The Tales of Abu Nuwas: Setara's Genie
By Marva Dasef
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About this ebook
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.
Marva Dasef
Born in Eugene, OR and a grad of the UofO, I still made a success of my life by constantly changing jobs and cashing in miserable 401K earnings. Finally, I decided to hell with it. If I'm going to be poor, I might as well be a writer.
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Reviews for The Tales of Abu Nuwas
4 ratings1 review
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A light read with lots of humor and creativity. I thoroughly enjoyed it. It would also be a great book to read to children reading one story at a time.
Book preview
The Tales of Abu Nuwas - Marva Dasef
The Tales of Abu Nuwas
Setara’s Genie (Book 1)
By Marva Dasef
Smashwords Edition License Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Discover other books by Marva Dasef at
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https://sites.google.com/site/mdasefauthor/home/
Previously Published in ebook format as Setara’s Genie
by:
MuseItUp Publishing
Layout and Book Production by Marva Dasef
Cover Art © Marva Dasef
Smashwords ISBN: 978-1311804563
Print ISBN: 978-1502521811
֍ ֍ ֍ * *
The Tales of Abu Nuwas
Setara’s Genie (Book 1)
Dedicated to the
Bonecher-Brenaman Family
Acknowledgments
A good editor is hard to find. I am lucky enough to have two. I’m grateful to Nancy Bell and Penny Ehrenkranz for their keen eyes and forgiving natures. Without my good critique partners, this book would not have come about. Especially, I must thank Liz Brenaman and Lorrie Struiff, who read it over and over again with only a minimal amount of kvetching. Also Ardyth deBruyn and Kevin Robinson worked over a previous iteration to much good effect. Many other members of Critique Circle read most of the book, all of which helped mightily. Many other members of Critique Circle read most of the book, all of which helped mightily.
֍ ֍ ֍
The Tales of Abu Nuwas - The Beginning of the Story
The old man sat cross-legged on a small woven rug laid on the dusty ground. He leaned against the stucco wall and glanced up at the sun. Afternoon covered him with shadow from a fruit stall set up nearby. He was grateful the rug shop owner allowed him to sit here all day. For the most part, they sent beggars packing. But he was not a beggar.
He reached forward to straighten his sign. Tales Well Told,
it said, One Piece of Silver.
Abu Nuwas, for that was his name, picked up his cup and rattled it. One piece was better than none.
The finely dressed shoppers passed by him hurrying on their way to the stores selling silks, rugs, jewelry, and other expensive things. Those who wore clothing made up more of patches than whole cloth investigated the late pickings at the food stalls for the evening’s dinner searching for bargains.
A young girl, one of those with patches, walked slowly by, carrying a basket of spices. Her little sign listed the price for the various packets: kurkum, sumac, nutmeg, and others. The old man knew she bought the spices from the warehouses in bulk, then weighed and separated the items into smaller amounts, which she hoped to sell to the housewife who needed just a bit for the dish she planned to cook. While her clothing was ragged, it was clean. The girl’s lustrous black hair hung to her waist. Her dark, almond eyes held a fire belying her station in life.
The girl looked at the old man for a moment, then took a step as if to go about her business. But she stopped and turned toward the old man. Would you tell me a tale in trade for a packet of spice?
Abu Nuwas beckoned her to come nearer. Why would a girl like you want to hear a tale? It will only make you sad that your own life is so dull.
In his thoughts, he wondered how long before this beautiful girl would become part of some sheik’s harem. Surely, she had a tale of her own to tell.
She shook her head. No. A well-told tale will take my mind away from my life. Perhaps entertain me for a few minutes.
Sit. I will tell you a tale about a girl close to your age who has many adventures laden with princes, thieves, and all manner of magical creatures.
The girl sat before Abu Nuwas and held her basket out. Choose a spice, and tell me about this girl.
The thinnest of smiles crossed her lips as she spoke.
The story teller reached into her basket and withdrew a packet of caraway seeds. This will refresh my mouth and make my tongue glib.
He leaned back, closed his eyes and began his tale.
Her name is Setara–the star. Perhaps I should say that was her name, since all of this happened many years ago.
So this is a true story?
Oh, of course it is true. I only tell true tales. Now, be quiet and listen.
The beautiful girl bowed slightly, set her basket by her side, and folded her hands in her lap.
That’s better.
The old man stared at the top of the building opposite him. First you need to know about the demon.
He cleared his throat and began to talk.
Chapter 1
In Which a Poor Little Rich Girl Finds Adventure
The nomad chieftain, usually a brave man, cringed on hands and knees before the enormous, shadowy figure towering above him.
The bargain is a simple one, fool,
the creature rumbled in a deep, menacing voice. You bring me what I ask and I will not take what I need from your miserable tribe.
I understand, oh Great Demon,
the chieftain replied, his voice muffled by the fact that he had his nose pressed firmly against the cavern’s stone floor.
The demon growled. What did you say?
The chieftain raised his eyes, then quickly averted them from the fanged mouth and fiery, glowing eyes. He spoke carefully this time, enunciating each word as though his life depended on it, and he was sure it did. I understand, Mighty Demon. I will obey.
Very well. Your tribe remains safe . . . as long as you keep your end of the bargain.
֍ ֍ ֍
Setara tapped the stone-lined pool’s surface and smiled at the rippled reflection of her own face. The surface of the pool was like her life, she thought, always placid and clear, the only excitement as brief and trivial as a summer rainstorm. Even a tempest with thunder and lightning would be a pleasant change of pace from her dull existence.
She sighed a deep sigh only a very young, very romantic girl can. Where was her heroic sheik riding a pure white horse? The prince to carry her away? Where was the . . . the magic?
Yes, that was the word. Her life was utterly and totally without magic.
If only her father let her live in town. Afraid of losing the only thing remaining of his beloved wife, he kept her locked up in the compound. Setara, only fifteen, feared her father would never free her, even when she came of age. Would he even let her marry? Oh, he loved her, she had no doubt. She lacked for nothing in the material sense, but she wanted more.
Setara strolled the garden path toward the west wall of the compound. She wandered aimlessly, lost in her blue mood until she approached the little niche in the wall she considered her secret place.
As far as she knew, no one but she had found the crumbling opening. When she discovered it, she immediately recognized its importance. A breach in the wall was dangerous. The renegade tribes that lived in the mountains raided the village and sometimes the isolated estates such as her father’s. The raiders only went after the easy prey. They hit hard and fast, then returned swiftly to their mountain aeries.
But the wall had to be impenetrable to be effective. Why did she keep this secret? She wasn’t sure, but suspected it had to do with her insufferable boredom. As long as invaders could breach the wall, there was a chance, a tiny chance, that something exciting might happen.
Although the opening was very small, she was not a large girl so she could easily crawl through it. The mortar between the stones on the outer wall had given way and fallen rockery littered the small space directly in front of the breach. The hole itself, about three feet tall by two feet wide on the inside, narrowed through its four-foot depth to a space barely big enough for her shoulders to pass through. She had cleared the brambles on the outside to give her enough room to sit leaned back against the wall.
Never venturing beyond the bramble exit, she could see the valley and the mountains beyond. She came here often to watch the sun setting over the western range. Inside the compound, dusk came a half hour earlier than over the mountains. Setara watched the sun set from within the walls, then crawled through the niche to watch it set a second time.
Sunset neared and she decided to go through the gap since she had nothing better to do. She noticed how tight the fit had become and hoped that she wouldn’t grow much more, or she might not be able to get through at all.
Setara poked her head out of the tunnel when a very large, very strong hand grabbed her hair, pulling her completely out of the tunnel. Too startled to make any sound except a pained squeak, she fainted when a hand clamped over her mouth.
Teller of Tales - Interlude
Najda crossed her arms and gave a short. I thought you said she was an adventuresome girl, yet the first thing she does is faint dead away!
She made as if to stand, and Abu Nuwas placed his hands palm forward in a placating way. You must be patient with her. A girl doesn’t become brave in a single moment.
Najda settled again. Well, I really don’t have any use for swooning maidens waiting for rescue.
Trust me. All will be revealed in its time.
Chapter 2
In Which Setara is Kept in the Dark
When Setara opened her eyes again, she found herself bound hand and foot with rough horsehair rope, but they had not gagged her. She didn’t bother calling for help since she knew it would do no good. Twisting her head as far as possible, she could make out light leaking around the edges of an entrance. As her eyes adjusted, she found she was in a hide tent–the kind the raiders used in their camps.
She guessed she must be in the mountains, both from the coolness and because she knew that the raiders never camped on the plain. Since she could see light around the tent flap, she also knew that she must have been unconscious the whole night. She also realized that she really, really needed to relieve herself.
This last thought was sufficient for her to call out. Hello, is anybody out there?
She decided she should try to be as nice as possible, hoping that might affect how the raiders treated her. She imagined they didn’t wish to harm her, but just wanted ransom from her father.
The tent flap lifted, and the light that streamed in momentarily blinded her–the morning light from the east. A vast black shadow blocked the flood of sunlight. This must be her abductor, she reasoned. She felt a momentary thrill. Her romantic fantasies seemed to be coming to life. All she needed was a handsome sheik to rescue her.
So, you are finally awake,
snarled a black bulk. The shadow figure moved close enough for her to make out features: huge, shaggy, and very smelly. The nomad wrapped himself in a sheepskin cloak, which gave off a ripe odor as if the skin had not been properly tanned. A black beard covered his face, and his beady eyes were almost hidden beneath thick eyebrows.
He bent down to her and she shied away from him. The romance was fading fast as she whiffed the powerful odor of the rancid sheepskin mixed with stinking, old sweat. Now, she was afraid. She had heard the servants gossip and, although secluded in the compound, she was smart enough to realize the danger of her situation.
Hold still,
he growled, as he loosened the straps around her ankles. He grabbed her arm, almost pulling it out of the socket, lifting her to her feet.
Come.
She decided to not object at this point. Perhaps she could reason with the chief of this tribe. Maybe she could convince him that her father would pay a sizeable ransom for her release.
Fortunately, he first pulled her over to a small copse of trees and gestured for her to enter. She was puzzled at first, but then realized he was allowing her to empty her bladder. It was a difficult task with her hands bound, and the guard still holding a length of rope tied to her, but she finally managed and felt much better for it.
Her guard dragged her out to the clearing in the middle of the camp. A group of nomads sat around a central campfire. It looked like they were holding a council meeting, like those her father had in his business dealings. They were arguing loudly about something. When they noticed her presence, all became silent and regarded her appraisingly as if she were a horse at an auction.
My father will pay ransom,
she said. They glanced at each other without replying.
He’s a very rich man,
she pleaded. He will pay a great deal of gold or horses, whatever you want.
Again, they did not answer. The men huddled together and spoke so quietly she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Occasionally, one or the other would glance at her with a calculating look. Maybe they were figuring how much to ask for her release.
Finally, one of the tribesmen nodded, and her giant guard again pulled at her arm.
What are you going to do with me?
she asked, then winced. That was not a good question to ask. Nobody answered her, and the guard continued to yank on her arm. She followed quietly, assuming that they would send a ransom message to her father. She had to wait until he paid the ransom, so she may as well resign herself to another day in the smelly tent. She hoped that a long and boring wait would be all that she had to endure.
However, the guard did not lead her back to the tent. He pushed her toward a slope leading deeper into the mountains along a rough path worn by the hooves of mountain sheep. She asked the