Sasha and Puck and the Cordial Cordial

by Daniel Nayeri

  “Will your dad be there?” said Sasha.

  “We’re passing the village,” said Basil.

  “He seems like he doesn’t like parties.”

  “He doesn’t.”

  “Or people,” said Sasha.

  “Or animals,” said Basil.

  “Do you think he’ll be rude to the guests?”

  “Almost certainly,” said Basil. “But that won’t surprise anyone.”

  Everyone knew that Vadim Gentry was a severe man who had once fought a bear for smiling at him too much.

  The carriage drove under a stone gate and arrived at the Gentry Mansion. The house was so big that it straddled the Shivering River. The black stone walls rose up into thin towers that looked like thorns.

  For the first time on the trip, Sasha was struck silent.

  They rode up the driveway. On either side stood columns of trees lined up like soldiers. When they pulled up to the entry, Sasha noticed maids and servants rushing around holding trays, linens, and flowers. A simple tea party at the Gentry Mansion seemed pretty complicated.

  “We’re here,” said Basil. “I’m sorry we didn’t drop you off someplace.”

  “That’s okay,” said Sasha.

  As soon as they stopped, an old man in a purple tuxedo rushed out of the house and opened the carriage door. He stood straight up, as if an invisible hand was holding him by the scruff of the neck. He had white hair, a white mustache, and eyes a deep greenish brown—eyes like the Thistlewood Swamp. “You are needed inside, Master Basil,” said the man. Only then did he notice Sasha sitting in the carriage.

  He looked at her as if she were a weevil in his rice. He kept looking at her but spoke to Basil. “Would you like me to set another place for your…guest?”

  “Thank you, Butta,” said Basil. “My friend Sasha just needed a ride into town.”

  Butta didn’t have to say anything. His white eyebrows simply lifted, as if to say, “She missed her stop.”

  Sasha felt her cheeks grow hot. She had never felt so unwelcome. Maybe he was the one who needed the cordial cordial.

  They stepped out of the carriage.

  “You are needed urgently,” said Butta.

  “What is it?” said Basil.

  But his answer came immediately when a window on the second floor of the house suddenly shattered and a pair of boots came flying out. Glass rained down. The boots hit the driveway not far from Sasha.

  “No!” came a shout from the window. “I said I won’t wear those ratty old boots, and I mean it!”

  “I see,” said Basil.

  A face appeared in the hole where the window used to be. “Basil!”

  It was Sisal Gentry, Basil’s little sister. She was Sasha’s age but never spoke to Sasha. “Did you see what they’re trying to do to me?” She slammed the window open and climbed onto the sill. “You there,” she said at a maid walking by with a tablecloth. “Yeah, you. Catch me.”

  Sisal jumped from the window, into the arms of the bewildered maid. They both hit the ground, but Sisal was cushioned by the woman.

  She got up and dusted herself off as she stomped toward the back garden. “Not a good catch, Martha. Come on, Basil, you have to see this.”

  Sisal completely ignored Sasha. And Sasha was more than happy to let her.

  Everything seemed so obvious to Sasha all of a sudden. The cordial was for Sisal, the most spoiled girl in the village.

  “Is the party for her?” said Sasha.

  “Sort of,” said Basil. “We have a tea party every harvest season. The headmistress of the Sunderdown Academy is coming. My mom wants Sisal to attend. It’s a great school.”

  “If I were Sisal’s mom, I’d send her to boarding school too.”

  “She’s already run off a dozen tutors,” said Basil. “Two of them joined the Make Mad Order—they said they’d come back to burn our house down.”

  Sasha made a whistling sound. “So you’re hoping Sisal makes a good impression on the headmistress.”

  “At this point, I’m just hoping she doesn’t stab the woman.”

  Chapter 4

  Basil excused himself and ran after his sister. That left Sasha and Butta the butler standing beside the carriage.

  Awkward silence.

  “So,” said Sasha, “when do the guests arrive?”

  “In a few hours, which means I must unpack these groceries.”

  As Butta walked to the back of the carriage to unload the treats, Sasha heard rustling and grunting coming from the bags.

  Uh-oh, thought Sasha. Butta approached with caution. As soon as he opened the gate on the trunk of the carriage, the bags tumbled out, along with empty wrappers and Puck, his hair sprinkled with cookie crumbs and his lips covered in chocolate.

  He smiled like a baby bear in a blueberry patch. He waved hello. Butta must have put up with a lot in the Gentry house, because though he seemed furious, he also was extremely still. Only his mustache twitched.

  “Who are you?” he said to Puck.

  Puck didn’t say anything. Sasha ran around Butta and grabbed Puck by the hand. “He’s just my—um—pet gremlin. We’ll be going now.”

  Sasha pulled Puck and ran back down the driveway, through the columns of trees, and out the stone gate. They stopped to catch their breath. “You ate all the party supplies?” said Sasha.

  Puck nodded. Then he thought about it, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a piece of honey cake squeezed into a ball and hairy with pocket fuzz.

  He offered it to Sasha.

  “Ew, no,” said Sasha. “I mean, ew, no thank you.”

  That was the polite way to say it.

  Which reminded Sasha of her mission. She began to pace back and forth as Puck sat by the stone wall and ate his cake ball.

  “This one seems obvious. Sisal is a spoiled brat who is rude to everyone. Her mother and brother want her to get into Sunderdown Academy. The headmistress is coming to a tea party. They’re afraid she will insult the headmistress and ruin her chances. So Basil bought the cordial cordial to get Sisal into Sunderdown Academy!”

  Sasha looked up from her pacing.

  Puck was licking his fingers.

  “Did you get all that?”

  Puck nodded yes.

  “Really?”

  Puck shook his head no.

  A few minutes later, Sasha and Puck were sneaking around the Gentry Mansion to the gardens in the back. Sisal was standing on a table shouting orders at the staff.

  Sasha and Puck hid behind a rosebush.

  “All we have to do is tell Sisal that the headmistress will be at the party and how great Sunderdown Academy is. Odds are she’ll be dying to get in.”

  “Guh,” said Puck.

  They watched as Basil tried to help move chairs and flowerpots, so his sister wouldn’t be so mean to everyone else. At one point, after screaming for an especially long time, Sisal said, “And you know what, Martha? You’ve been so bad today that I’m losing my voice. Is that what you wanted?”

  Basil ran up to her and pulled the potion from his pocket. “Here, drink this.”

  “What is it?” said Sisal.

  “It’s a potion to make you polite to people.”

  “Funny,” said Sisal. “And I am polite already if people would just be good at doing things and listening to me.” Sisal guzzled the drink. She stuck her tongue out at Basil and made a face.

  “It probably takes a while to kick in,” said Basil. Basil smiled as he walked off to help the servants set more tables.

  Sisal went back to giving orders.

  “Okay,” said Sasha, “you go to the right and make some kind of distraction. I’ll go left and get Sisal’s attention. I’ll tell her Basil’s dream for her to attend Sunderdown Academy, and we’ll both get out of here as fast as possible. Ready. Go.”

  They ran out from behind the rosebush. Sasha ran face-first into Butta the butler. Puck ran face-first into Abrus the dog bear.

  Sasha looked up.

&nb
sp; Butta looked down.

  Puck growled.

  Abrus growled deeper.

  There was a split second before Puck ran for his life with Abrus barking behind him, and Butta grabbed Sasha by the cuff and marched her out. In that split second, they heard Sisal shout, “I don’t care that she’s coming, Basil! Abrus gets a seat, and Princess Wisteria is the guest of honor. I want her whole saddle covered in sequins!”

  “Isn’t Princess Wisteria her horse?” said Sasha as Butta pushed her through the stone gate.

  “Yes. Now please leave.”

  “She wants to throw the party for her horse?”

  Butta didn’t say anything.

  At that moment, Puck scrambled up the stone wall and down the other side. He landed next to Sasha, panting.

  “Gooby,” he said, eyes wide, gulping for air. “Gooby, gooby.”

  Back on the other side of the wall, Abrus barked and pawed at the stones.

  “Okay, time to go,” said Sasha.

  Chapter 5

  Sasha and Puck walked on the dirt road, down the hill, away from the Gentry Mansion. Beside the road ran the Shivering River. It burbled over the stones and through the thrushes. Autumn had come to the village, and the air carried a chill. Otherwise, Sasha would have taken off her shoes and walked in the icy water.

  Puck didn’t mind the chill. He ran a zigzag across her path, from the road to the river, splashing into it like a retriever chasing a butterfly. It was as if he had already forgotten their troubles.

  Sasha pulled out her detective’s notebook and tried to organize her thoughts.

  “Okay, our mission isn’t as easy as I thought,” said Sasha. “I’m willing to admit that.”

  “Guh!” said Puck, frolicking from river to road.

  “But you have to admit you weren’t much help.”

  “Guh.”

  “I know. I saw. His paws are huge.”

  Sasha wrote in her book:

  Mission: Make Sisal polite.

  Obstacles: Abrus the dog bear

  She underlined “Abrus the dog bear.”

  Under that, she wrote: Butta the butler, who was another obstacle. Both were preventing them from getting into the Gentry Mansion.

  “What else? Let’s see. Even if we could join the party, Sisal already knows that the headmistress of that academy is coming, and she doesn’t care.”

  Puck sent another grunt as he loped into the water.

  “Right,” said Sasha, “it’s worse than that. She wants to throw the party for her horse, which is so rude I can’t even imagine anything ruder. You know, this would be so much easier if magic were real and that cordial actually worked.”

  Puck didn’t say anything. Sasha had the feeling that Puck, like Papa, was a hopeless believer in magic.

  Magic was like a city of gold or a Cinderhoof stallion—even if they did exist, they didn’t exist here. So it didn’t matter. She had to solve the case without it.

  And what was worse, this particular potion had been sold to a Gentry. Papa would never admit it, but Vadim Gentry was a villainous man. Every season, he made an offer to Papa for the deed to the shop. He didn’t even want the shop, just the hill it sat on, which nestled into the Willow Woods. He would probably demolish their home and build himself a hunting lodge, so he could wander the wood looking for magical creatures to admire and then shoot. Sasha promised herself that she wouldn’t fail.

  As they walked beside the river, they neared the caravansary stables. A giant red-and-yellow tent swayed in the breeze beside the road. Next to it was a small paddock for horses and oxen to graze freely by the river and a small barn where the animals could go to hide from storms.

  In the giant tent was the stabler’s den. It would have a few cots to rent for a night, a table to play games like shatranj, and a humble offering of bottled drinks, traveler’s breads, cured meats, olives, and dried fruit.

  It was the kind of place a caravan would stop as they traveled through the valley, to rest their animals and sleep for a while.

  It wasn’t cozy, but it was dry and warm.

  As soon as Puck saw the stables, he darted down the river toward them. “Wait!” said Sasha, chasing after him. Puck scurried into the tent. Sasha followed. When she entered and her eyes got used to the dark interior, she saw the stabler—a broad-shouldered woman in riding pants, with a multicolor bandana around her head holding back a ponytail as full as an actual pony’s tail.

  Puck was in her arms, hugging her neck. Beside them was Papa—Sasha’s papa—holding a satchel full of bottles from the shop.

  “Of all the odds and oddity,” said Sasha, “what are you doing here?”

  “I could ask the same,” said Papa. He seemed almost embarrassed. “I thought you were with Basil.”

  “We were walking by the river,” said Sasha.

  “You must be Sasha,” said the stabler. “Your papa was just telling me about his amazing new horse liniment.”

  Sasha knew the shop was having trouble. Now she realized Papa was going door-to-door to sell his oils and ointments. That was why he had been so tired in the mornings.

  She walked to Papa and gave him her tightest hug. Then she said, “It’s so good it’s almost magic. It could probably even soothe a Cinderhoof stallion.”

  The stabler laughed. “Is that so?” she said, asking Puck as she held him. Puck nodded. “Then I’d be a fool if I didn’t keep some around. I’ll take five bottles, Master Bebbin.”

  Puck shook his head.

  “No?” said the stabler.

  He poked his thumb at the ceiling.

  “More.”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll take eight bottles, then.”

  Puck kissed her on the cheek. She seemed like a hard woman, one who had to wrestle horses out of rivers and keep rowdy caravan drivers in line. But when Puck kissed her, she laughed and her whole barrel chest rumbled.

  Papa said his thanks and put eight bottles on the table. The stabler paid in pieces of silver. In all the talk of horses and liniments, Sasha was starting to scratch at the corners of a plan. She hugged Papa one more time before he left and asked for a bottle of horse liniment.

  He kissed her on the forehead as he put a bottle into her satchel. “Be careful,” he said. Then he walked out, down the hill. Odds were that he was going to the stables on the other end of the village or to the farrier, who often needed to soothe horses as he put shoes on them.

  After Papa left, Sasha turned to the stabler. She had put Puck down and was stacking barrels in the corner of her tent to make room for more bedrolls.

  “So how do you know Puck, Miss, um, Stabler?” said Sasha.

  “I know all the wanderers around these parts,” said the stabler. “And the name’s Oxiana. You can call me Oxi. No ‘miss.’”

  Sasha liked Oxi immediately. Like an ox, she was straightforward and steady. No shilly-shallying. No fuss. She stacked the last barrel and reached back toward Sasha. “Hand me that barrel tap, would ya?” She pointed at an iron cylinder lying on the table.

  Sasha grabbed it and handed it to her.

  Oxi patted the side of the barrel like she was checking if it was a ripe watermelon. Then she stabbed the cylinder into the side.

  “Now hand me that cup, quick like,” said Oxi.

  Sasha sprang to attention and handed her a tin cup from the table.

  Oxi held the cup beneath the tap as a stream of ruby liquid poured from the barrel. When it was full, she turned off the spigot and handed the cup to Sasha.

  “Pomegranate cider from Timurlan’s Orchard.”

  “It’s delicious,” said Sasha.

  “People pay me with goods from all over. Here, have some dried beef with it.”

  She tossed Sasha a few strips of jerky. Sasha put it in her satchel for later.

  “Or sometimes they pay me with news.”

  “Really?” said Sasha, suddenly forgetting her mission. “Do you have news of the war? I mean, are the knights winning?”
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br />   Oxi drained her cup of cider in one gulp and said, “Let me tell you something, kid. There’s no winning or losing in war. There’s just starting and stopping. The rest is bad news.”

  “Oh,” said Sasha. She was rarely speechless, but all she could think about were the odds that her mother would be home again before winter.

  Oxiana realized she had given a cruel answer and said, “But wartime alchemy is mostly healing, so they probably keep your mom safe in the fortresses.”

  Sasha nodded and spent the rest of her energy trying not to cry. She didn’t want to cry in front of Oxi, who had probably never cried.

  Oxi added, “I did have a group of musicians come through who had crossed paths with cannoneers, who had just met some pearl divers from the Queen Sea. You know how the knights use pearl tips for their arrows?”

  Sasha nodded. The tears were impossible to hide.

  “Well, the divers told the cannoneers, who told the musicians, the Make Mad Order is retreating. Or at least the blight is receding back into their shadow gates. That has to be good, right?”

  Sasha had to admit it sounded better.

  “And I bet your mom is saving a lot of people.”

  Sasha nodded again.

  “Come help me with this.”

  Oxi handed Sasha a terry cloth sheet to wrap on one side of a cot. “There’s a caravan coming in from Rozny, and their scout says they’ll pay to sleep here.”

  They wrapped the extra cots and put them in a row along the back of the tent.

  “There,” said Oxi, clapping Sasha on the back. “If you’re worried about something, get some work done. Be useful. You won’t have time to fret on it.”

  Sasha laughed. She was so thankful that Oxi hadn’t mentioned her crying.

  Oxi said, “And I appreciate what you’ve done for that boy.”

  “Who, Puck?” said Sasha. She realized that she’d completely forgotten about him and he wasn’t anywhere in the stabler’s tent.

  Oxiana adjusted her head scarf with her palm and said, “Yeah, giving him food and a place to stay. Most of the villagers threw rocks at him when he arrived.”