Silk and Secrets(46)

Ross's expression hardened as he guessed what the kafila-bashi was thinking: though no rain had fallen on the caravan, there was a chance the wadi would flood with sudden lethal violence if the storm had dropped enough water farther up the river's course. It was typical of the desert that one could go in an instant from being endangered by the lack of water to being in danger from too much.

Though the storm was distant enough that Ross thought the chance of flooding remote, he tugged at Julietta's bridle to increase her speed. She gave him an offended glance but began walking faster, the pack camel an obedient echo behind her. With Ross's urging, it took them only a few minutes to cross the wadi and clamber up the steep embankment on the far side.

As a steady stream of men and beasts poured across the sandy channel, Ross scanned the group to find his companions. The camel carrying Saleh and Murad had already made its way to higher ground. However, Juliet was still in the middle of the wadi because her pack animal was having an attack of balkiness.

Both Abdul Wahab and Ross had thought flooding improbable, but in the next moments their judgment was proved wrong. As Juliet struggled with the camels, a low wave of silt-brown water came surging around the bend. Within seconds a swift, ankle-deep current was slowing the progress of everyone still in the wadi. From his horseback vantage point, the kafila-bashi shouted, "Hurry! More water is coming!"

Realizing the danger, everyone who had already crossed was lining up along the bank to watch the drama below. Cold panic jolted through Ross when he saw Juliet's camels put their heads down to drink from the water swirling around their hairy fetlocks. In another moment they might lie down and start wallowing, as camels often did in water holes.

He was on the verge of going to her assistance when she got her beasts moving by ruthlessly lashing their flanks with her whip. Even above the sounds of rushing water and babbling voices, he could hear her cursing in a colorful mixture of languages.

Bellowing angrily, the camels surrendered to her superior will and let themselves be chivied up the embankment to safety. By the time they escaped the wadi, the water was knee-deep and rising rapidly.

Another wave flooded the channel to waist depth and pummeled the handful of men and animals still in the wadi with floating debris. A man on a donkey was nearly washed away, but was saved from disaster when his small mount was shoved against the solid bulk of a camel long enough to regain its feet.

One by one, men and beasts floundered through the churning water and were pulled up the embankment by other members of the caravan. Soon the only one left was an elderly Uzbek tea merchant who had fallen behind. Ross had once talked casually with Muhammad Kasem and had found him to be a combination of quiet dignity and elfin charm.

When the old man was almost within arm's length of safety, Ross exhaled the breath he had been holding. Then, just beyond the reach of helping hands, Muhammad Kasem's donkey stumbled and went down, pitching its rider into the water. At the same time, another wave came raging down the channel, moving almost as fast as a man could run and deepening the river to drowning depth.

The merchant's high-pitched wail of anguish was barely audible above the roar of the flood. His turban had been torn off and his shaved head looked horribly vulnerable among the dark waves. As he submerged beneath the roiling water, a shuddering collective sigh rose from the onlookers.

"Father!" The horrified cry came from a man poised on the edge of the wadi. From his desperate expression, Ross guessed that, like most desert dwellers, the man could not swim. Even so, perhaps he would have dived in if two other men had not grabbed him. No one else attempted to assist Muhammad Kasem, not even by looking for a rope to throw.

A merchant near Ross said sorrowfully, "It is God's will."

"So be it," another agreed. "Blessed be the name of God."

Ross realized this was one of those moments when Eastern fatalism parted company with Western action. Even as the thought flashed through his mind, he was sprinting along the embankment, shoving past other members of the caravan. He preferred not to draw undue attention to himself, but it was impossible to stand by and watch someone drown if he might be able to prevent it.

The donkey had thrashed its way to dry land and was now shaking its coat and braying, but the current had swept the merchant into the middle of the flooded channel. Briefly Ross wondered if his turban was long enough to unwind and use as a lifeline, but he decided that the old man was too far out for the length of fabric to reach.

By running at top speed, Ross managed to outpace the current and get ahead of Muhammad Kasem. Then he stopped and hastily stripped off his knife and outer clothing and dropped them on the ground. He also yanked off his boots, for under flood conditions he did not want to wear anything that might weigh him down.