She wrinkled her nose. "I already have too many names, but I suppose you're right. Do you have any suggestions?"
He considered. "How about Jalal? It sounds a bit like Juliet and Gul-i Sarahi, so it should be easy to respond to."
"Fine. But you'll need another name too."
"My servants pronounce my title as Khilburn, which sounds suitably Central Asian, so I'll use that." He regarded her thoughtfully. "It will probably be best if you pretend to know little Persian and speak as little as possible."
"Are you telling me that if I keep my mouth shut, I'm less likely to get into trouble?"
"Exactly."
Juliet chuckled. "Much as it pains me to admit it, you're right. Very well, I'll be silent and eccentric with everyone but you and Saleh. But there is also something you must be careful about, Ross. Or rather, Khilburn. Forget those beautiful manners the duchess taught you. Don't help me with heavy loads, allow me through a door first, or show me any of the courtesy you usually show a woman. In fact, forget that I'm a woman."
"When you are swathed head to foot in black draperies, that won't be difficult," he said dryly as he stood and returned her rifle. "We'll have to stop wasting time if we're going to leave in two hours, Jalal. Packing won't be hard for me, but I imagine that you and Saleh will have a great deal to do."
"To say the least." Juliet slung the rifle across her back, then drew the veil around her head again. As they walked back to Serevan in a not unfriendly silence, she decided that they had gone from being second cousins, once removed, to first cousins. That was about the right distance.
Any closer would be dangerous.
* * *
Ross's reasonable plan went awry when he tried to discharge his servants. Allahdad accepted dismissal and a severance payment with an unflattering amount of pleasure, but Murad balked. After Allahdad left the room, the young Persian said, "I know you wish to punish me for my cravenness in abandoning you to the Turkomans, but please, Khilburn, do not dismiss me."
"I am not punishing you—there would have been no purpose in your sacrificing yourself," Ross said, a little surprised at the young man's vehemence. "But thinking you were gone, I decided to hire new servants here. Since they will be more knowledgeable about the Kara Kum and Bokhara, it makes sense to keep them on and release you and Allahdad. It should be easy for you to find more work in Meshed, and because of the severance payment, doing that will be more profitable for you than staying with me would be."
"I do not want another job!" Murad said. "I wish to go with you to Bokhara."
Ross studied the young man. About twenty, Murad was a handsome, likable youth even if he had proved to be an erratic guide. But the reasons Ross had given Juliet for dismissing his servants were still valid. "I'm sorry, but I will not need you for the rest of my journey."
His dark eyes tragic, Murad said, "You do not trust me, Khilburn, and justly so, but I swear I will not fail you again."
Ross thought about it. He judged that Murad was sincere, but unfortunately, he was also young and rather volatile. "It is not just a matter of being loyal to me, Murad, but to the other members of my party. I have decided to make the rest of the journey dressed in Asiatic clothing in the hope that I will not attract unwanted attention, but there is a danger that I might be thought a spy. Also, one of the men I hired here is a Targui from the western desert of Africa. I met him many years ago and know that he will be valuable on the journey, but the ways of the Tuareg are unusual. If you casually tell someone else in the caravan that I am a ferengi, or say how odd the Targui is, you might jeopardize the whole party. I cannot risk that."
"You are a good man, Khilburn, even though you are a ferengi. I swear I will say nothing that might bring trouble on you. As for the Targui..." Murad shrugged. "The tribes of Asia are many and varied. I have known Uigars, Kafirs, Baluchis, Kirghiz. I doubt that a Targui is so much more unusual."
"The men of the Tuareg always go veiled. With their faces covered, they seem uncanny, for it is impossible to know what they think. Even in their own desert lands, they are a legend."
"If the Targui is a believer and a reasonable man, I shall not quarrel with him." The young Persian leaned forward earnestly. "Yesterday I disgraced myself, and only by serving you well can I redeem my honor. I beg you to give me the chance."
Ross made a sudden decision. Besides the fact that he liked Murad, he felt that the young man would prove useful, and Ross had learned to trust his feelings. "Very well, you may come. Call me Khilburn and try not to think of me as a ferengi. If we return safely to Serevan and you have done your job well, I will give you a bonus beyond the fee we agreed on in Teheran."
Murad bowed. "I will serve you well, not for the bonus but for honor's sake." He flashed a charming smile. "Though I shall not refuse the bonus. You will not regret keeping me, Khilburn."
Ross certainly hoped that would prove to be true.
* * *
After sending Murad off to pack his belongings, Ross had a servant take a message to Juliet that the young man would be accompanying them and she would have to be in her role of Tuareg man from the very beginning. From Ross's perspective, the sooner she obliterated herself in folds of fabric, the better. If he couldn't see any of her lovely face or body, it should be easier to control his inconvenient desire.
Down at the shooting range, with her fair complexion set off by her black robes and a thick braid of fiery hair falling over her shoulder, he'd had to back away and cross his arms to ensure that he would not involuntarily reach out and touch her. Having Juliet break his arm for impertinence would be a poor start to their journey.
On returning to his room, Ross found his new wardrobe laid out on the bed. Inspecting the garments, he decided that the quality was just right, neither lavish nor impoverished. But then, he would never expect Juliet to be anything less than efficient, even on such short notice.
Loose, multilayered clothing was worn throughout the Islamic world. However, although there were endless variations, the rule of thumb was that North African clothing was generally simpler, most often consisting of robes that pulled over the head like a nightgown and mantles that wrapped around the body in various ways. That shapelessness was why Juliet could successfully disguise herself in Tuareg apparel. In contrast, Asiatic clothing tended to be more structured and usually involved one or more long, loose, sleeved coats worn over a tunic or shirt and trousers.
After stripping off his English clothes, Ross donned his new garments. Fortunately Juliet had managed to find a white cotton tunic wide enough in the shoulders to fit him. The baggy gray trousers could have been a bit longer, but were not so short as to arouse comment. A green-and-black-striped coat called a chapan went over tunic and trousers and fell to his knees. He belted that in place with a long white sash, then topped the outfit with a quilted coat that reached almost to his ankles. He was glad the garments were comfortable, because he would probably be wearing them day and night for the next month.
There was no footwear; his feet were not a standard size in this part of the world. However, his own dark brown leather boots were of unremarkable appearance and should not attract attention, particularly in their present scuffed condition.
Under the pile of clothing was a beautiful curving dagger. Sliding the blade from its sheath, he saw that it was not just decorative, but a lethally edged weapon that meant business. He thrust the dagger in his sash. With that, his rifle, a pistol, and the knife in his boot, he was armed like a hill bandit. He hoped none of the weapons would be needed; he had long since decided that the only good fight was one that never happened.
Finally Ross turned his attention to the yards of white muslin intended for his turban. Turbans were vastly practical garments, protecting the head from both sun and cold, absorbing sweat, capable of being drawn over the mouth against dust or sand. And, with grim practicality, there was enough material in one to cover a man's body completely so that it could be used as his shroud if necessary.
; But a turban was a great deal more than practical: it was a statement of tribe and class, of fashion and personality. After careful consideration, Ross decided that an Afghan style would be best. Afghans were often tall, so his height would be less conspicuous. Also, like most Central Asians, Afghans were Sunnis, members of the largest, most orthodox branch of Islam, while most Persians were of the Shiite sect.
Outside of their own country, Shiites were often harassed, sometimes even killed, so it would be best not to look like a Persian. Safety lay in being as unobtrusive as possible.
He put on the felt skullcap that Juliet had sent, then folded the length of muslin into rough pleats. It had been several years since he had worn a turban, and then it had been a Hindu style, but his hands remembered the technique. After a couple of false starts he managed to wind and tuck the fabric into a respectable Afghan turban, complete with a tail hanging down the side of his neck.
Juliet had even supplied a small pouch of surma. Though his lashes and brows were several shades darker than his hair, they were still light by Asian standards. After applying surma to his eyelids, Ross carefully rubbed a little into his eyebrows.
He surveyed himself as best he could in the small mirror. Not bad, he decided; it was a pity that he didn't have a full dark beard, but in this guise, no one would immediately single him out as a ferengi.
As important as altering his appearance, and rather more difficult, was changing his thinking to that of an Oriental rather than an Englishman so that he would not betray himself in subtle ways. He had done that successfully before, in less critical circumstances, so he would be able to do it again.
Next he cut the letters of introduction from the lining of his English coat. Sealed in oiled cloth packets, they were easily sewed into the padded chapan. Then he turned his attention to his European wardrobe, packing some garments to take to Bokhara while leaving more at Serevan.
Finally he was ready to go. Looking at his baggage, he smiled humorlessly. The journey across the Kara Kum would be hazardous, his reception in Bokhara much more so. Yet more difficult by far would be living cheek by jowl with the only woman who had ever had real power over him. Because, God help him, she still did.
Chapter 7
The camel lowered its head and brayed malevolently at Ross. Guessing that it was about to spit at him, he sidestepped neatly and muttered under his breath, "I think you're pretty ugly too."
A soft chuckle came from behind him. Then, in a voice too low for anyone else to hear, Juliet said, "Actually, as camels go, this one is rather pretty."
Ross repressed a smile. "And as camels go, this one will." He handed the reins to Juliet so that she could lead it over to join the others they wanted to buy. Juliet was quite correct: the camel was rather attractive, if you had a taste for beasts that looked as if they were designed by God on an off day.
The camels of Mongolia and Turkestan were of the two-humped Bactrian variety, and they were shorter, stockier, and shaggier than the single-humped dromedaries found in North Africa and western Asia. Bactrians were perfectly suited to the Central Asian climate, which had wide extremes of both heat and cold, so apparently God at least knew what he was doing when he set the camels in their respective territories.
Having placed the latest selection in Murad's charge, Juliet returned to help Ross choose the final camel they would need for the journey. The next one they examined was a cranky bull. Juliet expertly kneaded the humps with her hands, then shook her head. "Not enough fat. This one needs to be put out to pasture for several months. Probably wouldn't survive the trip to Bokhara."
Ross accepted her judgment. He had had a fair amount of experience with camels, but Juliet had more. In spite of the beasts' phenomenal endurance, they were in some ways curiously fragile and needed long spells of recovery after hard use. Only the fittest camels could survive the demanding journey across the Kara Kum, and Juliet had already rejected a number of the merchant's available stock.
The next possibility was a female with a sleek coat and thick, curling black hair along the underside of her throat. She batted her eyes flirtatiously, then swung her head around and belched in his face. For a camel, that counted as good nature.
Cautiously Ross inspected the animal's broad padded feet while Juliet gauged the camel's fitness. After a thorough examination of the humps, she said, "This one will do."
"I like her." Ross gave the camel a friendly slap on its flank. "I'll ride her myself and call her Julietta."
His wife's eyes flashed evilly through the narrow opening in her veil, but she refrained from comment because the owner of the camels, Mustafa Khan, was approaching.
They had set out from Serevan only about half an hour later than the time Ross had aimed for. Saleh had put aside his brilliantly colored silks for the sober dress of a merchant, and Juliet, in her veil and flowing dark robes, had been thoroughly convincing as a proud, prickly male servant. Murad had been openly curious about his Tuareg companion, but had not dared to venture any comments after his first tentative greeting was met by a cold stare and a single gruff syllable.
Escorted by half a dozen men from Serevan, they had descended from the mountain plateau to the arid plains that rolled endlessly into the distance, and hard riding brought them to Sarakhs before sunset. The unimpressive mud-brick community sat by a shallow, silty river on the edge of the desert. Nominally under Persian control, it consisted of perhaps two thousand families of non- nomadic Turkomans.
Wanting to choose the camels in daylight, Ross had had Juliet take them to the stock dealer as soon as they reached the town. Now, as darkness gathered, Ross sat down with the dealer to drink tea and bargain for the selected beasts. Bargaining was both art and entertainment in the East, and Mustafa Khan started the process with relish, demanding an outrageous amount.
Ross could have afforded what was asked, but spending too much might attract dangerous attention, and would certainly have proved that he was not Oriental. He countered with an offer a fifth of the asking price, then watched with deep appreciation while Mustafa Khan moaned, his eyes screwing shut with misery and his black mustaches drooping.
The Turkoman merchant pointed out that honored Khilburn had selected the finest beasts on the lot. Then, after speaking eloquently of his love for the camels, of how they were like his own beloved children and he offered them for sale only as a service for travelers like his noble visitor, Mustafa Khan lowered his price by ten percent.
Years of experience in the bazaars of Asia and Africa had given Ross a very respectable skill at bargaining, so he countered with a lengthy diatribe on the camels' flaws: the weakness of their muscles, the poorness of their condition, the probability that they would drop dead before they reached the middle of the Kara Kum. While it would surely be in his best interest to purchase his camels elsewhere, the affection and esteem that had instantly sprung to life on meeting Mustafa Khan led him to offer much more than the mangy beasts were worth.
When Ross named a new figure, the merchant clutched his heart and murmured that honored Khilburn wanted to orphan and beggar Mustafa Khan's children, then lowered his price again. And so it went, most pleasurably, through two hours and six tiny cups each of tea, while the other members of Ross's party took their ease with Eastern patience. Except for Juliet, who paced restlessly about the yard, looking dark and dangerous.
Twice Ross got up and started to leave, Saleh, Murad, and Juliet right behind him. The second time they actually reached the street before Mustafa Khan overtook them with a new offer.
Finally a deal was struck that included five camels, two pack saddles, and several other pieces of equipment that they would need. After mournfully announcing that the final price had ruined him, the merchant gave Ross cheerful directions to the caravansary where the rest of the caravan was spending the night.
In her guise of Jalal, Juliet had the job of chief camel driver, so she took charge of saddling and loading the two animals that would carry their supplies. After the first came
l was saddled, she tightened the girth twice, then couched it—that is, made the beast kneel so that it could be loaded.
Couching was a strenuous procedure. First Juliet twisted her fingers in the long hair under the camel's throat. Then she pulled on throat hair and nose rope, at the same time kicking the beast on the shin. It bawled a complaint but sank to its knees as Ross watched with amusement.
With a horse, such treatment would be considered abuse. With a camel, rough handling was necessary just to get the animal's attention.
When Ross brought over an armful of baggage to be loaded, he asked under his breath, "How did I do with the bargaining?"
"You paid a few dinars more than I would have," Juliet said, dodging back as the camel swung its head around and bared an impressive set of molars, "but it was a creditable showing against an old bandit like Mustafa Khan."
Ross grinned and went to saddle and couch the other pack camel. He and Juliet really should be more careful about these sub rosa exchanges; neither of them seemed able to resist the temptation to exchange thoughts and irreverent comments. It was unlikely that anyone else would understand, for they spoke in Tamahak with English words filling in when no Tuareg term existed, but it was still unwise to behave with such familiarity.
Their departure from Mustafa Khan's yard was delayed when the second pack camel managed to shed its load while lurching to its feet. Unsurprised, Ross sighed and started over on the tedious business of couching and packing. Since almost the only intelligence camels showed was for throwing their cargo, loading them required skill, and Ross had not done it in several years. In a few days he would have the knack again.
With Juliet's wordless help they successfully repacked and set off for the caravansary, leading their camels since the distance was short and the streets became progressively busier as they approached their destination. Having a caravan in town meant that all the peddlers and bazaar stalls were active, hoping to do more business before the travelers moved on.