A Respectable Life

Writers: Estelle
Date Posted: 26th September 2026

Characters: Seorla
Description: Seorla loses a job and makes a plan
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 2, day 23 of Turn 13

Heavy summer heat hung over the farmhold, even as the light began to fade and the voices of the fieldhands could be heard on their way back from their day's work. Their long shadows stretched out before them, some shouldering tools, others pushing barrows or leading beasts. Though they were weary, dusty and sweaty, the fairer ones sunburned and freckled, their pace picked up as they neared the hold and caught the scents of bread and stew and ale on the air.

Seorla hung back by the gate at the edge of the dusty yard behind the kitchens and watched as the young men laughed, ducking their heads under the pump, gulping water and flicking droplets at each other and the kitchen girls. Usually she'd have been irritated, wishing they'd hurry up so she wouldn't get in trouble for dawdling, but this evening she watched blankly, going over and over the conversation she'd just had with the Holder's mother.

At some level, she'd known it had been coming. When she'd looked up from sweeping out the ashes from the hearth yesterday morning and saw the woman frowning, and then again, early in the morning when she'd come in alone and found her up even before the drudges, counting them in and coming up short.

Ever since her mother hadn't been able to get out of bed.

"I'd keep you on if I could. You're a good worker." She'd met Seorla's gaze firmly enough to let her know there wasn't any room for argument. "But the spring planting's well over now, and we won't be harvesting for another few months yet. There simply isn't as much to do, and with the number of mouths we have to feed... You can't do enough for two."

"I can try? Mama's getting better, I'm sure she'll be out of bed soon." They'd been here six months, and she'd really thought it might last this time. Even now, there was no sign that anyone knew about them. "I can go out in the fields. I've done it before."

"Oh no, I couldn't have you do that. Not with the men." Irysa drew back a little, her lips tightening. "Though I appreciate the offer. Not many of your sort are so diligent. If it wasn't for..." She cut herself off. Perhaps the flat look in Seorla's eyes had warned her against saying any more.

"You could try at Merrob Hold," she offered. "Vescire might have work, and if not, I've heard there are...places. You can go."

Places. Seorla knew what the hesitation meant, the word held out like a dirty rag between the older woman's fingers. Caves.

Irysa was still speaking, offering excuses, but her voice seemed to fade away as Seorla's thoughts spiralled. Her belly felt tight and sick. The cavers were where you went when there was nowhere else to go. She remembered the constant damp chill, the dim green light of faded glows, the coughs and aches that never got better; how the strongest and most ruthless took the warm, dry places. What you had to do for food; cheat, steal from those too far gone in drink or hopelessness to care, hoping you'd judged it right and they wouldn't fight back. Stories of people being crushed, or trapped behind rockfalls in the dark.

"...you'll get your full pay for your work until the end of the sevenday. The trader caravan is due, they could take you as far as the Ashingale River ford, and then it's a day's walk to Vescire's. You'd be there in plenty of time before Fall."

Seorla had to lower her gaze, and her nails dug into her palms as she suppressed the familiar bitter taste of anger. **You won't steal our marks and turn us out in Thread? So kind. And how's Mama going to walk a day when she can hardly stand...** But she couldn't speak. They might get work again here, next season, if her mother was better. At least they were going to be paid. Many wouldn't.

So instead, she swallowed her temper, and lowered her gaze. Polite, respectful. "I understand, and I thank you for your patience. Perhaps in the autumn, we could..."

"Perhaps." Irysa stood, her face sagging with the release from guilt. "Go along now."

The men had gone inside. Seorla shook off her daze and came forward to fill her buckets, taking a moment to splash water over her face. What difference did a minute or two make now? She knew Merrob Hold wouldn't have work, even if her mother had been well enough. They'd come through that way last Turn, and the holder had shaken his head, pinch-lipped. Nothing for you here.

She had to think. They'd have their pay, not much, but if her mother was on her feet by the sevenday's end and they worked, they could get the traders to take them on past the ford. Perhaps, if they were careful, as far as Emerald Falls, and its western hills, the barren places where the holdless went.

Caves. But caves where they might not be another helpless pair of women. Caves where they had connections.

Suddenly, she was so tired of it all, of never feeling secure no matter how hard she worked, of swallowing her words when someone told her she ought to be grateful for a roof over her head. How she pretended not to see the narrowed eyes and hands moving to cover belt pouches, how her mother had bowed and thanked the holders who'd asked them to move on. It had been bearable when they'd worked beside each other, but then the sickness had come, and no healer could tell them where her mother's weariness came from or what to do. She could almost hear them thinking: there's nothing really wrong with that woman but laziness, but what can you expect?

Could it really hurt, if she asked her family for help, just this once? Only for medicine and protection. Time to rest, until her mother recovered. Then they could start again.

She tried not to think of the debt they'd owe. There was enough that could go wrong before they even got that far; their marks might run out; the sickness might get worse; her uncles might have been driven out of the caves by another gang, or by the hold guards. No point in worrying about it yet.

If she was going to do this, Seorla thought, she couldn't tell her mother where they were going, not until it was too late to object. She could say she'd heard of a hold where there was work, or even that they were headed for that Weyr across the sea where it was rumoured they took in holdless. She didn't believe it herself, and even if she did, it was much too far for their marks to stretch to travel if she remembered the maps from harper classes right. But her mother had talked about it, and she might believe.

She picked up the buckets and headed for the kitchen. At the end of the sevenday, the traders would come, and once again, they'd be going out into the unknown, but she had a plan. Not one she liked, not even a very good one, but it was better than nothing. And it'd be something to be out on the road, to be travelling rather than waking up every day to the same drudge work. Out there, you never knew what might be around the next corner.

For now, she'd have to work on their story. Travelling to relatives in Emerald Falls would do, but she'd need to flesh out her tale, since traders liked to talk on the road. Names, holds... As she scrubbed tables and set them ready for the evening meal, her imagination got to work, inventing a respectable life that gave no hint of who she, or her mother, really were.

Last updated on the October 28th 2026

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A Respectable Life