Dragons of the Watch - Donita K. Paul [53]
“That feels good,” she said. “It’s so hot.”
He washed her face and hands again, just to make her more comfortable. He looked at the windows and door and knew he could not open them. A breeze would be refreshing. Perhaps he should move her to a cooler spot. He needed some ideas.
Sitting next to her, the tumanhofer again asked Wulder to speed Laddin to their assistance. He’d seen the healing dragon in action many times. Ellie looked so pale.
“Ellie, can you hear me?”
She whispered, “Yes.”
“Can I get you something? A cool drink?”
“I’m too hot. Yes, please. A drink.”
Climbing the cabinet took him but a moment. He’d developed some skill at scaling the urohm fixtures. He searched for the smallest glass he could find. Getting down with a glass of water took a little more effort.
He put it down beside her. “I’m going to help you sit up.”
She managed to pull herself to a sitting position with his support. He held the glass to her lips, and she gladly drank.
“Thank you, Bealomondore.” She leaned back against him.
“I think we should get you out of this furnace.”
She looked around, puzzled.
“Just a figure of speech. But I really think you’d be more comfortable outside in the shade.”
“Oh, that sounds wonderful, but—”
“I’ll help.”
She managed to stand with Bealomondore supporting most of her weight. He held her close as he waited for her to get steady on her feet.
“My head hurts.” She rested her forehead against his shoulder. “Oh no. I’m going to throw up.”
Bealomondore grabbed the bucket of water he’d used when he mopped the floor. She nearly fell for that brief second as he leaned away from her to snatch the pail. He got it under her chin in time.
“Done?” he asked.
“I think so.”
“I’m going to sit you on the footstool while I get your water and the washcloth.”
“All right.”
He pushed the stool with his foot until it touched the leg of the kitchen table. When she sat, she latched on to that leg, her arm wrapped securely around it.
He bent to look in her face. “Can I let go? Are you going to be all right?”
“Leave the bucket.”
He did. He scrambled up the cabinet again to rinse out the washcloth with cool water. Ellie was still clinging to the table leg when he returned. He washed her face and gave her a sip of water.
“Are you ready to move outside?”
“Yes,” she whispered between only slightly parted lips.
Tak stayed too close as they made their way.
“Move, goat,” ordered Bealomondore.
The goat scooted ahead and disappeared around a corner.
Twice on the way to the back entrance, Ellie had to stop to gather the strength to go on. Bealomondore carried the bucket, and she lost what was left in her stomach. They rested.
“What’s wrong with me?” she asked. “It’s only a little cut.”
Bealomondore didn’t argue the point that it was significantly more than a little cut. “You’re overheated,” he explained. “And I think you may have a concussion.”
“I didn’t land on my head. My shoulder.”
“I heard something harder than your shoulder whack against the floor. I’m not saying you’re hardheaded, but …”
She smiled, but it turned into a grimace. “I can’t laugh, Bealomondore.”
He noticed that she stumbled over his name. “All right.” He gave a theatrical sigh. “I’ll tell you what my brother called me in private.” They reached their exit. He guided her to a box where she could sit for a moment. “My first name is Graddapotmorphit. My brother called me Phit. If you wish to call me by something shorter than Bealomondore, I will not be offended.”
He heard a faint giggle and thanked Wulder.
“You’re going to be all right, Ellie.” He helped her up again and eased her through