"If the guards have him, then we cannot get him back." Nidintulugal put on a stoic expression. "I grieve for the absence of the one you call Kim, but we do not have the time to worry over this. I take the dragon's vision seriously."
"Dragon? You talk about a dragon again." Sigmund stopped looking into corners and shadows and turned his attention to the priest. "What dragon? Not Fafnir, he's dead. The red one on the box? No, that was Pendragon, Artie said. And not the gold or the blue. So what dragon?"
"This talk is for another place ... a place we should retreat to now. Yes, Shilo?"
She chewed on her lower lip, still glancing this way and that, wringing her hands together and inadvertently smearing the dye. "I suppose." Is this my fault? Should I have done something differently? Not left him? I'm fifteen years old! Fifteen!
'The room you wanted, Shilo. Let's talk there."
She turned to follow him, scuffing her sandals against the street, feeling defeated before they'd even started after the eggs-
"Wait for me!"
Shilo whirled. Kim rushed toward them, arms flailing at his sides. Where he'd come from she hadn't a clue. His T-shirt was off and turned inside-out, wrapped around him like a skirt. His attempt at looking like a native was laughable, and Nidintulugal was quick to throw the robe on him.
"No time for your dye, Shilo," the priest said, grabbing Kim's hand and pulling him along. Nidintulugal gestured with his head at a woman leaning out a second-floor window, watching them. "Gossip is popular here, as you know, and seeing a pale-skinned boy with such hair and odd-looking eyes will set lips moving."
"We had best move fast."
Several minutes later, the four of them were winded and looking out their own window of the rented room Nidintulugal had arranged. Shilo stayed at the sill, commanding the middle of it and propping her elbows on it. She purposely took up most of the space, and so the priest and the two boys backed away.
This isn't happening, she thought. She was relieved to have Kim with them; she didn't want to think how they would have managed to retrieve four eggs with only three people. But she still had a hard time accepting the presence of her father.
"So what's going on? What's this all about?' Sigmund sat on one of two mats in the small room, arms crossed in front of his chest, and robe pulled up to his waist. "It's nice to have company this time. When I was way far north, it was just me and some Norsemen. Hey, can I take this off? It's hot as Kenne-saw in here."
Kim didn't give Nidintulugal the opportunity to answrer any of Sigmund's questions. "Tell me about the dragon!" Kims eyes were wide. "Is it the one on the box lid?' He'd hiked his robe up and plopped down next to Sigmund. "Wish we had a fan or a big glass of lemonade. It's hotter than . . ."
"About the dragon . . ." Sigmund prompted. "Tell us about it."
"Which one on the lid?" Kim pressed.
"A different dragon," Shilo said. "I thought I'd told you it's a different dragon." She leaned out the window and looked down at the street. There was an oil lamp in the room, but they'd not lit it, relying on the emerging starlight. A block away the Hanging Gardens loomed, looking like a black mountain in the twilight.
"So . . . about this dragon," Sigmund insisted.
Nidintulugal began to describe it, and Shilo shoved all of his words to the back of her mind.
She watched three men walk shoulder-to-shoulder to the west, and she guessed they might be priests. They must be praying, since it was a holy day for Ishtar. She thought Nidintulugal, though a priest of Shamash, would also be praying were he not occupied with Kim and her father.
She stared at the trio, no longer seeing them. Instead she saw the image of her father in the casket in the Marietta funeral home. She'd a mind to catch some sleep, then walk all the way back to Ulbanu's lair and tell the dragon to send her father back, that the dragon had made an unconscionable mistake, and that there must be someone else in the world who could help in retrieving the eggs.
But there might not be time for that, as the dragon had impressed her with the need for speed. The image of her father's face melted and she saw the wave of demons crashing over the land and melting walls and buildings.
Still, the dragon knew that Sigmund was Sigurd Clawhand, and had repeatedly called her Child of Sigurd. So the dragon knew she'd pulled Shilo's father back through time to Babylon.
Taunting Shilo perhaps?
No, Shilo shook her head. Ulbanu would not taunt, she wanted her eggs too badly.
Shilo grabbed the sill and dug her fingernails into the wood. Why? Why? Why? If Ulbanu had to bring someone who'd touched the puzzle or dealt with dragons, why couldn't she have brought one of her father's other childhood friends. Meemaw had mentioned Artie and Ras. Why not them? Why her father?
It was a cruel thing, foisting a young Sigmund on her. Torturous. Her stomach churned, she was so upset. She didn't want to look at Sigmund. Every time she looked at the boy, she saw an older version in the back of her mind—the one who had taken her to fish frys and Disney World, who had gotten her interested in history, who had held her close the day the attorney served the divorce papers, who had died too young and relegated her to No-wheres-ville, Wisconsin.
When tears threatened her eyes this time, she did nothing to stop them.
Why had the dragon done this"? How could Ulbanu, who needed her help, be so horribly, horribly cruel . . . And yet, that small part of her was pleased to have her father back— even if he was eleven or twelve years old.
Maybe that was it. She brought a hand up and wiped at the tears. Maybe Ulbanu hadn't meant to be cruel, maybe she'd meant it as a gift. Maybe the dragon was giving Shilo a chance to say the things to young Sigmund that she hadn't said to her father.
She turned away from the window, and so she did not see a very old man shuffling down the street. His back was rounded like a turtle shell, and his eyes glimmered merrily. Shilo sat on the floor, the back of her head bumping against the sill. Enough starlight spilled in through the window that she could watch the boys and Nidintulugal.
I owe the priest a lot, she thought. More than I will ever he able to repay. He was patiently talking about the dragon and the stolen eggs, that they needed to find a way below the Hanging Gardens to find the eggs, that this would most likely be dangerous and that demons could be involved.
"Babylon, wild. It's still hard to believe," Sigmund said. "Not impossible, I realize. After all, I already saw one dragon."
"But not a demon," Kim said, making a face like he had eaten something sour.
"So tell me about Babylon. Ancient history's not my favorite subject," Sigmund said. "Yeah, Niddy, I've heard of King Neb-uckets, but that's about it."
It was Nidintulugal's turn to make a face when Sigmund butchered the king's name. "History?"
Sigmund threw his hand over his mouth, realizing the priest might not know about time travel. "Uhm, geography actually. I'm not from around here, you can tell. I really don't know nothing . . ."
"Anything," Kim corrected.
"Yeah, I don't know anything about Babylon."
Nidintulugal closed his eyes and sighed, his breath hissing out between clenched teeth.
A lot, Shilo thought again. 1 owe him an awful lot.
"The great city is the capital of Babylonia, the great country that rests between the Euphrates and the Tigris. King Nebuchadnezzar"—he spoke the name drawn out and with emphasis—"is responsible for the most beautiful buildings, including the Ishtar Gate. The name, Babylon, means the gate of the gods. This place is the most important city in the world."
Shilo could tell from Sigmund's expression that he did not believe that. Kim, however, was being more respectful and nodded as the priest continued.
"These lands have seen many kings, some of them foolish and unthinking toward the people. But a Babylonian soldier named Nabopolassar changed that. He had fought the Assyrian army and claimed this kingdom as his own. Nabopolassar was Nebuchadnezzar's father. Nebuchadnezzar is in his twentieth year of rul
ing."
The longer the priest talked about Shamash, then about kings and the land and all the impressive temples and other structures, the more Sigmund became interested. He leaned forward, making sure now that he caught every word, and asking questions when he missed something.
Nidintulugal spoke with such passion that even Shilo was caught up in his history lesson. He discussed the land around the city and events that stretched a few centuries into the past.
"History's pretty wild, huh, Kim?" Sigmund stifled a yawn. "Tell us more, Niddy."
Shilo grimaced. Niddy was worse than Nidin, which she'd sometimes been calling him.
"Yeah, tell us more. This'll make a great report at school in the fall," Kim said.
"I'm going to the library when we get home.' Sigmund beamed, the heat forgotten. "I'm gonna check out some history books."
Nidintulugal talked about the Hanging Gardens now, and Shilo let her mind wander. Was it possible her father's love of history started here, by listening to the Shamash priest? Was it possible that his visit to Babylon shaped him into the man she knew?
A shiver raced down her spine. What if they couldn't save the eggs, let alone find them? Would they all be stuck in Mesopotamia? And if her father didn't get back home, he'd never grow up to meet her mother, so she wouldn't be born. And if she wasn't born . . . she rocked forward and held her head with her hands. This was all too much to contemplate.
"Tell us more, Niddy. About ..."
"It is time to sleep," he said, stretching out on the floor and leaving the mats for the boys.
"Sleep quickly," Shilo said. She closed her eyes. "As soon as there's enough light, we look for a way under that mountain of green." She'd thought about leaving now. But the starlight wouldn't be enough, and someone might think it suspicious that four people were searching along the ground for something when practically everyone else was sleeping.
They would find the way down in the early morning— blending in with nut paste. Shilo did not doubt that they would find the way; they would have to or they wouldn't be going home. And then later, under the cover of shadows and darkness, they would use that way to go beneath the city in search of Ulbanu's eggs.
"I'm in Hades,' she whispered.
23 Weeping Trees
SHILO USED ALL BUT A FEW HANDFULS OF NUTS TO DYE THEIR skin, Nidintulugal carefully helping spread the paste on their eyelids.
"Do not scratch," he told them. "Do not wipe off sweat.''
"Yeah, we get it, Niddy," Sigmund said. "Don't smear the color." The boy sniffed at the robe again, wrinkling his nose and pantomiming gagging. "Hope the other folks in the city don't believe in baths, or no amount of that nut dye is gonna camouflage me.'
Kim sniffed at his armpits and his robe. "I'm not so bad as you, Sigmund."
"Enough talk." Shilo was at the window, looking out and adjusting the net bag that helped hide her red hair. "The sun's up, and I see people moving. We should've been out of here a while ago."
She turned toward the door, noticing that the boys looked serious. Maybe they understood the importance of this endeavor. "You sure you want to help us?" Shilo asked Nidintulugal.
"I must find out what Shamash's test is about," he said. He patted the knife still tucked in his belt. It looked like he intended to say something else. Instead, he gave the others one final inspection, then led them from the inn.
They walked along the river, pretending to be interested in the fishing boats that were just leaving, but actually trying to find something like an irrigation pipe through which river water could be pulled to the Gardens. They found nothing.
"And going in the river to look isn't an option, huh?"
The others shook their heads at Kim.
"Then why not look at the other end?" Kim suggested, lowering his voice when a Marduk priest and two elderly women stopped nearby at the bank. "Why not find where the water comes out in the Gardens, then try to backtrack and find our way in?"
Nidintulugal patted Kim on the head, then pointed down a street. "What wisdom you bring from your faraway place." He paused. "Take care, there will be more people in the Gardens than along this river."
Shilo had only seen the Hanging Gardens from the outside, and was unprepared for the intensity of the fragrances when she started up the steps behind Sigmund. The scent of the earth was strong because it was so damp, and the riot of flowers warred for her attention. She likened it to going into one of the big department stores in the mall and trying on all the perfumes at the cosmetic counter. At least it cuts my stink, she thought. Nidintulugal was in the lead, and they'd put both boys between them, wanting to keep a close watch on them. The priest had suggested leaving the boys in the room, but quickly discarded the notion, recalling how desperate Shilo got when looking for Kim.
She had been to botanical gardens before, once when she was so young she barely remembered it, to some gardens in St. Louis. Shilo thought she might have been in the first or second grade, and that she'd had her picture taken with koi—a sea of color—as she stood on a little bridge in the Japanese section. She recalled the day because in the picture there was an ice cream stain on her pink shirt, and her mother had gotten very angry with her. Her mother's tirade blotted out whatever fun she'd had in the park.
The king must love his wife very much, she thought, shaking off the bad memory and focusing on the whorls in a thick trunk, the pattern looking like an owl. Nidintulugal had said Nebuchadnezzar's bride came from a verdant land and missed it so terribly that he arranged for the construction of this place. It had pained him to see her so homesick, and she was brightened by the Hanging Gardens not so much because of their beauty, but that all the people of Babylon could enjoy something so marvelous.
To be so loved would be amazing, Shilo thought.
Some of the trees here were old, and Nidintulugal told her they had been brought by barge along the Euphrates from the north and south, and carefully planted here. Vines overhung the brick terraces, and more vines hung from the branches of the tallest trees.
The green would have been overwhelming, but flowers interjected other colors here and there, as did flocks of parrots that Nidintulugal said came from the south. Occasionally one of the parrots would fly close and squawk, a blue and yellow one saying "Marduk" repeatedly.
"You might think them magic birds, Shilo,'' the priest said. "But there is no magic in their speech. Those birds with curved bills are capable of repeating our words."
"Parroting them," Shilo said.
She let herself truly relax for a few minutes and focus on everything around her. Despite the number of people going up and down the stairs, it was quiet. There was the soft "shushing" sound everyone's sandals made against the bricks and the dirt paths that cut through the Gardens, and the chirps of parrots and other birds, the occasional screech of a monkey, but there was little talking.
Toward the top, statues were placed between some of the trees, serving as anchors for small trunks. She recognized an image of Shamash, and she saw Nidintulugal bow to it, his lips working, she suspected, in prayer. Beyond the Shamash idol, between gaps in veils of leaves, a thin waterfall splashed. She touched Sigmund's shoulder, startling him, and nodded to a trail that led away from the stairs and toward the waterfall. Sig-mund, in turn, tugged on Kim's robe, and Kim interrupted the priest's prayer.
As Shilo passed under the branches of something that resembled a weeping willow, she looked out and up. Light came through the leaves like light shining through a lacy window curtain, and she held up her dyed hands to see patterns on her skin. Shilo found no message in the play of sunlight, and wondered why Nidintulugal could possibly think Shamash was sending him messages here. But Shamash was the sun god, and so maybe the priest could read things in the light that others couldn't see.
* Sigmund prodded her to move along, clearly uninterested in the light patterns. She turned her thoughts reluctantly away from the flowers and trees and the priest and back to business. Moments later, she was at the edg
e of the waterfall's basin, looking up at the falls and keeping her distance so the water wouldn't splash her and ruin her skin.
"Let's try up there." Sigmund referred to a narrow set of steps, each one a brick baked with straw in it, leading up to the terrace where the waterfall started.
Shilo shook her head no, and pointed to another path that led higher, to where she spotted a bucket dumping water, part of the conveyor system Nidintulugal had mentioned.
Sigmund either hadn't seen her or wasn't paying attention, and scrambled up the steps. Before she could call to him, Kim cut in front of her, following his friend while deftly avoiding tripping on the hem of his robe.
"The dragon, perhaps, does not know the exuberance of youth," Nidintulugal observed as he followed Kim.
"I guess we're going this way,'' she said.
Shilo stuck out her bottom lip and exhaled, cooling her face. She glanced around before heading up, wanting to make sure no one was paying them any undue attention. She supposed the four of them could have looked like a family on an early-morning outing.
Shilo had managed to carry the heavy bolt of cloth down from the dragon's cave to the village, so she supposed she could carry an egg down this mountain and to the stable where the ox and cart waited. The boys were young, but they looked as strong as her, maybe stronger. But there was the matter of finding the eggs first, and before that could be accomplished, they needed to find a way in. Backtrack to the river, Sigmund had suggested. At the time, Shilo had thought it a good idea. Now, however, she hoped to find a way in through the Gardens itself. She wanted this over and done with.
But carrying the eggs out during the day would be a bad idea.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a young woman and a bare-chested man, perhaps her husband, embracing beneath a weeping veil of leaves.
The king must love his queen very much to have built these Gardens for her, Shilo thought again.
The waterfall was surprisingly loud for being so narrow. But the drop was a fair distance, and she found herself enjoying the roar of the water. She couldn't hear the whispered conversation Sigmund and Kim were sharing, and she could barely hear herself call to get Nidintulugal's attention. He'd been studying where the water originated—not from a stream or river, or any source such a feature would normally flow from. The waterfall was born out of a fissure in a rock, too narrow to fit through.