Juliet wrapped the veil back over her face, then settled down to await the dawn call to prayers. Yet even pulling the blanket tightly around her, like armor, could not restore the loss of Ross's warmth.
Despairingly she wondered why the devil life had to be so complicated.
* * *
Traveling through endless, trackless desert induced a state of near-meditative blankness that the Arabs called kif. Ross recognized and welcomed it, for kif was the mind's way of dealing with the great void.
But one could not stay mindless forever. It was late afternoon and they would stop soon, so he slid from the saddle and began walking beside his placid camel. Trailing behind on a lead was one of the two pack beasts.
Four days into the desert crossing, the caravan had settled into a regular routine. During the summer, travelers would set out in late afternoon and continue through the night to avoid the killing heat, but since it was now springtime and temperatures were moderate, they rose before dawn and stopped around sunset.
Most men performed their prayers as they rode. The Koran allowed travelers to do, though some of the most devout stopped to pray, then caught up with the caravan later.
It was necessary to keep moving for twelve to fourteen hours every day, for camels ambled along at the leisurely pace of about two miles per hour. The beasts foraged continuously. Though most Europeans thought of a caravan as a sinuous line snaking across the desert, in reality the camels spread out so they could snatch whatever scant mouthfuls of shrubbery were available.
Ross knew dispersion was necessary so the camels could find enough to eat, but the practice made his neck prickle. If Turkoman bandits struck, it would be almost impossible for the caravan to defend itself; the raiders would be able to pick and choose their victims. Apart from the modern rifles he and Juliet carried, the only other weapons in the caravan were knives, swords, and a handful of ancient matchlock muskets.
However, so far there had been no sign of trouble, at least not from raiders. The weather was another story; the second day out from Sarakhs, they had awoken to a mixture of fog and dust so dense it was impossible to find landmarks, so the caravan had wandered off the regular route and been lost for hours.
Eventually the sky had cleared and the guide found the track again. The next morning they awoke to find the encampment covered with several inches of snow, which was unusual so late in the season and which delayed their departure.
Ross grinned. Lord, the camels had hated the snow, complaining with raucous bitterness when they were forced to rise and begin the day's trek. Of course, camels complained about everything.
Guiltily he gave Julietta a pat on her shaggy neck. She turned and gave him a benevolent glance; she really was sweet-natured, for a camel.
Ross glanced around in one of his periodic checks on his companions. He and Juliet each had two camels in charge, one for riding and one pack animal. Since the pace was so slow, they alternated riding and walking as the spirit moved them.
The fifth camel had been equipped with panniers, a pair of deep riding baskets that hung on each side of the animal. Saleh rode in one, balanced on the other side by Murad. Since neither of them was an expert camel rider, it seemed wiser to keep them together; if the beast bolted and one man was unable to control it, perhaps the other one would be more successful. But so far the docile female that carried them had caused no trouble.
Ross next looked at Juliet, who was about a hundred yards away and slightly ahead of him. She walked like a desert prince, long black robes swinging around her long strides and her face completely obscured by her tagelmoust.
She was perfect in her role as Jalal; apart from a surly Uzbek camel driver who occasionally heckled her, no one had shown more than a mild interest in the uncommunicative Targui. Certainly no one suspected that she was female and a ferengi.
Juliet had proved to be a surprisingly good servant. He suspected there was a hint of mocking humor in her deference, as if to show that she could take orders when necessary.
His gaze lingered on his wife. There was no question that the most interesting thing that had happened so far had been that night in the caravansary. He had learned to sleep lightly when traveling in dangerous lands, and the hesitant touch on his shoulder had shocked him to instant wakefulness.
To his bemusement, he found not danger but Juliet, who had inched over and was sliding her arm around his neck. When he had turned toward her, she settled her sleeping self against him with a soft sigh of contentment that made him ache with memories.
Relaxing, Ross had put his arms around her and allowed himself to pretend that the last dozen years were a bad dream and that he and his wife were slumbering peacefully in their own bed at Chapelgate. He had refused to go back to sleep, for her closeness was an unexpected gift and he intended to enjoy it for as long as possible.