This takes place variously and in overlapping episodes between autumn 2521 and early spring 2522

A'ira

The cold, crisp air was invigorating and A'ira's young sons' faces glowed with health and cold air as they ran about enjoying themselves at the Winter Fair at Nabol. Her little daughter Carralai was swathed in clothes, at just nine months old too small to be sufficiently mobile to keep warm on her own. A'ira balanced the babe on her hip, keeping her close to her own body warmth as Clor and Aram chased each other around the stalls with other youngsters. A'ira sighed with happiness. It had been more than two years now since T'lana had swept her into the Weyr where she had met R'cal. She smiled fondly down at the daughter he had given her, the babe's hair as red as her sire's still. Aye, and he was a good father to Clor and Aram too, better she had to admit than their own father would have been if he had lived, at least if one compared his treatment of young Clor with R'cal's gentler, patient approach to Aram. A'ira wondered guiltily as she sometimes did if it were wrong to be glad that Clom had killed himself and given her and the boys a better life. Yet it was his choice to leave her to cope as best she could with the crippling debts he had taken on, he could scarcely blame her if she had taken an easier path by going to the Weyr. And meeting R'cal – that was just magical! R'cal was just running an errand right now; they had run into the Lady Rillys of Rivenhill Hold and she had asked for a lift to visit High Reaches Weyr. R'cal had been glad to oblige a friend of T'lana's, one of his favourite people!

Aram ducked away from his brother and set off laughing behind the stalls; and A'ira hastily followed. They were heading towards the hiring stands, where itinerant workers waited for hire from holders and cotholders. Sometimes these wanderers could be a little rough, and A'ira sharply called the boys to her by name.

A man turned sharply at her voice – and for a moment she felt giddy as she thought Clom had returned from the dead! Then she realised that it was only his brother, Coram. Coram strode over.

"Atira! What are you doing here? Keep those brats in order and stop shaming the family, or I'll swelp them! I'm prepared to accept them into my own family, and I'll soon teach them manners then!" his tone was surly, and A'ira's mouth dropped open. She had become so accustomed to being treated with the respect due to her status as a dragonrider that the condescending offer – if it could be called that – completely took her breath away.

"I hardly think so, Coram." She said coldly. "They are my children, and I will bring them up. They will not be scarcely tolerated drudges for you – and though I might have let you bully me into it before, when finding the next meal was a problem, do you really think that I'm going to fall at your feet in gratitude for suggesting they take a step down in life? Especially if, as it seems, you've been forced to come here for hire. Lord Bargen evict you from your dirty little cot, did he?"

He flushed, and went to strike her. A'ira swayed effortlessly out of the way, and Clor launched himself on his mother's attacker.

"Bad Man! Get off mummy!" he yelled. Coram went to cuff the child out of the way and knocked him flying. A'ira saw red and swung a fist at her erstwhile brother in law.

Coram's head jerked back satisfactorily and he spat blood.

"You HIT me!" he gasped, scarcely able to believe it.

"You hit my son."

"Little brat. I'll take him and teach him!" He looked daggers at Clom, now hiding with Aram behind A'ira's legs. "And so help me, I'll school you too, Atira, daring to say I'm thrown out when I'm here to hire! You'll come with me and I'll not need to pay extra hands to work the fields now you've been thrown out of your position as loving wench at the Weyr together with whatever dragonman's brat was got on you!" He reached out to grab A'ira's arm. Sick and cold in her stomach, hating a scene and knowing herself to be the centre of it in a knot of deeply interested people, A'ira forced herself to be calm as she stepped back. There was no way on Pern he could take her, or exert any control over her infant daughter; but could he take her sons from her and force them to slave for him on grounds that he was their nearest living male relative? Her only chance was to be positive and to declare that he had no rights and to sound as if she knew it for fact.

"No, actually Coram, you will not." She said with a calm that she was very far from feeling. "These are my sons, and they return to the Weyr with me and their foster father after this Gather is over. And you will please refrain from calling me 'Atira' and use the proper honorific."

"Proper honorific? What nonsense is this?" growled Coram.

"At High Reaches, it is customary for females to contract as well as men. I am now A'ira." she tossed back her well groomed hair and stared him out. He sneered.

"A'ira? are you asking me to believe that a stupid bovine like you could Impress? I know Clom was enough infatuated that he only beat you occasionally, but you're nothing special. Just a drudge whose body is at the beck and call of all comers at the Weyr."

There had been a split in the support for Coram's claim before this little speech, some of the spectators feeling that he had a right to his kinsman's sons; but some of his support evaporated. Especially as Joroth and little golden Summer, A'ira's firelizard, decided to intervene then. Summer arrived first from between, chattering angrily as A'ira's upset thoughts had woken her from sleep on Joroth's neck. She hissed ant Coram, and he took an involuntary step backwards. A'ira soothed the little creature, stroking her head knob as Coram spluttered in disbelief. He did a great deal more than splutter as the downdraft from Joroth's wings nearly threw him off balance. She might only be a small Green dragon; but a dragon was still a dragon, and larger close to than most people were prepared to cope with! There was a respectful break in the circle of spectators to allow Joroth through to land by her beloved A'ira. Coram squealed. A'ira snorted.

"And like all bullies, you're a coward." She said scornfully. "There's no need to hide from this snivelling creature, boys! He can't even face a dragon. He's happy to beat up on children and what he thinks are defenceless women – but he has no real balls. I'm not afraid of you, Coram. I've fought Thread!"

As she spoke, she knew it was true. She was not afraid of her blustering brother in law. Even without Joroth to back her up, she knew he could never force her to do anything. She had no need to fear anything. She had Joroth's love, and R'cal's, and the backing of her new family, the Weyr. Almost she felt sorry for her former relatives. Almost; but not quite.

R'cal's arrival on Camnath finalised the rout of Coram. Quite a few of the crowd dissipated as well; his face did not encourage unnecessary heroics in defence of the bullying cotholder. Gradually the interested watchers drifted away from what was rapidly becoming a non-event.

"What's happening?" R'cal asked peremptorily. A'ira went o his arms.

"Clom's brother was here. He tried to force me to go and work for him and take the boys. He can't take our boys, can he?" she asked, a touch of anxiety clouding her confidence. R'cal shook his head, too choked to speak that she should consider them his boys as well.

"No, love." He told her. "They belong to their mother unless rejected until old enough to make a reasoned choice unless an overlord thinks they are being maltreated. Do you think they'll make any choice but to stay?"

A'ira shook her head.

"And he can't claim they're being maltreated." She said happily. "If he applies to Lord Bargen, he'll ask T'bor, isn't that so?"

R'cal nodded.

"And T'bor will laugh." He said. "He knows who their real family is."

As if to reiterate this, Aram tugged at R'cal's leg.

"Daddy, Aram go home. Bad man shouted at mummy!"

R'cal picked the youngster up.

"We'll not let any bad man frighten us home, will we?" he asked, pulling the toddler's nose gently. "Not a big brave dragonman's son, huh?"

"I wasn't afraid!" Clor had to put in. "I chased him! We're Weyrbred! We don't like bad men!"

R'cal laughed.

"How about it, funnyface?" he asked Aram.

"Daddy not let bad man hurt mummy." Said Aram. "Bubbly pies?" he added hopefully. R'cal grinned.

"Bubbly pies it is!" he declared.