Sasha and Puck and the Cure for Courage

by Daniel Nayeri

  Even though Sasha couldn’t hear Scolario from afar, she could tell he shouted a curse at his attendant and spat on the ground. But it was no use; the cat was gone. The bad luck was set. Scolario looked furious as he stalked off to get his horse.

  Sasha cheered as she stirred the new pot of cider. She was beginning to think her plan just might work after all. But her celebration was short-lived, because at that moment she saw the last person on earth she wanted to see, walking straight toward her cider stand.

  CHAPTER 8

  It was Vadim Gentry, the man who was cheating to win the knights’ tournament, the richest baron in the Village, and the one who was trying to take their shop.

  He was a large man with a trim mustache. He wore a deep-red overcoat with lots of buttons and buckles. He loomed over the counter. Sasha felt very uncomfortable. Not knowing what else to do, she said, “Would you like a cider?”

  “Very well,” said Vadim.

  Sasha used the chisel to break off a chunk of sugar. As she did, she was relieved to see Puck return from his mission. He climbed on the counter and played with a stack of cups. He kept his eyes on Vadim.

  Sasha wondered what the baron wanted. She poured the hot cider from the samovar and watched the sugar dissolve in the amber-colored drink. She held out the cup.

  “You know what is odd?” said Vadim, taking the cup and reaching into his pocket for a coin. “I was in the stables last night when I heard a little scurrying creature. All by itself. I thought, it must be a rat. Any other creature would have the sense to be home with its parents at that time of night—away from the cold. Away from dangers. Wouldn’t you think?”

  Puck jumped up on his haunches and growled softly. He knew that Vadim was making veiled threats. Sasha didn’t know what to do. Her cheeks must have been red, but she tried to act calm. She shrugged and said, “I don’t know. That will be one coin, please.”

  Vadim held out the coin. When Sasha reached for it, he pulled it back. “Well, if it was a rat in those stables, I suppose it would run away and never return.”

  Puck growled again, but Sasha put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from jumping. She tried to keep from trembling and repeated herself. “That will be one coin, please.”

  Finally, Vadim gave her the coin. But as he did, he looked into her eyes and said, “I don’t like rats, do you?”

  Puck was ready to pounce, but a great, booming voice interrupted them. “Nobody likes rats,” said Belfort the knight, who had approached from the market. “But if we hurt every creature smaller than ourselves, then you could be mean to this little girl, and I could be very mean to you. Wouldn’t you say, Baron?”

  Vadim Gentry seemed to shrink in the presence of Belfort. But Sasha was overjoyed to see the Daytime Knight suddenly appear.

  “Of course,” said Vadim. “Yuletide is a holiday for peace, after all.” With that, the baron turned and walked away. Sasha breathed a sigh of relief.

  Vadim knew it had been her in the stables. Belfort had arrived just in time. “Thank you,” she said. She began to make another cup of cider to give to him. Belfort chuckled. He held his giant hand out to Puck, and Puck jumped onto it. Belfort lifted Puck up onto his shoulder. “I like your friend,” said Belfort.

  Puck looked around the winter fair from his new perch on Belfort’s shoulder. He giggled with the delight of being so tall and made grunty noises to himself.

  Belfort laughed, then turned to Sasha and said, “You’re Maxima’s daughter.”

  Sasha stopped chiseling the sugar stone and looked up. She hadn’t heard her mother’s name in a while.

  “Yeah. Yes, sir. How did you know?”

  “You have her…intensity. And she talks about you all the time.”

  “You’ve talked to my mom? Recently? When? Where?” said Sasha.

  “That’s the intensity I mean,” said Belfort. “I fought alongside her unit last season. We protected a caravan from the Make Mad raiders. She’s very good, you know.”

  “I know,” said Sasha.

  “And she talks about you constantly.”

  That, Sasha didn’t know.

  “I was stationed to guard her lab. All night, she would mix potions and tell me how clever you are.”

  “That sounds like her,” said Sasha.

  She handed a cup to Belfort. “No charge,” she said.

  “Thank you,” said Belfort. He took a sip through his mustache.

  “You know,” he said, “I have a girl your age. Unlike you, she solves all her problems with her hands instead of her mind. You’d make a good team.”

  Behind them, the grocer had once again taken his post. “In this next round…” he shouted, “Scolario the Bad Hander versus our very own Sergeant Latouche!” A scatter of applause went up for Latouche. Everyone must have been surprised that he even made it to the second stage of the knights’ tournament.

  But Sasha was still thinking about her mom and the war. She just wanted it all to end and for her mother to return.

  “I’m like you,” said Belfort. “I just want it all to end too.” He said the second part in a whisper, as if he could read her mind. He explained. “I can tell by your expression. I’m terrified every day that I won’t see my Lily again.”

  Puck made a grunt like, “No way…you?” And Sasha said as much. “Really? You’re scared?”

  It was so hard to imagine Belfort, the man of stone, the Daytime Knight, scared of anything. He nodded. “Of course I’m scared. If you’re not scared, you don’t understand the dangers in a situation. If you’re clever, and I know you’re very clever, you see all the things that can go wrong.”

  Sasha had never thought of fear as a mark of intelligence.

  “It’s okay to be scared,” said Belfort. “Your job is to face the fear.”

  Puck sat on Belfort’s shoulder and stared at the side of his face with a mixture of wonder and admiration.

  On the knights’ field, Scolario and Latouche took up their spears and trotted their horses to the starting lines. The greengrocer had taken the moment to tell everyone about his prices for fresh turnips. Finally, he said, “Ready…begin!”

  Scolario looked shaky from the start. His charger dashed forward, but he pulled the reins back and confused the horse. They both seemed nervous. Latouche rode high in his saddle, almost standing up, and pushed the jousting spear into Scolario’s shoulder. If Scolario had been in position, leaning forward, it would have glanced off him. But Bad Hander was sitting back, so Latouche pushed him all the way off his horse. Scolario hit the ground with a clang of metal. The crowd erupted in applause.

  Latouche rode past and circled around.

  He didn’t even wave to the crowd. He was shaking his head as if he was upset.

  Of all the odds and oddity, thought Sasha, why is he still upset? Her plan had worked. Puck had been the perfect black cat to bring bad luck to Bad Hander. But Latouche still seemed unsatisfied. She had to find out why before he found a reason to blame Papa’s potion. Sasha knew that Papa would be upset. But if Latouche complained, they might have to pay a fine, or they might lose customers. And either way, they wouldn’t be able to pay their taxes. And if that happened, Baron Gentry was just waiting to pounce on them and steal their shop.

  Sasha wiped her hands on a towel and ducked under the counter.

  “I’m sorry, Mister Belfort,” she said as she ran toward the knights’ field. “Something’s come up!”

  Puck watched her go and made a grunty noise.

  He turned and kissed Belfort on the cheek, then hugged his head as hard as he could. After that, Puck scrambled down the knight’s arm and ran after Sasha, shouting, “Gooby, gooby, gooby!”

  CHAPTER 9

  Sasha caught up with Latouche just as he was dismounting his horse and taking off his helmet. She followed him into the stables. “That was amazing!” she said, running up beside him. “Only the bravest could face Scolario.”

  “Guh!” said Puck, reenacting the spear thrust and makin
g action sounds.

  But Latouche tossed his helmet aside and led his horse back to its stable without an answer. Sasha followed.

  On the far side of the field, Sasha could see that Scolario was shouting curses and looking for the black cat that had caused him to doubt himself.

  As Latouche gave his horse some feed, he sighed and said, “I don’t know. I was trembling the whole time.”

  “We couldn’t tell,” said Sasha.

  “Yeah, but it wasn’t special. People see bravery, and they marvel at it. They tell stories about it. Who cares if I knocked over a distracted goon? Nobody.”

  Sasha felt the frustration well up.

  She and Puck had been running back and forth in the holiday market all day. She had worked at their stall as hard as she could, and Papa was probably furious that she had disappeared again. She had exhausted herself arranging everything so Latouche would feel brave. And still—still!—he complained.

  Sasha wanted to cry. But she didn’t want anyone to see her. She didn’t want anyone to think she was a baby.

  Suddenly, the answer struck her.

  All this time, she thought Latouche wanted to feel a certain way. But every time he complained, it wasn’t about being brave. It was about being seen being brave.

  He wanted to impress someone. But who?

  Sasha watched as Latouche glanced at the stands. He was looking for someone.

  Could it be Mina, the innkeeper’s daughter?

  No.

  Sasha remembered her conversation with Latouche back at the Wander Inn, when he told her about Uncle Nestor’s wall of bravery and knavery. Suddenly, it was so obvious. Latouche wanted Uncle Nestor to see him being brave.

  “Of course,” said Sasha, feeling a bit embarrassed for her detecting skills. But she told herself that it had been a hectic Yuletide, and even great detectives missed a detail now and then. The important part was that she finally knew what she needed to do. She cleared her throat to get Latouche’s attention and said, “When is your next bout?”

  “The finals?” said Latouche. “I dunno. Whenever the grocer stops bragging about cauliflower, I guess.” Then he added, “Any minute now.”

  “Crumbsy bumsy,” said Sasha. “Come on, Puck. We have to move quickly.” Sasha turned to run to the Wander Inn but ran instead into Papa.

  An angry Papa.

  A Papa with a wiggling mustache and eyebrows smooshed together into one long caterpillar, all of which was the angriest Papa that Sasha had ever seen.

  CHAPTER 10

  “I can explain,” said Sasha.

  “What can you explain?” said Papa.

  “I can explain why I left the stand unattended.”

  “Is that why you think I’m angry? Didn’t we do this already?”

  “Yes?” said Sasha. Then she said, “No.”

  Papa didn’t respond. His arms were crossed.

  “Okay, maybe you’re still upset that I left Puck in the stand and lost a bunch of money because he doesn’t know what money is.”

  Papa didn’t say anything.

  “Okay, fine,” said Sasha. “I’m sorry I disobeyed you…twice.”

  Sasha was certain that was the answer. But Papa was still waiting.

  “What, then?” said Sasha.

  “You lied to me.”

  “Did I?”

  “You said you’d stay at the stand. Your word, Sasha Bebbin, is your bond.”

  Sasha sighed. She looked around. Latouche was off preparing for his next bout. Puck stood beside her but stared at the ground, pretending that something in the dirt was extremely interesting.

  She said, “I’m sorry, Papa.”

  Papa’s caterpillar eyebrow separated back into two smaller caterpillars, which was the right number for them to be.

  “Come on,” he said, turning back toward the market. “Let’s go back.” Papa was never mad for very long.

  Sasha waved for Puck to come closer. She whispered, “You have to run to the inn to get Uncle Nestor to come watch Latouche in his last bout, okay?”

  Puck nodded vigorously.

  “This is an important mission, okay?”

  Puck nodded harder.

  “No getting distracted by a butterfly or something.”

  Puck’s eyes narrowed at the insult. It was obvious that he prided himself on completing missions before he ran off to play with butterflies.

  He scampered off on all fours, faster than any dog Sasha had ever seen. He darted between the legs of festivalgoers and disappeared.

  Sasha followed Papa and hoped that this time, on her last chance, she would succeed. That was the moment she looked over at the knights’ field and noticed five things all at once:

  1. The greengrocer standing on his soapbox, waving celery at the crowd to show off the leafy fronds.

  2. Belfort playing slap hands with the children gathered around him.

  3. The lamplighter Gorch and the baron Vadim Gentry lurking around Belfort’s horse, looking very suspicious.

  4. Latouche slouched beside a cart, where an old traveler was roasting chickpeas and red peppers.

  5. The brother and sister hedge knights, Coral and Sage, sitting in the stands, cracking walnuts with their sword hilts and bickering.

  It all came together at once.

  A plan.

  An unlikely plan.

  “Wait!” she said.

  Papa stopped and turned around.

  “I’m sorry I disobeyed, Papa. And I’m sorry I broke my word.”

  “It’s okay,” said Papa.

  “But,” said Sasha.

  “No buts,” said Papa.

  “But it is extremely important that I go—right now—to help someone. I know you need me at the market. I know you want us to have a special Yuletide because we might lose the house. And I know Mom won’t be back in time. I know I disappointed you. But I’m telling the truth. It’s very important.”

  Papa’s eyebrows turned, once again, into one long caterpillar. But this time it was a sad, downcast caterpillar. Papa was always worrying for Sasha.

  “Of course,” he said. He smiled as best he could.

  Sasha said, “Thank you. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Thank you.”

  And she ran toward the tournament grounds as fast as she could, hoping she wasn’t too late.

  CHAPTER 11

  Sasha was too late.

  Just as she arrived at the tournament grounds, the greengrocer finished his lettuce demonstration and shouted, “Get your discount spinach at stall number five after the tournament. But now, the main event! Knights, to your corners!”

  Sasha watched as Latouche and Belfort shook hands and then turned to go to their corners. In Belfort’s corner, she noticed that Gorch was replacing the knight’s jousting spear with another that looked identical. Then he snuck away with the original.

  Sasha had to move quickly.

  She ran up to the hedge knights, Sage and Coral, and said, “Quick, I need your help.”

  “What do you need?” said Coral, suddenly alert.

  “Can you…I dunno…can you stop the greengrocer or something?”

  “You want us to kill him?” said Sage.

  “We don’t do killing,” said Coral.

  “No,” said Sasha.

  “We could break a few bones, I suppose,” said Sage.

  “Maybe push him real hard.”

  “None of that,” said Sasha. “Just delay him a little. Stall. I just need a little time before the tournament starts, until my friend Puck arrives.”

  “Ohhh! Okay,” said Coral.

  “Thank you,” said Sasha. Then, as she ran toward Latouche, she shouted over her shoulder, “But don’t hurt him!”

  Sage was obviously disappointed, probably because she had had to sit through all those vegetable demonstrations. But the two gave her a salute and approached the grocer.

  Sasha caught up with Latouche as he was mounting his horse. He looked glum, as if he had already lost.

 
“Are you ready?” she said.

  “I guess,” said Latouche.

  He sat on his horse and sighed.

  Across the muddy field, Belfort looked like a giant. His armor glistened. He sat up straight. He didn’t look at all afraid.

  “You know,” said Sasha. “I think you were wrong before, at the inn, when you said Belfort was brave because he wasn’t afraid of anything.”

  “Okay,” said Latouche.

  “You don’t think so?”

  “I think you’re a kid, and I have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, I’m kind of busy here.”

  Over at the grocer’s box, Sage and Coral approached. Coral smiled and tossed his coin purse up and down. He said, “My good man, I’ve heard about your fruits and vegetables all day, and I’d like to purchase ten—no twenty—bushels of lovely lemons.”

  The greengrocer’s eyes grew wide with the happy thought of selling so many lemons. “Yes, yes, of course!”

  “Of course what?” said Sage, who stepped forward with her arms crossed. The two knights towered over the greengrocer, even though he was standing on a box.

  “Lemons, of course,” said the grocer.

  “But he didn’t say any old lemons, did he?” said Sage.

  “I’m sure he meant it,” said Coral, turning to his sister.

  “You’re sure? How would you know?” said Sage.

  The grocer was a bit confused as the sibling knights began to bicker.

  “Look at him,” said Coral. “Look at his face. That’s an honest face.”

  Sage looked at the grocer and squinted. The grocer stood up straight and tried to look respectable.

  “Sorry,” said Sage. “Don’t see it.”

  “That’s just rude,” said Coral. He turned to the grocer. “Go on, my good man. Tell her.”

  “Um…” For once the greengrocer did not know what to say. “Tell her what?”

  “That your lemons aren’t any old lemons.”

  “Oh! They’re surely not!”