As he disappeared from view, I said somewhat wistfully, “I wish I could have gotten to know him better; seems like such an intriguing chap. And to think, he even brought me a gift. So kind of him, Pandayji. I wonder what’s in the box.”

“Remember,” said Pandayji, “you promised to wait.”

“Until dinner then,” I replied.

“I am so excited about meeting Gideon and Marla, John,” said Pandayji, “I didn’t know they were here.”

“They travel a lot,” I replied. “You never know when you’ll bump into them. I only knew that they were here when they stopped by my hotel. I’m sure you’ll enjoy their company.”

“I bet I will,” said Pandayji.

“Let’s wait for them in the restaurant.”

We walked to the Samarkand and were ushered to a table for four near a window overlooking the sea.

“Remember this table, John? This is where you, Mardai and I sat many times, years ago.”

“Yes,” I replied, “seems familiar but feels like it was a century ago.”

“Now you may open your gift from Boatman. It’s dinner time.” “You’re right. Let’s see what it is before Gideon and Marla arrive.” With that, I tore off the wrapper. In myhand was a small, beautifully crafted, wooden box that carried the faint odor of cedar. I gently opened it to find a small velvet pouch in the center. I held the pouch, which felt like it contained a solid object. Pandayji leaned closer as I inverted the pouch and gingerly extracted its contents. There, in the palm of my hand, was a smooth stone about the size of a walnut, somewhat oblong in shape with a faint, grayish, green color. I looked at it more closely and saw there were letters carved into it.

“Look, Pandayji,”I exclaimed, “it’s a stone with the word . . . oh, this can’t be . . . Pandayji, this is impossible . . . no, no it just can’t be. Would you believe this Pandayji? Look what’s written here. It says . . . this is something else ...”

“What, John? For heaven’s sake, what does it say?”

“See for yourself,” I stammered, “it says AMBROSE.

It’s the Ambrose Stone. Pandayji, this can’t be, can it?” I handed the stone to Pandayji who examined it with wary eyes. “I’ve heard about this stone and its magical qualities. But why did Boatman bring it to you?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea, Pandayji. Years ago, my dad told me about this stone.I spent considerable time and energy trying to locate it. I remember my dad said something of hearing about the stone from an old man who lived by the river.”

“Well, Boatman lives by a river. Could it be that he’s the old man your dad told you about?”

“Couldn’t be,” I said, “my dad never visited this coun- try. How could he have met Boatman?”

“Hello there,anybody home?”rang a familiar voice.Both Pandayji and I were so focused on the stone that we hadn’t noticed Gideon and Marla standing next to our table.

“Pandayji,” I said as I held the stone, replacing it in its pouch, “I want you to meet my dear friends, Gideon and Marla.”

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