Sorry! I promised myself I wasn't going to space out before I remembered to update again, but... well, pie-crust promise. Easily made, easily broken. If it's any consolation, I forget a lot of things (up to and including when my exam results came out), not just this.
Nearly forgot the disclaimer too.
"M'kai? Are you all right?" Kirsty asked over dinner. "You aren't as talkative as usual, and you haven't been eating."
"Oh, I got a cold when I went between the other day," he explained with a sniff. "I fell into water and had no time to dry off before we left."
"Ugh," she said sympathetically. "I've done that one before."
"So now I feel absolutely awful," he groaned.
"At least there's no Fall for a few days," she said philosophically, pouring herself a cup of klah. "Have something to eat; it might make you feel better."
"Thanks for the suggestion, but I don't feel like eating anything right now," he said. "I might just go and get some sleep. Maybe I'll feel better in the morning." He stood and made his way to the entrance.
"Ah, M'kai, just the person I wanted to see," Lessa hailed him warmly. "Lord Jaxom and Lady Sharra are here, and we were wondering if you would provide us with some music."
"I am ever at your service, Lessa," M'kai replied. "If you will just allow me to fetch my gitar, I will be there in a moment."
He left the dining hall and hurried to the Weyrling Hall to collect his gitar. He didn't think he had the breath for the pipe tonight. At the Hall, he was forced to lean against the wall for a moment as a wave of dizziness came over him, then he returned to the dining hall with his gitar.
"Ah, M'kai," F'lar greeted him. "This is our Weyrsinger, bronze rider M'kai," he added to the man and woman sitting next to him. "This is Lord Jaxom of Ruatha, and his spouse Lady Sharra," he said by way of introduction.
M'kai gave them a small bow. "It is my honour to meet and entertain you tonight, my lord and lady."
"It is our honour to be entertained, M'kai," Jaxom replied.
"This song is a ballad dedicated to all the men and women who participated in AIVAS' Great Scheme," M'kai said, seating himself.
He played it, and as it finished, Jaxom remarked idly, "I don't remember it being quite like that, but it is close enough to the truth."
"Did I err, my lord?" M'kai asked worriedly. "I was sure that I researched everything properly."
"Did you write it, M'kai?" Sharra said in surprise. "I felt that it really captured the essence of those days. I don't know what Jaxom is talking about," she said with a sidelong look at her spouse, "but it seemed accurate to me."
"Thank you, my lady," M'kai said. A dull pounding had started in his head, and his throat was dry from singing.
"Can you please play something instrumental, so we may continue our conversation?" Lessa asked. "I feel like listening to music in the background tonight."
"Of course, Lessa," M'kai said gratefully, and launched into an instrumental piece.
He played three more songs, and by this time, he could no longer hear what he was playing through the pounding of his head. Spots danced in front of his eyes, and he felt unbearably hot.
"M'kai?" he heard a voice call, as if from far away. "M'kai? M'kai? Are you all right? I can't get him to answer me!" the voice said, sounding panicky. He vaguely identified the voice as B'kennor.
I want to answer, but I can't, he tried to say, but the words seemed to get stuck and he couldn't get them out.
"He said he wasn't feeling well at dinner," another voice said, close by. Kirsty, this time. "But he said it was just a cold!"
"Firehead has the same initial symptoms as a cold," he heard Sharra say grimly. "But it's a whole lot worse. It can be deadly. Get him up to the sickroom," she ordered.
M'kai felt himself being lifted into B'kennor's arms, and felt the thuds as B'kennor's feet hit each step.
"I'm sick, aren't I?" M'kai mumbled.
"Yes, you are. Very sick," B'kennor scolded. "Why didn't you say something?"
"Thought it was a cold," M'kai replied tiredly. "Diara's good at curing colds. Where is she?"
B'kennor paused for a moment, then continued up the stairs. "She's dead, M'kai. She's been dead for nearly a Turn."
"Diara? Where are you? Who's M'kai? M'kai is a rider's name. I'm Mor, from Fer Hold, and I'm going to grow up to be a harper," M'kai announced, struggling to get out of B'kennor arms.
"Let me go, Dioron! You'll make me late to meet Diara!" M'kai said angrily, tears leaking from his eyes.
"He's delirious," B'kennor said sadly. "He thinks that I am his brother, and he can't even remember that he's a dragonrider."
"It'll pass," Sharra assured him. "The delirium stage is generally over within a sevenday, though I've never seen anyone forget that they are a rider," she said, glancing at the feverish boy.
M'kai! Can you not remember me? Tyrith asked piteously. M'kai?
"Dioanth says even Tyrith can't make him respond," B'kennor said, tears forming in his eyes. Though he would never tell him, he was very fond of M'kai. "What rider would ignore their dragon?"
They reached the sickroom, and once B'kennor laid M'kai on the bed, Sharra covered him with furs. "I'm going to need medicines," she said, rolling up her sleeves. "Where does the Weyr's healer keep them?"
"My uncle keeps his stock of medicines over here," Kirsty said, opening the doors of a cupboard built into the wall. "There's numbweed, fellis, willowsalic, sweatroot, featherfern… Want do you want first?"
"I always found that willowsalic with a drop or two of fellis worked well for firehead headaches, so I'll start with that. While I mix that up, can you make up a mixture one part featherfern to two parts water?" she asked Kirsty.
"Yes, my lady," she answered, and after giving Sharra the bottle of willowsalic crystals and the fellis flask, collected the featherfern and went deeper into the cave for the water tap at the back.
"Is there anything I can do, Lady Sharra?" B'kennor asked, feeling helpless.
"Yes. Get a bandage from the cupboard and wet it, then place it over his forehead and eyes. Fold it thick enough that you can't see through it," Sharra ordered. "Then see if you can find something to immobilise his head. I don't want him moving."
"Why not?" B'kennor asked, squinting at the folded bandage he held to make sure no light could get through.
"If he moves, he can knock the cloth off his eyes, and if his eyes are exposed to any light, he could go blind," she said bleakly.
"Blind!" B'kennor exclaimed, dropping the bandage. "This firehead is that bad?"
"It can be," Sharra answered solemnly.
Sorry again!