Free The Homeward Bounders by Diana Wynne Jones Page A

another world,” I said. I looked round while I was tipping the sand out of my shoes and began to feel regretful. We were not going to be here long, and it looked really inviting. We were in an open space in a tropical sort of forest. Everything was unbelievably bright and fruitful. The green, green trees were hung with bunches of fruit and draped with creepers growing blue and white flowers as big as plates. The only reason I didn’t find this hot sun dazzling was because I’d just been in the desert in Helen’s world. It was the kind of sun that brings scents and colors out. The place smelled wonderful. It was quiet, except for one or two peaceful rustlings. I took that to be squirrels or monkeys. There weren’t any birds singing, but that is not the kind of thing you notice after Helen’s world. “This is a jungle,” I said to Helen.
    â€œI can see that,” she said. “What do we do? Can we eat any of that fruit?”
    â€œIt’s better not to try,” I said.
    The tip of the nose came out of the black hair and pointed haughtily at me. “We can’t die. I was told that.”
    â€œThen you were lucky. You were told more than I was,” I said. “But I’ve eaten things that made me sorry I couldn’t die, before I learned to be careful.”
    â€œThen say what we do ,” said the haughty tip of nose.
    I was quite annoyed by then. She was so superior. Who was she, just new to the Bounds, to behave this way and play a silly trick on me? I had ten times her experience. I set out to show her. “The best thing,” I said patronizingly, “is not to eat until you see what the natives are eating. We’re not going to be here long—”
    â€œI can tell that,” she snapped.
    â€œâ€”So we needn’t eat at all,” I said. I was mad. “Yes, you’ll find you get a feeling about how long you’re going to be in a place. You’re coming on very nicely. The next thing to do is to go and look for any marks that other Homeward Bounders have left. There’s a sort of path over there. The signs should be in a tree near it.”
    I led the way loftily over to a bushy sort of opening at the edge of the clearing. I looked knowingly up and around. There was a sign. It was slashed into the trunk of a tree that looked like a huge fern. And—this would have to happen!—it was one I didn’t know.
    â€œThere it is,” I said, pointing to it, trying to think what I should say next. “It’s a very rare sign, that is.”
    Helen’s nose pointed up to it. “You don’t know what it means.”
    â€œYes, I do,” I said. “It means VERY PLEASANT WORLD. Those are very rare.”
    â€œYes,” she said. “Then what?”
    â€œWe go and look for some natives,” I said, “but carefully, not to alarm them. I should think they’d be rather primitive in a place like this.”
    We set off down the path. It was like a green tunnel, with fruit and huge flowers hanging down and brushing our heads.
    â€œSuppose these natives of yours speak a different language,” Helen said. “What do we do?”
    â€œLearn it,” I said gloomily. “But don’t worry. I know hundreds of languages by now. An awful lot of them are quite alike. You let me do the talking and we’ll be all right.”
    We went on a while, and then Helen seemed to decide to pick my brains. She said, “These signs you people with the stupid name have for one another—what are the commonest?”
    â€œWarnings mostly,” I said. “Things like SLAVERS OPERATE HERE or POLICE TAKE BRIBES or DON’T OFFEND THE PRIESTS or UNFRIENDLY. Yours had OUCH! which just about sums it up, to my mind.”
    â€œThere’s no need to be rude,” she said. “It’s my Home. I shall go back there before long, you’ll see.” That made me smile. It was just