Jacob and the Blue Jewel

By Barrie Bussey

Jacob has moved to a new area and new school leaving his friends behind. Worse still he is being bullied. All this changes when he finds a strange blue stone and meets an odd tramp and an odder green creature. After following his nemesis through a magic door he finds himself in a strange new world which is in the middle of an invasion by an evil race. To escape he must join a quest to assemble the magic Blue Jewel and make a prophesy come true. All does not go well.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781326771645

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Jacob and the Blue Jewel

JACOB & THE BLUE JEWEL

Copyright

Copyright © 2016 by Barrie Bussey

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

First Printing 2007

ISBN 978-1-326-77164-5

[e-mail]

PART 1 - THE BEGINNING

CHAPTER 1 - A DISAPPEARANCE

But it’s boring here!

Jacob's mother put on her this-is-the-final-word expression and turned from the sink to face her son.

Look, it’s at least two hours to lunch and I don’t want you under my feet, I've got lots to do.

She turned back to the sink once more and began to unload handfuls of soapsuds together with the occasional cup and saucer-onto the-draining board.

Jacob sighed, one fist pushed grumpily under his chin.

Why don't you go out and find someone to play with, his mother tossed over her shoulder.  It's a lovely day.

It was indeed a lovely day, one of many long hot days which had stretched out over that summer, but Jacob was not in.  the mood to appreciate such meteorological miracles.

I've nothing to do.

His mother shook her head.

I don't know.  I could never keep you indoors back ho … she stopped herself just in time from saying home,  back in the old house, she finished.

Jacob scowled.

It's different here.  There's no one to play with.  All my friends are back home.

His mother refrained from pointing out that this was home now.  To tell the truth, she did not feel at home here herself.  It was certainly different living in the country.

There's that Philip Masters, he doesn't live far away and he always seems to have lots of friends.

Jacob’s scowl deepened, his brain tumbling with all manner of things he could say concerning Philip Masters but he refrained from mentioning them.

Suffice to say that Philip Masters was the enemy; the phantom which haunted his dreams and did a fair job on his wakeful hours as well.  It was difficult to imagine why this should be so.  In truth he was not much taller than Jacob himself and he was very much thinner but there was a madness around the eyes that scared Jacob and made him want to run when he knew he should stand and fight.  Philip Masters and his gang were people to be avoided.

I don't want to play with them, he said defensively.

"If you ask me you don't know what you do want."

Jacob sank deeper and deeper into his thoughts.  Why had they come to this rotten place anyway?  He had been happy back home.  His mother turned, exasperated, from the sink.

Look, If you sit there much longer I'll give you something to do.  There's all this washing up wants drying,

Jacob shuffled anxiously to his feet but made no move for the door. His reaction had been a nervous one.

Just look at your shoes!

His mother's voice took on a high-pitched tone that was usually reserved for the most appalling catastrophes like failing to clean his teeth or wash behind his ears.

They're practically brand new, she went on, I don't know where you think I get the money from I really don't.

A memory flitted across Jacob's mind of a similar encounter with his mother.  On that occasion it had been caused by him taking two apples from the bowl in the dining room instead of one.  He could hear her now.

I just don't know where you think I get the money from for those apples.  They don't grow on trees you know.

A smile forced its way between his lips at the recollection and his mother's voice took on an even higher tone.

It's nothing to laugh at.  You just wait until your father gets home my lad.

Jacob sensed that this would be a good moment to leave and he slipped quickly out of the door while his mother's back was turned.  He crouched at the corner of the house and risked a peep round before running, bent almost double, and diving for the safety of the hedge.  Once there he could scan the lane up and down for any sign of the enemy with little fear of himself being spotted first.  His eyes strained against the glare of the sun but it seemed that it was all clear; just as well for before he could raise himself off his stomach his mother's voice rang out.

And don't forget.  It's lunch in two hours.

Jacob rose self-consciously and quickly dusted himself off before ambling nonchalantly into the lane, feigning a silent whistle as he did.

And now I've got to wear rotten glasses as well, he thought to himself, kicking at a large pebble half buried in the lane. As if things weren't bad enough.

He stopped his excavation work and looked around guiltily; his thoughts had found their way into words and the last thing he wanted was to be caught talking to himself.  All the other kids in the neighbourhood thought him strange enough as it was.  He gave the pebble one last kick, adding yet another scrape to his toecap, and went on his way. 

As he walked, he bent his head and watched as one foot after the other came into his vision.  The shoes weren't really that bad.  His mother as usual had exaggerated.  It was mostly mud anyway.  Nothing that a little cherry blossom wouldn't cure.  Certainly not the battlefield his mother made them out to be.

Jacob came to a halt with a thud as the lane bent sharp left and he did not.  So intent had he been on studying his shoes that he had slithered down the side of the steep ditch and fallen heavily on his elbow.  He sat there for a while rubbing his sore places and then, forgetting all about them, he lay back and studied the deep blue of the sky instead.  It really was a glorious day and the sky, yet again was completely devoid of cloud.

It had been ages since it had rained which was lucky really for his shoes would have been a real mess if the ditch had been full of water.  His thoughts drifted on as thoughts do on fine days when there really isn't much to do and Jacob let them have their own way.  They wandered back to last summer, before his parents had moved here.  Back home.  There, he had been part of a gang, a band of ruffian children who had known each other for all their lives and who were bonded together by a common background more firmly than if they had been brothers and sisters.  It was the same here really.  Except that he was the new kid here, the outsider, and it was he who was in the painful process of initiation.  Not that he wanted to be a member of the local gang.  It was different here, out in the country and there were different rules for almost everything.  There were less children for a start and you couldn't get lost in the midst of a howling mob the way you could at home.  The games were different too.  Here it was all organised stuff like football and cricket or bike rides.  They didn't seem to use their imagination at all.  Back home it had been Custer's last stand or the Invaders from Mars, things you could get lost in.  But not here.  Jacob shrugged his shoulders. 

I wouldn't play with that lot even if they'd have me in their rotten gang.

Yes everything was different here.  And as for school, well that didn't bear thinking about. 

It had been all right at first in the village school.  The close family atmosphere was just right for Jacob and he revelled in it for just two months before disaster struck.  For no reason, or certainly for no reason which was given to Jacob, the school was closed down.  It was one of those mysterious grown-up things that are always too difficult to explain and just seem to happen without anyone doing anything, They simply announced that the school was closing and that everyone was being transferred to Mr. Bailey's school in a nearby town.  And that was it.  They couldn't even wait until end of term.

Jacob hated the idea of it from the moment he heard, before he had even so much as seen the new school.  The mere sound of Mr. Bailey's school was enough to convince him that it just wasn't for him.  He knew he would hate it when he left home on that very first morning.  He told his mother so but she only laughed.  The bus ride only served to convince him even more and when he caught his first glimpse of the large red-bricked buildings, well all his worst fears were realised.  He had told them all along that he would hate it and when he walked through the gate for the first time, he was absolutely right.  He knew he would be.  He detested it! He absolutely abhorred it and everything about it.  After all, how could anyone fail to hate a place called Mr. Bailey's school.  It was obvious.  Why was he the only one to realise it?

Mind, the first few days weren't too bad really.  Jacob spent most of the time pottering around getting used to the ghastly place and trying to convince everyone that he didn't prefer to be called Jake.  But he always had to do that wherever he went, it was just that there were more people here and they seemed to be more reluctant than most to use his proper name.  Still he was used to that by now.  What were much harder to get used to were the lessons.  He could do the reading and writing all right, especially the composition, but the sums were just like a foreign language to him.  He would try very hard to scrape around inside his head for numbers any old numbers that looked as though they might fit in somehow but they never did.  His sums book began to look like one of his dad's football pools coupons with all the crosses in it and his teacher was beginning to get a little cross himself.  He kept on mentioning funny things called tables and though Jacob tried very hard and was really very understanding about it he just couldn't see where tables fitted in at all.  In the end he decided that it was perhaps better to keep quiet about the whole affair and hope that his teacher, Mr. Blenkinsop, wouldn’t notice him so much.  When called upon to take tests and things Jacob simply guessed and got more answers right that way than he ever did by trying to work them out properly.  He became convinced that people who were very good at sums were simply a bit luckier than he was, that was all.

Disaster followed disaster in that awkward way things have of happening.  No sooner is one crisis averted, or at least got used to, than another crops up to be dealt with.  Jacob's next crisis came in the lanky red-haired shape of Philip Masters. 

Strangely enough he lived fairly close to Jacob but for some reason he had not gone to the village school and Jacob had not attempted to make friends before.  Whether this was the reason or not was hard to determine, but Philip Masters took an instant dislike to Jacob and proceeded to try to make his life a misery.  He made fun of his northern accent and his difficulty with sums.  He was the one who persisted long after all the others had stopped calling him Jake and he never lost an opportunity to try to make Jacob look small.  Jacob adopted his usual tactic of ignoring it all but this only made matters worse.  Enraged by the apparent failure of his verbal attacks Philip began to take things further and further.  His taunts became more and more cruel, more persistent and even though Jacob tried to keep it all on a good-natured sort of level he began to realise that Philip was taking it all to heart.

Eventually one of their verbal battles turned into the inevitable physical one and in that respect Philip suddenly found himself superior.  Although he was thin, he was taller and stronger than Jacob and he found he could easily overpower him.  It was only a short time before Philip, became a bully. 

He wasted no time in calling names, instead he would simply push and jostle, goading Jacob into a fight which he knew he would always win.  As for Jacob, being basically a coward at heart, he would try to avoid contact but this proved very difficult.  It became a common occurrence for him to be set upon on the way home by Philip and his gang and his mother was beginning to get suspicious over the number of mud stains and rips he acquired.  It became so bad that Jacob would stay behind at school hoping that Philip would get tired of waiting in ambush.  Sometimes it worked but more often than not he was still waylaid thus making it necessary for him to explain why he was late as well as why his trousers were torn.

Things got slowly worse and he was relieved when end of term came.  He had thought that the summer holidays would work their usual miracles but it was not to be.  The long days with nothing to do were worse.  And then to cap it all he had to wear these stupid glasses.

He took the offending objects from the bridge of his nose and gave the lenses a brief wipe on the sleeve of his shirt.  It was as he was replacing them that he saw the thing lying in the parched grass at the bottom of the ditch.  At first he thought it was a trick of the light and then a broken bottle but curiosity finally got the better of him and he bent over to pick it up.

It was a round object about the size and shape of half a chicken egg cut from top to bottom but made from a substance that he had never seen before.  It was vaguely cold to the touch and certainly very hard but it was not the ordinary kind of pebble that was to be found nearby.  He hefted it in his palm marvelling at how heavy it was for its size and how wonderfully smooth and symmetrical it was.  Although it was obviously cut from something larger, the edge bordering the flat side bore none of the chips or flaws he expected.  It was perfect and just holding it in his palm seemed to give him a strange feeling of comfort.  But the most amazing thing of all he discovered when he held it up to his eye.  It was a sort of dull grey-blue colour when it nestled in his hand but when he held it to his eye he found he could see right through it.  The ditch and the bank looked faintly bluish when viewed through it but he could definitely make out all the details.  He racked his brain trying to work out just how an ordinary stone could suddenly become transparent but he found the whole thing too weird to explain.  What was more, when he took the stone back down from his eye it looked just the same as it had before. 

Several times he lifted it to his eye slowly, trying to discover the exact point where it became transparent but he found he could not do it; the point of change was at the precise moment when he had to adjust his focus and so he could not see the transformation.  One moment it was dull grey-blue the next it was blue glass.  He rubbed it gently against the material of his jeans and tried to work out what it could be and where it could have come from but it was like nothing he had ever seen before.

Oi you!

His thoughts were dashed to a thousand pieces by a gruff shout and when he looked up there was an old tramp standing on the bank directly above him.

Whatcha got there boy?

For a moment Jacob was rooted to the spot and struck dumb at the same time.  The tramp seemed to be an old man with long straggly hair and beard to match his general scruffy appearance.  He wore a thick black overcoat tied round the middle with a piece of coarse string and a battered old hat perched amidst the bird's neat of his hair completing an outfit that was totally unsuitable for such hot weather.  What little of his trousers showed beneath the bottom of his overcoat were caked with dried mud and one of his shoes was tied with the same kind of string that served him for a belt while the other appeared to be held together with a large safety pin.  All together he did not look a very commanding figure but Jacob never-the-less was transfixed at the sight of him.

Later he decided that it must have been the eyes which affected his so.  They were an odd blue-grey colour looking strangely out of place in the midst of the dirt-streaked, weather-beaten face and it was again later that he realised they were the same hue as the stone which he held in his hand.

Well!

The voice jerked Jacob out of his stupor. 

I aint got nothing, he said.  Honest.

A look of exasperation crossed the old tramp's face.

You haven't got anything, he said correcting Jacob's grammar but the boy misunderstood.

That's right, he said nodding brightly.  It's only an old pebble.

The large grey eyebrows that looked as though they were balls of dirty cotton wool stuck over the old tramp's eyes, met in a dark frown. 

Pebble? said that gruff voice.  It's more than an old pebble boy.

This time it was Jacob's turn to frown.  The old man was right, this thing was more than a pebble but how did he know?  He was too far away to see any detail and besides, from that distance it could not look any more than just an ordinary pebble.  He said nothing but inched slowly up the ditch hoping that the old man would not notice.

Stay where you are!

The authority in the tramp's voice made Jacob freeze and he stayed that way while the old man sat down on the top of the bank, swung his legs over the side and slid unceremoniously down into the ditch on his rump.  He smiled and as he did so his face changed completely.  It was like the sun coming out on a cloudy day and Jacob was suddenly at ease.  Never-the-less he felt that he ought to make at least one more try.

My mother says I shouldn't talk to strange men.

This time the tramp laughed in a hoarse cackle that sounded more like the snapping of dry twigs.

You'll go a long way before you find anyone quite as strange as me, he said.  And your mother's quite right.  But before you go just give me back my jewel.

Jacob pushed his hand containing the stone deep into his pocket. 

Jewel? he said innocently.  What jewel?

The old man chuckled again and surveyed the boy in front of him with a mixture of patience and amusement.  He took out an old clay pips and lit it with a curious lighter thing that seemed to be a metal rod and a piece of stone.  As he completed the complicated manoeuvre he never once took his eyes off the boy and only when the smell of strange tobacco reached Jacob did he speak once more.

That pretty blue stone which even now is nestling in your pocket, he pointed at Jacob's faded jeans with his pipe stem, is none other than the all-seeing eye of Thamador.  I know this because I stole it and as much as such larceny confers ownership, it is mine.  It is certainly more mine than it is yours.  So if you'll just hand it over.

As he said the last words his eyes had become as hard as flint and Jacob felt his head spin just watching them.  It was like on a roundabout at the fair when the car is whirled so fast that all attempts to focus on a specific point cause only further dizziness.  He tried looking away but something prevented him.  It was all he could do to blink and even then it was only for a moment before he was staring once more into those blue orbs.  This must be like what Uncle Harry feels when he's had one too many he thought to himself.  It came as a shock to find that his hand was now outstretched in front of him and his fingers were beginning to lose their grip on the blue stone.  He tried to stop them but found that all his efforts were useless.  It was as if his hand belonged to someone else. 

Soon the stone lay dull and lifeless in the middle of his open palm.  Then everything happened too quickly for his dazed senses to grasp. 

Something flashed across the bottom of the ditch between Jacob and the tramp jostling him as it went, and the spell was broken.  Jacob blinked and tried to close his hand once more but before his fingers could fold around that cold blue stone, other more frantic fingers snatched it from his palm.  It all happened so fast he barely understood what was going on but when a familiar voice rang out he knew what had happened.

Well now Jakey boy, what have we got here?

It was Philip Masters and he stood a little way up the ditch hefting the pebble in his hand.  A few paces behind him the smaller figure of Paul Morrissey, his right-hand man, grinned cunningly.

What is it Phil? he asked.  Is it really a jewel? Masters sneered over his shoulder.

Naw, it's only an old pebble.  The old fella must be bonkers.

Jacob found that all the fear he normally held for Masters had miraculously disappeared.  As his arch-enemy turned to speak to his friend, Jacob saw his chance.  He launched himself across the small gap and clutched wildly at Master's wrist.  The force of his charge knocked Masters backwards against the bank and the pebble was dashed from his hand at the impact.  It skittered up the ditch and rolled to the feet of Paul Morrissey.

But then something absolutely amazing happened.  As Masters was flung backwards it was as if the force had caused a sudden subsidence in the ground.  Instead of remaining flat on the side of the ditch he continued to fall.  As Jacob watched it was as if a hole had suddenly opened up and Masters had fallen through it.  Jacob felt his eyes widening in horror and the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.  It had all happened so quickly that he doubted his eyes but there was no doubting the result.  Of Masters there was no sign and the bank was as solid-looking and as hole-less as it had been before the incident.  Both Masters and the hole had completely disappeared.

oOo

CHAPTER 2 - THE SECRET OF THE BLUE JEWEL

Jacob's first reaction was to stand and stare at the bank where, apparently, Philip Masters had fallen through.  Now it looked like all the other pieces of bank that lined both sides of the ditch; a little dry looking due to all the recent hot weather but of holes large enough to swallow tall gangling bullies, there were none.  His brain tried to come up with a logical reason for the strange occurrence but it was hopeless.  Bullies just don't get swallowed up by the ground not even in books or dreams but Jacob pinched himself just to be on the safe side.  He felt foolish afterwards.  He could never understand why people did that in books, it was illogical to suppose that the dream would come to an end as a result of a pinch.  This time was no exception.  He felt, or dreamt that he felt, the pinch and afterwards there was still no hole and there was certainly no Philip Masters.

A sudden movement on his right made him jerk out of his reverie.  Paul Morrissey had stooped to snatch up something from his feet and was running for his life up the ditch.

The jewel! the old tramp shouted.  Quick after him boy!

Jacob reacted automatically and was in pursuit before he realised what he was doing, When he did realise, it was too late, he was committed.  It crossed his mind that it was usually he who was on the other end of a chase like this and he amazed himself at how good it felt, without considering for a moment what he should do when he caught up.  Although less of an influence than his leader, Paul Morrissey was a major source of fear just the same.  That is, he had been until now.  Somehow he seemed smaller and much less fearsome than before.  But none of this occurred to Jacob in his efforts to catch him up.

The ditch swung sharp right just in front and Morrissey was out of sight by the time Jacob arrived at the bend.  He paused and his brain whirled faster than it had for a long time.  If he remembered correctly the ditch snaked from right to left a few more times after this bend before settling down on a straight course once more at almost right angles.  If he were to climb the bank just here he might be able to cut off the corner.  Almost before his plan was formulated he was scrambling up the steep sides and he was soon dashing across the field.  Morrissey might have climbed out of the ditch himself of course or, hearing Jacob's ascent, doubled back, but none of these fears proved true.  As he approached the ditch on the diagonal corner of the field Jacob could hear clearly the laboured breathing and the heavy footsteps as Morrissey blundered along the ditch.  He had no time to consider a plan of campaign, which was merciful really for he might easily have backed out.  Without a moment's hesitation he launched himself over the side of the ditch and slid down the steep angle in much the same way the tramp had done earlier but considerably faster.

It was sheer luck that Morrissey was passing along at just the right moment.  With all the force of an express train, Jacob cannoned into the side of the smaller boy and, caught completely by surprise, he fell headlong at the bottom of the ditch, winded.  Jacob himself was far from unscathed and it took him a time to recover his composure.  When he did sit up and look around him he half expected that Morrissey might have gone the same way as his partner in crime.  But it was not to be.  Morrissey was very obviously still present.  He sat nursing his right shin, rocking from side to side and making the most pitiful noises.  Jacob found it difficult not to laugh at the pathetic sight and he was truly struck with amazement at how he could ever have been afraid of this creature.  He stood and dusted some of the dried grass from his jeans.

Give us that blue stone, he demanded, holding out his hand.

Morrissey made no move but continued to nurse his shin.  The only sounds Jacob could decipher were pitiful ow noises.

Come on, he growled, enjoying his new commanding role, where is it?

Morrissey turned his head. 

Just you wait till Phil …

He stopped at the thought of his departed friend and Jacob too found that thought rather strange.  A day earlier Philip Masters' sudden disappearance was all that he ever dreamed of, but now it had happened it was all so strange that he dismissed the thought from his mind.

The blue stone, he repeated impatiently and was rewarded by Morrissey forgetting his shin for a moment and delving into his pocket.

There it is, he muttered ungraciously, flinging it in Jacob's direction.  I'm telling my mum of you.

Jacob found himself laughing but just the same he took no chances and climbed out of the ditch instead of turning his back and retracing his steps.  This time he planned to cut off an even bigger corner and rejoin the ditch again at about the place where he had left the old tramp.  He held the stone up to his eye and, yes, the jewel - for now he could believe that it was indeed a jewel - had lost none of its transparent qualities.  He set off feeling doubly happy; not only had he got the jewel back but he had also triumphed over one of his many foes.

It was as he was approaching the ditch once more that he heard the voices.  Yes, voices, two of them.  One was easily recognisable as the old tramp but the other was a strange high-pitched reedy voice the like of which Jacob had never heard before.

Do you think the boy will get the jewel back? it was saying.  He looked rather puny to me.

Jacob felt the anger rising within him but he withstood the urge to rush headlong back into the ditch.  Instead he halted and quietly squirmed down onto his stomach.  The old tramp spoke once more as Jacob wriggled to the edge of the ditch.

"No, no Bok.  You mark my words, he'll be back with the jewel presently. 

Jacob parted a clump of coarse grass that was growing on the very edge of the ditch and peered down.  He spotted the old tramp at once but he appeared to be alone.  Sweeping his eyes up and down the ditch in both directions he could see no one else.  All kinds of weird thoughts went through his head.  Could the old man be mad enough to talk to himself or was it a two-way radio of some kind?  That would certainly explain the strange tone of the second voice.  But the answer was even more curious than that.  When the voice came again Jacob could place it more accurately and when he did, he saw where it must be coming from.

Well I think it was stupid entrusting a boy to such a task, it said.  I think you should have gone too.  In fact the whole thing was stupid.

And with that the enormous green frog that was sitting on the bank next to the old man's knee hopped to the bottom of the ditch and began to crawl about in the grass.

I shouldn't be at all surprised if he's simply run off, the frog continued.  Boys are such untrustworthy creatures.  Mind, girls are even worse.  In fact I never cease to be surprised that the human race survives with such an untrustworthy lot of …

Quiet Bok.

The frog would have undoubtedly continued in that vein for some time if the old tramp had not interrupted, His next words were directed upwards in Jacob's direction.  Why don't you come out?

This took Jacob so much by surprise that he overbalanced and tumbled head-over-heels down the bank, narrowly missing the frog, and ending up sprawled in a straw-covered heap at the old man's feet.

"I take it you've brought back the jewel.

Jacob looked up and found himself staring into two large black eyes, not more than six inches from him.  He nodded automatically and immediately wished he hadn't for the little green animal leapt immediately to its hind legs, turned three perfect somersaults and began to hop around shouting, Hand it over, hand it over, at the top of its very squeaky voice.  This close, Jacob could see that it was not a frog after all even though it looked like one.  The face was undoubtedly frog-like with large bulging eyes, and it was made more so by the lack of a proper nose, but there the similarity ended.  For a start it was too big; now that it was standing upright it was almost three feet high.  Its mouth was quite small and the chin was pointed while the feet and hands looked to be almost human without a trace of webbing.  The round fat body and the spidery arms and legs were all covered with a very fine green fur and to complete the totally-alien picture, a small thin, fur-covered tail, which Jacob noticed for the first time, swished excitedly from side to side.

What … , er who are you? Jacob stammered after a while.

The animal quietened and looked in his direction with a disdainful expression on its face.

Bok, it said simply, and if Jacob had not heard the old tramp use the name earlier he would have thought the sound to be some animal noise so strange did it seem coming from the small creature.

You can talk, Jacob said hesitatingly after a while.

Bright isn't he? said the animal to the old tramp in a sarcastic tone, of course I can talk.  In fact my command of language is undoubtedly far superior to yours.

This last Jibe was directed at Jacob and it was delivered with a little hop towards him.  Uncontrollably, Jacob jerked backwards and this caused Bok to collapse in a heap of waving limbs while that sharp reedy voice rose in pitch to a series of high cackling laughs.

Quiet Bok!

The old tramp's voice snapped across the ditch and Jacob could almost feel the authority in the command.  It had an immediate effect on Bok who stopped laughing at once and assumed a more dignified posture though his. expression still had a defiance about it.

Now Jacob, the tramp continued, you will have lots of questions no doubt.

Jacob was taken aback.

How do you know my name?

The old man smiled but before he could answer Bok piped in. 

Rhana the Mighty knows all things, again there was a trace of sarcasm in the tone and the words were delivered with a sly look round at the old tramp.

You heard Philip Masters call my name, Jacob challenged but the old man's smile merely widened.

What if I did? he said carelessly.  All knowledge is acquired.  It is not how it was obtained nor even how much but rather how it is used that is most important.

The thought of Philip Masters had brought with it the memory of his disappearance and Jacob turned to survey the bank where it had happened. 

"Where is Philip Masters?" he asked.

The old man leaned back and made a cradle of his fingers. 

That's a rather difficult question, he said slowly.

Jacob kicked with his heel at the spot where Masters had sunk without trace.  His shoe caused a dull solid-sounding thump.  Much the sort of noise one would associate with the side of a bank.

But where did he go?

Jacob continued his prodding and the old man sat up suddenly and gestured for him to stop.

Take care boy, If you have the Jewel … he stopped as suddenly as he had begun, sat back and smiled.  First things first.  You do have the jewel?

Jacob allowed his eyes to drop to the ground and though his hand went automatically to the jewel in his pocket, he said nothing.

Come, come boy.  You admitted as much to Bok here.

At the mention of its name the small green creature hopped to its feet and began to caper around much as it had done before.

Hand it over! Hand it over!

Jacob stood his ground defiantly.

What if I have, he said.  I have no proof that the stone is what you say it is.  I found it.  It's mine now.

Bok stopped capering and surveyed Jacob with large staring eyes before speaking.

I told you Rhana, it said.  Boys are untrustworthy.  Nasty, deceitful creatures! If you'd only listened to me.

The old man held up his hands.

Just be quiet Bok.  He turned to Jacob.  Now listen, I have no desire to take the Jewel from you against your wishes but you must realise how important it is.  I need to know where it is at all times.  It is the only way I can get back you see.

Jacob frowned and shook his head. 

"I don't see.  Get back where?"

Bok surveyed the boy with disdain. 

To Oronia of course.  Where we belong.  Don't you know anything?

Jacob felt annoyed by the creature's haughty manner.

How could I know if you didn't tell me?

The old man clapped his hands.

Well said young man.  It serves you right Bok.  I shan't tell you again.  Speak when you are spoken to.  Now Jacob let me explain.

Yes please do.  I'm beginning to get rather confused.  Perhaps you can begin with how you came to lose this jewel you need so much.

The old man's face clouded with slight embarrassment but it was for but a second and was replaced immediately by a twinkle in the eye and the usual pleasant, lopsided smile.

First things first.  Do you believe in magic?

Jacob felt his eyes widening of their own accord and it was all he could do to stifle a snort of indignation.  Before he could speak however, the old man continued.

I can see you don't but believe me, if you'd just let me have that Jewel for a second I could show you wonders you'd never dreamed …

The old man's words tailed off as Jacob's jaw set in a determined line.

"Ah I see you're