Sasha whipped around. “Nothing!” she said.
The woman standing behind her was tall and unsmiling, with milk-white hair pulled severely back into a bun on top of her head. She wore a chef’s uniform like those of the cooks, but hers was embroidered on the left breast with the Gentry house crest and a floral pattern on the shoulders. Everything about her was sharp, clean, precise. And she was holding a butcher knife.
“Nothing?” said the stern chef.
“I suppose we know who you are now.”
“Huh? I’m Sasha Bebbin.”
“You’re a liar, Sasha Bebbin.”
Sasha was flummoxed. “No. I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
“Lying is wrong, Sasha Bebbin. So is stealing.”
“I wasn’t,” said Sasha, feeling her face flush. “I’m…”
“A liar and a thief.”
Sasha felt like Puck in that moment, misunderstood and unable to speak her own defense. Her mother had always taught her, whenever she was frustrated, to stand up straight, breathe, and begin again.
Sasha did just that, and said, “My name is Sasha Bebbin, and I’m the new maid to Sisal Gentry. I was sent here to get her breakfast, which is two eggs, a wedge of salty cheese—”
The chef interrupted her. “This way.” She turned and walked across the kitchen. Sasha hurried to keep up. As she passed behind the cooks, Sasha could see them stiffen. The chef continued into a separate room with a stone oven big enough to hold five of Mama’s biggest cauldrons. Beside the oven, Sasha spotted a tray filled with all of Sisal’s requests. The chef took it and handed it to Sasha. “Did you think my kitchen wouldn’t know the mistress’s breakfast?”
Sasha stayed silent. It felt like such unfairness to give her so little information and punish her for making guesses. But she bowed her head and said, “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“My name is Barza, but you will call me Chef.”
“Yes, Chef.”
“When you enter my kitchen, ask one of my cooks for what you need, and they will get it for you.”
Sasha flushed again, this time with anger. “I did that! They wouldn’t look up.”
The chef crossed her arms at the insult to her crew. “Good. They should keep working until a request is made. Did you speak up and announce yourself?”
Sasha wilted. “No. Not exactly.”
“Why?”
“I was afraid.”
“The truth. Very good. Why were you afraid?”
“They looked busy and mean.”
For the first time since meeting Chef Barza, Sasha saw the faintest smile. “That’s because they are busy and mean. Go. Get this to the little princess.”
Sasha rushed out of the kitchens with the tray of food, feeling that she had escaped some sort of dungeon full of deadly traps and dangerous creatures.
Sisal made Sasha stand beside her bed and watch her eat the entire breakfast. Then she said, “Get me water. I mean, don’t you want to get me water?”
So Sasha had to go back down the tower, then up again, carrying a big sloshy basin full of water. Sisal washed her face and then made Sasha help her get dressed, braid her hair, and scrub her feet, barking out orders in the form of questions until Sasha was exhausted. And it was only teatime.
“This’ll be fun, won’t it?” said Sisal as they descended the stairs. “I’m going to eat at least three bonbons.”
Sasha followed. She had so little time to think, but somehow, she needed a plan to get that deed back. In her mind, she tried to make a list of possible solutions:
1. Discover the location of the deed and sneak away with it.
2. Offer Vadim Gentry something that he wants more than their house.
On top of that, she would need to find some way to make everyone believe that she had reversed the persuasion potion—so she and Papa wouldn’t have to obey the Gentrys anymore. It all sounded so impossible.
Sasha tried not to cry as they walked into a parlor big enough to hold Sasha’s whole house. It was full of beautiful furniture. The walls of windows overlooked the gardens.
Butta—the head butler—stood at the main entrance, directing his staff as they set out flowers and played music. Barza—the head chef—stood beside the door to the servants’ halls, watching her cooks as they set out trays of baklava, almond cakes drizzled with cherry syrup, cream puffs, and a bejeweled samovar of hot black tea. It only took Sasha a second to realize that Butta and Barza must be twins. They were exactly alike—tall, thin, severe.
At the center table sat Vadim Gentry. In front of him was a riveted oak box full of papers and mail. The baron was reading a letter as Sisal approached and said, “Hi, Daddy,” and kissed his cheek. The baron patted her on the head without looking up. Sisal took her seat and said, “Hello, Mother.” Sisal’s mother, Rose Gentry, sat on the other side of the table. She had her own chair, which the servants used to roll her from room to room. She sat holding a glass of tea, with a peaceful smile on her face.
There was one other chair at the table, for Basil, Sisal’s older brother, who was away on a painting trip to Rozny. Sasha wished he were there, more than anything. Basil had a good heart and would have probably helped her. But no such luck. Sasha was alone.
Sasha stood to the side as Sisal dove onto the cakes. Sasha tried to inch her way along the wall to get a look inside the baron’s strongbox. Maybe the deed to the house was in there? She craned her neck and stood on tiptoes until the baron noticed her. He didn’t say anything and kept reading. But he reached up and snapped the wooden box shut. Sasha retreated back to the wall, where Butta gave her a disapproving tsk sound.
The sound seemed to knock Mrs. Gentry out of a daydream. When she noticed Sasha, she said, “Oh, hello, dear.”
Sasha raised her hand to give a silent wave.
“Mother,” said Sisal. “Don’t speak to her. She’s just the help now.”
Rose Gentry smiled and ignored her daughter. “Tell me. How are you?”
“Not very well, ma’am,” said Sasha.
“Yes, I was sorry to hear.” Rose’s smile faded for the first time as she cast a glance at her husband. “And how is Maxima?” said Rose. The sound of Sasha’s mother’s name made her jump. The question pulled Vadim away from his papers and Sisal from her cakes.
“Mother,” said Sisal.
“Rose,” said Vadim. “You shouldn’t agitate yourself in your condition.”
“I’m fine,” said Rose. She looked back at Sasha. “Have you heard any news?”
Sasha squirmed as all the eyes in the room turned to her, glaring. All except Rose’s. She seemed genuinely curious. “We’ve heard a little,” said Sasha. “She’s stationed with the Knights of Daytime. Her medicines save lives.”
“She’s doing very important work,” said Rose. “We were best friends, you know.”
“Really?” said Sasha, stepping forward.
Rose nodded. “Her tea worked wonders for my joints. We had you and Sisal in the same winter storm. And before that, we attended Sunderdown Academy together. She studied alchemy and cures while I studied dance, but we were sisters for a while. She had your spark. I’m sure you have her knack for solving problems.”
Rose gave Sasha a gentle wink.
Sasha felt her heart swell and tears well up in her eyes.
It had been such a hard few days, and to hear about her mother made her feel less alone. Sisal was not amused, however. She chewed up a cookie as if she were punishing it. As Sasha opened her mouth to say “thank you” to Mrs. Gentry, Sisal broke in. “Sasha, wouldn’t you rather stop talking, get out of my face, and go help Barza shop for groceries?”
Sasha closed her mouth, lowered her head, and walked out.
CHAPTER 6
Sasha waited outside the Gentry mansion, holding back tears and kicking rocks. Barza had work to finish in the kitchen before she could go to the market. It was raining a warm spring rain. Sasha let it soak her hair and her clothes. She tried her best to enjoy the short b
reak from chores.
Her papa always said that “Hope is the best use of courage.” But hope felt almost impossible.
Just as Sasha was wallowing in her problems, she heard a rustling from the hedgerow. It could have been Abrus, the Gentry guard dog, which was more of a guard wolf. Sasha braced herself. But the creature that emerged was Puck. The rain hadn’t managed to clean him. The soot and dirt that constantly covered him had just turned to mud. But for once, Sasha didn’t care. “Oh, Puck! What are you doing here? If they see you, they’ll set Abrus on you.”
Puck stumbled up to her and plopped onto the ground. He was panting as if he’d been running nonstop. “Are you okay?” said Sasha. She had never seen him this tired before.
He didn’t answer. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled wad of wet and muddy paper. As he caught his breath, he held it out to Sasha.
“You expect me to touch that?”
“Ugga mugga,” said Puck, rolling his eyes.
“Fine, but you look even worse than usual, Puck.”
She took the paper between two fingers and began to unravel it. As she did, she said, “Did you go to the stables?”
Puck nodded yes.
“Did you find Oxiana?”
Yes.
“Can she send a message to Mama with the next caravan?”
Yes.
“And is there a caravan coming?”
Puck shook his head no.
“Great,” Sasha said with a sigh.
“Guh!” said Puck, gesturing at the paper.
“All right, all right.” Sasha turned to the page and began to read. “My dearest Sasha.” She paused. “Is this?”
“Guh!”
Sasha jumped to the bottom of the page. It said, “With all my love, Maxima Bebbin.” It was. It was a letter from her mother. Sasha’s mind was racing. She looked at Puck. “But how did you get this? From a messenger?”
Puck shrugged. Sasha returned to the letter:
My dearest Sasha,
It’s busy here, and I can’t write a long message, but I heard the terrible news from Prince Carvalio. Losing the house and the shop must be devastating. Stay strong, my girl, and take care of Papa. If you need to reach me, just give a note to Prince Carvalio.
With all my love,
Maxima Bebbin
That was it. Sasha could hardly believe that her mother had spoken to her. It felt like she was right there with Sasha. But then the questions began to flood in.
“Where did you get this?”
Puck shrugged.
“From Mama herself?”
Puck nodded.
“So then who’s Prince Carvalio?”
Puck sat up straighter and smiled.
“You?”
He nodded.
“Are you really a prince?”
Shrug.
“Is that just what Mama calls you?”
Puck nodded.
“How do you know her?”
Shrug.
“You’re no help, you know that? I’m still calling you Puck,” said Sasha.
Puck let himself fall back onto the wet ground and opened his mouth to drink the rain. Sasha thought about it for a moment. Mama was at least twenty days’ ride away, over the mountains, past the Hill Country. It was too far. If he’d run, it would have to be so fast that it was magic. Sasha didn’t believe in magic, of course. But maybe a wild boy like Puck had eagle friends?
Or maybe Mama was closer than she thought? As Sasha puzzled over the message, she heard footsteps coming from behind the door that led to the kitchens. Puck sat up.
“You have to go,” said Sasha, “but can you really get a note to Mama?”
Puck nodded and held out his hand for the note.
“I haven’t written it yet, but I will. Find me later.”
Puck dove into the hedge, and Sasha stuffed the letter in her pocket just as Barza opened the door. The rain immediately stopped, as if it were scared of Barza too. “Who were you talking to?” demanded Barza.
“No one,” said Sasha. “I mean, just a dirt gremlin named Puck, who may be a prince named Carvalio.”
Barza blinked one, two, then three times. “I don’t enjoy silliness,” she said. She turned and began to walk down the hill. She pointed at a pile of baskets by the side door and said, “Bring those.” Sasha hurried to pick them up and followed the chef. From the hedge, she could hear Puck giggling.
The walk to the Village wasn’t easy.
Sasha had to carry all the baskets and keep up with Barza, who marched too quickly on rain-slick stones. But even as she struggled, Sasha couldn’t stop thinking about Mama’s letter. Maybe Mama would show up out of nowhere and solve everything? Maybe she’d bring the Daytime Knights and force Baron Gentry to give back the deed?
“Keep up,” shouted Barza.
Sasha snapped out of her childish dreaming. “I was wondering,” she said. “Are you and Butta related?”
Barza didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she said, “He’s my brother.”
“It must be nice to have a brother,” said Sasha. “I have a friend who is like a little brother, but he makes a lot of trouble too.”
“You talk too much,” said Barza.
Sasha shrank back into herself. As they entered the village market, she heard Papa’s voice. “Step right up and get yer bone soup! Better than stone soup, and easier to chew. Just two pennies, and you keep the bottle. Step right up.”
He was standing in the corner of the market, beside the butcher’s cart. In front of him was a cauldron big enough for Sasha to bathe in. He stirred it with an oar and called out to customers wandering the market stalls.
Barza rolled her eyes and made an irritated snikt sound. Sasha already knew that Chef Barza would never approve of her cooks being so loud. But this was exactly what Sasha needed. She said, “Chef Barza, I could go pick up the bacon if you wanted.”
“No,” snapped Barza. “Stay beside me.”
“Okay,” said Sasha. “Then we just need to stop by that butcher to get Sisal’s favorite bacon. He’s over there by that loud soup peddler.”
Barza made a sour face. “Fine,” she said. “Go, and find me at the greengrocer afterward.”
Sasha nodded. As soon as Barza turned and walked away, Sasha ran up to Papa and said, “Papa, what are you doing, and why?” Then she added, “Please stop immediately.”
Papa set down the oar he was using to stir and said, “Hello, my darling girl.”
“That’s not an answer, Papa.”
“I’m selling bone soup, didn’t you hear?”
“Yes, the whole Village heard.”
“Good. Maybe they’ll buy a bottle.” Papa picked up a ladle and dipped it into the massive cauldron. He scooped up some soup and poured it into a glass bottle that Sasha recognized. It was one of the potion bottles from the shop.
“I spent the whole morning scavenging ingredients from the lakeshore and the forest,” said Papa. “Sorrel, wild carrots, those mushrooms you found. My new butcher friend gave me all the bones he didn’t need. I threw it all in the pot. Before I knew it, I had soup.” Papa had a chipper tone that made Sasha doubly sad. She knew he was trying to make the best of things.
“It’s not all that different from alchemy, actually,” he said.
“Oh, Papa, that is terrible alchemy.”
Papa nodded. “Well, I wasn’t a very good alchemist, I’m afraid.”
All her life, Sasha had believed in science, not magic. But still, it was awful to hear Papa doubting himself. “Where did you get the cauldron?” she asked, to change the subject. They had sold theirs already.
“Granny Yenta let me borrow it,” said Papa. “She really did us a favor.”
Granny Yenta’s daily stew was famous around the Village. It was awfully nice of her to let Papa have her spot to make a few coins. Papa seemed proud of his new job, so Sasha tried to be encouraging. “The bottles are a nice touch.”
“Aren’t they?” said
Papa. “It’s like a magic soup that will heal all your hunger.” He laughed to himself and handed a bottle to Sasha. She took it and put it in her satchel for later.
Sasha had been wondering something ever since she saw her father, and now she just had to ask.
“Papa, where are you going to sleep tonight?”
Papa poured the soup into another bottle and said, “Oh, that’s no problem. I’ll just wash the cauldron in the river and sleep under it. The beautiful stars in the springtime air will be my blanket. It’s going to be great!”
Sasha said, “But can’t you use some of the money to sleep at the Wander Inn?” They had plenty of coins from the baron’s deal, but Sasha already knew Papa would never use that money on himself. Not when his daughter was a servant in the Gentry mansion.
“I’m fine,” said Papa. “How are you holding up?” His smile was gone. He stirred the soup slowly.
“Oh, I’m great,” said Sasha. She didn’t look him in the eye.
“Do you have a nice room?”
“I think so.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, probably. I haven’t had time to check.”
Sasha was almost certain that Sisal wouldn’t be giving her a room, but there was no reason to make Papa worry. They were both silent for a while. The market was full of people going about their lives, buying vegetables or candles or lamp oil, and maybe none of them knew that Sasha’s whole life was in trouble. She sighed. “I got a letter from Mama. Puck delivered it.”
“Really?” said Papa.
Sasha nodded.
“Do you think she’s close by? We could use her help,” said Papa.
“I was thinking that too,” said Sasha, but before she could come up with a plan, she felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder.
“What did I tell you?” said Barza.
Sasha whirled around. “Sorry!”
“I waited at the greengrocer until I realized you are an untrained puppy.”
Sasha’s cheeks flushed. She looked at her shoes because she wasn’t used to being scolded. Papa came to her rescue. He put on his best smile and said, “Hello, Chef. May I offer you some soup?” He held out a spoonful of soup.
Sasha and Puck and the Brew for Brainwash Page 3