Ignoring that, knowing full well that he couldn’t see through it-and regardless, she was fully clothed beneath- Emily eyed the camel’s shaggy head. Tentatively she stepped forward. The huge head swung her way, lips curling back.
Gareth pulled her to the side, to the saddle. “Be careful-they spit.”
Emily turned to stare at him. “
Gareth urged her into the saddle. Rather stunned, she instinctively reached for the high pommel, planted her boot in the stirrup and raised up-and saw, beyond the camel, a string of superb horses.
Rather than swing her hips around and sit in the saddle, she froze, then tried to back down. “They have horses. I can ride perfectly well-I raced down that road from Poona, remember?”
Gareth’s hands grasped her hips and pushed her up. “No-you can’t ride one of their horses.”
“Why not?” She tried to twist enough to glare at him.
He kept hold of her hips and held her where she was. “For a start, in English terms they’re only half broken.”
“I could manage-”
“Perhaps.” Clipped accents were infusing his speech. “But the other reason you’re riding this animal is that it’s Ali-Jehan’s personal pet.”
Growing tired of her ungainly position, and distracted by having his hands gripping her hips, she gave up, swung around, and plopped down into the surprisingly comfortable saddle. She frowned at Gareth, but he was looking down, adjusting the twin rope stirrups. Glancing around, she saw the Berber chieftain striding through his people, yelling orders and gesticulating. “What does that have to do with anything?”
When she looked back, Gareth met her eyes. “It won’t leave him.”
She frowned harder. “So?”
“So”-with a last tug, he stepped back-“if raiders attack the caravan and try to steal you away, they’ll have the devil of a time shifting him. Nothing is more stubborn than a camel.”
He looked at her for an instant, then nodded to the attendant, still standing holding the camel’s head.
The attendant said one word.
Emily bit back a scream as the beast-in a series of ungainly lurches-got back to its feet.
Once it had, she stared down at Gareth. “This is-”
“What will keep you safe.” Hands on hips, he looked up at her. Then he glanced at the attendant. “This is Haneef. He’ll teach you how to guide Doha.”
“Doha?”
Haneef smiled toothily up at her. “He is really a very good beast.”
Uncle eased down to the cushions set before a low table holding an assortment of dishes he neither recognized nor particularly cared for. But in the service of his chosen master he would endure any privation necessary for success.
Before he could reach for the first dish, a stir arose in the courtyard beyond the archway. With a wave, Uncle dispatched his son to see who had arrived. An instant later, Muhlal returned with one of the lowlier cult members in tow.
The man bowed low. “Great one-we have just had word that the major and his party were seen in the grounds beyond the town.”
“And?”
Without lifting his head, the man continued, “They left with a Berber caravan. Those we paid said the caravan goes west.”
Uncle nodded. “Excellent. You may go.”
Surprised, the man looked up. He met Uncle’s eyes and quickly lowered his. “Yes, great one.” The man backed from the room, still bowing.
Once he was gone, Uncle looked up at his son. “You heard?”
Muhlal nodded.
Uncle smiled. “No doubt but that the major will make for the embassy in Cairo.” Uncle waved Muhlal to sit beside him. When he did, Uncle set one hand on his shoulder, leaned closer and lowered his voice. “This is your chance, my son, to shine in the service of the Black Cobra. Our leader is magnanimous to those who serve well. It has been decreed that the major must be stopped, and if the meddling Miss Ensworth is captured, too, and appropriately rewarded for her temerity, that would be a happy bonus. I suggest you make use of the nomads now in our pay and go after the major and the woman. Capturing them and delivering them to me in Cairo will surely win great glory in the eyes of the Black Cobra.”
Muhlal glowed. “I am in charge?”
Smiling, Uncle nodded. He clapped Muhlal’s shoulder. “Let us eat, and then I will see you on your way. A caravan is slow. They will not escape you.” When Muhlal eagerly reached for a plate, Uncle’s gaze softened. “And I will be waiting in Cairo to celebrate with you.”
As the sun sank, coloring the wide expanse of the desert sky with oranges, reds, and purples, Emily eased her way out of the high saddle and carefully climbed to the ground.
Doha flicked her a scowl, then ignored her.
Emily inwardly humphed, then shook out her skirts and the enveloping burka, and, leaving Doha to Haneef’s care, turned to find the others. It had taken a while to grow accustomed to the camel’s strange gait. Once she had, and was no longer in danger of tipping off, Haneef had shown her how to use the reins to exert some control- minimal control in Emily’s estimation-over the ungainly beast.
Contrary to her expectations, her first day’s travel had passed without disaster. When the caravan had halted for a light meal and refreshments a little before midday, she had asked Haneef the obvious question-if Ali-Jehan went careening off on his horse through the desert dunes, chasing attackers, for instance, wouldn’t Doha follow him?
Haneef had shaken his dark head. “Oh, no, miss. Doha is a clever beast-he knows this”-with a wave Haneef had encompassed the caravan-“is his master’s place. He will stay here and wait for Ali-Jehan to return. There is no need for him to chase after him if he knows he will come back.”
That the camel was lazy to boot hadn’t been any great surprise to Emily. “Are you sure it’s not you whom Doha is attached to?”
Haneef had smiled. “Well, I am always here-I have a bad leg and cannot ride well enough to chase raiders.”
Sighting the others across the campsite, Emily picked up her skirts and trudged their way, eyes on her feet so she didn’t trip in the sand. She couldn’t say she was enamored of her camel-he stank remarkably, much worse than horses-but riding him had been a luxury. For the most part, the others had walked.
There were carts with barrel wheels, but some were handcarts pulled by the men who, like Haneef, weren’t the mounted guard. Other carts were drawn by donkeys, and the older women and older men took turns riding in those, but in the main most of the tribe, and most of their party, had trudged steadily through the sand throughout the day.
Finding Dorcas and Arnia amid the bustle of the tribe setting up camp, she gripped her maid’s arm. “Are you all right?”
Dorcas smiled wearily. “Perfectly well.”
Understanding her question, Arnia nodded. “It wasn’t as hard as it looked. They keep a steady and reasonable pace.”
Dorcas nodded in agreement. “It’s like a long, easy stroll. Not so difficult once you get the hang of it.”
Somewhat reassured, Emily turned her attention to the camp taking shape around them. Tents were being erected around a central area, in which others were constructing a large fire pit. Bister, Jimmy, Watson, and Mullins were helping men erect one of the large Berber tents. “We didn’t bring tents.”
A snort came from behind Emily. Clawlike fingers gripped her elbow. “You will not need tents-you will share ours, lady.”
Turning her head, Emily met a pair of bright dark eyes in a deeply tanned, heavily wrinkled face. The old woman smiled, showing surprisingly white teeth with a gap in the center. She tapped Emily’s burka in the vicinity of her
