| THE LORELEI SIGNAL |
.
| Written by Marva Dasef / Artwork by Holly Eddy |
| Poor Little Rich Girl |
The nomad chieftan, 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 captives 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 he had his nose pressed firmly
against the cavern’s stone floor.
“What did you say?” the demon growled.
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. You will have your sacrifices.”
“Very well. Your tribe remains safe…as
long as you keep your end of the
bargain.”
* * *
Cadida 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.
Cadida 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. Cadida, only fourteen, 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.
Cadida 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 just 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 large 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. Cadida 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 she wouldn’t grow much more or she might not be able to get through at
all.
Cadida 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.
* * *
When she opened her eyes again, she found she was 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.
She guessed she must be in the mountains, both from the coolness and because she knew the raiders never
camped on the plain. Since she could see light around the tent flap, she also knew she must have been
unconscious the whole night. She also realized she really, really had 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–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: very large, very shaggy, very smelly. The huge nomad wrapped himself in a sheepskin cloak, which
gave off a somewhat 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 very 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 not to 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 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 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 guard where they were
going, but his scowl silenced her. When he pulled on her, the bindings tightened and cut into her skin. She
gave in and followed him meekly.
Soon, they reached a cave entrance hardly larger than her own wall gap at home. Shrubbery hid the hole,
and the guard pushed it aside. He stepped back and pointed to the mouth of the cave. She hesitated. “My
hands…I can’t crawl in there without being freed.”
“Bend over,” he said roughly, “you will fit.” She bent her body almost double and shuffled awkwardly into the
pitch-black cave. She was afraid to raise her head since she couldn’t tell where the cave roof was. The guard
was already pulling the shrubbery back in front of the entrance. Raising herself slowly, she found she could
stand upright.
The guard’s voice came through the narrow opening. “We will not ransom you. Our chief wants to give you to
the mountain demon.” She started to plead with him, but before she could say two words, he had left the
entrance, leaving her alone in the dark.
“Hello?” she whispered. Then she called louder, “Hello!” but the cave simply echoed back to her “hello, hello,
hello.” There was no one to hear.
She slumped to the cave floor. What, she wondered, could these superstitious tribesmen think was a
mountain demon? Cloistered she may be, but she was well educated and did not believe in demons. These
were old men’s tales to frighten children. It made no difference, really. Dead was dead, whether by a demon’s
talons or a mountain cat’s fangs.
She smacked her head against the rock wall and realized she had dozed off. How stupid of me. I’m waiting
here for something to eat me and I take a nap! She edged toward the entrance, kicking herself mentally. Why
hadn’t she simply tried to push the bushes aside and get out?
She found the answer in the inch-long thorns on the shrubs, tied down so she couldn’t move them. When she
had pushed on them with her tied hands, she got a gash for her effort. Now, the mountain cats would smell
blood, and it would be all over.
She backed away from the thorns and put her back to the wall. At least she could face the lions when they
came.
A loud crash, followed by a slither of loose gravel sounded no more than twenty feet from where she
crouched. Cadida pressed herself harder into the cave wall, closed her eyes tight and clenched her teeth.
Her eyes and mouth popped open simultaneously at what she heard next.
“Why can’t they clean up these blasted caves?” a deep voice rumbled.
Suddenly, a torch flared, and Cadida could see the source of the voice. An eight-foot tall figure loomed in the
light. A turbaned head nearly touched the now visible cave roof. Cadida gaped at the man. Or was it a man?
While his features were man-like, the three-inch fangs, sharp talons, and beastly snout belied his humanity.
Dressed in the old style, with ballooning trousers tied at the ankles, a brocaded vest opened to reveal a
broad, hairless chest.
The creature held up the torch, which Cadida could now see was a flame jetting from his upraised index
finger. The monster glanced around until his gaze rested on Cadida.
“Ah, a bargain made, goods delivered,” his deep voice chuckled. “Good evening, my dear. Please, come out
into the light. Nothing to be afraid of, I assure you.”
Despite his words, she did not feel reassured. She could only whimper as she continued to try to melt into the
stone wall. This was the demon! How could such a thing be? Demons and ogres were only legends and fairy
tales, yet here one stood before her. In the flesh, so to speak.
The demon grinned, a most disconcerting grin, exposing his fangs to their full length. “Come, come, my little
lady, don’t be afraid. I’m not an ogre, you know.” The beast’s fangs and nose shrank back to a more normal
size.
“You…you’re a demon,” Cadida barely whispered.
“A what? Oh, good heavens, what kind of nonsense have they been filling your head with? I most certainly
am not a demon. Why, the very idea! Any fool can see that I’m a genie. You know, a Djinn.”
“If you’re a Djinn, where is your lamp?” Cadida managed to ask.
“Lamp? Oh, that was just Aladdin’s Djinn, Golfass. Most of us don’t hang around in lamps. Old Golfass was
tricked into that one.” The genie laughed. “He wasn’t too bright, I’m afraid.”
“You said ‘goods delivered’. What does that mean?”
I need a Master. A Djinn isn’t worth his salt without a Master. Still, a Mistress will do nicely. So, then, what do
you want?” He looked at her expectantly.
“Untie me?” she asked timorously.
“Oh, a thousand pardons, Mistress. I should have thought of that myself,” he said, and he hurried to her side.
Realizing the flame occupied his hand, he placed his finger against the cave wall where the flame clung to the
cold stone and continued to burn brightly. Cadida stepped away from the wall, and held her hands out to the
Djinn who waved his finger in a circle. Her bonds slipped off.
Cadida rubbed her abraded wrists, trying to restore circulation to her numbed hands. “You won’t hurt me?
And you’ll do my bidding?” she asked.
“That’s the way it works,” the Djinn said in a kindly voice.
“Do I have three wishes or what?”
“Oh, no. I’m yours for life. You see, if one of us finds a good Master, er, Mistress, to serve, we are very loyal.
My last Master died, of old age may I add, and I bargained with a rather odiferous gentleman to bring me a
good human. Ha! He thought I was a demon, too. Now, that was a good one.”
“Why didn’t you make one of them your Master?”
“I said a good human. I do have standards, you know. I would have gone into the city to find a master, but
it’s so difficult finding a proper person in such a place. I had the renegades deliver captives to this cave. I’ve
evaluated two hundred and eighty-nine potential Masters and have not found one who qualified. Until now, of
course.”
“What happened to the others?” she asked, now afraid that this wasn’t all good.
“I sent them home. The tribesmen thought I ate them, but that’s their problem. Now, what can I do for you?”
he asked, rubbing his hands in anticipation.
Cadida considered. She had read the old tales and knew she must be careful in what she asked. Djinns had a
bad reputation for granting requests to the letter, so the wording must be carefully considered.
“What’s your name?” she asked finally to allow herself time to think.
“I am called Bascoda,” he said, performing a deep salaam, “the best and most obedient of Djinns.”
“Bascoda, can you get us out of this cave and back to my father’s house?”
“Well,” Bascoda hesitated, “there are certain rules.”
There it is. Nothing comes without a price. “What rules?”
“I can give you things like, oh, you know, jewels and gold, but I cannot resolve your problems for you. This is
the prerogative of a human being–the freedom to get yourself into and out of your own troubles.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Cadida exclaimed. “I’m sure you could just move these thorns since you’re so big. You did
untie my hands, after all.”
“Oh, of course, I’ll move the bushes but what will you do about the guard waiting twenty feet from the mouth
of the cave? I am reluctant to harm a human being even to please my Mast…Mistress. That’s one of the rules,
too.”
Cadida considered this for a few minutes. “Then conjure a handsome sheik to rescue me!” Cadida felt pleased
with her brilliant solution.
“As you please, Mistress,” the Djinn said. Sweeping his arms in a wide arc, he intoned:
Kabula, Kabala, let my wish be,
Handsome of face, tall as a tree,
Wonderful to look on, comely to see,
Handsome Sheik, come here to me.
Quicker than a hummingbird’s wingbeat, the requested handsome Sheik stood before them. Cadida drew in
her breath sharply. She had never seen such a gorgeous man. His eyes were deep brown, his hair raven
black, his features even, yet masculine. In all, he was as beautiful as the mountains at sunrise, as strong as a
cataract, as noble as an eagle. In short, Cadida thought he looked very good.
“Oh, Bascoda,” she exclaimed, “he’s wonderful, perfect.” Shyly, she turned to the Sheik and curtsied, “Hello,
I’m Cadida.”
A confused look crossed the handsome face, then he grinned hugely. “Why, gee, gosh,” he giggled.
Cadida stood back somewhat perplexed. She turned a questioning look to Bascoda, who shrugged and said,
“You only said handsome; you didn’t ask for smart.”
She realized the Djinn had run true to the tales. He had given her precisely and exactly what she had
requested, no more.
She looked at the silly sheik, determined to make some use of him. “Can you help me?”
“Uh, help?” He giggled again.
He was really beginning to annoy her. She saw that the Sheik, if he really was one, didn’t have the
intelligence to help her. Still, she had to use what was available, unless…
“Bascoda, get me another Sheik with some brains or at least give some to this one.”
“Sorry. I cannot redo a wish fulfilled. Rules, you know.”
If this was all she was going to get, then she would make do. She considered, then asked Bascoda, “Can you
make any suggestions or is that against the rules as well?”
“Remember,” he replied, “I cannot solve your problems; you have to deal with them yourself.”
“Well, you can remove the thorn bush. Do that,” she commanded. Bascoda waved his hand, and the bush
disappeared. Cadida had a suspicion Bascoda could do more, but rules were rules. She grabbed the Sheik’s
arm and pulled him toward the cave’s entrance. “You,” she said very slowly, “go out there,” she pointed, “find
the guard and knock him out.”
The Sheik looked at her, then out into the dark night. “Don’t like dark,” he whimpered as he backed away
from the entrance.
“Oh, for goodness sakes,” Cadida said between gritted teeth. “Give me your sword.”
“Mine!” the Sheik shrieked and grabbed his sword tightly.
“Quiet!” she hissed. “Bascoda, can’t you help me?”
“What precisely do you want me to do? If you will only say, then I will provide,” the giant Djinn said, folding
his arms across his chest.
Cadida tried to think of what she could do with an uncooperative Djinn and a cowardly sheik.
“Can you place him in a trance? If so, then tell him to go out there and knock the guard out.”
“I am quite adept in the mesmerist arts,” the Djinn said huffily. He then whispered a few words into the
sheik’s ear. The handsome man’s eyes became even glassier, then he squirmed through the narrow exit.
Within a few moments, they heard growling, a scream, and a hollow thump followed by a grunt. The sheik’s
head poked back into the cave.
“I did it!” he said, grinning. “Gosh, that was fun!”
Cadida sighed and shook her head. Whatever worked. “Good. Let’s go, then.”
They crept out of the cave and followed the path down the mountainside. Circling the bandits’ camp, they
made their way to the plains. Cadida called for a rest after they were well clear of the raiders. She asked
Bascoda to conjure food for them. This, at least, he did without any arguments.
As they sat eating roasted squab and wild rice, the Djinn moved closer to Cadida. In a low whisper, he
pointed with his thumb at the sheik. “What of him?”
“I don’t know, Bascoda. How did you create him?”
“A little of this, a pinch of that, but basically, he was one of the camp dogs.”
“Well, I guess you should turn him back into a dog. It would be kindest, I believe. After all, he doesn’t really
make a very good sheik. Though I’ll admit, he is nice to look at.”
“As you wish,” he said, and transformed the sheik into a large hound.
“That’s a good boy, Sheik,” Cadida said as she patted the big, brown dog on the head. The dog’s tongue
lolled and his tail thumped happily on the ground.
The trio continued their journey. Cadida decided to keep the dog. After a few more rest breaks, they neared
her father’s compound in the early afternoon. Cadida finally realized how poorly she had handled the
situation. After her mistake with the sheik, she had not even thought to ask Bascoda to conjure a flying
carpet or even some horses to carry them on the trek. She had been foolish, she realized, from beginning to
end.
When they reached the gate, she waved at the guards, clearly startled to see her walk up with a giant Djinn
and a big dog.
“Is my father at home?” she asked and a guard answered that he had come back quite soon after they
reported her missing. The guard clanged on the entry bell and her father and Master Hassim, her tutor, came
running out. Her father grabbed her and hugged her tightly, not even noticing the rather large Djinn standing
behind her.
“Oh, my dear daughter. I was so worried. I was afraid the raiders took you; I thought I’d never see you
again.” He wept, which was something Cadida had only seen him do when her mother died.
“It’s all right, Father,” she said patting him on the back. “I’ve just gone on an adventure, but now I’ve
returned all safe and sound.”
“Where did you get the dog?” her father asked, finally releasing her.
“Oh, he was a sheik. No, I mean the Djinn turned him into a sheik, but he was always a dog and…” She
stopped. “Never mind, I’ll tell you the whole story after I have a chance to clean up.” She was a very
fastidious girl and definitely wanted a bath.
“But let me introduce you to…,” she said and turned to gesture to Bascoda. She looked around, but he was
nowhere in sight. Maybe, she thought, he’d appear when she needed him again.
“To whom, my daughter?” her father looked confused.
“Oh, the dog, yes, the dog’s name is Sheik. I found him in the mountains when I escaped from the raiders.”
“Well, he’s a good dog to have, then.” He patted Sheik, who reacted to the attention with a thumping tail and
lolling tongue.
They walked back into the compound. Cadida wondered if she should tell the tale the way it happened or just
gloss over the more unbelievable portions. She decided to keep the tale to herself. It was, after all, her very
own adventure.
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 captives 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 he had his nose pressed firmly
against the cavern’s stone floor.
“What did you say?” the demon growled.
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. You will have your sacrifices.”
“Very well. Your tribe remains safe…as
long as you keep your end of the
bargain.”
* * *
Cadida 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.
Cadida 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. Cadida, only fourteen, 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.
Cadida 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 just 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 large 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. Cadida 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 she wouldn’t grow much more or she might not be able to get through at
all.
Cadida 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.
* * *
When she opened her eyes again, she found she was 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.
She guessed she must be in the mountains, both from the coolness and because she knew the raiders never
camped on the plain. Since she could see light around the tent flap, she also knew she must have been
unconscious the whole night. She also realized she really, really had 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–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: very large, very shaggy, very smelly. The huge nomad wrapped himself in a sheepskin cloak, which
gave off a somewhat 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 very 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 not to 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 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 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 guard where they were
going, but his scowl silenced her. When he pulled on her, the bindings tightened and cut into her skin. She
gave in and followed him meekly.
Soon, they reached a cave entrance hardly larger than her own wall gap at home. Shrubbery hid the hole,
and the guard pushed it aside. He stepped back and pointed to the mouth of the cave. She hesitated. “My
hands…I can’t crawl in there without being freed.”
“Bend over,” he said roughly, “you will fit.” She bent her body almost double and shuffled awkwardly into the
pitch-black cave. She was afraid to raise her head since she couldn’t tell where the cave roof was. The guard
was already pulling the shrubbery back in front of the entrance. Raising herself slowly, she found she could
stand upright.
The guard’s voice came through the narrow opening. “We will not ransom you. Our chief wants to give you to
the mountain demon.” She started to plead with him, but before she could say two words, he had left the
entrance, leaving her alone in the dark.
“Hello?” she whispered. Then she called louder, “Hello!” but the cave simply echoed back to her “hello, hello,
hello.” There was no one to hear.
She slumped to the cave floor. What, she wondered, could these superstitious tribesmen think was a
mountain demon? Cloistered she may be, but she was well educated and did not believe in demons. These
were old men’s tales to frighten children. It made no difference, really. Dead was dead, whether by a demon’s
talons or a mountain cat’s fangs.
She smacked her head against the rock wall and realized she had dozed off. How stupid of me. I’m waiting
here for something to eat me and I take a nap! She edged toward the entrance, kicking herself mentally. Why
hadn’t she simply tried to push the bushes aside and get out?
She found the answer in the inch-long thorns on the shrubs, tied down so she couldn’t move them. When she
had pushed on them with her tied hands, she got a gash for her effort. Now, the mountain cats would smell
blood, and it would be all over.
She backed away from the thorns and put her back to the wall. At least she could face the lions when they
came.
A loud crash, followed by a slither of loose gravel sounded no more than twenty feet from where she
crouched. Cadida pressed herself harder into the cave wall, closed her eyes tight and clenched her teeth.
Her eyes and mouth popped open simultaneously at what she heard next.
“Why can’t they clean up these blasted caves?” a deep voice rumbled.
Suddenly, a torch flared, and Cadida could see the source of the voice. An eight-foot tall figure loomed in the
light. A turbaned head nearly touched the now visible cave roof. Cadida gaped at the man. Or was it a man?
While his features were man-like, the three-inch fangs, sharp talons, and beastly snout belied his humanity.
Dressed in the old style, with ballooning trousers tied at the ankles, a brocaded vest opened to reveal a
broad, hairless chest.
The creature held up the torch, which Cadida could now see was a flame jetting from his upraised index
finger. The monster glanced around until his gaze rested on Cadida.
“Ah, a bargain made, goods delivered,” his deep voice chuckled. “Good evening, my dear. Please, come out
into the light. Nothing to be afraid of, I assure you.”
Despite his words, she did not feel reassured. She could only whimper as she continued to try to melt into the
stone wall. This was the demon! How could such a thing be? Demons and ogres were only legends and fairy
tales, yet here one stood before her. In the flesh, so to speak.
The demon grinned, a most disconcerting grin, exposing his fangs to their full length. “Come, come, my little
lady, don’t be afraid. I’m not an ogre, you know.” The beast’s fangs and nose shrank back to a more normal
size.
“You…you’re a demon,” Cadida barely whispered.
“A what? Oh, good heavens, what kind of nonsense have they been filling your head with? I most certainly
am not a demon. Why, the very idea! Any fool can see that I’m a genie. You know, a Djinn.”
“If you’re a Djinn, where is your lamp?” Cadida managed to ask.
“Lamp? Oh, that was just Aladdin’s Djinn, Golfass. Most of us don’t hang around in lamps. Old Golfass was
tricked into that one.” The genie laughed. “He wasn’t too bright, I’m afraid.”
“You said ‘goods delivered’. What does that mean?”
I need a Master. A Djinn isn’t worth his salt without a Master. Still, a Mistress will do nicely. So, then, what do
you want?” He looked at her expectantly.
“Untie me?” she asked timorously.
“Oh, a thousand pardons, Mistress. I should have thought of that myself,” he said, and he hurried to her side.
Realizing the flame occupied his hand, he placed his finger against the cave wall where the flame clung to the
cold stone and continued to burn brightly. Cadida stepped away from the wall, and held her hands out to the
Djinn who waved his finger in a circle. Her bonds slipped off.
Cadida rubbed her abraded wrists, trying to restore circulation to her numbed hands. “You won’t hurt me?
And you’ll do my bidding?” she asked.
“That’s the way it works,” the Djinn said in a kindly voice.
“Do I have three wishes or what?”
“Oh, no. I’m yours for life. You see, if one of us finds a good Master, er, Mistress, to serve, we are very loyal.
My last Master died, of old age may I add, and I bargained with a rather odiferous gentleman to bring me a
good human. Ha! He thought I was a demon, too. Now, that was a good one.”
“Why didn’t you make one of them your Master?”
“I said a good human. I do have standards, you know. I would have gone into the city to find a master, but
it’s so difficult finding a proper person in such a place. I had the renegades deliver captives to this cave. I’ve
evaluated two hundred and eighty-nine potential Masters and have not found one who qualified. Until now, of
course.”
“What happened to the others?” she asked, now afraid that this wasn’t all good.
“I sent them home. The tribesmen thought I ate them, but that’s their problem. Now, what can I do for you?”
he asked, rubbing his hands in anticipation.
Cadida considered. She had read the old tales and knew she must be careful in what she asked. Djinns had a
bad reputation for granting requests to the letter, so the wording must be carefully considered.
“What’s your name?” she asked finally to allow herself time to think.
“I am called Bascoda,” he said, performing a deep salaam, “the best and most obedient of Djinns.”
“Bascoda, can you get us out of this cave and back to my father’s house?”
“Well,” Bascoda hesitated, “there are certain rules.”
There it is. Nothing comes without a price. “What rules?”
“I can give you things like, oh, you know, jewels and gold, but I cannot resolve your problems for you. This is
the prerogative of a human being–the freedom to get yourself into and out of your own troubles.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Cadida exclaimed. “I’m sure you could just move these thorns since you’re so big. You did
untie my hands, after all.”
“Oh, of course, I’ll move the bushes but what will you do about the guard waiting twenty feet from the mouth
of the cave? I am reluctant to harm a human being even to please my Mast…Mistress. That’s one of the rules,
too.”
Cadida considered this for a few minutes. “Then conjure a handsome sheik to rescue me!” Cadida felt pleased
with her brilliant solution.
“As you please, Mistress,” the Djinn said. Sweeping his arms in a wide arc, he intoned:
Kabula, Kabala, let my wish be,
Handsome of face, tall as a tree,
Wonderful to look on, comely to see,
Handsome Sheik, come here to me.
Quicker than a hummingbird’s wingbeat, the requested handsome Sheik stood before them. Cadida drew in
her breath sharply. She had never seen such a gorgeous man. His eyes were deep brown, his hair raven
black, his features even, yet masculine. In all, he was as beautiful as the mountains at sunrise, as strong as a
cataract, as noble as an eagle. In short, Cadida thought he looked very good.
“Oh, Bascoda,” she exclaimed, “he’s wonderful, perfect.” Shyly, she turned to the Sheik and curtsied, “Hello,
I’m Cadida.”
A confused look crossed the handsome face, then he grinned hugely. “Why, gee, gosh,” he giggled.
Cadida stood back somewhat perplexed. She turned a questioning look to Bascoda, who shrugged and said,
“You only said handsome; you didn’t ask for smart.”
She realized the Djinn had run true to the tales. He had given her precisely and exactly what she had
requested, no more.
She looked at the silly sheik, determined to make some use of him. “Can you help me?”
“Uh, help?” He giggled again.
He was really beginning to annoy her. She saw that the Sheik, if he really was one, didn’t have the
intelligence to help her. Still, she had to use what was available, unless…
“Bascoda, get me another Sheik with some brains or at least give some to this one.”
“Sorry. I cannot redo a wish fulfilled. Rules, you know.”
If this was all she was going to get, then she would make do. She considered, then asked Bascoda, “Can you
make any suggestions or is that against the rules as well?”
“Remember,” he replied, “I cannot solve your problems; you have to deal with them yourself.”
“Well, you can remove the thorn bush. Do that,” she commanded. Bascoda waved his hand, and the bush
disappeared. Cadida had a suspicion Bascoda could do more, but rules were rules. She grabbed the Sheik’s
arm and pulled him toward the cave’s entrance. “You,” she said very slowly, “go out there,” she pointed, “find
the guard and knock him out.”
The Sheik looked at her, then out into the dark night. “Don’t like dark,” he whimpered as he backed away
from the entrance.
“Oh, for goodness sakes,” Cadida said between gritted teeth. “Give me your sword.”
“Mine!” the Sheik shrieked and grabbed his sword tightly.
“Quiet!” she hissed. “Bascoda, can’t you help me?”
“What precisely do you want me to do? If you will only say, then I will provide,” the giant Djinn said, folding
his arms across his chest.
Cadida tried to think of what she could do with an uncooperative Djinn and a cowardly sheik.
“Can you place him in a trance? If so, then tell him to go out there and knock the guard out.”
“I am quite adept in the mesmerist arts,” the Djinn said huffily. He then whispered a few words into the
sheik’s ear. The handsome man’s eyes became even glassier, then he squirmed through the narrow exit.
Within a few moments, they heard growling, a scream, and a hollow thump followed by a grunt. The sheik’s
head poked back into the cave.
“I did it!” he said, grinning. “Gosh, that was fun!”
Cadida sighed and shook her head. Whatever worked. “Good. Let’s go, then.”
They crept out of the cave and followed the path down the mountainside. Circling the bandits’ camp, they
made their way to the plains. Cadida called for a rest after they were well clear of the raiders. She asked
Bascoda to conjure food for them. This, at least, he did without any arguments.
As they sat eating roasted squab and wild rice, the Djinn moved closer to Cadida. In a low whisper, he
pointed with his thumb at the sheik. “What of him?”
“I don’t know, Bascoda. How did you create him?”
“A little of this, a pinch of that, but basically, he was one of the camp dogs.”
“Well, I guess you should turn him back into a dog. It would be kindest, I believe. After all, he doesn’t really
make a very good sheik. Though I’ll admit, he is nice to look at.”
“As you wish,” he said, and transformed the sheik into a large hound.
“That’s a good boy, Sheik,” Cadida said as she patted the big, brown dog on the head. The dog’s tongue
lolled and his tail thumped happily on the ground.
The trio continued their journey. Cadida decided to keep the dog. After a few more rest breaks, they neared
her father’s compound in the early afternoon. Cadida finally realized how poorly she had handled the
situation. After her mistake with the sheik, she had not even thought to ask Bascoda to conjure a flying
carpet or even some horses to carry them on the trek. She had been foolish, she realized, from beginning to
end.
When they reached the gate, she waved at the guards, clearly startled to see her walk up with a giant Djinn
and a big dog.
“Is my father at home?” she asked and a guard answered that he had come back quite soon after they
reported her missing. The guard clanged on the entry bell and her father and Master Hassim, her tutor, came
running out. Her father grabbed her and hugged her tightly, not even noticing the rather large Djinn standing
behind her.
“Oh, my dear daughter. I was so worried. I was afraid the raiders took you; I thought I’d never see you
again.” He wept, which was something Cadida had only seen him do when her mother died.
“It’s all right, Father,” she said patting him on the back. “I’ve just gone on an adventure, but now I’ve
returned all safe and sound.”
“Where did you get the dog?” her father asked, finally releasing her.
“Oh, he was a sheik. No, I mean the Djinn turned him into a sheik, but he was always a dog and…” She
stopped. “Never mind, I’ll tell you the whole story after I have a chance to clean up.” She was a very
fastidious girl and definitely wanted a bath.
“But let me introduce you to…,” she said and turned to gesture to Bascoda. She looked around, but he was
nowhere in sight. Maybe, she thought, he’d appear when she needed him again.
“To whom, my daughter?” her father looked confused.
“Oh, the dog, yes, the dog’s name is Sheik. I found him in the mountains when I escaped from the raiders.”
“Well, he’s a good dog to have, then.” He patted Sheik, who reacted to the attention with a thumping tail and
lolling tongue.
They walked back into the compound. Cadida wondered if she should tell the tale the way it happened or just
gloss over the more unbelievable portions. She decided to keep the tale to herself. It was, after all, her very
own adventure.
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| From the Seven Adventures of Cadida |
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 thirty-five stories in a number of on-line and print
magazines, with her stories included in several Best of anthologies. She has two
books published by Sam's Dot Publishing, including "The Seven Adventures of
Cadida" and "First Duty."
See a complete list of her published work at http://marvadasef.com/
.
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 thirty-five stories in a number of on-line and print
magazines, with her stories included in several Best of anthologies. She has two
books published by Sam's Dot Publishing, including "The Seven Adventures of
Cadida" and "First Duty."
See a complete list of her published work at http://marvadasef.com/
.
| Poor Little Rich Girl is an excerpt from the author's novel - "The Seven Adventures of Cadida" published by Sam's Dot Publishing and available from The Genre Mall Reprinted by permission of the author. |