good health and high spirits so she heard, but still so very far from her.
One can almost feel the cacophony of emotion Elizabeth felt when she met Tonino as he arrived back in Caprona at last, looking dizzy and glad.
One might also imagine what it would have been like to see Tonino with two new books under his arm, and hardly a hint of anxiety on his face or in his hands.
