"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."