Brett

 For those who have read (or are going to read) my Unwoven Tapestry trilogy, Brett is a character you will meet and this is a short scene about him:

Brett sat and waited with a façade of outward calm. The Head of the Retrievers was due at any moment for their meeting and she intimidated the hell out of him. He appreciated her vast experience for the Retriever training, but her constant presence was all but a promise that he would face disfigurement and maiming. Even were it not as severe as her own, what was he willing to endure? Only four months in the grueling program, and he had been questioning his decision to enlist.

Vale entered without grace. He winced as the door banged open and shut, and came to his feet as she limped around the desk to collapse into her chair.

She stared up at him.

He hesitated and then slowly lowered himself back into the seat.

“Military stands, salutes,” she wheezed at him in a voice more gravel and nails than human speech. “We Retrieve. All else…” she flapped her only hand with dismissal. He could tell it was painful for her to speak.

She looked at him for longer than most considered polite. It didn’t make him uncomfortable – his family was blunt and many considered them rude in similar ways, but differences of culture did that.

“You have siblings,” Vale stated.

He was surprised at her choice of subject, but nodded. She motioned for him to elaborate.

“I have several brothers and sisters – some are married with children. A large family by any standard, really – aunts, uncles, cousins. We all live nearby and everyone pitches in with the farming and building and whatever else needs doing.”

“They all communicate easily and well?”

Brett blinked as realization came to him. He knew what this meeting was about, now. His hackles rose, but he answered calmly, “Yes, we all communicate easily and well.” He said the words with his mouth, but also his hands in the signed language that had been his first method of communication. He was the odd one out in the expanse of relatives because he was the only one who was not Deaf.

Uniquely, he’d been sent to the village school as soon as he was old enough to enroll. His uncle was an excellent teacher in every subject, but Brett’s parents wanted to make sure he learned to use his hearing and speak. When he came home in the evenings, he shared what he’d learned in his native family language, and his uncle would help him with any struggles, but he had to speak.

It had taken several years for him to stop hating the effort it took, how different he sounded from the other children, but he appreciated the decision now. No one ever guessed he wasn’t a native speaker unless they, too, were from a Deaf background. Too, his family never sent their Talented children to the Order – he was the first to do that, to have access to the books and tutors and socialization that made his head spin. He’d spent all of his money on books to expand the family collection and wrote home twice a week with all the things he learned, answering the return letters as quickly as he could to share in the family jokes and happenings, always returning for holidays. He missed out on so much already, he wasn’t willing to stay away for longer than he had to.

Accommodations for Deaf, or even mute, children wasn’t a reality in the Order, though he aimed to make it one. That’s what he thought this meeting would be about. He’d spoken recently with the Dean and, while the man had appeared receptive, they always did at first.

His decision to be a Retriever had been a difficult one – the family had discussed and debated it for months with and around him, but that was one of the many ways they showed love and made sure they were all included.

Vale watched his hand movements with interest. “Keep that up.” She cleared her throat roughly and grated, “Is this something you can teach?”

He signed and spoke together, “If the student is receptive, sure. It would take years to become fluent, however.” Vale’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but she didn’t interrupt him. “Hand Language is as complicated as any spoken language. We have poetry and jokes and sayings. And it does change, faster than a spoken language – as there is no written form to it, consistency is hard to maintain.”

“Everyone speaks it? All the deaf?”

“All of the Deaf people in our country who are given access, yes. I cannot speak to other countries, but I imagine they have their own. And those who have hearing parents don’t usually get the access they need soon enough, if at all.”

Vale sat back in her chair. “I need a curriculum.” She cleared her throat again, harshly, and took a swallow of water. “I want every Retriever in your year to have basic communication ability.”

He grimaced. “That won’t be ea-”

“Not the full language. Just enough. It’s useful.”

Brett thought about his few months of training and put his brothers and sisters and cousins in the roles of his classmates. Quiet communication if they had to hide, conversations while the children they Retrieved were sleeping but they wouldn’t have to leave them vulnerable, check ins during watch, private decisions on tactics…

Since he was old enough to know how, his had been the role of ambassador. Barter in the market, communication with authorities, advocating for nearly every one of his people in some form or fashion over the years – it wasn’t a role he wanted, but he’d never had the choice. And even if he had, would he have turned away from the need?

He leaned forward, still signing and speaking together, “If I do this for the Retrievers, I want it for the whole school. When my little niece broke her ankle, she had to wait hours for help, even though it happened in the town square. Because the Healers and nurses couldn’t communicate with her, and had to write with my sister. If that had happened here?”

Brett shook his head. “How many of my family are Talented, do you think?”

Vale’s eyes narrowed. He could tell she hadn’t considered it. “Almost all of us,” he told her. “But I was the first to come to the Order for training, because I was the first to be able to hear.”

“Villery told me,” she rasped. “But you can’t make everyone learn this.”

“No, I know that,” he agreed. “But I need enough to be fluent, in time, that my nieces and nephews can attend if they want to, when they’re ready. One person? Two or three who can communicate with anyone Deaf who comes? That’s too much to ask?”

Vale smirked at him. “I like your style. I’ll get it done. But you can’t teach – you have training.”

“My uncle is an excellent teacher. He’ll help.”

“I expect it was loud when you first came – your home was so quiet,” Vale mused.

Brett laughed at her. “People always forget that when you can’t hear how loud you are, you get pretty loud. I didn’t know farting was impolite until school,” he said ruefully. “No one else bothered to be discreet, so why would I? My family loves music, but it has to be loud enough to shake the walls and feel through your feet. Banging on tables and walls and stomping the floorboards is a polite way to get someone’s attention. What’s the problem with slamming around pots and pans if you know you won’t bother anyone?” He laughed again at her expression. “I didn’t sleep for the first month here because it was too quiet, but I could doze off in the dining room at full lunch with no issue.”

“I can tell,” Vale coughed, “we have a lot to learn from one another.”

Brett shook the proffered hand. “I look forward to it.”