She took her time, trying to distinguish detail against the bleached sky. "It's definitely a group of riders, perhaps ten or twelve men," she said at length, "and they're coming from the direction of Bokhara. Do you think we're being followed?"
"It's possible. If someone tracked us far enough to learn that we are going to Persia, but not on the main caravan route, this is the only other possibility."
Juliet scrambled to her feet. "Perhaps we should leave."
Still seated, Ross shook his head. "Not just yet—even Turkoman horses need rest in this heat, and while Ian is doing amazingly well, he's not made of iron. I'll stay here and watch the riders. When they're closer, we can decide if they look threatening. Go get some rest. You're not made of iron, either."
"Could I lie down here beside you?" she asked rather shyly, knowing that being near Ross would strengthen her more than anything else could. "I promise I'll try to sleep."
For answer, he caught her hand and tugged her down until her head was in his lap. His hard thigh made quite a decent pillow. To her surprise, she dozed off.
The shadows had lengthened when Ross shook her shoulder. "It's time to get moving again. The riders behind us are dressed like Bokharan soldiers, and I can't think of any reason for them to be here except for pursuing us."
"Damnation." Juliet stared in dismay at the dust cloud, which was now close enough to see without the spyglass. "I didn't really believe that anyone would be so persistent."
"Shahid Mahmud would be." Ross got wearily to his feet. "He took a very personal dislike to both of us and he's the bulldog sort who never quits."
They hastened down the hill to wake the others, and were on their way within five minutes. Through the night they pushed on steadily, but the next morning, when Ross stopped at a high point to check the trail behind them, they had made only a little headway on their pursuers.
Frowning, Ross put away his spyglass. The men behind must be aware of their presence, for both groups were moving as fast as possible under these conditions, and the interval between them was fairly constant.
If Ross and his companions could keep up their present speed, they would be safe. But almost any kind of trouble would slow them, with disastrous consequences.
As Ross rejoined the others and gave the signal to continue, he offered a silent prayer of thanks that Ian was equal to the pace they were setting. Having survived the Black Well, Ian was not about to die now that he was free. The forge of the desert had refined him down to raw willpower and tenacity. He would not allow his condition to become a source of problems.
But trouble did come later that day, when the next water hole turned out to be dry. It had been two days since the last well, and they had only a little water left in the waterskins. Carefully rationed, it would last the humans for perhaps two more days, but the horses would need water long before then.
Grim-faced, they set their course for the next water hole.
* * *
Mercilessly Shahid drove his troops through the tawny, shifting dunes. At the outer limits of vision was another party moving away at high speed, and he knew beyond doubt that it was his prey.
Instinct had led Shahid this far, an almost uncanny ability to think like his quarry. It had worked with gazelles and lions, and now it was proving no less effective with the ferengi. At the Oxus, a ferryman gave a description confirming that Khilburn was traveling west with three men, including the Targui, but it was instinct that told Shahid they would take the seldom-used southern route, with its unreliable water supply.
When they reached the dead well, Shahid knew that he would win, for unlike the ferengi, he and his men had two packhorses carrying extra waterskins that were still full. Soon Khilburn and his friends would slow, and then they would be ripe for the plucking. A fierce light in his eyes, Shahid forced his grumbling troops to push on faster.
* * *
Another endless, exhausting day passed. Juliet found it eerie to know that the pursuit was growing ever closer. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw that their enemies were still beyond gunshot range, but that would not be true much longer. Allowing her weary horse to drop back by Ross's, she said, "I think it's time to find an ambush site and wait for them."
Ross grimaced. "It may come to that soon. Our rifles are our one great advantage, especially since most Uzbeks aren't the marksmen that Pathans and Afghans are. But there are still a dozen of them to only two guns for us."
Juliet gave a worried glance at the sky. "If we're going to make a stand, we should do it soon, before the sun sets."
He studied their surroundings, which consisted of low, rolling sand hills. "I would cheerfully trade all of this sand for a nice rocky defile, with us holding the high ground."