[Fic] "Nor Good Red Herring" -- original, Ekanu

[edenfalling]

15_minute_fic is back! (At least for a while...)

Anyway, this is another Ekanu snippet, set between Getting To Know You and The Painted Sky. Ekanu and Ain talk a little about the history and ethnic tensions of Yanomy. (550 words)

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Nor Good Red Herring
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"The past defines us," Ain said as he leaned against the doorframe of Ekanu's borrowed room, "but it should not -- must not -- imprison us." He flipped his belt knife from end to end in his hand, always catching the hilt and letting the blade miss his skin by a whisper's breadth. "If we forget the past, we forget who we are and wander blindly across the trackless world, with no stars to guide us. But if we let the past trap us in its coils..."

The knife stopped, blade pinned between his index finger and thumb, its tip just kissing the heel of his hand.

"Then we repeat forever all the old mistakes, instead of making new ones," Ekanu finished for him. She set her guitar back into its open case, not wanting that barrier between them if Ain wanted to talk rather than tell folktales.

Ain smiled. "Not quite how I would phrase it, but yes. This is more important in Yanomy than in other lands, I think. We have long memories, and we cherish grudges. We live free or die, and it is terribly easy to harm others in the name of our own good."

Ekanu stood from her writing desk and walked to his side. "Yanomy. Yan hu'Komi, the free lands." She plucked the knife from Ain's hand and pressed her fingers against the tiny spot of blood that welled up from his palm. "I thought the name spoke of resistance to the Estarin Empire, but it is from back and back, as far as writing goes. Why? What did your ancestors fight against, gone so many thousand years?"

"That," said Ain, "is a secret. Ask my grandmother sometime, in the dark of the moon, and she might tell you."

He took back his knife with his free hand and twisted the hilt around and around, staring at the lamplight reflected in the blade. "For now, the important thing to remember is that the Merinese and Sirinese hate and fear the Sheng and disdain each other. Nobody trusts the Harulin, because they came to our land and stole our farms and cities out from under us. Everyone looks down on the Songtalese, because they are backwards and inbred. The Sheng consider everyone but themselves unclean. The Matarese are thieves and jackals, the Hallikin are fools, and the Andarkin are mad." He wrapped his fingers around Ekanu's hand. "I'm surprised you made it to Pythas without mortally offending anyone."

"I may have done," Ekanu said with a sigh. "Nobody likes chapterhouse inspectors. It is heavy to know if they dislike me for that or for unfortunate things I say."

"It is hard to know," Ain corrected, his smile growing. "I suspect your ignorance was obvious, and so any insult was mostly discounted. But now you know. You have no more excuses."

Ekanu returned his smile. "As you say. Who do you hate, Ain? Are you Sheng like your grandmother, or Andarkin like your name, or Pythran like your city?"

He laughed. "Are you Domaris or Estaran? I am of the University, like you. Where else can those of us who are caught between peoples find a home?"

Ekanu leaned against his body, drew their joined hands to her chest. "With each other."

Ain put his knife away.

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Inspired by the 1/4/10 15_minute_fic word #125: past

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Ekanu's dialogue is a little stilted because she is speaking Pythran, not Common. If this conversation occurred in Common, she would sound more fluent than Ain.