He stretched out the rod and turned on his heels. He sang and blanked his mind and listened to the tremors in his hands.
Stop. Back right. Now the left. Too far. Down. Correct left....
Here!
He pressed a button on the rod. A tripod sprang out. A pair of sights flipped up. Carefully he sighted down the rod, out through the window-wall beside the table, to a grove of trees in the park.
Creation roaring in his open head, divining rod in hand, he stormed out the door and down the hall. Lee and George hurried after him. The presence of their well known minds pleased him. There was George's unexpressed belief that he had "mastered" and guided the Power he feared. There was Lee's worry for him and her keen awareness of human realities. And there, too, were self-discipline, intelligence, affection, and a richness of experience and thought he expected to draw on for another forty years.
And filling the world, pounding on the walls of existence, the Power. His power. He, the master of the world! He who could uproot the trees, spin the earth, make the ground shake and change the colors of the sky.
He felt George's clear-eyed, good-humored tolerance. A hypnotic command triggered in his mind. He saw a Roman Caesar ride in triumph and the slave behind him said, "Caesar, remember you are mortal."
My power? It is a gift from the Fountain of Creation. Mine to use with the wisdom and restraint implanted by my teachers. Or else I'll be destroyed by my power.
He laughed and rolled into a cannon ball and hurled his body through the wood.