Silk and Secrets

by Mary Jo Putney

  "I see." Ross considered the implications as he ate pieces of melon; the Bokharans claimed their melons were the world's best, and they were probably right. "How will this affect me?"

  "Since the amir did not have you executed last night, I think you will be safe until he leaves, for he will be too busy to think of you again." The nayeb paused to sip his tea. "If the campaign against Kokand is successful, Nasrullah will return in great spirits, willing to grant favors to all. But if the campaign goes badly, as I fear it will, his mood will be... dangerous. Very dangerous indeed."

  "What do you suggest I do?"

  Abdul Samut Khan glanced around again, then leaned close. "You should fly from Bokhara while the amir is away. Go to Khiva—the amir there is a friend to Europeans."

  This was all very interesting, but Ross guessed that something more was coming. "The way to Khiva is long and perilous. It will be difficult for a lone ferengi to escape.

  "Naturally I will do anything in my power to aid you, honored friend, even at the risk of my own life." The nayeb stroked his beard reflectively. "While escape is not impossible, it will be expensive, very expensive. If you have enough gold, I can arrange everything before I go. The amir will not learn of your flight until he returns, and by then you will be safe in Khiva." He spread his hands apologetically. "If I were a rich man, I would take care of all of the expenses myself, but, alas, I have not the resources."

  In other words, the ferengi was to place all his money in his host's unreliable hands and hope for the best. Ross was not impressed with the nayeb's stated willingness to risk his life, for it was unlikely that the Persian would be blamed for what his ungrateful guest did in his absence. Perhaps if Abdul Samut Khan was well-paid, he really would help Ross escape; perhaps not. The only way to find out would be for Ross to place his life in the nayeb's hands, and that he was reluctant to do.

  Concealing his cynical thoughts, Ross said, "You are very brave to make such an offer, but it would be dishonorable to flee when the amir has shown me such generosity."

  His host gave him an exasperated look. "Honor is all very well, Lord Khilburn, but this is a matter of your life. Nothing can save you from the amir's wrath save flight."

  "I will think on it."

  Abdul Samut Khan's expression changed. "There is another alternative. Become one of us. If you convert to Islam, the amir will welcome you as a trusted adviser and grant you beautiful wives and great riches. Stay, Lord Khilburn."

  Ross had the odd feeling that for once the nayeb was sincere, but becoming one of Nasrullah's advisers was not an alluring prospect and would probably be as hazardous as Ross's present situation. "You honor me, Abdul Samut Khan," he said austerely, "but that is not possible. I have a wife, a family, and responsibilities in my own country."

  The nayeb sighed. "I do not think you fully realize the seriousness of your situation. Dead you will be of no use to yourself or your family. Alive and living in Bokhara, at least you will be of use to yourself."

  Once again Ross said, "I shall think on all you have said. But now I ask you to excuse me. The imam of the Tekkie of Khalfa Husein graciously invited me to visit the Tekkie monastery this morning, and I do not wish to keep him waiting."

  Abdul Samut Khan shook his head sadly. "That is not possible, honored Khilburn. The amir has given orders that you cannot go about the city anymore."

  "I see." Ross masked his face to conceal what a blow the news was. "Can I send messages and receive visitors, or will I be held in close confinement?"

  "You may write letters and have visitors, and you have the freedom of the compound, but except when you are in your own rooms, you will be guarded at all times," the nayeb said apologetically. His voice dropped again. "As you see, your situation is grave. Again I say that you must flee. Only give me gold and I shall make the arrangements."

  "How much gold would be needed?"

  A calculating gleam showed in his host's eyes. "Perhaps... ten thousand ducats?"

  Ross shook his head. "I have no such fortune. It appears that my fate must stay in God's hands."

  The nayeb said quickly, "Give me what you have and also your note of hand saying that the British ambassador in Teheran will pay the difference. You see how I trust you."

  "But the British ambassador will not honor such a note, for I am here privately, not as a representative of my country. I cannot permit you to risk ruin on my behalf." Deciding that it was time to leave, Ross stood. "I thank you for your concern, Abdul Samut Khan. You have given me much to ponder."

  "Ponder well, ferengi," the nayeb said with exasperation. Raising his voice, he said to the guard at the door, "Zadeh, you must stay with Lord Khilburn at all times except when he is in his rooms. Do not let him out of your sight."

  The guard opened the door for Ross, then followed him out. Since leaving the compound was forbidden, Ross decided to go back to his rooms and write a note to the Tekkie imam to explain his absence.

  He would also write to his other acquaintances. Some might be willing to visit him in the nayeb's house.

  As they made their way through the sprawling house, a soft whisper came from behind him. "Do not trust Abdul Samut Khan, Lord Khilburn. He pretended to be the friend of Yawer Cameron, then betrayed him. He will do the same to you."

  Startled, Ross realized that the warning must have come from his guard, Zadeh, who was one of the younger soldiers assigned to the nayeb. Without turning his head, he said, "What do you think of his offer to help me escape?"

  "He would use it as an excuse to take your gold, then see you charged with spying and executed," was the prompt reply.

  "I suspected as much," Ross murmured. "Tell me, if I tried to escape from the compound some night, are there any among the guards who might... look the other way?"

  "There are many who would wish to help you," Zadeh said cautiously, "though since there is risk involved, a small gift would be appropriate."

  Ross nodded, then went into his rooms. He suspected that it would be both cheaper and safer to bribe the guard directly rather than rely on the nayeb's uncertain aid. But escaping from the compound would be only the first step, and the easiest.

  * * *

  Juliet spent the morning with Saleh and Murad, discussing possible courses of action, for instinct told her that time was running out. Practical conversation was a relief, for it kept her from thinking about the soul-searing night with Ross.

  Later she visited several caravansaries to learn when caravans were expected to leave and what the destinations were. Toward the end of the afternoon, when the heat was at its worst and the city baked under the brazen yellow light of Central Asia, she returned to the nayeb's house.

  She had entered and was walking along a dimly lit corridor when she encountered Yawer Shahid Mahmud. He had never deigned to notice her existence before, but today a speculative glint came into the burly officer's eyes when he saw her.

  There was no one else about, and Juliet felt a prickly sense of warning. Her gaze straight ahead, she tried to walk past the Uzbek, but he reached out and caught her arm before she could slide away. "Not so fast, Targui. I have not been hospitable enough to you. Your name is Jalal, is it not?"

  She did not answer, just glanced at him with narrowed eyes. He was an inch or two taller than she, and much heavier, and she did not like the way he was looking at her.

  Shahid continued, "I have wondered why your master would tolerate such a surly slave, but now I know that you have hidden charms." He gave a slow, unpleasant smile. "You should have been quieter last night."

  Juliet swore to herself. In spite of their efforts to keep their voices down, they had been overheard, and it was undoubtedly her fault. When Ross returned from seeing the amir, she had been in his arms even as the door closed. The yawer, balked of his prey, must have decided to linger outside to see what he could learn. Now he knew Juliet was female, and she had a horrible suspicion of what he intended to do about it.

  She tried to pull away, but the Uzbe
k twisted her arm, forcing her toward the wall. "There is a famous Pushtu love song called 'Zakmi Dil,' which means 'Wounded Heart,' " he said softly. "Perhaps you have heard it? It goes 'There's a boy across the river with a bottom like a peach, But alas! I cannot swim.'"

  He smiled again and touched his tongue to his lips. "In Bokhara we are fortunate, for the great river Amu is many miles away and there is no need to swim." With sudden violence he spun her around and slammed her face first against the wall, jerking her right arm up behind her back. "You move like a youth, as slim and graceful as a woman."

  He grabbed her buttock with his free hand and squeezed hard, his fingers digging deeply into her flesh. "Ah, yes, boy," he said hoarsely. "Your bottom is very like a peach. You should not waste it on an unbeliever."

  Later there would be time to be grateful that he had not guessed the deeper secret of her identity; at the moment, Juliet was more concerned with escaping unravished. Rather than strike out immediately, she forced herself to hold still while Shahid fondled her, his hot breath quickening.

  "You like that, don't you, boy?" He gave a coarse chuckle. "Now I'll show you what a real man is like. You'll never let that whey-faced ferengi touch you again." For a moment he pinned her against the wall with his massive body, his pelvis grinding her into the plaster. Grimly Juliet endured it, knowing that she would have only one chance to overcome his advantage of weight and position, so she must choose her time well.

  Her moment came when he reached down for the hem of her robe, his growing excitement and her lack of resistance making him incautious. As soon as his hold slackened, Juliet raised her leg and smashed the heel of her boot back into his kneecap with the force of a kicking mule.

  Shahid shrieked in pained surprise and lurched sideways as his knee gave way. His grasp on her arm tightened as he fell, but Juliet was prepared. She wrenched away at an angle that would have broken his elbow joint if he had tried to maintain his grip. At the same time she yanked her dagger from its sheath.

  By the time the yawer realized that this would be no easy conquest, she was behind him and her knife was at his throat. Using her most guttural tone and the ugliest Persian obscenities she knew, she snarled, "Filthy swine! If you wish to fornicate, find a sow like the mother who bore you."

  When he began struggling to break away, she pressed her razor-edged blade into his windpipe with enough pressure to draw blood. "If you raise your puny rod near me again, I will cut it off and shove it down your throat." She stepped back and gave him a kick in the kidneys to ensure that he would not be able to pursue her any time soon.

  As he collapsed, groaning, she turned and resumed walking down the hall, forcing herself to maintain a normal pace, as if she was totally unafraid of what he might do to retaliate. But she kept the dagger ready in her hand and listened hard for the sound of footfalls in case he should recover more quickly than she expected. The force of his furious gaze burned between her shoulder blades until she turned the corner.

  When Juliet was out of his sight, she drew a trembling wrist across her forehead before she cleaned and sheathed her dagger. She had been lucky; if Shahid had not underestimated her, she would have been in serious trouble. As long as she was in this house, she would have to be careful, for he was the sort who would take being bested as a mortal challenge.

  A pity that killing the head of the household guard would not go unremarked. She smiled shakily and continued on her way. She was not so cold-blooded that she could slit a man's throat in anything short of a life-or-death situation, and this had not been that. Not quite.

  But she did not like to think of what would have happened if Shahid had discovered she was a woman. After raping her, he would have claimed her disguise was prima facie evidence that she and Ross were both spies, and then nothing could have saved them.

  When Juliet reached their rooms, she found a servant just leaving, so she brushed silently past and closed the door behind her. After dropping the bar in place, she pulled off her tagelmoust and buried her sweaty face in the fabric.

  Ross was sitting on the divan with a notebook, but he looked up with quick concern. "Is something wrong?"

  "Not really." She managed an uneven smile as she emerged from the folds of her veil. "Shahid Mahmud made an improper advance but misjudged my ability and willingness to defend myself. Fortunately I was wearing boots rather than sandals."

  "Damnation!" Ross swore furiously as he swung to his feet and pulled her into a protective embrace. "How did the bastard discover that you're a woman?"

  "He didn't." In spite of the late-afternoon warmth, Juliet found herself shaking with relief as Ross's arms went around her. There was nothing like a bit of crisis to reduce a relationship to the essentials of mutual comfort and protection. "He heard enough last night to guess that our relationship is not strictly master and servant, but it didn't occur to him that I could be female."

  Ross's embrace tightened. "I see. A pity we can't kill him. At least he can hardly complain to the nayeb that my servant would not allow himself to be raped. I suppose that all you can do is exercise caution and not let him find you alone again, but it might be wise to carry your pistol."

  "Avoidance is better. Killing or wounding Shahid would bring about an investigation that we can't afford." Wearily Juliet stepped away from Ross and sank onto the divan.

  On the low table was a dew-covered pitcher of the ice and grape-syrup mixture that had just been delivered by the servant. She poured goblets for both of them. "It's time to discuss how we are going to leave Bokhara."

  "The situation has just become worse." Ross sat down and gave her a summary of his interview with Abdul Samut Khan.

  Juliet frowned as he finished. "So now you are under house arrest. I hope the nayeb is right that the amir will be too busy to think of you between now and the time they go to war. We should make our escape as soon as Nasrullah leaves the city."

  Ross lifted the pitcher and refilled their glasses. "You've been exploring possibilities ever since we got here. What do you propose we do?"

  Juliet gave him a fond smile; she had always loved the fact that Ross was open to suggestions as only a truly strong man could be. "First, I think we should send Saleh and Reza back to Persia. There is a large caravan leaving for Teheran in a few days. That will leave just you and Murad and me."

  Ross nodded, following the direction of her thoughts. "And the three of us are the strongest. You're thinking we should get some good Turkoman horses and ride west as fast as we can? I've thought about that and agree that it may be our best chance, but it will be dangerous. Crossing the Kara Kum was bad enough in the spring, At this season, the heat is killing and we'll probably be pursued at least part of the way."

  "Yes, but Turkoman raiders have been marauding through that desert since long before Genghis Khan. We can survive it too, as long as we travel fast and light."

  She leaned forward, her hands moving emphatically. "We came here along the main caravan track, but there is a secondary route that goes south of Merv and Rafitak. If we go that way, we are less likely to be pursued, and less likely to run into Turkoman raiders as well."

  "It's a minor track because the water supply is less reliable," Ross pointed out. "Without a knowledgeable guide, we'll have trouble finding what water is there. Horses can travel much faster than camels, but they need water more often, and we won't be able to carry enough to get us and our mounts across hundreds of miles of burning desert."

  "Murad has not traveled this particular route, but over the last several weeks he has talked with men who have, gathering detailed information on where the water holes are."

  Ross made a face and leaned back against the wall. "Murad is well-intentioned but he got lost even in Persia, which he claimed to know. Are you willing to put your life in his hands?"

  "Yes, because I think this is our best chance," Juliet replied. "There is desert in all directions, but it would be dangerous to go east or south because of the fighting around Kokand and Herat. North
to Khiva would be better, but eventually we would have to go back across the Kara Kum anyhow. If we head west, all we have to do is reach Serevan, and with luck we can do that in five or six days of hard riding."

  "We may be that lucky, though I wouldn't bet serious money on it." Ross ran his hand through his gold hair, his face troubled. "I'm willing to take the chance, but I hate the idea that you and Murad will be risking your lives unnecessarily. Perhaps Murad should draw me a map and I can go alone."

  "Three people will have a better chance than one." Juliet leaned forward, her expression fierce. "We've been over this before. Murad knows the risks and is willing to accept them. And make no mistake, Ross, there is no way in hell that I will let you go across that desert without me."

  He looked startled for a moment, then gave a slow smile and reached out and gently brushed her cheek with his knuckles. "What a terrifying female you are. It sounds as if I have no alternative but to agree to your plans."

  Juliet gave him a mock scowl. "Right you are, ferengi."

  His momentary amusement fading, Ross reached inside his coat and drew out a small folded piece of paper, then handed it to Juliet. "I wrote this today. It will probably never be needed, but I thought you should have it."

  She examined the note distrustfully. It had been sealed with wax and marked with Ross's signet ring. "What is this, your last will and testament?"

  "No, that's in England. I always put my affairs in order before I leave the country. Though since we are on the subject, your income is guaranteed for the rest of your life," he said in an expressionless voice. "What I just gave you is an affidavit verifying that if you have a baby next year and say that I fathered it, you're telling the truth."