While they were gone, the yuz-bashi had collected the tax from Saleh. Ross was still sitting quietly by the fire, sipping tea and looking composed, as if he had no reason to be concerned.
However, instead of moving on to the next campfire, the yuz-bashi walked over to Ross and stared down at him, suspicion in his narrow eyes. "They say you are a European. Is this so?"
Unhurriedly Ross looked up at the Khivan officer. Only someone who knew him as well as Juliet would recognize the rigorously concealed tension behind his mild expression.
Ross opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Abdul Wahab said, "Khilburn is an Armenian and a mirza, a scribe."
Muhammad Kasem chimed in from where he stood with the onlookers, "Aye, Khilburn is an Armenian. A Christian, of course, but a God-fearing man. Anyone who says otherwise is a lying mischief maker."
The yuz-bashi gave Ross an intimidating scowl. "Is it true you are Armenian?"
In a voice of limpid sincerity Ross said, "It is."
"Do you worship the one God?"
"Aye, in the ancient manner of my people."
"What say your people about the Prophet and his teachings?"
"We honor the Prophet, on whom be peace, for the law he gave the faithful is at its heart the same as the laws our prophet, Jesus, gave to us," Ross said, his voice steady. "And truly, it could be no other way, for God's laws are eternal and universal."
Apparently satisfied, the yuz-bashi nodded. "The tax on Christians is one in twenty, not one in forty, so you must double your payment. How much gold do you carry?"
"I have twenty gold tillahs. One moment and I shall give you the tax." Ross produced a small purse from inside his coat and handed over a coin. Juliet knew that he had more money concealed in his baggage, but the yuz-bashi accepted the payment without question, probably because of Ross's modest attire.
Glancing around the loose group of onlookers, the yuz-bashi said, "Who claimed this man was a ferengi? Anyone who wishes to bear witness against him should come forth and speak now."
Juliet held her breath as she scanned the faces of the other members of the caravan. Young and old, Uzbek and Kurd, Persian and Afghan—all regarded the yuz-bashi in silence, though every one of them knew Ross was European. With his nationality common knowledge, Ross had been more outgoing during the last week and had made many friends among his fellow travelers. No one wanted to betray him—except Habib, who smiled with vicious satisfaction and opened his mouth to speak.
Juliet darted forward to stop him, but Hussayn was closer and got there first. There was the brief flash of a knife, then the Uzbek merchant drove the tip of the blade through fabric to rest against the camel driver's spine. "The honorable Khilburn is Armenian," Hussayn murmured. "Do you not remember, dog's turd?"
Habib stopped dead in his tracks, a sheen of sweat appearing on his face. "Why do you lie for an unbeliever?" he hissed.
"Why do you persecute a man who has done you no wrong?" Hussayn countered. "Does not the Prophet counsel tolerance, especially to people of the book?"
Habib spat on the ground but dared not say more.
After another minute passed in silence, the yuz-bashi decided that the charge that Khilburn was a ferengi must have been no more than idle malice, so he continued to the next campfire. When the Turkomans were out of earshot, Hussayn sheathed his knife. "Come, Habib, and join me at our fire. I will not share bread and salt with one such as you, but I wish to keep you in sight until the Khivans are gone."
His expression furious, Habib obeyed, but before walking away, he gave Juliet a malevolent glance, rightly blaming her for Hussayn's intervention. She guessed that he would not dare retaliate against Hussayn, who was rich and powerful, but that he might well try to take out his fury on her later.
Shrugging, she returned to her fire. If he did, so be it.
* * *
Retribution arrived later that evening, when half the caravan had already retired for the night. The well they were camped around was feeble and had been rapidly depleted when they arrived. Since the past few hours had given the well time to replenish itself, Juliet went to draw water for use the next day.
She had just filled her waterskin when she heard a stealthy footstep behind her. Alert for trouble, she whirled around to find Habib half a dozen feet away.
In the darkness she could not see his expression, but there was no mistaking the malice in his voice when he spoke. "You take more than your share of water, Jalal. Is it because the Tuareg are thieves, or did you learn to rob the faithful from your ferengi master?"
"Thy tongue wags like an ass's tail," Juliet said in husky, crude Persian.