A Queer Little Book of Tales by H.R. Harrison

Author:H.R. Harrison [Harrison, H.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: LGBTQIA+, fairy tales, magic, medieval setting, royalty, coming of age, elves, aliens, dwarves, fairies, MM romance, MNB romance, nonbinary, transgender, autistic, deaf, Jewish, magical transformations, animal bridegrooms
Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC
Published: 2021-02-21T00:00:00+00:00

Echoes of the Dead

It had been a long time since Oswin had contemplated the idea of being alone.

He had been hired to translate and speak for Wystan, a deaf man who had been taught to speak with his hands by Oswin’s master. Barring a miracle of God or a spectacular falling-out, Oswin had assumed his job was secure. Not many people knew how to translate his master’s signs, so it wasn’t as if he was easily replaceable.

And it had been a nice job. He’d been paid mainly in room and board, but that had meant he got a very nice room in a very nice manse with actual servants he could ask to do things like fetch him a snack or draw him a bath. And the monthly stipend had been enough to keep his clothes up-to-date and well repaired. Wystan had been a dear friend, a confidante. They’d relied on each other. They’d needed each other. Oswin liked being needed.

But the unthinkable had happened.

No, Wystan’s hearing had not returned.

An angel had fallen from heaven and fallen in love with him.

Him, Wystan the deaf man. Not him, Oswin.

And since the angel was an angel, albeit a strangely insectoid one, for the first time Oswin had had competition for his skills. And Wystan’s father, being a cheap man even on a good day, had decided he only needed one translator and turned Oswin out into the early winter chill.

Do you have everything you need? Wystan asked, bringing Oswin out of his reverie.

In answer, he patted down his pockets and belt. Money, food, water… Yes, everything he needed for the short journey to the capital. He nodded.

Wystan bid him a tearful goodbye and promised to write him via his former master in the capital and made Oswin promise—twice!—to tell him when he found a new job so Wystan could continue to write. But privately, Oswin didn’t know if he could handle another position that was meant to be for life, only to once again have the rug pulled out from under his feet.

Wystan took off his warm woolen coat and offered it to Oswin. I have more, and true winter is fast approaching. Stay warm, my friend. Not giving him the chance to refuse, Wystan threw it around his shoulders and buttoned the top. I’ll have your things sent along to your master. You should have them a day or two after you arrive. Are you sure you don’t want to go with them?

Oswin smiled at his concern. I want the few days to clear my head. It’s cold, but not brutal. I’ll be fine.

You must promise to write.

At that, Oswin laughed. I already have. Twice, in fact. But I’ll make it thrice for the sake of our friendship. He playfully ruffled Wystan’s soft hair.

Wystan laughed his breathy laugh as he batted Oswin away so he could speak. Send word when you arrive, he said with exaggerated sternness, waggling his finger like one of his childhood tutors.

As you say, dearest mother of mine.

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