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.