Jaxom took a deep breath, forcing emotion down. «That does make it awkward, doesn't it, because right now we need a dragonrider.» He looked toward Brekke. Her head was turned slightly to the west. Jaxom could sense her longing to be where she was urgently needed, the restraint, that kept her from claiming Canth's help when he was needed elsewhere. «We have a dragonrider!» he exclaimed, whooping. «Ruth, would you take Brekke to Ista without me?»
I would take Brekke anywhere. The little white dragon raised his head, his eyes wheeling quickly as he stepped forward, toward Brekke.
Brekke's face cleared miraculously of sorrow and helplessness. «Oh, Jaxom, would you really let me?»
He was well repaid by the overwhelming gratitude in that breathless question.
He took her arm, hurrying her to Ruth's side. «You must go. If Master Robinton…» Jaxom choked on the rest of that sentence, panic at the thought closing his throat.
«Oh, thank you, Jaxom, Thank you, Ruth.» Brekke rumbled with the strap of her helmet. She struggled with her jacket before she could get her arm into the sleeve, and buckled the riding belt in place. When she was ready Ruth dipped his shoulder for Brekke to mount, then turned his head to be sure she was safely seated.
«I'll send Ruth directly back, Jaxom. Oh, no, don't let him go! Don't let him sleep!» The last two sentences were directed to distant minds.
We will not let him go, Ruth said. He briefly nosed Jaxom on the shoulder and then sprang up, showering his friend and Sharra with dry sand. He was barely wing height above the waves before he winked out.
«Jaxom?» Sharra's voice was so unsteady that he tamed to her in concern. «What can have happened? T'kul couldn't have been mad enough to attack the Harper, too?»
«The Harper may have tried to stop the fight, if I know him. Do you know Master Robinton?»
«I know more of him,» she said, biting her underlip. She expelled her breath in a deep shudder, struggling to control her fears. «Through Piemur, and Menolly. I've seen him, of course, in our Hold and heard him sing. He's such a wonderful man. Oh, Jaxom! All those Southerners have run mad. Mad! They're sick, confused, lost!» She dropped her head against his shoulder, surrendering to her anxieties. Tenderly, he drew her against him.
He lives! Ruth's reassurance rang faint but true in his head.
«Ruth says he lives, Sharra.»
«He must continue to live, Jaxom. He must! He must!» Her fists beat on his chest to emphasize her determination.
Jaxom caught her hands, holding them flat, and smiled into her wide, flashing eyes.
«He will. I'm sure he will, if it's in our power to think him so.»
Jaxom was intensely aware, at this highly inappropriate moment, of Sharra's vibrant body pressing against his. He could feel her warmth through the thin fabric of her shirt, the long line of her thighs against his, the fragrance of her hair, scented with sun and a blossom she had tucked behind her ear. The startled look that crossed her face told him that she, too, was aware of the intimacy of their positions aware and, for the first time since he had known her, confused.
He eased his grip on her hands, ready to release her completely if necessary. Sharra was not Corana, not a simple hold girl obedient to the Lord of her Hold. Sharra was not a bed partner for a passing indulgence of desire. Sharra was too important to him to risk destroying their relationship with an ill timed demonstration. He was also aware that Sharra thought that his feelings for her stemmed from a natural gratitude for her nursing. He'd thought of that possibility in himself and decided that she was wrong. He liked too many things about her, from the sound of her beautiful voice, to the sure touch of her hands: hands he was aching to have caress him. He'd learned a good deal about her in the past few days, but he was aware of a hungry curiosity in himself to know much, much more. Her reaction to the Southerners had surprised him; she often surprised him. Part of her attraction, he supposed, was that he never knew what she'd say or how she'd say it.
Suddenly he broke their partial embrace and, circling her shoulders lightly with his arm, guided her to the mats where they'd been so blithely playing a child's game. He put both hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle downward push.
«We may have a long wait, Sharra, before we know for certain the Harper's all right.»
«I wish I knew what was wrong! If that T'kul has harmed our Harper…»
«What about his harming F'lar?»
«I don't know F'lar, although I'd naturally be very sorry if he were hurt by T'kul.» She absently folded her legs as he sat down beside her, just close enough so that their shoulders nearly touched. «And, in a sense, F'lar ought to fight T'kul. After all, he sent the Oldtimers into exile so he ought to finish it.»
«And he'll finish it by killing T'kul?»
«Or being killed by him!»
«We'd be in a far worse state,» Jaxom replied with more heat than he intended at her callous dismissal of F'lar's fate, «if the Benden Weyrleader gets killed! He is Pern!»
«Really?» Sharra was willing to be converted. «I've never seen him…»
There are many dragons here and many many people, Ruth told him, his tone still faint but clear. Sebell is coming. Menolly cannot.
«Is Ruth talking to you?» Sharra asked anxiously, leaning forward and grasping his arm. He covered her fingers with his, silencing her in that gesture. She bit her underlip and studied his face. He tried to reassure her with emphatic nods.
Her fire lizards are here. The Harper sleeps. Master Oldive is with him, too. They wait outside. We will not let him go. Should I return to you now?
«Who are they?» Jaxom asked though he was fairly sure of the identity.
Lessa and F'lar. The man who attacked F'lar is dead.
«T'kul's dead, and F'lar is not hurt?»
No.
«Ask him what is wrong with the Harper,» Sharra whispered.
Jaxom wanted to know, too, but there was a long pause before Ruth answered, and the little dragon sounded confused.
Mnementh said Robinton's chest hurt and he wanted to sleep. Wine helped him. Mnementh and Ramoth knew he should not sleep. He would go. May I come back now?
«Does Brekke need you?»
There are many dragons here.
«Come home, my friend!»
I come!
«His chest hurt?» Sharra repeated when Jaxom told her what Ruth had said. She frowned. «It could be the heart. The Harper is not a young man and he does a great deal!» She looked about her for her fire lizards. «I could send Meer…»
«Ruth says there's an awful lot of people and dragons at Ista right now. I think we'd better wait.»
«I know,» and Sharra gave a long sigh. She picked up a handful of sand and let it run through her fingers. Then she gave Jaxom a sad smile. «I know how to wait, but that doesn't mean I like to!»
«We know he's alive, and F'lar…» Jaxom gave her a sly look.
«I didn't mean any disrespect to your Weyrleader, Jaxom, I want you to know that…»
Jaxom laughed, having managed to tease her. She let out an exclamation of annoyance and threw the handful of sand toward him, but he ducked and the sand went over his shoulder, some of it falling in the gentle waves that lapped up the shore.
Brushed out of existence by the next wave, no ripples lasted in this water. There was a fallacy in the Harper's analogy then, Jaxom thought, amused by this irrelevant thought.
Meer and Talla suddenly squawked, both heads turned toward the western arm of the cove. They raised their wings and crouched on their haunches, ready to spring into the air.
«What is it?»
As quickly as they had become alert, the two fire lizards relaxed, Meer preening one wing as if she hadn't been startled the moment before.
«Is someone coming?» Sharra asked, turning to Jaxom with amazement.