Chapter 13
Ronnie’s Secret
White Doors
The seven coloured doors opened together.
The Poncos entered wearing formal jackets in their own colours. Ponco Red’s buttons gleamed. Ponco Orange carried three dice. Ponco Yellow had polished his pointed shoes. Larry’s hat feather kept directing him towards the nearest cake. Ponco Blue wore spectacles with no glass in them because, he said, they aided intellectual concentration. Ponco Indigo’s robe was clean and richly coloured. Ponco Violet carried a notebook of improvements for the submarine.
They took their places around a circular table divided into seven coloured sections. An eighth section was white.
Ronnie sat in the white chair.
“Welcome to the Great Debate,” he announced.
Paul remained standing.
“Before it begins, Ronnie has something to tell everyone.”
Ronnie’s face reddened.
“Do I?”
“Why the rainbow is cracking. Why you brought me here. And what happens when I choose a winner.”
The Poncos muttered.
Ronnie removed his tall white hat and placed it on the table.
“Long ago, the Poncos built the Radiant Rainbow as a bridge between worlds. Every colour powers one part, while the Heartlight combines them into white.”
“A masterpiece,” Ponco Blue said.
“Mostly my idea,” said Ponco Red.
“It was not,” six voices replied.
The room trembled.
Ronnie continued. “Over time, each Ponco became convinced that his or her colour supplied more power than the others. Their arguments pulled the colours apart. The Great Debate was created to settle the matter.”
“By choosing the best colour,” Ponco Orange added.
“What happens to the colours that lose?” Paul asked.
No one answered.
“Their power will be reduced,” Ronnie finally said.
“And if the winning colour cannot power the rainbow alone?”
“It will,” said Ponco Red.
“Obviously,” said Ponco Yellow.
“According to my calculations,” Ponco Blue began.
“You don’t know,” Paul said.
The Poncos fell silent.
“That is why you chose an outsider. If the rainbow breaks, you can blame my decision instead of your argument.”
Ronnie looked ashamed. “I chose you for another reason too. You were bored, but you never stopped wondering. I hoped you might notice what we had missed.”
“You could have asked.”
“Would you have stepped into the rainbow if I had sent a letter explaining that seven vain inventors required you to judge an unstable machine?”
Paul considered this. “Probably not.”
“Then I apologise for collecting you.”
Ronnie held out his arm. Paul did not PoncoPat him.
Not yet.
Above them, a scroll unfurled from the ceiling.
THE GREAT DEBATE, it read.
Seven golden rules appeared beneath it.
- Each Ponco may speak for three minutes.
- The truth must be told.
- No interruptions are allowed.
- No rude words are allowed.
- No sleeping or feet on the table.
- The Chair’s decisions must be obeyed.
- Paul’s decision is final.
Ponco Orange produced a spinning top with seven coloured sides.
“Let the game begin!”