Seven Wonders Book 2: Lost in Babylon by Peter Lerangis Page A

drink. The entourage for the king’s son.
    His eyes never rested in one place. He reeked of fish, and something sickly-sweet, like athletic ointment. His hair was dark at the sides and white down the middle, giving him the appearance of a drunken skunk. At the top of the stairs he looked over the city and took a deep breath, blasting us with a gust of foul air.
    â€œDude, what was on the breakfast menu?” Marco said. “Three-day-old roadkill?”
    He gave Marco a twisted expression that could have been a smile or a sneer, then began babbling to Daria.
    I eyed a large vase on a wall shelf. From this angle I could see the eyes of a bull and the hindquarters of some other beast. I’d put Daria’s pouch inside that vase for safekeeping. It contained some feathered needles, maybe for knitting. I made a mental note to give it to her at some point when Bel-Sharu-Usur wasn’t all over her.
    Aly trudged out from her bedroom, looking exhausted. “What’s that smell?” she murmured.
    As Bel-Sharu-Usur barked questions at Daria, the odor of his tooth decay settled over us like smog. Inches away from him, Daria nodded respectfully and (remarkably) managed not to barf. She seemed to be giving him a long report about us, as we nervously ate fruit that the house wardum laid before us on a table.
    â€œDo you understand what she’s saying?” I whispered.
    â€œNo,” she replied. “I was teaching her English. She wasn’t teaching me Babylonian.”
    Daria and Bel-Sharu-Usur went at it for a few minutes in rapid Aramaic. Finally Daria turned to us with an exasperated face and said, “He will walk us.”
    â€œWalk us?” Aly said. “Like take us on a tour?” She walked with her fingers out over the rooftop.
    â€œNice!” Marco said. “Tell him we love gardens. Especially hanging ones.”
    â€œYes, a tour,” Daria said, looking at Bel-Sharu-Usur uneasily. “See us Babylon.
    He does not say, but I think he must watch you.”
    â€œHe doesn’t yet trust us?” I offered.
    Daria shrugged. “We must go now. And be careful.”
    We rushed out. It wasn’t until we were walking away from the house that I remembered I’d forgotten Daria’s pouch.
    * * *
    â€œChicken . . . clucks,” Daria said. “Ox . . . pulls. Pig . . . oinks. Boar . . . snorts. Pine tree . . . grows tall. Sun flower . . . is round. Fence . . . has posts. Temple . . .”
    As we walked through the palace grounds, Aly didn’t miss an object. And Daria repeated everything perfectly. Bel-Sharu-Usur hung with them, listening intently. It was impossible to tell what he was looking at or listening to. His strangely disabled eyes flitted all over the place, and it was miraculous he could even walk straight. Still, I could sense that he was noticing every movement, every gesture we were making.
    His entourage hung behind him closely. Two wardum fanned him with gigantic palm-shaped leaves, muttering chants and making sly faces when he wasn’t looking. Two others carried buckets of water, stopping to hand him a ladle every few yards. Before us, two trumpeters blew a fanfare at each turn in the road.
    All around the entourage, people took a wide berth. Gardeners, workers, wealthy people—all of them dropped into a fearful silence at the sight of Bel-Sharu-Usur.
    â€œHe makes me nervous,” Cass said softly.
    At the whispered words, Bel-Sharu-Usur’s ears pricked up.
    â€œDude, anyone ever tell you that you look like a cross between a warthog and a cracked dirt wall?” Marco asked him out loud, with a broad smile. “Just sayin’. Peace out.”
    Bel-Sharu-Usur looked momentarily confused. He glared at Daria, who told him something that made him smile uncertainly.
    â€œI guess she covered for you, Marco,” Cass murmured.
    â€œShe’s hot and smart,” Marco