Sasha and Puck and the Potion of Luck

by Daniel Nayeri; Anneliese Mak

  “All right. If I come in, will you stop eating macarons?”

  Puck shrugged.

  “Fine. All right. I am obviously sneaking into this shop to stop you from committing any more crimes.”

  Sasha hoisted herself through the window just in time. The door to the back room opened. Light flooded in. Puck clamped his hand over Sasha’s mouth and pushed her behind a giant gunnysack of cocoa powder.

  He used his other hand to gesture Shh.

  Sasha was more likely to scream about his dirty hand on her face than fear of any kind. It was Ms. Kozlow who had entered. She was speaking to someone in the showroom.

  “…I keep them back here, since nobody ever asks for them. Hold on.”

  Ms. Kozlow seemed to grumble something to herself that Sasha couldn’t hear. She pushed a few jars around. “Ah!” she said when she found the right one. She grabbed it and walked out.

  Thankfully, she didn’t close the door. Sasha and Puck tiptoed out from behind the gunnysack to get a full view of the showroom.

  Standing at the counter, leaning on the glass with one arm, and eyeing Ms. K with a cocky brow was a man named—

  “Latouche is nothing if not prepared,” said the man whose name must have been Latouche. Ms. K returned with the jar and placed it in front of him.

  “Candy-coated almonds,” she said.

  “Ah. The perfect travel snack. How many different colors do you have?” he asked.

  “Seven,” said Ms. K.

  “Oh? So few?” He laughed. Ms. Kozlow, who took her craft very seriously, did not laugh. Latouche coughed into his fist and stood up.

  “Gooby,” whispered Puck, shaking his head.

  Latouche seemed to be about Ms. K’s age. When he stood, he was tall, thin, and stiff, like stale taffy. He had a soldier’s cap and black riding boots—and he was completely failing to charm.

  He tried to gather himself by straightening an invisible mustache and saying, “Yes, well. This will do nicely. I’m traveling, you know.”

  “Yes, you mentioned,” said Ms. Kozlow.

  “Over the Sparkstone Mountains, past Rozny, all the way into the wilderlands. Only great adventurers do that.”

  “I hope you’re packing more than almonds.”

  “I hope to bring a partner. A beautiful one.”

  “That’s not very practical,” said Ms. K.

  “I mean, a partner for the adventure of life. A wife.”

  “And what about the adventure of the wilderlands?”

  “Uh. Well. There’s no exact date for departure. Latouche is nothing if not orderly. First, a wife. Second, pack the horse. Third, adventure! What do you say to all that? Can you help me with it?”

  He smiled his charmingest smile and stepped back from the counter so she could get a good look at his handsomeness.

  Ms. K handed him the jar and said, “I can help with the horse packing. Please let me know if you need any more, Sergeant.”

  It slowly dawned on Sergeant Latouche that this was not going the way he would have liked. He straightened his posture and put the coins for the almonds on the counter.

  “Very well,” he said. “I may put off that adventure for now. My horse needs new shoes anyway. Maybe I’ll build a house near the Willow Woods…or near the mountains. Maybe I’ll buy Whispershaw Castle and clear out all the ghosts. Would you ever live in a castle? I only ask out of curiosity.”

  “Latouche is nothing if not curious,” said Ms. K. “Have a very good day.”

  “Then off I go. Wish me luck!” said Latouche, as he bowed and turned to leave. Ms. K had sent him off, but she had been so kind that he left happily. Maybe she was secretly in love with Latouche? But then, why would she need luck from a potion? He obviously loved her back. Maybe the luck was to be rid of him? But he was easily the most handsome man in the Village.

  As Latouche left the shop through the front door, Sasha climbed out the back window and ran down the alley. Puck stuffed another tray of macarons in his mouth and pockets and followed. “Hurry!” said Sasha. “We can’t lose him.”

  Sasha dashed around the corner, hoping that Latouche was still in sight, when she ran smack into someone entering the chocolate shop and fell backward onto Puck.

  Chapter 6

  “Hey!” said Sisal Gentry.

  Sasha had run right into Sisal and Basil Gentry.

  “Of all the odds,” she said to herself.

  The Gentrys owned several farms around the Village, lots of shops, and even some of the Thistlewood—and Sisal, their young daughter, never let anyone forget it. She was Sasha’s age, but that was all they had in common.

  As Sasha picked herself up from the ground, Sisal shouted, “How dare you run into me! If you smudged my dress, you’re paying for it. Help me up, Basil.”

  Basil was her older brother. Sasha thought it was the closest thing to magic that they were siblings. Where Sisal was narrow and cruel and loud, Basil was broad and modest and gentle.

  He lifted her up and said, “Is everyone all right?”

  “Everyone?” said Sisal. “Who cares if she’s all right? Didn’t you see her attack me? And what is that next to you? Did you drag a dog through swamp mud?”

  Puck growled at Sisal.

  Sasha didn’t have time for any of this. She looked up and down the cobblestone street, but there was no sign of Latouche.

  “We lost him,” she said.

  “What have you lost, your mind?” said Sisal. “You still have to apologize to me.”

  With Latouche gone, Sasha returned to her present trouble. “I’m sorry, Sisal,” she said.

  “Well, ‘sorry’ isn’t good enough.”

  “It will have to be good enough, Sissy,” said Basil. “It was only an accident.”

  Sisal crossed her arms and gave a very practiced pout. “Then I want double the treats.”

  “Okay,” said Basil. Then he turned to Sasha. “Sorry for the trouble.”

  “I’m not,” said Sisal, as she stomped into the chocolate shop.

  “Quick,” said Sasha when they had both entered the store. “Let’s go back and listen. Maybe Ms. K wants luck to be rid of Sisal.”

  They hurried back into the alley and through the window once again. Puck grabbed another handful of macarons from the cooling trays as they snuck up to the back door.

  Sisal was already flouncing around the shop, with Ms. K behind her. “This looks good,” said Sisal. “Could I have a taste?”

  Ms. K took a gooseberry bonbon and cut it into pieces. Sisal took two and popped them into her mouth.

  “Mmm!” she said. “So good. Letty, you are my favorite new shopkeeper in town.”

  “Thank you,” said Ms. K. “Should I put you down for some gooseberry then?”

  “Not yet,” said Sisal. “Can I try this one?”

  Ms. K followed and reluctantly cut a rose caramel truffle for Sisal to try. And then a lemon blossom, a maple tart, and a chocolate river stone. Each time, Sisal raved and complimented Ms. Kozlow but never ordered any.

  Finally, Basil said, “Sissy, I think we have enough information to make our decision.”

  “But I want to try more,” said Sisal. “You never let me try anything.”

  “Ms. Kozlow has been very kind to us, and patient.”

  “You can call her Letty,” said Sisal.

  “No. We don’t know Ms. Kozlow very well, so we give her the respect of calling her Ms. Kozlow until we know her better.” Then Basil cast a shy glance at Ms. Kozlow and said, “I think Sisal is saying in her own way that we would like to be your friends.”

  Ms. Kozlow blushed.

  Sasha whispered, “Could she be in love with Basil?”

  She was a little older than he was, but not by much. And he was very kind. Sasha wondered if Ms. Kozlow would need luck to deal with his family. This case was starting to get complicated. “He obviously likes her,” whispered Sasha, “but what do you think, Puck? Does she like him?”

  Puck was spilling maca
ron crumbs everywhere as he devoured them. He nodded.

  “No, I mean like like him.”

  He nodded again.

  “Like in love with him.”

  Puck stopped and raised an eyebrow. He put another macaron in his mouth.

  “Okay, maybe you’re right. Then why does Ms. Kozlow need that blasted potion?”

  Sasha was startled by the bell above the shop door ringing as another customer entered the store. “It’s Gregor!” whispered Sasha.

  Gregor Pavlov lived in a house on stilts in the middle of the Sweltering River with his elderly mother, nine pigeons, two cats, and an entire family of mice. The villagers said his father was an inventor. They said he had invented a walking house, even though no one had seen it walk. He had been called away, just like Sasha’s mom, to help the war effort.

  From the looks of him, anyone could tell that Gregor wanted to be an inventor too. His clothes were disheveled, like he spent more time working in his lab than fixing himself up. He had machine oil smudged on his pants. His satchel was full of tools and mechanical oddities that fascinated Sasha. His brown hair was uncombed; his brown eyes were always wide open with curiosity.

  He walked into the shop visibly nervous, perhaps because he too was afraid of the Gentrys buying up his father’s house.

  Sasha whispered to Puck, “You’ll like Gregor. He’s nice to kids…and nice to animals…whichever you are.”

  Puck ate more macarons and watched the show.

  “Hi there, Letty,” said Pavlov, fiddling with a clasp on his satchel.

  “Hey! Wait your turn,” said Sisal. “We were here first.”

  “I’m so sorry,” said Basil. “Try this one, Sissy.”

  Gregor approached Ms. Kozlow. “I was hoping to get some more simple syrup…for my mice.”

  “Of course,” said Ms. K. “How are they?”

  “Very well. Thank you for watching them.”

  “Tell your mother I would be happy to do it again. They were no trouble.”

  “Wait,” said Sisal, with half a bonbon still in her mouth. “Are you saying your hands touched a bunch of dirty mice and then made these bonbons? Gross! That’s disgusting. I want a discount.”

  “You’ve eaten your discount,” said Basil.

  “I’m telling everybody,” said Sisal.

  “No, please. I was just away, and my mother couldn’t watch them,” said Gregor, trying to explain. “And the mice are very clean. Letty was very kind. She’s a wonderful chocolatier.”

  “We agree,” said Basil. “Don’t we, Sissy?”

  “I suppose. Can I try the ones on that top shelf?”

  “Go ahead,” said Ms. K. Sisal climbed up the stepladder to paw at the bonbons on the top shelf, and Ms. K took the moment to speak with Gregor as she gave him a small jar of syrup.

  Gregor said, “I made you something to say thanks.” With shaking hands, he pulled a small mechanical rose from his satchel. “It’s nothing. I made it with some scrap metal from my lab.”

  “I think she’s going to cry,” whispered Sasha.

  “Oh, Gregor, that’s so kind of you. Here, let me give you something in return.” Ms. K reached under the counter and pulled out a particularly beautiful bonbon—the kind that was filled with cordial—and gave it to Gregor.

  Gregor ate it immediately. His eyes went wide behind his glasses.

  “It’s a new flavor,” said Ms. K.

  “It’s, um, good,” said Gregor.

  “It still needs work.”

  Gregor coughed loudly into his fist.

  “Ew. Cover your mouth,” said Sisal, even though he had covered his mouth.

  “No, no. It’s bold,” said Gregor. “I think some people might like it.”

  Ms. K seemed embarrassed once again. Gregor tried to change the subject. “Have you visited Granny Yenta, yet?”

  Ms. K winced at the mention of it.

  For Sisal, it was like putting a cupcake in front of Otto; she dove right on it.

  “Did you say, ‘Granny Yenta’?”

  “Stay out of it, Sissy.”

  “Are you going for a matchup? Is she going to find you a husband by asking her magical chicken? You are kind of pretty. Why can’t you find your own boyfriend?”

  “I think it’s time we go,” said Basil.

  “I still have to try stuff,” said Sisal.

  “We’ll take a box filled with everything she didn’t try and a bill for everything she did,” said Basil.

  Ms. Kozlow began to put the box together.

  “Fine,” said Sisal. “But tell us why you’re going at least.”

  Ms. Kozlow was a shade of red that Sasha had never seen before. She must have been mortified. “My father is making me go,” she said finally.

  “Ooh, but you’re in love with someone else. I knew it!”

  “That’s her business,” said Basil.

  Gregor looked terribly sorry he had mentioned it.

  “Come on, tell us! Is it a secret?”

  Ms. Kozlow handed Basil the box and tried to smile, though she was obviously uncomfortable. “It’s true,” she said. “I have my own wishes for whom I’d like to marry. He’s kind and smart, and I don’t need Granny Yenta’s matchmaking chicken to help me.”

  It was a sad situation.

  “But is he handsome?” said Sisal.

  Ms. Kozlow laughed. “Yes. Quite.”

  Basil dragged Sisal out of the shop. He bowed as they left, as if to apologize for her discomfort. Gregor dashed out just behind them. It was all too much awkwardness for anybody to handle.

  “Did you hear all that?” Sasha whispered to Puck, who had eaten every last macaron on the cooling trays and was licking his fingers. “We’ve got our motivation—she needs luck for Granny Yenta’s matchmaking services, and of all the odds, we’ve even got our suspects!”

  Chapter 7

  “Okay,” said Sasha, pacing in front of the fountain in the Village center. “Get your finger out of your nose.”

  Puck did not.

  “Okay,” she said again. “We’ve got three potential suspects. All we have to do is figure out who Ms. Kozlow described as kind, smart, and handsome. Then we can give her the luck she needs. Get your finger out of your mouth.”

  Puck did not.

  Sasha kept pacing.

  “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.” She took out her detective notebook and wrote:

  SUSPECTS across the top.

  Sergeant Latouche. Wanted Ms. K to travel the world with him. Is handsome.

  Basil Gentry. A little young but blushed every time he looked at her. Is very kind.

  Gregor Pavlov. They seem to be friends already. Was sweating and nervous when he gave her rose. Is very smart.

  Sasha looked over the notes.

  “Hmm. So Ms. Kozlow wants to marry one of these suspects, but if she leaves it to Granny Yenta, the odds aren’t good. We have to find out who the lucky guy is.”

  Puck said, “Guh.”

  “What do you think, Puck? Should we start with Latouche? Get your foot out of your mouth.”

  Puck did not.

  But that sparked an idea in Sasha. “You’re right, Puck. Shoes! Latouche mentioned that his horse needed shoeing. We should go to the farrier to see if he’s there. Don’t look at me like that. Farrier means the person who puts shoes on horses. Don’t shake your head. It does. What does that mean? Are you fluttering your arms like wings? What are you saying? No, farrier is not something more fairylike. Now what are you doing? Are you rowing a boat? No, I don’t mean a person who ferries people across rivers. A farrier. Just trust me. We have to go.”

  So they went, but Puck still looked suspicious.

  At the barn on the edge of the Village, Sasha pointed to a wooden sign that said: FARRIER, ONE SHOE, ONE GOLD. FOUR SHOES, FOUR GOLD. FIVE SHOES FOR THE PRICE OF FOUR.

  “See?” she said, “Farrier.”

  Puck shrugged.

  Even before they turned the corner, they could hear
Latouche. “Well, don’t you have any, I don’t know, snowshoes or something?”

  He was standing by a horse that seemed too big for him, holding the reins a bit too tight. A bearded man in a worker’s smock stood by—Sasha thought he was likely the farrier.

  “Nope,” he said. “This time of year, it’s still too deep in the mountains for horses. Snow hasn’t melted yet up there.”

  “Well, you’re no help at all, are you?”

  “Can’t melt the snow.”

  Latouche wrenched the horse’s reins away and marched out of the barn. Sasha had to jump aside to make sure the creature didn’t knock her down. The old farrier stood by and kept chewing the straw in his mouth as if it didn’t bother him at all.

  “He’s not very kind, is he?” said Sasha.

  “Eh,” said the old man. “Probably for the best. He’d get himself killed trying to ride that horse up a mountain.”

  The old man returned to his work. Sasha took out her notebook and wrote, Not kind, and not very smart under Latouche’s name. “One down,” she said. “Now, where do you think we’ll find Basil?”

  Chapter 8

  The Gentry Mansion was all the way at the other end of Upside, where the first families lived. It was so big, it straddled over the Shivering River. The black stones arched over the water and jutted up into giant towers.

  Sasha knew that somewhere in the world was the Citadel of the Make Mad Order—an evil place. She knew the Order of Disorder were the villains that her mother was fighting. But even in a world with the Citadel in it, she couldn’t imagine a more frightening place than the Gentry Mansion.

  “Remember what I told you,” said Sasha as she and Puck walked along the tree-lined entranceway and approached the riveted oak door. “No biting, no stealing, no spitting.”

  Puck made a huffy noise.

  Sasha thought about it as she lifted the metal knocker, shaped like a ring of thorns, and knocked. She quickly added, “You can bite in self-defense. I don’t mind if you steal Sisal’s chocolate, and if they say something truly awful and you need to spit, then go ahead, but try not to.”