Chapter 3

Yet another eager young man trotted up, pulling a rickshaw. "Zhaarad Khorovar!"he called out. "Where can I take you?"

Scar glanced at Winry. "The Kanda marketplace, Salar," he said. "Normally, I would walk- -"

Salar nodded with an indulgent smile. "Of course, you would, Zhaarad. But today you have a guest!" He bowed toward Winry. "Doishteve, Zhaarana!"

"Thanks!" Winry replied, glad to see a decidedly not dour face.

Scar held his hand out toward the rickshaw and Winry climbed in. He climbed in after her and Salar set off. "You know, Zhaarad," the young man called over his shoulder, "Ishval's growing like cat'sclaw on a wall. Pretty soon it's going to be too big to walk anywhere."

"I'll deal with that in Ishvala's good time."

Salar laughed and broke into a lope.

They headed in a southerly direction. Scar explained that Ishval was laid out in a wheel-and-spoke design, with Gunja at its center. At one point, he informed her that they had just crossed into the district of Kanda, where he lived. As in the rest Ishval, or at least what Winry had seen so far, the buildings all looked new. There were quite a few, like the Great Temple, that still had some scaffolding around them. Here and there were several mature trees, their drooping branches with long feathery leaves casting wide shadows. Scar told her that whenever possible, existing plants were left where they were, and houses were built around them.

She nodded politely as he pointed out a certain building or street or a landmark, and at first she thought that he was just making small talk because he felt awkward. But then she could hear the pride in his voice, even though she had to listen carefully to catch it. He had never been particularly effusive.

He always walked out in front, and they generally followed his lead. He was the expert at living rough and being hunted, after all. He maintained a strict economy of speech as well, even when discussing his brother's notes. What else, after all, did he have to say to them?

They turned a corner onto a wide street with a bustling crowd. "Stop here, Salar," Scar told the puller. "Meet us at the far end, if you would."

"So I will!" Salar stopped the rickshaw and they stepped out of it. Then the young man trotted away.

Winry turned in a slow circle, her face breaking into a smile at the sights before her. Colorful awnings stretched over tables of fruits, vegetables, nuts, cloth, leather goods, bunches of dried herbs, piles of earthy colored spices, flowers, and even cooked food. Scar waited for her, letting her take her time to drink in all the sights. At one point she stopped and inhaled deeply.

"What's that smell?" she asked eagerly. "It's like cinnamon and…and I'm not sure what else."

Scar nodded his head toward one of the stalls. Underneath the awning an older man was toasting almonds in a wide pan over a brazier. He was drizzling honey into the pan, following that up with a liberal sprinkling of cinnamon, expertly tossing the pan to coat the nuts, and he managed to do it all with only one hand. His left forearm was gone just below the elbow. Winry tried not to stare at it, but it was with a professional eye rather than morbid curiosity.

He still has his elbow joint. The fingers are always the trickiest part, but with just the hand and the wrist…

The old man turned to bob his head and smile at Scar.

"Zhaarad Andakar! It's a bit early for you to be visiting the market, isn't it?"

"A little, perhaps," Scar replied. "Let me have a bag of those, Bojil."

"Of course." Bojil set the pan to one side, pushing the handle away from the edge with his stump, and turned to a metal sheet where a layer of coated almonds were cooling off. He took a paper bag and used it to scoop up the nuts. Tipping the bag right side up, he handed it to Scar. There were still some nuts left on the tray, and Scar nodded to them.

"Could you put the rest of those in a smaller bag?"

Bojil readily scooped the remainder of the nuts into a small paper bag and gave it to Scar, taking a handful of coins from him in exchange.

"Thank you, Bojil."

"Anytime, Zhaarad Khorovar!"

Unable to contain herself any longer, Winry spoke up. "Excuse me…Mr. Bojil, sir!"

The old man turned to her with a grandfatherly smile. "Yes, Zhaarana?"

"I hope you don't mind me mentioning this, but I couldn't help noticing that you've lost your left hand!" Winry said matter-of-factly.

Bojil gave a bit of a shrug and held up the stump. "Well, most people can't help noticing."

Winry leaned forward with the excitement of a craftsman. "Have you ever considered automail?"

The old man gave a start and looked perplexed. "Automail?" He shook his head. "I…no, I can't say that I have."

"You see, I'm an automail engineer," Winry went on. "And I think—"

"An automail engineer?" Bojil exclaimed with a grin. "A little lass like you?"

"She is, Bojil," Scar said. "I've seen her work."

"Well!" Bojil blinked at Scar in amazement, then looked back at Winry. "Well! And here I thought I'd seen and heard everything in all my years!" He scratched the stubble on his chin and tilted his head slightly. "What would I have to do?"

Winry thought for a moment. "You could either come up to Resembool, where I have my shop, or if you preferred, I could move my equipment down here, and then—Oh!" She looked up quickly at Scar. Whatever he was once, he was now the person in charge here, after all. "That is…if that's all right."

"Of course, it would be all right!" Scar replied readily, adding, "Government funding for Ishval has been cut back during the last year, but it's possible that the Ishval Foundation could award you a grant."

Winry drew in a quick breath of surprise. "Really?"

"I could speak to Riza Mustang, the East City liaison for the foundation."

"Riza..." Winry frowned for a moment, then her eyes widened suddenly. "They got married?" she cried, then clapped her hand over her mouth as several passersby turned their heads. Behind her hand she repeated, "They got married?"

Scar nodded. "I watched the brigadier propose to her."

Winry scowled. "They got married! Colonel Miles got married!" She gestured at Scar. "Even you got married! Nobody tells me anything!"

"Eh…about the automail…" Bojil ventured.

Winry turned to him. "I'm sorry! Of course! Well, it involves a lengthy surgical procedure because it's linked directly to your nervous system, which means it can move like a normal limb without any external power source," she explained, to which the old man's expression grew increasingly somber. "There is a period of recuperation that can be a little difficult, and it can take up to three years. There are also a few other drawbacks. They take a certain amount of maintenance, they don't do well in extreme temperatures, they—"

Bojil held up his remaining hand. "I thank you, Zhaarana," he interrupted politely, "but I'll have to pass on your kind offer. I'm eighty-five years old, and I've been through enough pain and hardship. I can't afford to lose three years of my life." With a grin, he held up his hand and waggled his fingers. "I get along all right."

"Oh." Winry realized that she had gotten a little carried away in her zeal, and she gave a little sheepish smile. "I understand completely."

"You didn't tell me your name, Zhaarana," Bojil said, with a slightly chiding glance at Scar for not having introduced her.

"I'm Winry Rockbell," Winry replied. "I'm visiting from Resembool."

The old man's face was suddenly transformed. He stared at Winry for a moment, then hurried around to the front of his stall. He bowed low in front of Winry, taking her hand and pressing it to his forehead. "Rockbell!" he nearly sobbed. "I should have known! I've seen those eyes before! Your parents…they were here…they saved my life…I would have bled to death! And they took a bullet out of my little grandson!" He raised a tear-stained face to Scar. "My Farzam! He's a good boy, isn't he, Zhaarad Andakar!"

Scar placed a hand on the old man's shoulder. "He is, djaari," he replied. "He's a fine student."

"He is! He wants to be a doctor!" Bojil turned back to Winry. "Ishvala bless and keep you and your house forever and ever!"

Winry swallowed the lump in her throat and took his hand in both of hers. "I'm so honored to meet someone my parents helped, Mr. Bojil," she told him with heartfelt sincerity. "And I understand you not wanting to go through the automail procedure, but if you ever have second thoughts, you just give me a call!"

Bojil gave his head a little bow, releasing her hand. "It is enough to have met you, Zhaarana Rockbell!" He gave Scar a grateful look. "Thank you, Zhaarad Khorovar! Thank you for bringing her here! You really are the kindest of men!"

Scar inclined his head. "You are the kindest of men for saying so, Djaari Bojil."

As they stepped away from the stall and continued through the market, Scar was silent. Winry watched him for a few moments, not letting the sights and sounds around her distract her. Finally, she felt she needed to speak.

"I guess he doesn't know, does he?" she said quietly.

Scar shook his head and said nothing.

Anything I say would only be an excuse…

Winry waited for any further reaction but got none. She looked away. "Don't worry. I won't tell him. That's…" She lowered her voice. "That's between you and me," she said. It didn't come out as a threat or an insult or even unkindly. It was simply a fact. His pace slowed and she looked back up at him, meeting his eyes. The look he gave her was one of understanding rather than gratitude. They weren't going to coddle each other.

"Here," he said, handing Winry the smaller bag from Bojil's shop. "You can't visit Ishval without trying those."

"Oh. Thanks." Peering into the bag, Winry followed Scar as he moved on to another stall. She took one of the nuts from the bag and munched on it. It was delicious. It was still a little warm, with a spicy-sweet coating. She ate several more, her fingers getting coated in honey and cinnamon in the process. Scar had stopped just ahead of her at a stall selling flowers, and he was being handed a bouquet of brilliant red roses.

"You're not taking any chances, are you?" Winry remarked, sucking the sticky goo off her thumb.

Scar frowned slightly. "What?"

"Candied nuts and roses?" She grinned up at him. "Just in case your wife gets mad at having a surprise guest?"

"I often buy my wife flowers," Scar replied matter-of-factly. "The nuts are for my daughter and me."

As they continued on their way, Scar purchased oranges, a bag of tea, a pot of honey, and a jar of olive oil. Their last stop was not a booth, but an actual building with a wide front entrance and a second story. Winry looked up at the brightly painted sign above the doorway, which stated in Amestrian and Ishvalan that this particular business was Havoc General Store. The inside looked just like the general stores that were in Resembool. There were shelves lined with boxes and packages and jars and bottles of things that she would see in any Amestrian shop. There were a couple of soldiers at one end of the store, discussing the merits of two different brands of pickles with a skeptical Ishvalan matron, who was insisting that hers were better. Behind the counter, flanked by a couple of large jars full of candy sticks, was a young Ishvalan woman. She was frowning at the pages of a ledger book and sorting through a small stack of papers. As Scar and Winry stepped inside the store, she looked up and smiled.

"Zhaarad Andakar!" she called out in greeting. She let out a little gasp of delight. "And you brought me flowers!"

"These are not for you, Eyla," Scar chided her solemnly. "You have a husband to bring you flowers."

Eyla giggled, and a voice from just beyond a door behind the counter called out, "Is somebody talking about me?" A moment later, the owner of the voice, a tall Amestrian with a short beard and tousled blond hair, stepped through the doorway.

He nodded to Scar. "Oh, hey!" With a grin, he said, "I bought her a ton of flowers while we were courting."

"Yes, but you're not supposed to stop," Eyla said with a teasing look.

Havoc spread his arms apologetically. "We've been married two weeks, honey. Give a fella a chance, will ya?"

Eyla giggled again and wrapped her arms around Havoc's waist. He put an arm around her shoulders, then pulled a folded paper out of his back pocket. "Here's the invoice from this morning. I know it's not flowers, but you've probably been looking for it."

"Oh, there it is!" Eyla snatched the paper and set it with the others. She took a pencil and quickly wrote something into the ledger. "There!" she declared, closing it. "That's done!" She looked back up at Scar with a sunny smile. "How can we help you today? And when are you going to introduce your friend?"

Scar started to open his mouth to reply, but Havoc cut him off. "Oh, I know you!" he said, contemplating Winry with an intent look. "At least, I think I should."

"This is Winry Rockbell," Scar said.

"From Resembool," Winry added.

"Oh, yeah! Fullmetal's home town!" Havoc nodded. He snapped his fingers. "That's right! You're the girl who got mixed up in that whole…" He waved his hand vaguely, not wanting to say too much. "…thing!"

Winry smiled. "I guess that's me. But I'm afraid I don't know your name at all."

Havoc held out his hand. "Jean Havoc of Havoc General Stores, in your hearts for eighty years—"

Eyla rolled her eyes. "Jean, does she look eighty to you?"

"Force of habit, sweetness."

Winry started to put out her hand but then pulled it back. "My fingers are all sticky," she explained apologetically.

Havoc noticed the bag of nuts she was carrying and he laughed. "Oh, yeah, those things." He just waved his hand in greeting. "And this is my lovely bride, Eyla," he went on, giving his lovely bride a squeeze around her shoulders. He gestured proudly at the interior of the store. "And this is my mercantile establishment!"

"It's very nice," Winry replied, although she was much more interested in something else. "How do you know Edward?" she asked eagerly.

"I used to be one of the brigadier's men, see," Havoc replied. "But I got into a bit of a scrape during that whole…thing, and I retired from the military. So where is Short Stack, anyway?" he asked with a grin.

Winry smiled loftily. "He's taller than me, now," she informed Havoc. "And he's doing some traveling out west."

"Oh, I get it!" Havoc replied knowingly. "While the cat's away, huh?"

"No, I just thought I'd do a little traveling of my own."

"Well, we're glad you came," Eyla declared. "Any friend of Zhaarad Andakar is a friend of ours!"

It was an odd position to find herself in, and she noticed a slightly amused if quizzical look in Havoc's blue eyes, but Winry took Eyla's words in the spirit in which they were given. "Thank you."

"Jean, where's that package for Rada?" Eyla asked, giving Havoc a nudge.

"Oh, hold on, they're still in the back." Havoc disappeared briefly through the door behind him, then re-emerged holding a small paper parcel. He handed it to Scar. "Best quality sewing machine needles," he pronounced. "You want me to put it on your tab?"

"If you would."

Havoc held the parcel out to Scar, whose hands were already rather full. Winry quickly reached for it. "I'll take it!"

"Here ya go, Sticky Fingers," Havoc said, handing her the package. "See you around."

Salar was waiting for them not far from Havoc's store, and they climbed back into the rickshaw. As they rolled along, people called out and waved to Scar, from children, teenagers, matrons with babies on their hips, workmen, even a few soldiers. One thing Winry did not expect him to be was popular.

They turned another corner into what turned out to be a cul-de-sac, a kind of large, oval courtyard. Winry gazed around. It was very pleasant here. There were five houses arranged around the courtyard. Some of them were still being worked on. There were shady trees grouped around the houses, as well as a lush variety of flowering plants and succulents. Salar dropped them off and, after being paid by Scar, went on his way.

In the center of this courtyard was a small fountain with stone benches grouped around it. On one of these benches sat a man plucking at a long-necked string instrument. He had a thoughtful frown on his face, apparently trying different variations of the same tune. As Scar and Winry approached, he looked up and grinned.

"You're home early," he remarked to Scar. "Has Ishval decided to run itself today?" The man perked up when he saw Winry. "Here's a new face. And a rather pretty one, too!"

"Miss Rockbell," Scar said, turning to Winry. "This is my friend, Dejan Shua. Dejan—"

Winry let out a little shriek, startling the two men. "Dejan Shua!" she squealed. "THE Dejan Shua?"

Dejan made a show of looking around the courtyard. "As far as I know, I'm the only one here."

"Oh!" Winry shoved her bag of nuts and the parcel from Havoc's store into Scar's laden arms. She reached out eagerly to grab Dejan's hand, then snatched her hands back. "Oh! I shouldn't touch you! I'm sticky and you're so famous and I love your music and I read your book over and over again!" Winry covered her mouth with her fists and gazed at Dejan with awe and delight. "I'm your biggest fan!" she whispered.

Dejan grinned and stood up, setting his lute on the bench. "Oh, well, in that case, and since your hands are sticky…" He took her by the shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. "I didn't catch your first name."

Winry turned pink. "Oh…it's…um…"

"Winry," Scar answered for her.

"Yes! That's it!" Winry nodded emphatically. "That's me!"

Dejan let out a short laugh. "Winry, is it?" He cocked an eyebrow at Scar. "Well, that's interesting!"

"I was so hoping I'd get to meet you!" Winry gushed. "I've read your book over and over again! I even brought it—"

"That's why you came here!" Scar exclaimed suddenly.

Winry gave a little start and looked back at him with a slightly guilty expression. "Well…maybe a little…"

Dejan put a protective arm around Winry. "Well, why shouldn't she? You don't think she came all the way here to see you, do you?"

"No, I don't," Scar replied, giving Winry an indulgent look. "But she is my guest."

"Well," Dejan said, patting Winry's shoulder. "I'll let you go, then. I have to get back to work, anyway. I promised my dad I'd have the upper rooms finished before he and his bride come back out to visit."

"Hm! I can hardly wait," Scar muttered somewhat ungraciously.

"Now, now," Dejan chided him mildly. "I think they make a lovely couple, and you can't blame them for wanting to come out here from time to time where it's peaceful."

"Peaceful? Your house?"

Dejan shrugged and laughed. "Depends on your definition. Me, I love a lively crew!" He turned and strode away across the stones of the courtyard with a wave of his hand. "Later!"

"That's so amazing!" Winry breathed. "You actually know Dejan Shua!"

"I've known him since we were in our teens," Scar replied as they continued on toward his house. "Between us we walk a fine line. He seeks fame and I'm trying to avoid it."

Winry looked up at him as she walked beside him. "So why doesn't all of Amestris know you're here? You're an important person, after all."

"I don't know," Scar replied in a gruff tone that made him sound like the old Scar. "I suppose I've been lucky. For one reason or another, not that many people come here. There have been a few curious visitors, but I'm usually warned about them and I keep out of their way. The soldiers at the fort seem to have agreed amongst themselves to not write home about me." He shrugged with an impatient gesture. "If the news finally breaks out, I'll deal with it then. I can't watch over my people and jump at shadows at the same time. And I refuse to ever jump at shadows again."