Sasha and Puck and the Brew for Brainwash

by Estrela Lourenço

  He lifted his glass. Sasha took hers, reluctantly.

  “To the Bebbin family,” said Vadim, holding his glass in the air to make a toast. “And to the Juicy Gizzard.”

  Everyone drank.

  Everyone except Sasha. She tipped her glass back and poured it into a potted plant behind her.

  Vadim smiled. Papa swallowed the entire drink and then took a step back, as if it had made him dizzy. “Hmm,” he said. “Did that taste funny to anyone else?”

  The baron didn’t bother to answer. He simply leaned across the counter to look Papa in the eyes and said, “Now, listen here, Bebbin.” The fake courtesy had vanished from his voice and was replaced by a sneer. “I want this shop. And I want it now.”

  Papa was still holding his head. He said, “Sasha, dear, did we steep the tea too long?”

  Before Sasha could speak, the baron interrupted. “I slipped you the potion, you fool.”

  “I did the same to you,” Sisal said to Sasha, laughing. “You’re both fools!”

  “Now,” said Vadim. “I command you to sell me this shop for ten gold.”

  He slapped a handful of coins onto the counter.

  Papa seemed confused. “You want the shop?”

  “I just said so,” said Vadim.

  “You could have killed us, mixing potions with tea like that.”

  “I was willing to risk it,” said Vadim.

  “And you didn’t let me finish,” said Papa. “You don’t know how it works.”

  “Don’t tell him!” said Sasha. But Papa was a teacher and an explainer at heart. He wanted, always, to share knowledge. He said, “It’s not a potion for making commands. It’s for persuasion. You have to say what you want as a suggestion.”

  “So I still have to ask?”

  Papa nodded. Vadim seemed annoyed that he couldn’t simply make demands. “Fine,” he said. “Don’t you think it would be great if you gave me this shop for ten gold?”

  “Of course he doesn’t,” said Sasha.

  “Of course I do,” said Papa.

  “What?” said Sasha. “No, Papa, don’t.”

  The baron laughed and said, “Oh, but he wants to.”

  Sasha didn’t know what to do as she watched Papa go to the file cabinet and pull out the deed of ownership for the Juicy Gizzard, their family home. With a confused look on his face, Papa offered it to Vadim. The baron snatched it. Then Sisal turned to Sasha and said, “Your turn. I think you should be my maid forever!”

  “Of all the odds and oddity, what are you going on about?” said Sasha. She had no desire to play games with Sisal. But if she didn’t, they would think Papa’s potion hadn’t worked. She was supposed to be under the spell of the potion of persuasion.

  Sisal crossed her arms and said, “That’s right. You want to be my servant, don’t you?”

  “Uh, yeah. I mean, yes.”

  “Good,” Vadim said. “Then we’re finished here. Now pack your things and be out of here by morning. I have plans for a lovely new factory.” He chortled as he turned to go.

  Sisal followed. She shouted over her shoulder, “And be at my house tomorrow, ready to polish my shoes.” They left the shop and slammed the door behind them.

  Sasha and Papa stood completely still in the sudden silence. Puck, who had been watching all this with increasing horror, tilted his head to the sky and let out a howl of despair. Sasha wanted to howl too. But there was nothing she could do in that moment. The Gentrys had won. Papa had given away their shop. They were homeless.

  And Sasha was Sisal’s servant forever.

  CHAPTER 3

  “What just happened? I mean, really, Papa, what in the entire world happened? I can’t even—I don’t even—what happened?”

  Sasha was panicking. Puck had run off into the woods like a puppy before a thunderstorm. Papa stood in the village market with a wagon cart full of their belongings.

  The copper samovar, the mushroom basket, his favorite chair, even Mama’s spice cupboard. He was selling everything.

  “Everything must go!” he shouted. “All offers considered.”

  Sasha paced back and forth behind him, trying to understand the events of the morning. “Did they threaten you before I arrived? Were you scared? Did you lose your mind? What? What could possibly have compelled you to sell the house for ten gold coins?”

  “Four hundred and ten gold coins,” said Papa. “Don’t forget the price of the potion.”

  “Right. Fine. Okay. But still. Our house! You sold our home.”

  “Breathe, dear.”

  “I can’t,” said Sasha, pacing even faster. “I’m too mad.”

  Papa sighed and turned away from a customer. He knelt down in Sasha’s path and put his hands on her shoulders. Sasha stopped, but her mind continued to race. “Was it the potion? Did it actually work? Is that it? Were you brainwashed?”

  She already knew it couldn’t have been the potion. She had never seen any of Papa’s potions work. It couldn’t have been the reason.

  Papa shrugged. “A little bit. I did feel dizzy. But it wasn’t just the potion.”

  “Then why did you say yes?!”

  Papa sighed again. He reached into his coat and pulled out a ragged piece of parchment. “Here,” he said, handing it to Sasha. “It’s from your mother.”

  Sasha grabbed the parchment. It was torn in half, but she could still make out some of the writing. It said:

  Desperate

  the war is lost

  help me

  Cover Sasha

  —Maxima

  “What is this? When did you get it? How? Where?”

  “Hold on,” said Papa, squeezing her shoulders. “Puck had it a couple days ago. I think he found it in the woods—maybe the letter was lost by the last delivery man. Or maybe a caravan gave it to him. I don’t know. He had it in his mouth, and it was already torn to shreds. But it says enough.”

  “She’s in trouble,” said Sasha. “We have to help her.”

  “Exactly,” said Papa.

  Suddenly, Sasha understood why Papa had sold the shop. He needed the gold to pay for travel. For gear and guides across the Sparkstone Mountains into Rozny. And then, for a horse to cross the Hill Country. And who knew what else? Sasha didn’t even know what was beyond the Hill Country. Papa intended to go find Mama, and so he had let himself be tricked by the Gentrys. It all made sense, finally.

  Sasha let out a big breath and said, “All right. When do we set off?”

  There was a pause.

  A long pause.

  A pause that made Sasha nervous.

  “We don’t,” said Papa. “I have to go alone.”

  “Oh crumbsy bumsy, Papa, why?”

  “That’s all the gold we have.”

  Sasha felt herself entering a terrible pout.

  “Besides,” said Papa. “You’ve got yourself a job at the Gentrys. I was surprised you took it, but it must have been that brew. Even half of it for someone your size—well, it’s powerful stuff, you know.”

  Sasha didn’t say anything. Not only had she tossed the drink away instead of drinking it, she didn’t even believe in magic. But Sasha knew she had to keep pretending that Sisal’s plan had worked, or else it would all be for nothing. The Gentrys would have them arrested for false advertising.

  As Sasha considered her predicament, Puck came running up, grunting his most urgent grunt.

  “Where have you been?” said Sasha.

  “Guh! Guh!”

  “That’s a vague answer, and you know it,” said Sasha.

  But Puck had something else on his mind. He held out a second piece of parchment and said, “Guh!”

  “Is that what I think it is?” said Papa.

  Sasha recognized it as well. It was the other half of Mama’s letter.

  Sasha took the piece and put it next to the first to complete the letter. Papa leaned forward to read it with her:

  “Wait a minute,” said Sasha. “Does this mean that Mama is fine, and th
e war is not lost, and we don’t need to rescue her?”

  “It’s good news, I suppose,” said Papa. But he looked so worried that his bushy eyebrows were burrowed into one another.

  “Sure,” said Sasha, “But now what? Tomorrow morning, we’ll be homeless!”

  CHAPTER 4

  Sasha spent the final night in her own bed unable to sleep.

  Early the next morning, just before sunrise, she got up and packed her satchel. The house was mostly empty. Papa had fallen asleep on the floor. He had spent the night hoping to find a solution to their trouble. But they both knew the baron Vadim Gentry wouldn’t give back the deed.

  Sasha kissed Papa on the forehead. Then she took a pita loaf from beside the oven and packed it with a chunk of sheep’s milk cheese, a few slices of fresh cucumber, and a spoonful of honeycomb. She ate it as she walked through the Village in the early dawn light.

  The baker’s chimney was already puffing smoke. But everything else was still quiet. Sasha passed by the Wander Inn, the blacksmith’s workshop, and the village green. Then she crossed the bridge to Upside and passed the bonbon shop. After a while, she felt a little tug on her pant leg. When she looked down, she saw it was Puck.

  He was still rubbing his eyes and yawning. He must have woken up and run after her. Sasha didn’t have anything to say, so she held out the rest of her breakfast. Puck smiled and took a bite.

  “Take it,” said Sasha. Puck took the sandwich, and they walked on in silence. Maybe it was the early morning. Or maybe it was the loss of their house. But neither of them made any noise as they left the Village and walked up the hill, past the stabler’s tent. It looked closed. The stabler, Oxiana, must have been away on a journey.

  They approached the Gentry mansion. Sasha didn’t want to admit it, but she was afraid. As they approached the giant door, she reminded herself, “It’s just a persuasion potion, not a command potion. So Sisal has to say stuff in the form of a question, and I just have to pretend to be persuaded.”

  But for how long? Being “persuaded” by Sisal sounded terrible. No matter how Sasha considered it, this situation was simply the worst.

  It wasn’t like other cases, where she could solve her problems with her detective skills. Usually, she would investigate what the customer wanted and help them get it. But this time, she already knew what the Gentrys wanted—the deed to the Juicy Gizzard. And they already had it. And Sisal had turned Sasha into her personal servant. And it was all over and everything was ruined.

  The door opened with a sound like a dragon’s yawn. The Gentrys’ butler stood in the doorway, scowling down at them. Sasha said, “Um, hello, Mr. Butta.”

  Butta didn’t say anything.

  “We’re here to, uh, visit Sisal.”

  Butta looked at Sasha, unimpressed, then at Puck, disgusted. “Yes, but why is that ragamuffin here?”

  “Who, Puck? He’s with me. We work together.”

  “You work for lady Sisal now. He stays out.”

  Puck made a rude grunty sound. Butta’s lip curled up at Puck’s behavior. The butler was unmoved. Sasha knew there was no point in arguing. She pulled Puck aside and knelt down to look him in the eye. “Listen, Puck,” she whispered. “I can handle this part.”

  “Gooby, gooby,” said Puck.

  “I know. He’s probably still mad that you stole all those cookies from his tea party that one time.”

  “Guh,” said Puck, admitting it was true.

  “Besides,” said Sasha, “I need you for an important mission.”

  Puck stood up straight. He took great pride in being given important missions.

  “If we’re going to get out of this, we need help,” said Sasha. “Can you go back to the stables and find Oxiana?” Puck loved Oxiana the stabler and often ran errands for her.

  “It’s a long shot,” Sasha continued, “but maybe she knows if there are any messengers going east into the mountains. We’ll have to get a letter to Mama if we can. She’ll know what to do.”

  Puck was bouncing and nodding by this point, like a puppy waiting to be thrown a stick. Any mission to do with Mama was an important one indeed, and he was excited to show what he could do. For all his messiness, Puck was a good-hearted helper, and Sasha wished she could keep him with her.

  She worried that he would become distracted and wander off. But she had no choice. Butta cleared his throat. He was losing patience. “Okay, go,” said Sasha. Puck turned and sprinted down the hill. He had already forgotten Butta’s insult.

  Now Sasha was truly alone.

  She took a breath and decided to be strong, because she still had that choice. “All right, Mr. Butta, it looks like we’re coworkers now.”

  Butta didn’t say anything. Sasha followed him into the Gentry mansion. It was a cold, stone manor with a maze of hallways and an army of servants. Sisal’s bedroom was at the top of the tallest tower. Sasha climbed its circular marble staircase until she was aching and dizzy.

  At the top of the stairs, she stopped to catch her breath. Out of a tiny window, she could see all the Village nestled in the valley, and where the Sweltering River rushed into the Shivering River, and off by itself in the corner, her little house, tucked beside the Willow Wood. Sasha let out a deep and hopeless sigh. It wasn’t her house anymore.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a screech.

  “Girl?” Who else could it be but Sisal Gentry. “Girl! I know you’re out there. I can hear you panting like a hog.” Sasha turned away from the window and saw two closed doors in the entryway. Which was the right one?

  “Well?” shouted Sisal, “Come in! Here, piggy, piggy.” Sasha approached the first of the two doors and opened it. “Wrong!” said the voice. “That’s my washroom.”

  It was true. The washroom had a porcelain vase and a matching washbasin. Towels from beyond the mountains sat on a shelf, as puffy as clouds. Sasha closed the door and tried the other. This one opened into a vaulted, circular room that took Sasha’s breath away. It had tall windows with real stained glass made by the Sparkstone monks, and it was filled with shards of multicolored light.

  Shelves of toys and books lined the walls below the windows. Sasha had never seen so many—not even at the holiday market. At the center of the room was a four-poster bed made of wrought iron, piled high with mattresses. At the center of all those mattresses was Sisal Gentry.

  “Finally,” she said. “You should have been here hours ago.”

  Sasha didn’t say anything.

  Sisal waited. Then she said, “Well?”

  “Well what?” said Sasha.

  “Where’s my breakfast?” said Sisal.

  “Am I supposed to have it?” said Sasha.

  “You are my servant now, girl, so yes, you’re supposed to have it.”

  “My name is Sasha.”

  “I know. We’ve known each other forever. But I’m calling you, ‘girl.’”

  Sasha said, “Well, I don’t have your breakfast.”

  “Don’t take that tone with me,” said Sisal, sitting up in her bed.

  “I don’t think you know how potions work,” said Sasha. “You can’t just demand stuff.”

  Sisal let out an exasperated breath. “Fine,” she said. Then she twisted her face into a mocking, sweet expression and said, “Would you prefer to speak to me like I’m a princess?”

  Sasha wished she could spit on the floor and storm out of the room. But it was no use. She had to pretend for now, until she could form some kind of plan. So she jigged her eyebrows and blinked three times, as if some kind of magic was persuading her. Then she said, “Yes, oh honorable and royal highness.”

  Sisal giggled and clapped her hands. “Much better. Now, girl, wouldn’t you like me to call you ‘girl’?”

  Sasha tried not to roll her eyes. “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, princess.”

  “Good. And wouldn’t you like to go downstairs and get me two eggs, a wedge of salty cheese, a jar of forest honey, tea�
��very hot, very strong—a warm loaf of bread, clotted cream, and three tulips in a tall glass?”

  Sasha clenched her jaw so she wouldn’t say anything rude. Sisal was loving every second of this. “Well?”

  “Yes, princess,” said Sasha through gritted teeth. She turned to walk out. She had only just caught her breath, and now she had to walk down the tower steps, across the mansion to the kitchens, and back again. Sasha was beginning to think that this would be even harder than she’d thought. But when she entered the kitchens in the basement, she realized it would be even harder than that.

  CHAPTER 5

  The kitchens were nothing like the kitchens Sasha was used to. Everything was clean and orderly. The walls were white tile. The pots and pans were stacked in perfect rows. Every item was in its place. The cooks were dressed in white uniforms and worked in a line, in complete silence.

  Sasha wasn’t sure what to do. She stepped into the kitchen, but no one spoke. She made a coughing noise. Still, nobody noticed. Sasha figured she would have to find Sisal’s breakfast herself. But where to start? She spotted a stack of pearl-handled trays—one of those would be helpful. She tiptoed past the cooks and took a tray.

  From there, she could see a pantry with shelves carved into the stone walls, and little terra-cotta jars lined up by size and shape. That seemed like a good place to start. She searched the handwritten labels on each jar—pickled parsnips, onion paste, mulberry jam—until she found the honey section.

  Sasha was amazed by the number of honeys from all sorts of places. Coriander honey from Rozny. Hill Country wildflower honey. Orange blossom honey from the floating gardens beyond the Queen Sea. And there—in the smallest jar—forest honey from the Mad Woods, where the monks of the Make Mad Order lived. Sasha wondered what it tasted like. It must have been impossible to find, ever since the war started.

  As she reached for the jar, Sasha was suddenly jolted back to reality by a gruff voice. “Who’re you, and what are you doing in my kitchen?”