Chapter 52

Rada's work area was getting a little cramped. She had many pieces of clothing that she was working on just for the wedding, and she had to keep them all organized in different piles. She had begun to despair that she might not get everything done in time, but Mrs. Knox volunteered to help her.

"I can't embroider my way out of a paper bag," she said, "but I'll be happy to finish hems or sew on buttons or whatever else you might need."

Rada readily accepted her help, and the two women worked companionably together. Rada was finishing a dress for Danika, and Emily was sewing a hem on a dark grey wool coat for Damyan.

"This is really lovely!" Emily exclaimed as she held up the coat. It was about knee length with long sleeves that were split to just above the elbow. Rada had already embroidered a border on the finished edges. "Are they traditional?"

"Oh, yes," Rada said. "The design is very old. When I was little, my grandmother told me that they wore coats like this at court during the days of the princes."

"Surely your grandmother wasn't that old."

Rada laughed. "I almost thought she was. No, that was something she had been told when she was little. I didn't really think about it, but then I saw a picture in one of the old books that Andakar's brother Mattas had hidden. It was a copy of a copy of a very old drawing that was supposed to be what someone remembered from those days, and it really is the same sort of coat."

"Well, your menfolk are going to look very smart for their weddings." Emily remarked. "I suppose Major Miles will be in his dress uniform."

"Yes, he had it sent down from Briggs," Rada replied. "I have to admit, I was glad I only had to make three coats instead of four."

Emily nodded and glanced over at the bridal ensembles draped carefully over a nearby table. They consisted of a red short-sleeved tunic trimmed with embroidered ribbon that would be worn over a white long-sleeved underdress. The hem, the sleeves, and the neck opening were all elaborately embroidered. Emily gave a nostalgic sigh.

"I bought my wedding dress at a bargain basement sale two hours before my wedding," she said. "My mother was frantic, but I just never found the right dress until that moment."

"How long have you been married?" Rada asked her.

"Twenty-three years," Emily replied. She smiled. "Poor Knox was so nervous! He dropped the ring twice. But I had my perfect dress and I was marrying my sweetheart, so I was happy as a lark." She gave another sigh, perhaps not so nostalgic. "We went through some tough times, though. I was really afraid I was going to lose him for good after he came back from this place."

Rada glanced over at her. She had seldom considered the effect the war had on the Amestrians, but she knew that it had to have been a bitter experience for everyone involved. Then Emily brightened.

"But I finally just made the decision to go and get him back, even if I had to drag him by the collar." She smiled at Rada. "It was the smartest thing I ever did. The next smartest thing was to talk him into coming back here, because it really has done wonders for him. For both of us." She gave a little laugh. "Knox has actually gotten quite romantic."

"Has he?" Rada asked, eager to hear a good story.

"We've gone on a lot of moonlit walks lately," Emily said. Her smile grew mischievous. "We even started bringing a blanket with us."

"Eh-h! Have you, now?" Rada exclaimed teasingly. "Zhaarana Emily! How naughty of you!"

Both women burst into laughter. Some of the soldiers who were working in the supply tent glanced their way and smiled. There didn't seem to be any cultural differences when it came to two women laughing over girl stuff.

The entrance to the supply tent was always wide open during the day, and there was a lot of traffic going in and out. A couple of soldiers stepped aside as Danika burst into the tent, followed at a more sedate pace by Scar. The little girl ran up to the sewing table.

"Mama! Mama!" she cried breathlessly. "Is it done yet?"

"Just a little longer, sweetie," Rada assured her. "I'm almost done."

Danika hopped up and down in an agony of excitement while Rada completed the last stitches on the hem of her dress. Scar dropped his hand down on her head.

"Calm down, child!" he said with a quiet laugh.

"But this is the most bee-yoo-tifullest dress I ever, ever had in my whole life!" Danika groaned.

"Then it's worth being patient for, isn't it?"

Danika stopped hopping, but she clasped her hands tightly and jiggled. Rada finally snipped off the thread, shook out the dress, and held it up for Danika to see. The little girl clapped her hands to the sides of her face and drew in a loud, ecstatic gasp. Rada stood and held the dress up to Danika's shoulders. It was light blue with a high-waisted bodice and short puffy sleeves. The skirt was gathered full at the edge of the bodice and reached down to Danika's ankles. The little girl gazed down at the dress in wonder, her fingers brushing the fabric almost reverently.

"Well, you look like you're going to be the belle of the ball, Miss Danika!" Emily remarked.

Danika looked up with a puzzled expression. "The what?"

"You're going to be the prettiest girl at the wedding," Emily explained.

"Oh." Danika thought for a moment. "No, I think Mama is."

Emily laughed. "All right. I won't argue with you about that."

"Nor will I," Scar added, his eyes dwelling on Rada, who smiled back at him.

She carefully laid Danika's dress along with the others and picked up the long striped sash she was working on. It was a band of red fabric folded over with narrow strips of black fabric quilted onto it along its length. The little girl squirmed with excitement once again.

"That's my chuva!" she practically screamed, then she clapped her hands over her mouth as the adults laughed softly.

"I certainly don't have to ask you how excited you are about that," Emily said.

Danika shook her head emphatically. "Nope! 'Cause tomorrow, Zhaarad Andakar's gonna be my papa forever and ever!" Her smile changed to an angry scowl. "Instead of that stupid mean Kimlee man!"

An uneasy expression flickered across Rada's face, and Emily briefly felt as though she had intruded on an awkward family moment. Andakar, however, didn't seem troubled at all, and he gently stroked Danika's hair with a look of pride in his eyes. He apparently had not thought her too young to reveal that sort of information to her, and Emily was not about to question the man's wisdom. It did not seem to have failed him yet.

A commotion of excited voices, growing from just a few to many, drifted in from somewhere out in the compound. Scar and Rada exchanged puzzled looks, then Scar's expression turned to a glower.

"What now?" he growled, turning away to head outside.

At the far end of the compound, a crowd had gathered, and more people were hurrying to join them, craning their necks to see over everyone else's heads. Over the laughter and shouts of encouragement, Scar could hear the clash of steel against steel, a sound that, to his mind, should be neither laughed at nor encouraged. He pushed through the crowd to find the cause of this disturbance.

In an open space at the center of the crowd, Shua and General Armstrong were engaged in what appeared to be combat. The general, a look of fury on her face, was lashing out with her family heirloom saber, and Shua was easily parrying her attacks with a pair of long daggers, grinning gleefully.

"Shua!" Scar roared out. "What the hell are you—"

"Not now, lad!" Shua called back, twisting to one side to avoid a potentially lethal thrust. "I'm a little busy!"

"Quit squirming, you weasel!" Olivier snarled.

The crowd cheered and surged along with the combatants as they lunged back and forth.

"How did this start?" Scar demanded of anyone who would pay attention.

"How else?" a voice beside him replied. He turned to find Havoc standing next to him, and he seemed to be enjoying the spectacle as much as everyone else. "I only caught the end of it, but I think I heard something about camels."

"Hump this, asshole!" Olivier cried as she backhanded a slash that Shua caught in the hooked guard at the base of one of his daggers. With a sharp twist of his wrist he pulled the general's sword from her hand and flung it in the air. He hopped away from her, singing a few lines of a mocking song in a high-pitched nasal voice, which sent up a wail of laughter from the Ishvalans. Olivier grabbed the sword's handle out of the air as it came down and went for him again with renewed outrage.

The spectators were evenly mixed between Amestrians and Ishvalans, and the loyalties, which seemed good-natured enough, were just as equally divided. But Scar didn't like what he was seeing and he contemplated breaking it up. He felt a jostling behind him as Roy pushed through the crowd. He took in the scene before him with a quick, grim glance, and Scar was about to enlist his help to bring the fight to a halt.

Roy then cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Let her have it, Shua!"

Scar shot him a look of outrage, and Olivier snapped back with, "Shut your trap, Mustang! You're next!"

"Don't get your hopes up, Brigadier!" Shua called out. "Once I'm done with her, she'll never look at another man!"

He jerked his head aside in barely enough time to avoid having his ear sliced off. As it was, Olivier managed to nick him enough to draw blood, which set off a cheer from the Amestrians. At the other side of the surrounding crowd, Miles had pushed his way through and watched with alarm.

"General!" he cried.

"Stay out of this, Miles!" Olivier ordered through gritted teeth. "I'm having fun!"

She caught the edge of her sword in the guard of one of Shua's daggers and sent it flying with a twist of her blade. She began to hack relentlessly against his remaining weapon, making him retreat further away from where his first dagger had landed, its point embedded in the ground. Shua's smiled began to disappear as his took the jarring force of each blow of the general's sword. Scar decided it was time to intervene, but a small form darted past him and out through the forest of legs onto the field of battle.

"Stop it stop it stop it!"

Scar hadn't even noticed that Danika had trotted after him when he left the supply tent. She stood with her fists clenched and her blue eyes blazing furiously at the two combatants. Shua spun around and Olivier missed him with a powerful downward swing of her sword. She couldn't control the force of her own momentum and she stumbled forward toward Danika, her sword extended. Shua reached out quickly and wrapped his arm around her waist just as Scar leaped out from the crowd to scoop Danika into his arms.

They stood frozen for a few seconds while the save was cheered by the spectators, then Danika struggled in Scar's arms with frantic anger. "You stop right now!" she shouted, leaning away from Scar's hold, nearly in tears. "You don't fight! Hurting people is bad!"

"Danika! Calm down!" Scar told her firmly. "They're not trying to hurt each other!" He wasn't entirely sure of that, but he wouldn't tell her otherwise.

Shua quickly sheathed his dagger. "That's right, little blackbird," he assured her, his arm still tight around Olivier. "We were just having a little fun, that's all. Weren't we, General?" he said to Olivier, giving her a squeeze.

"Uh…yes," Olivier mumbled back. "It's…it's called sparring."

"Exactly!" Shua said with a grin. "No one got hurt!"

Danika did not appear convinced, and then she caught sight of the blood that had dripped from Shua's ear onto his shirt. Her eyes widened with horror. "Djaari Shua! You're bleeding!" she gasped, and she burst into tears.

"I am?" Shua frowned and looked down at himself, then saw the few drops on his shirt. "Oh, I guess I am!" He let go of Olivier and went over to cup Danika's face in his hands. "I barely even felt it, laleh! Don't let it bother you! See? Look!"

He moved back to Olivier's side and put his arm around her shoulders. "We're still friends! Watch this!" He leaned closer to Olivier. "Kiss me!" he whispered.

"Like hell!" Olivier hissed back.

Shua jerked her closer to him. "Just on the cheek!"

With a badly concealed look of revulsion, Olivier gave him a quick peck on his cheek. She drew herself up with somewhat tattered dignity and turned to Danika. She had absolutely no idea how to talk to a child, and this one was glaring back at her with fierce blue eyes that had a disturbingly adult depth to them. But it appeared that she was expected to say something. "There," she pronounced with finality. "Nothing to worry about."

Danika was only barely mollified, and she gave a little hiccup of a sob in reply. She turned her head toward Scar and wrapped her arms around his neck. It seemed as though the entertainment had come to an end and the crowd began to disperse, laughing and talking amongst themselves. Scar held Danika closer and regarded Shua and Olivier severely.

"This stops now," he told them, his voice low and stern, and he turned abruptly away.

Shua watched his broad retreating back as the big Ishvalan strode across the compound, Danika clinging to him. "Ah, well," he sighed, giving Olivier's shoulder another squeeze. "It was fun while it lasted."

Olivier shrugged roughly away from his arm. "If I thought you were that clever, I'd have said you planned the whole thing, you filthy-minded bastard!" she growled.

Shua chuckled. He stepped away to retrieve his dagger from where it stood in the ground. Wiping it against his pant leg, he sheathed it next to its twin behind his back. "Ah, sweetheart, if I was that clever, I'd have planned for a lot more than just a kiss on the cheek!"


The setting sun cast a rosy tinge onto the desert. Brigadier General Mustang and his adjutant stood among a grove of tall cottonwood trees, their leaves whispering in the light evening breeze. They contemplated the dry river bed below them.

"It'll be a glorious sight," Roy observed. He turned to study her profile. "Can you picture it?"

Riza nodded. "The Engineering Corps said they were ahead of schedule. The river could be released as early as late winter."

"Just in time for spring planting," Roy added. "It's such a basic element, but it's going to make such a massive change to this land." He drew in a deep breath of cool air. "If they choose to establish their own nation, they'll need every advantage they can get."

Riza took a final look up the river bed toward the distant mountains. "And it will be a symbol of how alchemy can actually do some good."

Roy shrugged. "Alchemy. Alkahestry. The voice of God. Who knows?"

"Seems to be all the same thing, wrapped up in one man," Riza said quietly.

Roy stayed silent, staring down at the sandy bottom of the river bed. He gave a little shudder as two pieces of a puzzle clicked together in his head and he realized how Scar had so easily read his emotions when he first arrived. A half smile crossed his features. "You say that like it's a good thing," he remarked. "Should one man have that kind of power?"

"Depends on the man," Riza replied. "Do you still not entirely trust him?"

"I have to," Roy said. "He's the one holding all this together. But I'll certainly feel a lot better if he stays one of us."

"I don't think he's ever going to see himself as one of us."

"I meant an Amestrian citizen, rather than a foreign power right on our border."

"I honestly don't think the Ishvalans are going to be a threat. Besides, you were the one pushing for their independence."

"I was pushing for them to have the choice," Roy replied. "I hope they don't actually take us up on it."

"Well, you've done your part. The ball's in their court now." Riza gazed up at the red-tinged clouds in the sky. "We should go. It'll be dark by the time we get back."

"I suppose," Roy said reluctantly. "But it's so peaceful here. It's nice to be able to stand somewhere in Ishval and say it's peaceful and have it not be because everyone around you is dead."

Riza smiled and nodded. "I know exactly what you mean."

Roy turned to her to gaze at her smile. The way she could see into his soul was a lot more comforting than the way Scar could.


Rada leaned against Scar's shoulder, dozing off as they sat in front of the fire. Her hand was clasped in his, their fingers intertwined, and Scar moved his other hand to cover hers. He smiled at the feeling of contentment that flowed up his arms and caressed his heart. He turned his head to brush his lips against her temple in gratitude, and she stirred and lifted her face to his. He kissed her unhurriedly, savoring the complex stream of emotions as he felt her desire meet his. Then he gently pulled away. She wasn't entirely his yet.

"You must be tired," he said.

Her head dropped back to his shoulder and she nodded. "I'm exhausted!"

Scar lifted his shoulder slightly to nudge her. "We'll sleep in each other's arms after tomorrow, my love. But for now, you should go to bed."

"Mm." Rada raised her arms and stretched them. "So should you."

"I will, by and by." Scar nodded at the fire. "I'll get this banked down for the morning."

Rada patted him on the shoulder and bent down to kiss him one more time. "Good night, my silver hawk," she said sleepily. "I'll be your bright sunrise in the morning."

Scar laughed softly. "Good night, my love."

Her footsteps retreated toward the tent she shared with Danika, and Scar sat before the fire a while longer, considering the day's events. Surprisingly, the scrap between Shua and General Armstrong had not caused any strain on Amestrian-Ishvalan relations. Perhaps it was another sign of how times had changed. He shook his head. Shua had entirely too much spare time and too much mischief in him to use it constructively. It would be a relief when General Armstrong finally boarded the train, but Scar had to wonder how Shua would fill the void that she would leave. He needed something constructive to do.

Another set of footsteps made Scar look over his shoulder, and he was surprised and not entirely pleased to see the general herself entering the camp.

"What brings you here?" he asked her quietly. "And keep your voice down. Shua went to bed, but he wasn't drinking, so he may sleep light."

"I just wanted a moment of your time," Olivier replied. "I expect you'll be too preoccupied tomorrow."

Scar rose to his feet. "A moment then." He nodded toward the outer edges of the campsite, and he followed the general as she headed away from the light of the fire.

She stopped and turned to him. "You may recall that I mentioned this when you were recuperating in my house," she began. "I've been wanting to discuss your unique brand of alkahestry. I think it could be extremely useful."

"Useful for what?"

"As a means of defense," Olivier replied, unmoved by the tone of warning in Scar's voice. "And one of the first lines of defense is to always have the advantage over your opponent. After Miles kicked Drachma's ass, they've started to regroup, and I want to be ready for them."

Scar folded his arms and regarded the woman before him. He had not given her remark from all those months ago any consideration, and he had little to no inclination to do so now. "And what do you expect me to do about it?" he replied.

"I expect you to remember that I smuggled you out of the ruins of Central Command, hid you from the authorities, and had you nursed back to health," Olivier countered readily.

Scar gave a slight lift of his shoulders. "I'm not ungrateful," he said. "But do you actually expect me to compromise my beliefs to become a human weapon?"

"You wouldn't think twice about using your power to defend your own people, would you?"

"That's not the same thing as being a pawn for the military," Scar returned.

Olivier scoffed. "You'd be as much a pawn as I am." She leaned in a little closer to him. "But I could ensure that the military made it worth your while, despite the fact that you owe me, Ishvalan."

Scar bridled angrily. "I'm the one who saved your entire country!" he growled. "So I don't think I owe you anything. And no matter what fate my brethren choose for themselves, my allegiance will always be to God, my family, and my people, and whatever abilities I have belong to them. Not to Grumman, not to Mustang, and not to—"

He stopped suddenly and turned as a muffled shriek cut through the peace of the night, and he sprinted back into the camp. As he entered through the circle of tents, Rada emerged from her tent, looking sleepy and disheveled, and holding a frantically weeping Danika in her arms.

"What's wrong?" Scar demanded.

"I think she just had a nightmare," Rada replied. "I was just drifting off to sleep when she let out a scream." She shook her head wearily. "She wants you."

Danika had twisted around and was holding her arms out to Scar, and he gathered her into his embrace, carrying her over near the fire and sitting down with her in his lap. She curled herself up against him and continued to cry, although now her weeping was not as desperate.

"What's this now?" he asked, his deep voice softened. "Was it a dream?"

Danika nodded. "It—it was a—a awful dream!" she sobbed. "It was the—the most awfullest dream!"

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

Danika shuddered as she made a few attempts to draw in enough breath to speak. "I—I dreamed that I was all alone! I was looking all around for you 'cause—'cause you were s'posed to give me my—my chuva so you could be my papa, and then—and then that Kimlee man came and said that you couldn't be my papa 'cause he was my papa and he was gonna take me away and—and—" Danika nearly choked on her words. "—and he was so, so scary 'cause—'cause he didn't have a face—"

Danika's sobbing grew harder and she buried her face into the fabric of Scar's shirt. He didn't need to touch her bare skin to tell how terrified she was. He knew from experience how adept the Crimson Alchemist was at invading a night's sleep and tearing it into shreds. The little girl deserved as much time as she needed to let such a horrific image fade from her mind. The thought of it nearly made Scar shudder.

A few other heads had popped out of the surrounding tents, but once they realized what was going on, they went back to bed. Fortunately, Shua wasn't one of them. He must have been a heavier sleeper than Scar thought he was.

Danika grew calmer, and Rada brought out a blanket. She handed it to Scar and he wrapped it around the little girl.

"Now, listen to me, Danika," he said, his arms securely around her. "I know your dream frightened you badly, but none of it was real. Kimblee is gone forever, and he can't take you away or hurt you or do anything to anyone." He gently pressed her head against his chest over his heart. "Can you hear that?"

The little girl nodded mutely.

"That is real," Scar went on. "I'm real. I'm right here, and I'm never going to let anyone take you away from me. Do you believe me?"

Danika nodded again and gave a little sniffle. The tight little ball she had made of herself began to relax. In a cautious whisper she asked, "Can I—can I call you Papa now, even though it's not time yet?"

Scar smiled and kissed the top of her head. "Of course you can. Haven't I been as good as a father to you all this time?"

Danika snuggled against him, more at peace but still seeking comfort. "I love you, Papa!"

"I love you, too, my little blackbird." Scar held her close one more time. "Bless this child, O Creator," he prayed softly, "and grant her the wholesome, untroubled sleep of the innocent."

He looked up at Rada and nodded, then he stood up and handed Danika to her mother. Brushing a lock of hair from the little girl's face, he said, "Go on back to sleep now, little one."

"What if the bad dream comes back?" Danika mumbled sleepily.

"Then I'll come and chase it away," Scar assured her.

Danika dropped her head on Rada's shoulder, content with this answer. "'kay."

Rada exchanged a final smile with Scar and carried her daughter back to their tent.

Scar stood by the fire for a few more moments, letting his shoulders sag wearily. This day needed to end.

"Well, I can see there's no point arguing with you over your priorities."

Scar looked back over his shoulder with an irritable scowl.

"Yes, I'm still here," Olivier said with a smirk. "I suppose I'll have to wait for diplomatic relations to open up with Xing to get hold of alkahestry."

"I don't understand why you even think you need it," Scar replied. "It seems to me that the loyalty of your men is your greatest strength."

Olivier shrugged easily. "That's true enough." She contemplated Scar for a few moments. "I don't suppose you could indulge me in a small demonstration of your skills, could you"

Scar shook his head in annoyance. "What sort of demonstration? Don't expect me to make someone's head explode."

"As tempting as that would be, no, I'll pass on that. I'll leave it to your discretion."

Scar was sorely tempted to simply wish her a dismissive good night, but after a moment's consideration, he held out his hands.

"Put your hands in mine," he said. "If you're wearing gloves, take them off."

Olivier gave him a narrow-eyed look. "This sounds like something Shua would come up with."

"You wanted a demonstration, didn't you?" Scar countered impatiently. "If not, I'm tired and you're keeping me from my bed."

Olivier let out a derisive tch! and placed her hands over Scar's palms. Her hands were smaller that he expected, and his fingers curled around them easily.

If he had to put a single word to what he felt, he would have said complicated, but he took a few moments to tease apart what was flowing from her hands into his.

"You," he pronounced, unable to resist a slight touch of drama, "are a frustrated, suspicious woman."

Olivier rolled her eyes. "Oh, really?" she sneered sarcastically. "You think so?"

She started to pull away, but Scar tightened his hold. He closed his eyes and picked out a faint impression to concentrate on. It seemed to linger behind the others as if trying to escape notice. When he realized what it was, it surprised him at first. But then, he supposed, it made sense. He opened his eyes to look at her.

"You're lonely," he said quietly. He felt tension suddenly shoot out of her hands and up his arms and he would have smiled if it hadn't struck him as so sad. "You're lonely, and it's the only thing that scares you."

Olivier stared at him for a moment, then angrily wrenched her hands out of his grip. "I have never heard a bigger load of bullshit in my life!" She glared at him with contempt, but he knew that his aim had struck true. "If all you can come up with is a stupid parlor trick, then you can keep your damn alkahestry!"

With a scornful toss of her blonde hair, she turned abruptly and stormed away.

Scar headed for his tent, secure in the knowledge that she would not broach the subject again.