Silk and Secrets(39)

Throughout the Islamic world, it was customary to eat with the fingers of the right hand only, since the left hand was ritually unclean and could never be used in a communal platter. Juliet had been eating Muslim-style for so long that it was second nature. She was skilled at rolling rice into a ball with her right hand, then deftly popping it into her mouth with a flick of her thumb, since it was bad manners to put the fingers in the mouth.

But she never tried to eat while keeping her face covered, and doing so proved unexpectedly difficult. Even among the Tuareg, only the strictest men stayed veiled while eating, and during Juliet's exasperating struggle to master the technique, she learned why.

She had loosened the tagelmoust so that she could bring her hand up under it, but found that constant care was needed to avoid displacing the veil. Twice she fumbled while raising her hand to her mouth, and scattered rice down the front of her dark robe. The second time that happened, she caught Ross's amused glance on her. She glared back, silently daring him to laugh.

Fortunately custom divided the communal platter into invisible zones, and it was discourteous to take food from another person's area, or she would not have gotten her share of the meal. By the time she finished, the rest of the platter had long since been emptied and the men were drinking tea.

Juliet accepted a small teacup herself and promptly learned that drinking while veiled was even harder than eating. Worse, it would be impossible to drink from a waterskin without lowering the tagelmoust.

She must take care to drink only when no one but Ross or Saleh could see her. With luck, anyone catching a fleeting glimpse of her face would assume she was a beardless boy, but she would rather not rely on luck.

After they were all done, Ross said to Murad, "We will be leaving before dawn." Then he glanced at Juliet. Speaking in Tamahak, as if he were repeating the same message, he said, "Meet me behind the caravansary in about a quarter of an hour."

She gave a noncommittal murmur of assent, curious about why her husband wanted to talk to her privately. Well, there was only one way to find out, so she got to her feet and stalked into the courtyard without explanation. Pretending to be a brusque Targui was giving her the opportunity to behave like a rude schoolboy, and she had to admit that it was rather fun.

The hour was getting late and the noise level was dropping as people began to retire for the night. Taking her time, as if she had no particular destination in mind, Juliet checked the bedded-down camels, then ambled across the courtyard and through the entry arch into the bazaar-lined street. There she turned left and followed the caravansary walls around to the back.

In stark contrast to the front of the building, she found empty desert stretching to the east as far as the eye could see, and a good deal farther. Beneath a thin crescent moon, a fitful wind blew from the north, rustling the thorny shrubs that clung tenaciously to the gravelly soil.

Juliet took a deep breath of the dry, desert-scented air, then exhaled. As she did, she felt tension flowing out of her. Apparently her masquerade was more of a strain than she had realized until now, when she could lower her guard. It was one thing to wear male garb when riding with her own men, who knew her for what she was, and quite another to be committed to weeks and months in disguise. But she had managed one day successfully. Tomorrow would be easier.

She stood unmoving in the shadow of a gnarled, scrubby tree, letting her eyes adjust to the starlight. There was no one else about, for men who traveled through the vast emptiness of the desert usually preferred to enjoy the companionship of their own kind when it was available.

About ten minutes later, Ross came around the corner of the caravansary, his stride unhurried. Even in the darkness, she had no trouble recognizing him by his height and the controlled power of his movements. Juliet held still, wondering if he would be able to find her. About a hundred feet away, he hesitated for a long moment, then came straight to her.

Juliet wondered how he had located her so quickly; he had been upwind, so it could not have been scent, she had not made a sound, and her dark robes must have been invisible in the shadows.

She refused to give him the satisfaction of asking how he had done it. When he was half a dozen feet away, she said in English, "Is something wrong, Ross?"

"I'm afraid so." In flat, uninfected sentences, he told her that the kafila-bashi had seen a ferengi executed, then went on to recount the conversation in detail.

Juliet accepted the news stoically, for it was not really a surprise. Yet when Ross described the physical condition of the man who had been executed, and how he had faced death, she drew an anguished, involuntary breath.

"I'm sorry, Juliet," Ross said, his voice almost inaudible.