The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [402]
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 turned 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 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