Diana Jones - Power of Three

G air had never heard anything like the bawling of Fandi and Ondo, and the yells of Kasta, Scodo and Pad on their behalf. He came down from his windowsill to investigate. By then, the whole mound was in an uproar. Gair learnt from Ayna and Miri that his brother had put a Thought on Ondo and Fandi, and, from Miri, that it was going to take the next three days to get it off them. There was great excitement, because the Gift of Thought was an extremely rare Gift. The last person to have it had died over a hundred years before.

None of this mattered to Kasta. She just wanted Ceri punished for damaging her Ondo. In intervals of wringing her hands over the stuck, crooked Ondo, she searched for Ceri and made everyone else search too. Ayna and Gair did their best for him by suggesting all sorts of places where Ceri could not possibly be. But Kasta found him in the end – “She would!” said Ayna – and dragged him to Gest. Gest took his shoe to Ceri.

After that, Gest went to order the making of the triple gold collar Ceri was now entitled to. Adara caught his arm and stopped him. “Why?” Gest said crossly. “Kasta can shout all she likes, but I’d bet half the gold in Garholt it was all Ondo’s fault.”

“I’m sure it was,” said Adara. “But Ceri’s far too conceited already. Give him the collar when he’s old enough to have earned it. For the moment, I think this Gift is best forgotten.”

Gest thought she was right, on reflection. Thought was a very dangerous thing in the hands of someone like Ceri. So Adara called Ceri aside and talked to him. She explained that the Gift of Thought was a serious responsibility: it could do a great deal of harm. Ceri was neither old enough nor sensible enough to use it. Therefore, he was not being given a triple collar yet, until he could prove he knew how to use the Gift responsibly. In the meantime, he was utterly forbidden to put Thoughts on people and was to do his best to forget he had the Gift. Adara talked for a long time, and Ceri cried.

When Adara had finished, he crept miserably away among the clacking looms to Gair’s windowsill and asked Gair if he could come up. Gair agreed. He did not blame Ceri for wanting to be private too. But Ceri did not want to be private. He wanted to consult Gair.

Gair, to his great astonishment, discovered that his habit of sitting apart on the windowsill had given him a reputation for wisdom among all the children in Garholt. Gair was ashamed. He wanted to explain to Ceri that he only sat there because he was ordinary, but he had not the heart to. Ceri was sniffing and sobbing and trusted Gair to help him.

“I don’t mind about the collar,” he said. “Or the things Mother said. Or Father’s shoe – much. But I don’t know what I did, Gair. I don’t know how to stop doing it again. I’m afraid of killing someone! What shall I do?”

Since Ceri thought he was wise, Gair did not like to disappoint him. He thought about it. “Perhaps,” he said dubiously, “you’d better find out how you did it and practise using it on something that doesn’t matter.” This sounded very feeble to him. “Then you wouldn’t do it by accident,” he said.

Ceri seemed to think this was perfectly good advice. “Yes. But I don’t know what I did,” he said dolefully.

Gair could not tell him that. All he could say was, “Well, try and remember what you did. Go on. Think.”

“All right.” Ceri sat beside Gair on the sill, with his knees drawn up beside his ears and his hands between his feet, and thought until Gair was bored. At last he said doubtfully, “I think I sort of pointed a piece of the inside of my head at them.”

“Then try and do it again now,” said Gair.

“What on? I’m not supposed to use you,” said Ceri.

Gair had worn the windowsill smooth. There was nothing there Ceri could use. Gair looked out at the bees – but you did not meddle with bees for a number of good reasons – and thought over the things in his pockets. He had nothing in them that he was willing to let Ceri spoil. He could think of only one thing that might do. “Here you are.” He took the gold collar off his neck, careful to keep hold of either end so that it would not start turning to black ore again, and held it out towards Ceri. “Try and break this in two.” Ceri looked awed by Gair’s daring. “Go on,” said Gair. “Plain collars are easy to mend, if you can’t.”

“All right.” Ceri clasped his arms round his knees and stared at Gair’s collar. Nothing happened. Gair was just about to give up and put the collar back on again, when Ceri’s eyes widened. Gair found his hands moving apart from one another, each holding half of the collar. “I did it!” said Ceri. Both of them burst out laughing.

“Now mend it,” said Gair.

“Ooh!” said Ceri. “Suppose I can’t?”

“I’ll get into trouble. Not you. Go on. Try.”

Gair held out the two halves. Ceri tried. The effect was immediate, but unexpected. The collar leapt together, dragging Gair’s hands with it. One piece slid on top of the other and, the next second, Gair was holding one half of a collar twice as thick. He was forced to laugh again at the frantic bewilderment on Ceri’s face.

“Oh dear!” said Ceri.

“Try again,” said Gair. “We’ll both get into trouble if it stays like this.”

Ceri knelt up and tried earnestly. The collar grew between Gair’s hands, and grew, and went on growing, until Gair was holding both ends of a gold wire. The wire tied itself into a bow. The bow compressed into a little gold bar. It took Ceri half an hour to work Gair’s collar back to its proper shape, and by that time they were both weak with laughing. Gair put the collar back on.

“Use something else next time,” he said.

Ceri went away and fetched some marbles. Then, for the next three days, while, from among the houses below came the monotonous chanting of the words which would eventually take the Thought off Ondo and Fandi, Ceri sat on Gair’s windowsill and exercised his Gift. He chopped marbles in two, turned them egg-shaped and rolled them this way and that. Gair grew heartily bored and longed to have his windowsill to himself again. But he saw Ceri felt safest there. He thought Gair was wise enough to protect him from the consequences of his new Gift. Gair felt a fraud, but he had not the heart to turn Ceri out.

Gest saw Ceri sitting up there and began to feel that both his sons were turning out peculiar. “I think they’d both better come on the next hunt,” he told Adara. Adara agreed, thinking it would help Ceri to forget about his latest Gift.

Ondo and Fandi were themselves again on the third day. Orban arrived with an escort to take them home again, and they left. Kasta gave Ceri – and Gair too – very baleful looks before she went. She was convinced Gair had egged Ceri on.

That same evening, Ceri put his marbles in his pocket, smiled happily and told Gair he knew how to manage Thoughts now. Gair was relieved. But the peace he was looking forward to was shattered when Gest told him he and Ceri were coming on the hunt.

Gair enjoyed hunting, these days, but Ceri loathed it. So far, Ayna and Gair had prevented Gest finding out. Gest would have been furious to find any son of his did not love to hunt. Gair’s heart sank, because he would be responsible for Ceri. They would be out two days too, for the great midsummer Feast of the Sun was near and had to be provided for. Ayna had been consulted and she had said there would be deer again, in the north-east of the Moor. Gair thought he would be lucky to get Ceri all that way without some kind of trouble.