The Riddle of the Copper Coin

By B Thorn

In modern-day Melbourne, Penny sinks into depression after breaking her ankle and losing her girlfriend. Her housemate Rafi comforts her by telling a story inspired by the 1001 Nights. Rafi narrates the adventures of Adiba, a scribe's daughter fleeing from an unwelcome suitor; Adiba sets out to rescue a kidnapped princess from the City of Jinn armed only with her wits and a pen. But as Adiba's rescue of Princess Makaarim becomes a courtship, the friendship between Rafi and Penny heats up.

• Language: English
• Publisher: B Thorn
• Release date: Mar 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311331045

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The Riddle of the Copper Coin

Published by B. Thorn at Smashwords

Copyright 2016 B. Thorn

Discover other titles by this author at https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/Bramblethorn

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This book is intended for mature readers.

Table of Contents

1. Introducing Rafi

2. The Scribe's Daughter

3. The Storm

4. The Marriage of Queen Sharifah

5. The Desert

6. The City of Jinn

7. The Riddle of the Coin

8. The Princess' Reply

9. The Second Night of Riddles

10. Rafi's Warning, and the Victory of Faith

11. Adiba's Final Riddle

12. Tomorrow Night

Afterword

* * * *

1. Introducing Rafi

Rafi and I had been friends for years, but there were still a few things I hadn't figured out about her. I knew she was a fellow nerd—we'd been playing Dungeons and Dragons together for five years—and I knew she liked cats and sci-fi, and worked for an architectural firm.

I knew Rafi was short for Rafeeqa, and that her family had come from Iraq as refugees when she was eight, after her mother died. I knew she was Muslim and wore hijab and drank lemonade on D&D nights when the rest of us had cider, and that our party of heroes had to get by without her wizard for a month every time Ramadan came around. (She assures me that this is why Gandalf and Dumbledore kept disappearing at inconvenient moments. I am unconvinced.)

I knew she had several queer friends, me included; Lucy and I had a standing invitation to her family's Eid celebration, and she made no bones about introducing us as a couple to anybody who might ask.

(Does that bother them? I'd asked. Some, she'd replied, but that's their problem. My uncle said he doesn't understand homosexuality, but if Cory Bernardi hates gay people so much, they can't be all bad.)

But I didn't have a clue about her own orientation. In five years of hanging out with Rafi, the closest I'd seen her come to romance was arguing over whether Ron and Hermione were suited to one another. I didn't know whether to read her as closeted, aromantic, or just waiting for Mr. Right.

It didn't matter to me—or perhaps I should say, I didn't allow it to matter to me. I was very fond of Rafi; she was one of the sweetest and smartest people I knew, and if I'd been unattached that might well have developed into a crush. But I was in a happily monogamous relationship with Lucy, and I had enough sense to know that nothing good could come from thinking too hard about Rafi's possible inclinations.

Then in a few months, everything changed. Lucy was offered her dream job in the UK. I didn't know anybody there, and I didn't want to move away from family in Melbourne. We talked it over and came to the hard realisation that I'd be miserable if we moved, and she'd be resentful if we didn't. From there the conclusion was inevitable. It was amicable enough as breakups go, but still it left me bruised and bleeding: I love you, but not enough.

Around the same time, Rafi was looking for somewhere to live; the lease on her flat had run out and the owner wanted to sell. I needed somebody to share the rent that I'd been splitting with Lucy, and after previous experiences I wasn't keen on living with a stranger. (Ask me why I stopped eating watermelon; better yet, don't.) So Rafi and her elderly tabby, Bilqis, moved in to what had been Lucy's study.

A couple of weeks later, I slipped on somebody's spilled coffee at Spencer Street railway station and messed up my ankle big time. Surgery, steel pins and a plate, the works. I was off my feet for several weeks, and on crutches on and off for months. After the cast came off I started rehab, which meant a series of painful exercises to strengthen my ankle and restore mobility.

I'd always thought of myself as somebody who was enlightened and compassionate about disability in others. I was not prepared for the reality, for how diminished I felt when I had to plan in advance for something as trivial as a walk to the shops, and budget in pain and energy. Of course Rafi offered to help, but asking felt like an admission of weakness. It would have been different if I'd been able to lean on Lucy, but... no. I felt helpless,