“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 firelizards, 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 firehead.”
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?”