SETARA’S GENIE
A girl, a genie, a few demons. What could go wrong?
by Marva Dasef
Amazon Buy Link: coming soon
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The
Kazikli Bey
Most of you have heard of Vlad the
Impaler, right? Count Dracul, the model for Dracula? Well, Kazikli Bey is the
middle-eastern translation for something like “The Impaler Prince.” His popular
last name, Dracul (there are many spellings) came from him signing up to a
Hungarian chivalric group, the Order of the Dragon. Vlad’s father was also a
Dragon member and the Dracula name is a title.
Vlad’s family name was Basarab. I’ve seen a couple of horror works where
the authors did enough research to hone in on the family name, revealing only
later that the evil monster is none other than Dracula.
The real Vlad was a nasty character. He
directed his wrath against the Ottoman Empire for the most part. His habit of
impaling his enemies on stakes (not only heads, but sometimes entire bodies)
earned him the title of The Impaler Prince. When Vlad was still a child, his
father was ousted from his own throne of Wallachia. Vlad the elder made a deal
with the Ottomans to get back at his fellow countrymen. To secure ties to the
Ottomans, he sent his two sons as hostages. The elder son, Vlad Junior (Mr.
Impaler), was defiant toward the Sultan and was beaten quite often. On the
other hand, the younger son, Radu, ingratiated himself to Sultan Mehmed II and
even converted to Islam. He was given the title Bey and served Mehmed II
leading the Janissaries (think Special Forces). Vlad Jr. came to hate the
Ottomans for his treatment and waged a long and bloody battle with them. His nasty
habit of impaling enemies earned him the title, Impaler Prince.
 |
| Vlad the Impaler |
In “Setara’s Genie,” I thought that
giving ol’ Vlad a different face would be a nice twist. What if Vlad didn’t
really impale anybody? What if he was trying to gain peace between the rampaging
warlords that messed up Romania? It’s all in the PR. If he puts himself out as
the baddest mother in the valley, wouldn’t you think it a bad idea to cross
him? Considering that the real life Vlad spent his youth with the Ottomans,
learned Turkish, and studied the Quran, he might have actually had some respect
for his former captors. What if he did perpetuate a reputation of badassery
just to keep the peace?
In my book, Setara tries to go off on a
cruise ship and ends up in a slave market. Lucky for her, an ancient crone
pretty much forces her to buy a pendant. It’s Kismet (another middle-eastern
concept)! Basit is captured in a bottle
of wine, and Setara can’t get him out of the bottle of djinn. She’s hauled off
to the slave market, while her genie gets pickled.
The Kazikli Bey happens to be in the
market for slaves and, noticing that Setara is wearing the locket stolen from
his mother, he purchases her. He turns out to be a really nice guy, releasing
Setara from bondage and ensuring her safe journey homeward with Basit, who is
out of the bottle, but afflicted with one monster of a hangover.
Blurb
Abu Nuwas sits in the bazaar on his
threadbare rug; a cup and sign proclaim him a teller of tales. For one small
coin, he bids passers by to listen. A poor girl, Najda, sells spices from a
tray. Would he, she asks, trade a tale for a packet of spice? Abu Nuwas agrees
and begins the epic adventures of a girl and her genie.
As did Scheherazade before him, Abu
leaves Najda hanging in the middle of each yarn to keep her coming back.
Between stories, he questions the girl about her life. He discovers that she’s
been promised in marriage to an old man whom she hates, but she must wed him to
save her sick mother’s life. The rich bridegroom will pay for the doctors the
mother needs. Meanwhile, Najda sells spices in the market to earn enough money
to keep her mother alive.
He relates the adventures of the bored
daughter of a rich merchant, Setara, and her genie, Basit, as they encounter
the creatures of legend and folklore: a lonely cave demon seeking a home; a
flying, fire-breathing horse who has lost his mate; a dragon searching for his
family; an evil genie hunting for the man who put him in a lamp; and a merboy
prince cast out of his undersea kingdom.
Excerpt
“I have this girl up for sale. If she catches the eye of the
Kazikli Bey, then she should fetch a good price. Keep her well-shackled. She
tried to run away.”
The captain grabbed the front of Setara’s tunic and yanked
the top lacings loose. She twisted away. “Stop it!” Her face reddened when the
pirate exposed more of her chest than was proper for an unmarried girl her age.
The trader took the chain on her shackles and pulled her
behind the platform. Many men, women, and children sat or stood with chains attached
to wooden columns by iron rings. A boy of only six or seven hugged a woman’s
side, crying loudly. She soothed him, but it didn’t help. One of the trader’s
helpers jerked the boy away from the woman. She tried to hold him, but the man
dragged the child away from her.
Setara looked around, trying to think of something she could
do, but calling out for help was useless. Soon, they led her up to the stage.
The auctioneer looked her over and grabbed her jaw to pull her mouth open. She
struggled to turn away.
“Good teeth. Not a bad body. How old are you, girl? Fifteen,
sixteen?”
Setara jerked her head away from his filthy hands. “None of
your business, you piece of camel dung.”
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” He shoved her to the center
of the stage and began the auction.
“Who will give me one hundred shekels? She’s a strong, healthy girl. Good for household or
fields.” He winked at the crowd and added, “Maybe your harem is in need of some
fresh blood.”
Setara’s face burned with humiliation. She looked out at the
crowd of men, for the crowd was entirely male. No self-respecting woman would
come to a slave auction. The audience laughed and nudged each other’s ribs.
Setara felt sick. She wondered if it would put them off if she threw up on the
auctioneer’s sandals.
The Kazikli Bey looked at her intently. He rose from his
throne and walked up to the stage. “Bend down, girl.”
“I will not. Keep your slimy hands away from me!”
The auctioneer pushed her roughly to the front of the stage
and forced her to lean over toward the man. He reached up, and Setara closed
her eyes, afraid of what would happen next. She felt a slight tug on the thong
that held the amulet.
“Where did you get this?”
Setara opened her eyes and looked into the soft brown eyes
of the Bey. She saw no menace there. Instead, she felt a strange attraction to
him. In a flash, she realized this was the face she had seen in her vision.
“In Gamaal. I bought it from an old woman, a witch.”
“Ah, of course. Her name was Seralgo?”
“That was the name on the shop.”
The Kazikli Bey turned
to the auctioneer. “She’s mine. Take her off the block.”
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About Marva
Bio: Marva Dasef is a writer living in
the Pacific Northwest with her husband and a fat white cat. Retired from thirty-five years in the
software industry, she has now turned her energies to writing fiction and finds
it a much more satisfying occupation.
Marva has published more than forty stories in a number of on-line and
print magazines, with several included in Best of anthologies. She has several
already published books and the Witches of Galdorheim Series from her super
duper publisher, MuseItUp.
