«As long as the headache. So keep your eyes covered, Jaxom.» Sharra spoke slowly, almost slurring her words but her low voice had a rich lilt that made him wonder if she looked as good as her voice sounded. He doubted it. No one could. «Don't you dare look about. You've still got that headache, haven't you? Well, keep your eyes closed. We've got the place as dark as we can but you could do permanent damage to your eyes if you're not careful right now.»
Jaxom felt Brekke adjust the compress. «Menolly got sick, too?»
«Yes, but Master Oldive sent word that she's responding to the medicine very well.» Brekke hesitated. «Of course, she hadn't flown Thread or gone between, which aggravated the illness for you.»
Jaxom groaned. «I've gone between with a cold before and got no worse for it.»
«With a cold, yes, not with fire head,» Sharra said. «Here, Brekke. This is ready for him now.»
He felt a reed placed at his lips. Brekke told him to suck through it as he should not lift his head to drink.
«What is this?» he mumbled around the straw.
«Fruit juice,» Sharra said so promptly that Jaxom sipped warily. «Just fruit juice, Jaxom. You need liquid in your body right now. The fever dried you out.»
The juice was cool in his mouth and so mild in taste that he couldn't figure out from which fruit it came. But it was just what he wanted, not tart enough to irritate moisture starved tissues in his mouth and throat, and not sweet enough to be nauseating to his empty stomach. He finished it and asked for more, but Brekke told him he'd had enough. He should try to sleep now.
«Ruth? Are you all right?»
Now that you are yourself again, I will eat. I will not go far. I don't need to.
«Ruth?» Alarmed by the thought that his dragon had neglected himself, Jaxom injudiciously tried to raise his head. The pain was incredible.
«Ruth is perfectly all right, Jaxom,» Brekke said in a stern voice. Her hands had already pushed his shoulders flat to the bed. «Ruth's been covered with fire lizards, and he's been bathed regularly morning and evening. He's never been more than two lengths from you. I've reassured him on every concern.» Jaxom groaned, having completely forgotten that Brekke could speak to any dragon. «F'nor and Canth have hunted for him because he wouldn't leave you so he's by no means the skin and bones you are. He'll hunt now, none the worse for the waiting. You go to sleep.»
He had no option and suspected as he drifted away from consciousness that there had been something besides fruit in that drink.
When he woke, feeling rested and restless, he remembered not to move his head. He began to cast back through distorted memories of being hot and cold. He distinctly remembered reaching the cove, staggering into the shade, collapsing at the base of a redfruit tree, struggling to reach the cluster of fruit, longing for the liquid to cool his parched mouth and throat. That must have been when Ruth realized he was ill.
Jaxom could vaguely recall fevered glimpses of Brekke and F'nor, could remember pleading with them to bring Ruth to him. He supposed they had erected some kind of temporary hold for shelter. Sharra had said something to that effect. He extended his left arm slowly, moved it up and down, without contacting more than the frame of the bed. He extended his right arm.
«Jaxom?» He heard Sharra's soft voice. «And Ruth too fast asleep himself to warn me. Are you thirsty?» She didn't sound contrite that she'd been asleep. She made a small sound of dismay as she touched the now dry compress. «Don't open your eyes.»
She removed the bandage and he heard her dipping it in liquid, wringing it out and then he shivered at its touch on his skin. He reached up, holding the bandage against his forehead, lightly at first and then with more confident pressure.
«Hey, it doesn't hurt «
«Ssssh. Brekke's asleep and she wakes so easily.» Sharra's voice had been muted; now her fingers closed his lips.
«Why can't I move my head from side to side?» Jaxom tried not to sound as startled as he felt.
Sharra's low laugh reassured him. «We've got two blocks wedging your head so you can't move. Remember?» She guided his hands to them, then moved the restraints aside. «Turn your head, just a little now, from side to side. If your skin is no longer sensitive, you may be over the worst of the fire head.»
Gingerly he rotated his head, left and then right. He made a bolder motion. «It doesn't hurt. It actually doesn't hurt.»
«Oh, no, you don't.» Sharra grabbed his wrist as he reached for the compress. «I've a night light on. Wait till I shield it. The less light, the better.»
He heard her fumbling with a glow basket shield. «All right now?»
«I'm only permitting you to try,» she stressed the last word as she covered his hand on the bandage with hers, «because it's a moonless hour of night and you couldn't do any harm. If you see even the tiniest patch of glare, cover your eyes instantly.»
«It's that dangerous?»
«It can be.»
Slowly she peeled the bandage back.
«I don't see anything!»
«Any glare or spots?»
«No? Nothing. Oh!» Something had been obscuring his vision for now he could see dim outlines.
«I had my hand in front of your nose, just in case,» she said.
He could make out the dark blur of her body beside him. She must be on her knees. Slowly his sight improved as he blinked sandy incrustations from his lashes.
«My eyes are full of sand.»
«Just a moment.» Suddenly water was dribbled carefully into his eyes. He blinked furiously, complained loudly. «I told you to hush, you'll wake Brekke. She's worn out. Now, does that clear the sand?»
«Yes, it's much better. I didn't mean to be so much trouble.»
«Oh? I thought you'd planned all this on purpose.»
Jaxom caught one of her hands and brought it to his lips, holding it as fast as his weakened condition permitted because she gasped at the kiss and withdrew her hand.
«Thanks!»
«I'm putting your bandage back on,» she said, the reproach in her voice unmistakable.
Jaxom chuckled, pleased to have disconcerted her. His only regret was the lack of light. He could see that she was slender. Her voice, despite her firmness, sounded young. Would her face be lovely enough to match that voice?
«Please drink all this juice,» she said, and he felt the straw against his lips. «Another good sleep now and you're over the worst of it.»
«You're a healer?» Jaxom was dismayed. Her voice had sounded so young. He'd assumed she was a fosterling of Brekke's.
«Certainly. You don't think they'd entrust the life of the Lord of Ruatha Hold to an apprentice? I've had a lot of experience getting people through fire head.»
The familiar floating sensation induced by fellis juice flooded him and he couldn't have answered her no matter how urgently he wanted to.
To his disappointment, when he awoke the next day, Brekke answered his call. It didn't seem courteous to inquire where Sharra was. Nor could he ask Ruth since Brekke could hear the exchange. But Sharra had evidently told Brekke of his middle of the night awakening because her voice sounded lighter, almost gay as she greeted him. To celebrate his recovery, she permitted him a cup of weak klah and a bowl of moistened sweetbread.
Warning him to keep his eyes closed, she changed the bandage but the replacement was not as dense and when he opened his eyes, cautiously, he could distinguish light and dark areas about him.
Midday he was allowed to sit up and eat the light meal Brekke provided, but even that slight activity exhausted him. Nonetheless he complained petulantly to Brekke when she offered him more juice to drink.
«Fellis laced? Am I expected to sleep my life away?»
«Oh, you'll be making up for this lost time, I assure you,» she replied, a cryptic remark that puzzled him as he drifted off to sleep again.
The next day he chafed further at the restrictions imposed on him. He chafed but, when Sharra and Brekke assisted him to the bench so they could
exchange rushbags on the bed, he was so weak after sitting up a few minutes that he was very grateful to be down again. He was all the more surprised then, that evening, to hear N'ton's voice in the other room.
«You look a lot better, Jaxom,» N'ton said, walking quietly up to the bed. «Lytol will be immensely relieved. But if you ever,» N'ton's harsh voice reflected his anxieties, «attempt to fight Thread again when you're ill, I'll… I'll… I'll throw you to Lessa's mercies.»
«I didn't think I'd more than a stuffed head, N'ton,» Jaxom replied, nervously poking at grassy bumps in his bedbag. «And it was my first Fall on Ruth…»
«I know, I know,» N'ton said, his tone considerably less reproving. «You couldn't have known you were coming down with fire head. You owe your life to Ruth, you know. F'nor says Ruth has more sense than most people. Half the dragons on Pern wouldn't have known what to do with their rider delirious; they would have been totally confused by the confusion in their riders' minds. No, you and Ruth are in very good odor at Benden. Very good! You just concentrate on getting your strength back. And when you're feeling stronger, D'ram said he'd be glad to bear you company and show you some of the interesting things he found while he was here.»
«He didn't mind me and Ruth following him?»
«No.» N'ton was genuinely surprised at Jaxom's question. «No, lad, I think he was surprised that he'd been missed and gratified that he's still needed as a dragonrider.»
«N'ton!» Brekke's call was firm.
«I was told I couldn't stay long.» Jaxom could hear N'ton's feet scraping on the ground as he rose. «I'll come again, I promise.» Jaxom could hear Tris complaining and he visualized the little fire lizard clutching N'ton's shoulder for balance.
«How's Menolly? Is she recovering? Tell Lytol that I'm very sorry to cause him worry!»
«He knows that, Jaxom. And Menolly's much better. I've seen her, too. She had a lighter touch of fire head than you did. Sebell recognized the symptoms almost immediately and called in Oldive. Don't be in a rush to get up, though.»
As glad as he'd been for N'ton's visit, Jaxom was relieved that it had been short. He felt limp and his head began to ache.
«Brekke?» Could he be having a relapse?
«She's with N'ton, Jaxom.»
«Sharra! My head is aching.» He couldn't help the waver in his voice.
Her cool hand touched his cheek. «No fever, Jaxom. You tire quickly, that's all. Sleep now.»
The reasonable words, spoken in her gentle rich voice lulled him and, though he wanted to remain awake, his eyes closed. Her fingers massaged his forehead, descended to his neck, gently smoothing the tension, all the while her voice encouraged him to rest, to sleep. And he did.
The cool, moist sea breeze roused him at dawn, and he fumbled irritably to cover his exposed legs and back for he'd been sleeping on his stomach, tangled in the light blanket. Having rearranged himself with some difficulty, he couldn't drop back to sleep again though he had closed his eyes, expecting to do so. He opened them again, fretfully gazing beyond the raised curtains of the shelter. He exclaimed in surprise, tensing, just then aware that his eyes were no longer bandaged and his vision was unimpaired.
«Jaxom?»
Twisting around, he saw Sharra's tall figure swing from the hammock, noticed the length of dark hair streaming about her shoulders, obscuring her face.
«Sharra!»
«Your eyes, Jaxom?» she asked in a hushed worried tone and walked swiftly to his bed.
«My eyes are just fine, Sharra,» he replied, catching her hand in his, keeping her where he could see her face clearly in the dim light. «Oh, no, you don't,» he said with a low laugh as she tried to break his hold. «I've been waiting to see what you looked like.»
With his free hand, he pushed aside the hair that covered her face.
«And?» She drawled the word in proud defiance, unconsciously straightening her shoulders and tossing her hair back.
Sharra was not pretty. He'd expected that. Her features were too irregular, in particular her nose was too long for her face, and though her chin well shaped it was a shade too firm for beauty. But her mouth had a lovely double curve, the left side twitching as she contained the humor which her deep set eyes echoed. She arched her left eyebrow slowly, amused by his scrutiny. «And?» she repeated.
«I know you may not agree but I think you're beautiful!» He resisted her second attempt to free her hand and rise. «You must be aware that you have a beautiful speaking voice.»
«I have tried to cultivate that,» she said.
«You've succeeded.» He exerted pressure on her hand, pulling her still closer. It was immensely important to him to determine her age.
She laughed softly, wriggling her fingers in his tight grasp. «Let me go now, Jaxom, be a good boy!»
«I am not good and I am not a boy.» He had spoken with a low intensity which drove the good natured amusement from her expression. She returned his gaze steadily and then gave him a small smile.
«No, you're neither good nor a boy. You've been a very sick man and it's my job,» she stressed the word just slightly as he let her withdraw her hand from his, «to make you well again.»
«The sooner, the better.» Jaxom lay back, smiling up at her. She'd be nearly his height when he stood, he thought. That they would be able to look eye to eye appealed to him.
She gave him one long, slightly puzzled look and then, with a cryptic shrug, turned away from him, gathering her hair and twining it neatly about her head as she left the room.
Although neither of them mentioned that dawn confidence, afterward Jaxom found it easier to accept the restraints of his convalescence in good grace. He ate what he was given without complaint, took the medicines, and obeyed instructions to rest.
One worry fretted him until he finally blurted it out to Brekke.
«When I was fevered, Brekke, did I… I mean…»
Brekke smiled and patted his hand reassuringly. «We never pay any attention to such ramblings. Generally, they're so incoherent they make no sense whatever.»
Some note in her voice bothered him, though. «…so incoherent, they make no sense?» He had babbled his head off, then. Not that he minded about Brekke if he had said something about that dratted queen egg. But if Sharra had heard? She was from the Southern Hold. Would she be as quick to discount his ramblings about that double blasted shard shelled egg? He couldn't relax. What wretched luck to fall ill when you had a secret that must be kept! He worried over that until he fell asleep, and picked right up on the same train of thought the next morning, though he forced himself to be cheerful as he listened to Ruth bathing with the fire lizards.
He comes, Ruth said suddenly, sounding startled. And D'ram brings him.
«D'ram brings whom?» Jaxom asked.
«Sharra,» Brekke called from the other room, «our guests have arrived. Would you escort them from the beach?» She came quickly into Jaxom's room, smoothing the light blanket and peering intently at his face. «Is your face clean? How are your hands?» «Who's coming that has you in a flurry? Ruth?» He's pleased to see me, too. Ruth's sound of surprise was colored with delight.
Jaxom was forewarned by that remark, but he could only stare, stunned, as Lytol came striding into the room. His face was tense and pale under the flying helmet, and he hadn't bothered to unfasten his jacket on the walk up from the beach, so perspiration beads formed on his forehead and upper Up. He stood in the doorway, just looking at his ward.
Abruptly, he turned toward the outside wall, harshly clearing his throat, stripping off helmet and gloves, unbelting his jacket, grunting in surprise when Brekke appeared at his elbow to relieve him of the gear. As she passed Jaxom's bed on her way out of the room, she gave him such an intense look that he couldn't fathom what she was trying to convey.
She says that he is crying, Ruth told him. And that you are not to be surprised or embarrass him. Ruth paused. She is also thinking that Lytol is healed, too? Lytol hasn't been ill.
Ja
xom didn't have time to sort out that oblique reference because his guardian had already recovered his composure and turned.
«Hot here after Ruatha,» Jaxom said, struggling to break the silence.
«You want a bit of sun, boy,» Lytol said at the same moment.
«I'm not allowed out of bed, yet.»
«The mountain is just as you sketched it.»
They spoke again simultaneously, answering each other's comments.
It was too much for Jaxom, who burst out laughing, waving Lytol to sit beside him on the bed. Still laughing, Jaxom grabbed Lytol's forearm, holding it firmly, trying in that grasp to apologize for all the concern he'd caused. Abruptly he was engulfed in Lytol's rough embrace, his back soundly thumped when the man released him. Tears sprang to Jaxom's eyes, too, at the unexpected demonstration. Lytol had always been scrupulous in caring for his ward but the older Jaxom had grown, the more he had wondered if Lytol really liked him at all.
«I thought I had lost you.»
«I'm harder to lose than you'd think, sir.»
Jaxom couldn't stop grinning foolishly because Lytol actually had a smile on his face: the first one Jaxom recalled.
«You're nothing but bones and white skin,» Lytol said in his customary gruff manner.
«That'll pass. I'm allowed to eat all I want,» Jaxom replied. «Care for something?»
«I didn't come to eat. I came to see you. And I'll tell you this, young Lord Jaxom, I think you'd better go back to the Mastersmith for more drafting lessons: you did not accurately place the trees along the cove shore in that sketch of yours. Though the mountain is very well done.»
«I knew I had the trees wrong, sir, one of the things I planned to check out. Only when I got back here, it went clean out of my head.»
«So I understand,» and Lytol gave a rusty laugh.
«Give me the news of the Hold.» Jaxom was suddenly eager for those minor details that had once bored him.
They chatted away in a companionable fashion that astonished Jaxom. He'd been ill at ease with Lytol, he realized now, ever since he had inadvertently Impressed Ruth. But that strain had evaporated. If this illness of his did no other good, it had brought him and Lytol closer than Jaxom in his boyhood could ever have imagined.
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