Gool by Maurice Gee Page B

Xantee said, letting her fear turn to anger at him.
    I never said that. You need your breakfast. And I need a piss. Close your eyes.
    The scree ran out in low hills, nodding together like heads. By midday the burning heat had Xantee longing for the cold of the pass. It was close to nightfall before they broke into flat land and saw the jungle in front of them – trees as solid-seeming as cliffs, with dark caves opening at the base.
    Do we have to go in there? Lo said.
    In the morning, Duro said.
    No, I want to call the people tonight, Xantee said. She could not forget Hari wasting away.
    They approached the trees, feeling their weight, feeling the greediness with which they fed on the earth. Behind a dark wall of growth they sensed the jungle teeming with life, all of it hungry, all of it intent on survival. Xantee wondered how many centuries – how many hundreds of centuries – the people with no name had spent reaching their state of perfect harmony with their surroundings. They had, in a way, conquered the jungle and, in another way, were part of it. She could imagine their dismay at the arrival of the gool, whose intention was, it seemed, to devour everything.
    She and Lo spoke formally, in a soft clear voice: We are humans seeking your help, people with no name. We’re searching for the place where the gool was born, to destroy it, and we ask your help to cross the jungle to the home of the Dog King, who knows the way.
    Silence. No sound, no whisper from the trees. Only the humming, almost unheard, of a million insects, and the woofing and grumble of animals ending their day, and the crack, far off, of a rotten branch splitting from a trunk.
    They’re not here, Duro said.
    They’re here. We can feel them.
    They like to play games, these Peeps. Why can’t they just say yes or no?
    Quiet, Duro, Xantee whispered. She had heard her name – and Lo his.
    Xantee. Lo. And Duro, who can speak with us if he wishes. The way is open.
    Duro, join with us, Xantee said.
    He did so, clumsily, then with greater ease.
    Xantee. Lo. Duro. We haven’t spoken with humans before. But our brothers over the mountains told us you would come, and that you travel to fight the gool, which eats the world. Say what you would have us do.
    Take us safely through the jungle. Show us where the Dog King lives.
    The first we will do. But the Dog King is over the mountains, sometimes in the forest, sometimes on the plains, near the city that lies in pieces by the sea. We’ll take you as far as we can.
    Is there a gool on the way?
    In the far mountains. We’ll show you how to pass. Sleep now. In the morning follow.
    How long to reach the mountains?
    The sun will return as many times as you have fingers on your hands, then two more times.
    Twelve days, Lo whispered.
    Why can’t they just say so? Duro said.
    Xantee thought of Hari lying on his bed, growing thinner and weaker all the time.
    Can we travel in the night? she asked.
    You can travel and sleep when you need, the people said.
    Then take us into the jungle now.
    Xantee, Lo protested.
    For Hari, she said.
    We’ll need torches, Duro said.
    We can make light for you to see, the people said.
    Then let’s go now, Xantee said.
    The sun made its sudden descent beyond the western mountains. The jungle, which had been blue and purple and grey, and rusty red with flowers, and yellow with slanting rays, turned black, as if to repel the travellers. As they approached a tiny seed of light appeared, floating ahead of them. It led the way, growing as it went into a pod, then into a globe enclosing them with light like a lantern of seed oil – except that it had no source and threw no shadows.
    How do they –? Duro began.
    They make it with their minds the way they make their song, Xantee said.
    I can hear their song.
    We’d be dead already without it, Lo said, pointing at a tree tiger lashing its tail on a branch ahead. As they approached it gave a howl of rage and leaped away into the cavernous