Chapter 9

A small crowd of neighbors and fellow merchants had gathered around Bojil's almond stall, craning their necks and peering in curiously as the old man flexed his new arm up and down and twisted it back and forth. There was a hushed anticipation in the crowd as they awaited the final verdict. Winry stood before Bojil and watched him carefully, gauging his reactions and eyeing her work critically. Just behind her stood Stanno, who had accompanied Winry to take part in the presentation. Winry had kept her overalls demurely buttoned up, so if he was expecting a repeat performance, she intended to disappoint him.

"Is it too heavy?" she asked anxiously. "Is it comfortable? How are the straps? Are they tight enough? Are they too tight?"

The old man beamed a smile at her. "It's perfect, Zhaarana!" He held up his arm to admire the prosthesis. Winry had given the wood several coats of tung oil and it gleamed with a soft shine. The hook that was attached to the end had been etched with a sort of geometric knot design. "I can't thank you enough!"

"That's a splendid piece of work," Stanno remarked generously. "You're a very lucky fellow, Bojil."

Bojil dipped his head humbly to the chieftain of Kanda. "I am, indeed, Zhaarad Stanno. My thanks to you as well!"

Bojil's grandchildren stood beside him, gazing at their grandfather's new arm. "Put in the nutcracker, Djaari!" Setara urged him.

"Ah, yes!" Bojil grasped the hook and unscrewed it out of the end of the arm. He picked up the nutcracker, which was an ordinary household nutcracker with a threaded end soldered onto one of the handles. He screwed it into the coupling on his arm and his grandson Farzam solemnly handed him an almond. Bojil situated the nut between the jaws of the nutcracker and squeezed, neatly cracking the shell. Bojil laughed and popped the nut meat into his mouth. The surrounding crowd sighed and cheered and clapped their hands along with the grandchildren.

"Zhaarana Winry!" Bojil exclaimed. "It was such a blessing that you came here! Ishvala must have had a hand in it!" He gazed at the Amestrian girl affectionately. "I'm sure your parents would be so very proud of you."

"Indeed!" Stanno put an arm around Winry's shoulders. "I couldn't have put it better myself."

Winry felt a pleasant flush grow on her cheeks. "I'd sure like to think I was carrying on their work," she replied. "I didn't even make the whole thing. I had a lot of help."

"Yes, but you were the driving force behind it," Stanno said.

"That's very true!" Bojil agreed. "I wouldn't have this now if it weren't for you."

Winry lifted her shoulders in a modest shrug that also served to move them out from under Stanno's not-entirely-avuncular arm. "I was just happy to do it. It'll probably take a little time to get used to it," she told Bojil. "But if you have any problems, you let me know, all right?"

"It will be fine, I'm sure!" Bojil replied. "I'm going to get back to work and put it to the test," he added with a wink.

As Winry stepped back out into the street, the Ishvalans gathered around the stall moved aside almost reverently, nodding to her and murmuring their thanks, as though Bojil's good fortune benefited them just as much. Stanno walked along beside her, not entirely averse to basking in her glory.

"Let me get you a ride," he offered as they moved away from the crowd. He waved to a puller who stood a little further up the street, waiting or a fare. It happened to be Atash, who perked up and trotted over to them.

"Where can I take your honors?" he asked brightly.

"Back to Zhaarad Andakar's house, please, Atash," Winry replied, climbing up into the rickshaw.

"You can drop me off at my shop," Stanno added, climbing up beside her.

Atash gripped the shafts and started forward. "You'll be there before you know it!"

"Oh, there's no hurry," Stanno told him, settling himself comfortably and stretching an arm across the back of the seat, something Winry made a point of not noticing. As they set off, the carpenter studied the girl's profile out of the corner of his eye. "How long were you planning on staying here in Ishval, Winry?" he asked her. "Long enough to make adjustments on Bojil's arm if he needs it? Or do you have grander plans?"

"To be honest, I haven't really decided yet," Winry said. "I was sort of seeing how things worked out, I guess." She smiled to herself. "Things have turned out so well, and I like it here so much, I almost don't want to go."

Stanno gave a shrug. "Then don't. Why don't you just settle here? You'd be such an asset to this place. No, that's not quite the word I was looking for." He put on a thoughtful frown and rubbed his chin. Then he brightened. "Ah, no! You'd be a jewel!"

Winry couldn't help rolling her eyes. "That's really nice, but I have to go home sometime. My grandmother is going to miss me, for one thing."

"Bring her out here!" Stanno waved his arm at the surroundings they were rolling through. "If she's anything like you, everybody will love her!"

Winry shook her head. "No, she's not going to leave her house. And besides, there's Ed."

"Ed?" Stanno repeated the name as though he didn't quite like the feel of it in his mouth. "Is he your betrothed?"

"That's the one," Winry answered with a touch of pride in her voice.

"The one who isn't here?" Stanno went on pointedly.

Winry frowned a little. "He's busy."

Stanno made a couple of tsking sounds. "Too busy for you?"

"I don't like a man who just sits around and does nothing," Winry countered. "He's working for a good cause and I'm proud of him for it!"

Stanno nodded with approval. "Well, good for him, then!" He put on a charming smile and leaned closer to Winry. "All I can say is if you were my intended, I wouldn't let you out of my sight."

And me without my wrench, Winry thought. She sighed and turned to Stanno with a stern arch to her eyebrows. "You're not fooling anybody, you know."

Stanno looked guardedly blank. "How's that?"

"Oh, please!" Winry pushed him away. "You're practically old enough to be my dad, so I shouldn't have to be the one to tell you to grow up! You're not even interested in me!"

Stanno contrived to look wounded. "I'm fascinated by you!"

She gave him a look of good-natured reproach. "You're just messing with Andakar."

Stanno opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. He sat back and smiled a little ruefully. "Well, you've got me there." He let out a long sigh. "You know, as a craftsman, I appreciate symmetry. Those two are the most mismatched couple I've ever seen."

Winry shrugged. "I think they're lovely together," she returned. "And you need to get over it and move on with your life or you're just going to become a bitter old man." She nodded toward something past Stanno's shoulder. "Here's your stop."

Stanno went from staring at Winry to glancing over his shoulder at his workshop. With a wry expression he nodded. "So it is." He climbed out of the rickshaw and turned back to Winry. "Even so, you're quite a girl. I hope your Ed appreciates how much." His smile grew. "And if he doesn't, you know where to find me."

Winry gave him a sweet smile. "Don't wait up."

Stanno laughed and clapped his hand against the armrest of the rickshaw. "Take her home, Atash," he told the young puller. "I'll settle your fare with you later."

"I'm holding you to that, Zhaarad Stanno," Atash replied, pulling back out into the street, grinning to himself. With the stories he'd been able to tell his fellow pullers lately, he was becoming quite a celebrity.

Rada laughed but Scar frowned a little. "Whatever you do," he told her, "don't say 'poor Stanno'."

"No, no, I won't," Rada said, still chuckling softly. "But I've never heard of anyone being put in their place so neatly. Well done, Winry!"

They sat outside in front of the house, watching the children play with their aunts and uncles out in the courtyard and enjoying the last of the late September evening. Dejan and a few of his musicians began tuning up for a little practice.

Winry smiled. "I won't say 'poor Stanno' either, but he is kind of a sad case, in a way. He's still in love with you, you know," she said to Rada.

"Yes, I know," Rada sighed. Acknowledging the dismissive grunt that Scar let out with a slight shake of her head, she said, "In his own way, he's trying to make amends. He made all that wood furniture we have, and he wanted us to think he was overcharging us for it, but I knew better. He also gave the children a set of blocks that he said was just scrap wood that he had no use for. I thought that was sweet."

"If he could learn to practice a little humility, he might become tolerable someday," Scar said. "He might even be able to find a woman who could stand his company." He jerked his chin toward the other side of the cul-de-sac. "He could learn a thing or two from Stoyan. He's intelligent, he's talented, but he's humble."

The humble young man stepped away from the group of musicians and walked over to them. With a slight bow of his head, he turned to Winry. "We're going to practice a new piece I've—we've been working on. I'd be grateful if you'd come and tell us what you think."

Winry perked up. "You would? I don't really know much about music."

Stoyan shook his head and smiled. "You don't have to. Just let me know if you like it or not."

"I'm sure I'll like it!" Winry said, standing up and accompanying the young flute player across the cul-de-sac.

Scar and Rada watched them for a few moments in silence as they walked away.

"Oh, dear," Rada said finally with a quiet little laugh. "Our Miss Rockbell has become quite the darling, hasn't she?"

Scar sighed deeply and crossed his arms. "If she has, Fullmetal only has himself to blame." He shook his head in disgust. "'Equivalent exchange!' What an idiot!"