Riddle of the Copper Coin

"Then one day, Fatima..." Rafi shook her head slowly. "Oh, Fatima. My cousin's friend. We just clicked, head over heels. Phoning every night, puppy-dog stuff, you hang up first. I was scared of being found out...I mean, you've met Dad, you know he's pretty good about that stuff. But we didn't talk about it back then. I didn't know how he'd be. We were secret for two years, but I didn't feel right hiding it. I didn't want to treat Fatima like a dirty secret, like it was something shameful.

"So I spent like a month rehearsing how I was going to tell Dad. Wrote a big long speech, made backup plans in case he kicked me out of the house or something. I was scared as hell but I did it. And he was... not overjoyed, mostly worried about what it might mean for me, but he wasn't angry with me or anything. So that's good.

"And then a week later, Fatima broke up with me because it just wasn't working for her. Oh, and she'd met somebody else, and she was sorry she hadn't told me earlier, but let's still be friends, okay? Just after I'd done... yeah, nah.

"So, if you were wondering why I snapped at you the other night..."

"Oh, Rafi. I'm so sorry." I twisted around in my wheelchair and squeezed her hand tight. "That was a shitty thing to happen."

"Not your fault. But I meant what I said."

I nodded. "When was this?"

"Just before I met you guys. I guess it's why I met you. Suddenly I had a lot of free evenings and I didn't want to sit around the house writing awful poetry so I thought I'd get back into gaming."

"Your poetry isn't awful!"

She smiled thinly. "You haven't seen the stuff I wrote back then. Come on, I'd rather not talk about it any more. Let's get moving."

She got up and went to push me, but the chair skidded on the polished floor. "Brakes," I said.

"Oops!" Rafi disengaged them, and then we were rolling smoothly again.

We explored the gallery for another half-hour, and I was just starting to think we should head for home when we got to a hall of Victorian paintings (that's the era, not the state). There must have been hundreds of them crammed close together on the wall, but one of them in particular caught my attention.

"Oh my." Two women—one white, one dark and curly-haired—lying asleep on a stone floor, with nothing more than a wisp of straw for modesty. They were nestled together almost like spoons, each with a hand resting tenderly on the other. "That seems a bit risqué," I said.

"Oh no," answered Rafi, "it's terribly respectable."

"How so?"

She pointed at a cross scratched on the wall; at a couple of indistinct shapes in a dark corner that might or might not have been lions, which I must admit I hadn't noticed. Then at the engraved plate at the bottom of the frame. "The Victory of Faith. They're Christian martyrs, obviously, about to be fed to the lions."

"Oh! I suppose that makes it all right."

"Who could complain about a Victorian gentleman hanging a piece of religious art on his wall? Entirely respectable. Oldest trick in the book. Same reason all the gay boys loved painting Saint Sebastian."

"How do you know this stuff, Rafi?"

"Dad paid for me to take a couple of fine arts units in my degree. I'm not sure he knew quite what the content would be, but..." She shrugged. "He said it would broaden my mind. True enough." Her hand rested on the back of my chair, touching my shoulder, as she studied the painting. "This one is by St. George Hare. He did a lot of martyrs. All of them attractive young women."

"Some things never change... hey, Rafi?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for coming with me. I'm having a lot more fun than I would've on my own."

"Me also." She ruffled my hair and took hold of the chair's handles. "Ready to move on?"

"Yup."

That night after Rafi had gone to bed, I thought of The Victory of Faith and of the two of us lying naked together, hands resting on one another, and I wanted to knock on her door. But I didn't. Instead my hand ran down between my legs and I bit down on a climax so sharp it hurt, left me quivering like jelly.

* * * * *

The next night Rafi resumed our story. The adventures of Fadil and the sea captain went on, the next night and the next and the next, with no end in sight.

* * * * *

"So what do you want out of this?" Annie asked me.

"I want her. But I don't want to lose her as a friend."

"You don't want to risk the way things are between you now?" Annie looked at me over her glasses. "Penny, the only thing I can guarantee is that things won't stay the way they are. If you say nothing and do nothing about this... sooner or later, one of you two is going to move on, and your friendship will change."

"I guess that makes sense. But what she said about rebound relationships, I don't want to hurt her."

"Do you think that's what this is? A rebound?"

"No. I'm pretty sure. But I'm not sure sure."

"Are you going to be more sure in a week, or a month?"

"I guess not. But I don't want to take risks with her happiness."

"There's always risk. Doing nothing has consequences too."

* * * * *

We were sitting on the sofa, catching the TV news, with Bilqis between us. Rafi was patting her, and I was patting her, and trying not to accidentally-on-purpose brush Rafi's hand with mine. "Rafi?"

"Hmm?"

"Tonight, could you tell me what happened next with Adiba and Makaarim?"

She flicked off the TV. "Are you sure you're ready for it?"

"As sure as I'll ever be."

"Well, then." She stood up. "In that case, I need to finish a riddle..."

* * * * *

Not long before dawn, as Adiba completed her fajr salat, Mishderesba brought another basket of food and drink. It was more delicious than before, but Adiba cared not for that. She pulled the food out of the basket and searched for another note, but to no avail.

It was only when she opened a package of figs that she found something unexpected, two curves of glass bound together in a metal tube. When she put it to her eye, she saw one of the city's distant spires brought so close it seemed she ought to be able to reach out and touch it.

As the day dawned she stood watching the garden; as the sun's first rays touched the tops of the trees Makaarim emerged. She walked through the garden, tending the peacocks once again, and from one of them she pulled a long feather that had come loose.

Adiba put the glass to her eye, and now Makaarim seemed so close that she could have kissed her. Then Makaarim began to caper across the green grass, whirling, leaping, spinning, and Adiba's heart was seized with joy. As the Princess danced her garments fell away one by one. By the time she stopped under a peach tree to catch her breath she was quite naked, and Adiba was caught by her beauty as birds are hypnotised by snakes.

The Princess touched the feather-tip to her forehead, and to her lips. She kissed it, and then held it to her breast, twining her tail around the quill. Then she looked up at the tower, stretched out both her hands, and beckoned in a way that left Adiba in no doubt of her desire.

* * * * *

"And then, Penny, what did Adiba do?"

I told her.

* * * * *

No longer could Adiba bear to deceive Makaarim, although she knew it might be her end. Heedless of whether any other eyes might see, she shed her robe and stood there naked in the Princess' sight, trembling for thought that Makaarim might be outraged at her ruse.

But the Princess did not turn away. She stayed there, looking up at Adiba until the latter put the glass to her eye once more. Then Makaarim smiled, and pressed the feather to her lips once more, and held out the tip as if to touch Adiba's lips with it.

Having done so, she reached up to the tree and plucked a peach, never taking her eyes away from Adiba. She held it up to her chin, and the glass brought it so close that Adiba could see the fuzz on the peach, every tiny hair. Makaarim ran her finger over the peach-fuzz, following the cleft of the fruit, as her other hand traced the curves of her own breast.

Then she brought it to her lips and bit into it, lapping at it greedily as the juice ran down her chin and neck. Adiba could barely breathe as she watched Makaarim devour it, turning the fruit in her hand, consuming the flesh bite by bite until there was nothing left of it but the stone. Her tongue flickered along the crevices of the stone, seeking out the last of the juice; then she set the stone aside and licked her hands, tongue running down into the notch between her fingers for the juice there.

At length she went once again to the fountain and there washed herself thoroughly. Then she dressed, and once more she looked up to Adiba, and smiled, before bowing and returning to the palace.

Adiba shook herself as if waking from a dream, and then hastened to cover herself again, lest one of the city's jinn should wake and glance in her direction.

That night Mishderesba brought her once more to the court. "Young man," he said, "I wish you good fortune, for the sake of your clever riddles and enthralling tales."

"It will be as Allah wills it," she replied. Then she bowed before King Karrakanash and his sons, and last of all to Princess Makaarim who stood veiled among the women.

"Your eminences," Adiba said, "I have but one riddle tonight. It is the last part of the story of the coin." She held out the paper on which she had written another poem; it was a little smudged, for it had taken her all day to write, and the ink had not quite had time to dry before Mishderesba came for her.

"Well, then, let us have it!" said the King. She gave him the poem, and he read it out loud.

I thought to earn that copper coin And buy some happy hours I found it in a garden 'twixt the fruit trees and the flowers

The coin was guarded all around By those who did not own it But futile were their walls and towers Had they only known it

I saw it gleaming in the night And started on my scheming With eyes of sand I spied it out While all the watch were dreaming

Concealed in lamp-black and old rags I told the guards no lies I worked my wiles to win the coin Before their very eyes

I laid no finger on it Never stole what was not mine Yet my fingers' work hath won it And I mean to see it shine.

"Well," said Minbidim, "the old rags seem simple enough; the fellow has disguised himself as a beggar to pass beneath the guards' notice."

"Perhaps," said Lellinalak, frowning, "but what sort of coin is kept in a garden? And how would one steal it without laying a finger on it?"

Makaarim coughed politely. "Father, I have heard that a lodestone will draw metal to it, even from a distance. One might commit a theft with such a thing."

"Perhaps," said Lellinalak. "But what of the eyes of sand? That makes no sense at all."

"He does not say they were his own eyes," replied Amasp. "He might have waylaid one of the guards, then rubbed sand in the man's eyes until he agreed to speak." He glanced at Adiba. "As I am inclined to do, if this fellow will not tell us the answer."

"You shall have your answer at dawn," replied Adiba, "if you cannot guess it before then. And you have not guessed it yet."

"We should look at the other parts again," proposed Lellinalak, "for they may offer clues." And they set Mishderesba to searching for the previous days' riddles, but he could not find them, for Makaarim had anticipated her father's suggestion and had hidden them away. Between the three brothers and their father they managed to recall most of the verses, but they lost some time in doing so.

Makaarim reminded them that the King's library contained many books, and one of these might hold a clue, so Mishderesba was sent off to fetch them. Through skilful misdirection the Princess drew them into discussion about the coins of different lands, and about whether the Believers were permitted to stamp faces on their coins, or if that was haram, and more time was lost in this way.

The night had grown very late, and Amasp was growing ever angrier. He began to threaten all manner of vileness to Adiba if she did not reveal the answer, standing over her and gnashing his huge teeth like ships crashing on rocks. But she ignored him and began to pray the fajr salat.

Minbidim and Karrakanash were still in discussion, and Makaarim did her best to draw them off the scent. But Lellinalak stood on his own, deep in thought, and at last he stamped his foot so hard that he cracked the tiles on the floor.

"I have it!" he shouted, and glanced furiously at Adiba. "Two royal faces together, myself and Sharifah. The answer is—"

But at that very moment the first rays of the sun shone through an eastern window, falling on Makaarim. "The answer is me," she said, "and you are too late, Father. Our visitor has won the challenge."

"He has cheated!" protested Minbidim. "Lamp-black and rags—he has worn no such disguise! He wears fine robes!"

"Before your eyes I courted the Princess in verse," replied Adiba, "with paper made from old rags and ink made from lamp-black."

"Eyes of sand?" said the King.

Adiba showed them the brass-bound lenses that Makaarim had hidden in her basket. "As your Majesty no doubt knows, glass is made from molten sand."

"And the rest of your verses—"

"Grandfather," said the Princess, "for the sake of my modesty, perhaps it is best that we leave some things unexplained?"

The King hemmed and hawed, and paced the chamber, lashing his tails as he went. At length he spoke. "Well, young man, you have played us an impudent trick, and you have abused our hospitality mightily. But I have sworn upon the Seal of Sulayman and I am obliged to honour my promise. What boon do you ask of me?"

"Sire, I ask to wed your grand-daughter, if she will have me, and to take her back to her mother Queen Sharifah, who misses her sorely."

"Well," said the King again, "Adib, you have wasted your boon. Had you not asked this I would have compelled you to wed her anyway, for the sake of her honour. But you have asked this, and you shall have it. Let the arrangements be made!"

* * * * *

"Well," Rafi said, "that's a good place to leave it for tonight." I'd figured that was approaching; she'd started to slow down a little, the way she always did when she was getting sleepy.

But, having said it, she made no movement to go, and the silence between us thickened. I sat up to face her, heart clenching and unclenching. "Rafi?"

"Hmm?" She smiled at me in an adorably drowsy sort of way.

"I want to kiss you. So much."

She moved up towards me. "What are you waiting for?"

I dragged her down into my arms, brushing her face, lips against hers. I'd become so accustomed to her face in six years of friendship, and yet until a few months ago I'd never looked for such a contact; now I could think of nothing else. Her mouth opened, and I tasted her, an intimacy that made my heart flutter again, before she broke the kiss and pulled back a little way.

"Just kissing tonight, okay? I need to take this slow."

I pulled her back in and we kissed again. Somebody once said there is an ocean inside every one of us; two oceans met that night, and mingled at the edges. I was pleasantly squashed under her, arms around her.

Then there was a soft thump on her back, and Rafi giggled. "Bilqis, no." She rolled off me, dislodging the cat, and lay by my side.

(Bilqis wedged herself between us and began washing herself noisily.)

"So," I said.

"So."

"Can we do that again some time?"

"Tomorrow's good." She smiled at me, and soon after we fell asleep in one another's arms.

* * * * *

After a long series of adventures, Fadil and the sea captain (he did have a name; do you think I can remember it?) had come by providence to Salt-Sorrow. There (after being arrested for murder, and proving their innocence by extraordinary means) they met Queen Sharifah, and heard of the young man "Adib" who had recently passed that way, and Fadil at once realised who it must be.

"Adib is no man," he said, "but my own daughter Adiba, who I had thought lost in the shipwreck."

"I am sorry," said the Queen, "but I fear you have regained your daughter only to lose her again, for she went into the Desert of Jinn, and some days later the camels I gave her returned once again without her." Then Fadil and the captain wept, and spoke of Adiba's good qualities, and the Queen wept with them.

* * * * *

Rafi and I were, I suppose you'd call it, dating. Really it was very much like the things we'd been doing for years as friends and then housemates: movies, board games, what-have-you, but now the implications for us were different. When our friends were around we'd steal moments, a surreptitious touch as I passed her the dice or a look that lingered just a moment longer than it ought.

Every night felt charged, but Rafi still wanted to take things slow, so still we did no more than kiss. It was driving me a little crazy, but in a good sort of way. There was one thing nagging at me, though.

"Rafi?"

"Hmm?" We were sitting in front of the TV, my feet tangled up with hers.

"Is Makaarim Muslim? I notice you haven't mentioned it one way or the other."

"Hard to say. Canonically, the jinn have free will, and some of them are Muslim. But Lellinalak took her away when she was pretty young, and she wouldn't have been exposed to it after that."

"Is that going to cause problems for her and Adiba?"

"...for Rafi and Penny, you mean?"

"Yup."

Rafi leaned in and slipped her arm behind my waist. "I hope not. I'm not going to tell you it's nothing, it does complicate things. Same-sex, dating outside marriage, a Muslim with an atheist... a lot of people see all that as haram. You and I will have to deal with that." She shrugged. "But people do deal with that. I prefer to read the Book and say, okay, what was the context in which these rules were given, and what was the purpose behind them, and how do I live up to that purpose in the modern world. I'd rather be true to the purpose and break the rules than follow the rules blindly and ignore the purpose. And if I get it wrong sometimes, I hope Allah will forgive me.

"With belief... the way I see it, if I believe that all goodness comes from Allah, then I have to accept that anybody who strives for goodness has some kind of relationship with Allah. Even if they don't approach that in the same terms I do. Can you live with that?"

"I think so."

"Good." And she kissed me again. "We can talk about this more some other time, but for now I'd rather leave it there, okay? It's been a hard journey sometimes, and I don't want to dwell on it tonight."

* * * * *

The next day was a Saturday. I was out for the afternoon visiting family, and I didn't get back until nine p.m. When I did the place was dark; I thought Rafi must have gone out, but she answered when I called.

"In here, Penny." My room.

My light was off, but she'd set candles on my bedside table. She was lying on my bed in pyjamas, propped up on her elbows and reading a thick book—none other than the 1001 Nights—but as I entered, she closed it and looked up at me. "I thought, if you like, we might start the story early tonight."

"I'd love that!"

"You go get yourself ready for bed, then. I'll be here."

I showered and brushed my teeth, then returned in my bathrobe. She patted the bed next to her, and I lay down beside her on top of the covers. There was a pleasant smell in the air, cinnamon and roses.

"Rafi, are you wearing perfume?"

"Just a little. You like it?"

I nuzzled her neck, inhaled. "I do."

"I will begin."

* * * * *

A wedding in the City of Jinn is a marvellous thing, and the wedding of a Princess—that is beyond all description! Although Karrakanash might have preferred to make some other marriage for his grand-daughter, he chose to save face by behaving as if the match had been his idea from the start, and Adiba did not contradict him.