Seven Wonders Book 2: Lost in Babylon (11 page)

“I said, ‘only one way to find out,'” Marco replied. “Let's go see the place.”

He headed for the stairs. We all tromped down after him to the bottom floor. As we flung open the front door, two guards turned, gripping their spears. “Later, gladiator,” Marco said.

He got about two steps. The guards went shoulder to shoulder, blocking his way.

“Whoa, peace out,” Marco said, backing into the house. “Kumbaya. Nice work on the biceps. Who's your trainer?”

“What now?” Aly said.

Marco turned. “We go to Plan B. There's more than one way to escape.”

He strode back upstairs, followed by Cass. But Aly was looking at something over the guards' shoulders.

At first I didn't see anything unusual. But I did notice the birds had stopped chirping. Totally. Another sound floated through the gardens, like the trilling of a impossibly beautiful flute. The guards seemed to melt at the sound. Smiling, they turned away from us.

Daria appeared around a bend in the path. She was still wearing a head scarf but no longer a veil. Her face was the picture of bliss as she sang. Now I knew why the birds had stopped. They couldn't compete with a sound like that.

I waved and shouted hello.

“Hello!” Daria replied, as the guards parted, gesturing for her to come inside.

“We can't have her around while we're trying to escape,” Aly hissed. “Why is she coming here?”

I shrugged. “She's the language person. The only one who managed to pick up a few words of English. Plus, in case you don't remember, she saved our butts. I don't know what she told the king, but it set us free. I'm guessing they think we're exotic foreigners. He probably sent her to get further info from us.”

Aly shook her head. “This is a trap, Jack. Think about the history. Babylon was always under attack from Persia. Nabu-na'id would have hated the Persians. Eventually they defeated him and took over Babylon. When they found out how he'd been ruling the city, they were appalled by what a bad king he was.”

“I can see how they'd think that,” I said.

“And here we are, four strangers wandering into town,” Aly barreled on. “Of course they suspect we're enemies! This girl could be a spy, Jack. The first line of interrogation. They treat us nicely, fill us with food and drink, and then—zap!—they move in for the torture.”

“Torture?” I replied. “Daria? How? She sings us into a coma?”

“I'll stall her,” Aly said. “You go up and tell the others. Make sure she can't see them planning an escape.”

I raced inside. Cass and Marco were at a window in the back of the house, looking down over the outer wall. When I told them about Daria's arrival, neither of them reacted much.

When I leaned out the window and looked down, I realized why. Directly below us, tracing all three sides of the building, was a wide moat.

“Any ideas?” Cass asked.

“It would be pretty easy to swim across that,” I said.

“Not so fast,” Cass said. From a plate of food, he took a hunk of unidentifiable leathery-brown dried meat and tossed it out. The water roiled with green scales and beady black eyes. A long, crocodilian jaw snapped open and shut.

“Welcome to Paradise,” Marco said softly. “Paradise Prison.”

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E
LEVEN DAYS
.

That was how long we'd been gone. Not in Babylonian time, but real time. Back-home time. In Babylon, it had been just under three hours.

Aly had done the calculation. Now she was sitting with Daria at the rooftop table, running quickly through English words. Whatever paranoid idea Aly had had about torture and spying had faded pretty fast. The two of them had become instant BFFs. Well, BFs. I'm not sure how you could define that second F—forever—in these messed-up time frames.

Cass, Marco, and I paced the floor, waiting. Marco's mouth was full. He'd eaten nearly all the food. Now he was swigging a green fruit liquid. “How can you eat at a time like this?” I demanded.

“Stress makes me hungry,” Marco said.

Daria stared at him. “Food. Hungry. Marco eat.”

“Good, Daria!” Aly said, furiously scribbling images with a bit of coal on a piece of tree bark.

“She sounds like Torquin,” Cass said.

“She's about a million times smarter than Torquin,” Aly replied.

And about a trillion times better looking
, I thought extremely silently.

“Where'd you find the cool writing tools?” Marco asked.

“Daria brought them,” Aly said. “She really wants to learn.”

I eyed her warily. “A minute ago, you thought she was a spy.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Aly said. “We're bonding.”

Daria was looking intently at Marco. “Marco like meb'dala? Tasty good?”

“Aaaah!” Marco said, putting down his flagon. “Tasty good!”

Aly gave Daria an impulsive hug. “This girl is amazing! She picks things up from context. And she doesn't forget anything.” Aly quickly drew crude stick figures behind bars in a prison cell, crying. “We—Cass, Marco, Jack, and me—are
prisoners
?”

“Prizz . . . ?” Daria looked closely at the drawing, then shook her head. She pointed to the food, then gestured toward the nice house. Taking the bit of coal, she drew four stick figures standing tall, smiling, with more stick figures around us on their knees with bowed heads.

“Are you saying we're guests?” Aly said, gesturing grandly around the house and giving a happy, thumbs-up gesture. “Guests?”

“Guests . . .” Daria said. “Yest. I mean, yes.”

“If we're guests, why the guards?” I said, still pacing.

While I spoke, Daria was drawing an enormous soldier. His teeth were gritted, his sword pointed to a shriveled little man wearing a crown. “Persia,” she said, pointing to the soldier. “You? Persia?”

Aly's smile faltered. “No! We are not from Persia! We are from . . .” She gestured into the distance. “Never mind.”

“From Nevermind. Ah.” Daria nodded. “You are . . . ?”

She drew a stick figure surrounded by stars and mystical symbols, with lightning emerging from its fingers. “What the heck is that?” Marco asked.

“Magic,” Cass said. “I guess the king figures we're either Persians or awesome magicians. Process of elimination.”

Marco shook his head. “We're not magicians, Dars,” he said. “But we do have natural star power.”

Daria looked confused. She thought for a minute then struggled for words. “You . . . coming to . . . us. Now.”

“Yes, go on,” Aly said, leaning forward.

“No . . . other . . . guests . . . comed?” she said.

“Came?” Aly said. “No other guests came? No other guests
have come
?”

Daria pulled around the dried bark and began to draw.

“The symbol for ten, three times . . .” Aly said. “Thirty? Thirty what?”

Daria pointed to the sun. She pulled her fists together and shivered as if freezing, then fanned herself as if swelteringly hot. Then freezing again.

“The sun . . . cold hot cold . . .” Aly said.

“I think she means a year,” I said. “The sun travels in the sky, and the weather changes from cold to hot and back, in one year.”

“Is that what you mean, Daria?” Cass asked. “No visitors—no guests—for
thirty years
?”

“Thirty years is two thousand seven hundred years for us,” Aly said. “That would be about the time Ancient Babylon split off from our time frame. They've had no visitors because the rest of the world moved on.”

“So no trade?” Cass said. “No goods or food from outside?”

Marco shrugged. “Those farms outside the city are pretty awesome.”

“So, wait,” I said. “What happens if you go to the next town over? What's there now?”

Daria looked at me blankly.

“Guys, this is all super-interesting but can we cut to the chase?” Marco said. “Daria, can you get us to the Hanging Gardens?
Hanging. Gardens
?”

Daria looked helpless. Not being able to answer everyone's questions seemed to agitate her. She looked pleadingly at Aly. “Teach. I. More. Bel-Sharu-Usur is will here be.” Her eyes began to roll wildly.

“I think she's imitating that weird guy behind the throne,” Cass said. “He's coming, maybe?”

“Bel-Sharu-Usur . . .” Aly murmured. “That's the same guy as
Belshazzar
—like
Nabonidus
for
Nabu-na'id
. And Belshazzar was the king's evil son!”

“Sun . . .” Daria paused, then gestured toward the eastern sky. “Go up . . . Bel-Sharu-Usur . . . come.”

“He's coming
in the morning
?” I asked. “What's he going to do?”

Daria shrugged. She glanced again toward the guards. Seeing that they were out of eyesight, she crossed her eyes and made a disgusted face. “Bel-Sharu-Usur . . . ucccch.”

“I don't think she trusts him,” I said. “Sounds like he's the one in charge of finding out who we are. If anyone's spying for the king, he'd be my guess. She reports on us now, and Bel-Sharu-Usur comes to check for himself tomorrow.”

“Daria . . .” Aly said. “You'll give him a good report?” She did a set of pantomimes—pointing to us, imitating Bel-Sharu-Usur, thumbs-up, and so on.

Daria nodded uncertainly. I could tell she still had a tiny bit of suspicion. “We have to convince her to trust us totally,” I murmured. “She doesn't want to be burned.”

“Me . . . you . . .” Daria clasped her own two hands together. “Teach.”

Aly glanced at me gratefully. “Yes. That's what Jack was saying. I will stick with you, Daria, for as long as it takes.”

The two girls started in, batting words around like crazy. Aly was an awesome teacher. But the sun was going down and before I knew it, I had drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

When I awoke, the sun had completely set. I felt as if I'd been asleep for hours. I could hear Marco and Cass in the other room playing some kind of game. Aly and Daria had stood from the table, laughing and chattering.

“It was great to meet you . . .” “Please enjoy food . . .” “I will give a good report, but you must be careful . . .”

I couldn't believe it. Daria was not only beautiful and unbelievably talented, but probably the smartest person I'd ever seen. She'd picked up passable English in just a few hours.

“She's amazing,” Aly said as she sent Daria on her way through the front door. “Her vocabulary has grown like crazy—colors, articles of clothing, names of animals and plants. By making faces, I was able to teach her the words for emotions—and she got it all!”

As I listened, I noticed she left a small, leather pouch on the table. I grabbed it and ran for the door.

Daria was already far down the pathway. I burst outside, shouting “Hey! Daria! You forgot—”

I jerked backward as if I'd run into a pole. Mainly because I had.

One of the guards stood over me, his spear still held sideways, where he had blocked my path, like a baseball player bunting for a single. He grumbled something in a language I didn't understand. “What's he saying?” I asked.

Aly was standing in the door, looking stunned. “I don't know,” she said. “But at the rate we're going, our kids will be growing up in the twenty-fourth century.”

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