“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 firehead.”
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 firehead. 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 firelizard clutching N’ton’s shoulder for balance.