The Sorceress of Alois

Disclaimer: Tamora Pierce owns all the original characters etc. from her books, including the Sorceress of Alois. Any other characters, places etc. belong to me. Enjoy!

Chapter One: The Beginning

It was a clear, cloudless night in the Great Southern Desert. The air was still and held the slight smell leftover from the evening meal. The whole tribe of The Bloody Hawk was at council at the fire with their headman, Hiran Falah, deliberating over the arrival of three of King Roald's men. All attended, all except one man. He stood, silently pacing the small amount of sand outside the midwives' tent. He had been silently pacing and listening to the gasps of pain coming from the tent at regular intervals since sun-up and would continue to for some time more.

The Bazhir man was obviously a warrior; he had large muscles and a warrior's gait. The only thing that suggested he was anything but a warrior was his face. Gentle and serene (especially for a man who has been pacing all day), he had but a single crease on his forehead. His face gave nothing else away about how he felt at the present moment. The Bazhir are infamous for their ability to control their emotions. This man had his control down to a fine art.

A second Bazhir man approached him. He too had been waiting and pacing all day, but the second Bazhir was uncharacteristically less able to hold all of his emotions together. He smiled briefly at the first man, then continued his becoming frenzied pacing.

A few minutes later, the midwife, Karli, swept open the tent, and stood smiling at the two Bazhir who had been pacing outside.

"You may come in and see your child now, Garat," she said.

The first Bazhir smiled gratefully at the midwife and, following Karli, entered the tent through the open flap, leaving the second Bazhir alone outside. Inside, on a sleeping mat, lay his wife, Nardi. She was holding gently onto a small figure, wrapped in what had once been a burnoose. Garat slowly knelt down to greet his wife, and kissed her on the cheek, then took the baby from her.

"Isn't it wonderful, Garat?" Nardi smiled tiredly. "We have a beautiful baby girl."

Garat smiled at the bundle he held in his arms, and cooed softly at it. "Yes, it is wonderful."

Karli smiled again at the happy couple, and then took her leave, closing the tent flap on her way out and entering the adjacent tent to continue her work.

"What shall we name her, Garat?"

"What about Sari?"

"Sari sounds wonderful," replied the happy Nardi.

Garat lay down next to his wife, placing the new baby girl, Sari, between them. Nardi soon fell asleep, exhausted with her day's efforts.

Garat, on the other hand, began to ponder the meaning of the child he had helped bring in to the world. He and Nardi had only arrived at The Bloody Hawk a few years ago; they had only been accepted by the tribe's elders because The Voice, Ali Mukhtab, had told the tribe that Garat and Nardi were to be welcomed without questions. That had only started the questions pouring in from each corner of the tribe. Only Hiran Falah had not asked any questions. Garat was a good hunter, and knew the ways of the sword well, so he became a man of the tribe easily. Nardi, on the other hand, had no special skills, and was more of a burden on the tribe than a blessing. She had picked up the art of weaving quite quickly, though, and now she made the finest cloth in the tribe. The other women of the tribe resented her for this, except for a few, including Karli, the midwife.

Garat's thoughts turned back to Sari. The current world was one of great danger, especially for a Bazhir maiden. More of the Bazhir were slaughtered each day by the King's men. The chance of his being able to stay with the tribe and not have to race off to fight with the other young men was slim, even if he had a wife and a small child. He knew that Hiran Falah was a fair headman, but if war came to their region, all able bodied men would be required to fight.

Garat also knew that he had a great secret, one which even Nardi didn't know about. He hoped it to stay that way forever. Nardi would be put to shame; they would be thrown out of the tribe. They would become exiles, on the run from Bazhir law.

Garat soon forgot about his troubles as he glanced down at the small face peering up at him. Sari was the face of all peace and joy, and the big Bazhir felt at peace with the world and the Eternal Balance and for the first time in his life, went to sleep without doubt or fear creeping into his mind.

AN: Sorry about shortness of this, the next chapter will be longer, I promise! Enjoy!
Skysong