The Princess Bride

pale. But he did not give up. He was the mighty Fezzik, lover of rhymes, and you did not give up, no matter what. Now the hollowness was in his arms and the world was snowing.

Fezzik went to his knees.

He pounded still, but feebly. He fought still, but his blows would not have harmed a child. No air. There was no more air. There was no more anything, not for Fezzik, not in this world. I am beaten, I am going to die, he thought just before he fell onto the mountain path.

He was only half wrong.

There is an instant between unconsciousness and death, and as the giant pitched onto the rocky path, that instant happened, and just before it happened, the man in black let go. He staggered to his feet and leaned against a boulder until he could walk. Fezzik lay sprawled, faintly breathing. The man in black looked around for a rope to secure the giant, gave up the search almost as soon as he'd begun. What good were ropes against strength like this. He would simply snap them. The man in black made his way back to where he'd dropped his sword. He put it back on.

Two down and (the hardest) one to go...

VIZZINI WAS WAITING for him.

Indeed, he had set out a little picnic spread. From the knapsack that he always carried, he had taken a small handkerchief and on it he had placed two wine goblets. In the center was a small leather wine holder and, beside it, some cheese and some apples. The spot could not have been lovelier: a high point of the mountain path with a splendid view all the way back to Florin Channel. Buttercup lay helpless beside the picnic, gagged and tied and blindfolded. Vizzini held his long knife against her white throat.

'Welcome,' Vizzini called when the man in black was almost upon them.

The man in black stopped and surveyed the situation.

'You've beaten my Turk,' Vizzini said.

'It would seem so.'

'And now it is down to you. And it is down to me.'

'So that would seem too,' the man in black said, edging just a half-step closer to the hunchback's long knife.

With a smile the hunchback pushed the knife harder against Buttercup's throat. It was about to bring blood. 'If you wish her dead, by all means keep moving,' Vizzini said.

The man in black froze.

'Better,' Vizzini nodded.

No sound now beneath the moonlight.

'I understand completely what you are trying to do,' the Sicilian said finally, 'and I want it quite clear that I resent your behavior. You are trying to kidnap what I have rightfully stolen, and I think it quite ungentlemanly.'

'Let me explain—' the man in black began, starting to edge forward.

'You're killing her!' the Sicilian screamed, shoving harder with the knife. A drop of blood appeared now at Buttercup's throat, red against white.

The man in black retreated. 'Let me explain,' he said again, but from a distance.

Again the hunchback interrupted. 'There is nothing you can tell me I do not already know. I have not had the schooling equal to some, but for knowledge outside of books, there is no one in the world close to me. People say I read minds, but that is not, in all honesty, true. I merely predict the truth using logic and wisdom, and I say you are a kidnapper, admit it.'

'I will admit that, as a ransom item, she has value; nothing more.'

'I have been instructed to do certain things to her. It is very important that I follow my instructions. If I do this properly, I will be in demand for life. And my instructions do not include ransom, they include death. So your explanations are meaningless; we cannot do business together. You wish to keep her alive for ransom, whereas it is terribly important to me that she stop breathing in the very near future.'

'Has it occurred to you that I have gone to great effort and expense, as well as personal sacrifice, to reach this point,' the man in black replied. 'And that if I fail now, I might get very angry. And if she stops breathing in the very near future, it is entirely possible that you will catch the same fatal illness?'

'I have no doubt you could kill me. Any man who can get by Inigo and Fezzik would have no trouble disposing of me. However, has it occurred to you that if you did that, then neither of us would get what we want—you having lost your ransom item, me my life.'

'We are at an impasse then,' said the man in black.

'I fear so,' said the Sicilian. 'I cannot compete with you physically, and you are no match for my brains.'

'You are that smart?'

'There are no words to contain all my wisdom. I am so cunning, crafty and clever, so filled with deceit, guile and chicanery, such a knave, so shrewd, cagey as well as calculating, as diabolical as I am vulpine, as tricky as I am untrustworthy ... well, I told you there were not words invented yet to explain how great my brain is, but let me put it this way: the world is several million years old and several billion people have at one time or another trod upon it, but I, Vizzini the Sicilian, am, speaking with pure candor and modesty, the slickest, sleekest, sliest and wiliest fellow who has yet come down the pike.'

'In that case,' said the man in black, 'I challenge you to a battle of wits.'

Vizzini had to smile. 'For the Princess?'

'You read my mind.'

'It just seems that way, I told you. It's merely logic and wisdom. To the death?'

'Correct again.'

'I accept,' cried Vizzini. 'Begin the battle!'

'Pour the wine,' said the man in black.

Vizzini filled the two goblets with deep-red liquid.

The man in black pulled from his dark clothing a small packet and handed it to the hunchback. 'Open it and inhale, but be careful not to touch.'

Vizzini took the packet and followed instructions. 'I smell nothing.'

The man in black took the packet again. 'What you do not smell is called iocane powder. It is odorless, tasteless and dissolves immediately in any kind of liquid. It also happens to be the deadliest poison known to man.'

Vizzini was beginning to get excited.

'I don't suppose you'd hand me the goblets,' said the man in black.

Vizzini shook his head. 'Take them yourself. My long knife does not leave her throat.'

The man in black reached down for the goblets. He took them and turned away.

Vizzini cackled aloud in anticipation.

The man in black busied himself a long moment. Then he turned again with a goblet in each hand. Very carefully, he put the goblet in his right hand in front of Vizzini and put the goblet in his left hand across the kerchief from the hunchback. He sat down in front of the left-hand goblet, and dropped the empty iocane packet by the cheese.

'Your guess,' he said. 'Where is the poison?'

'Guess?' Vizzini cried. 'I don't guess. I think. I ponder. I deduce. Then I decide. But I never guess.'

'The battle of wits has begun,' said the man in black. 'It ends when you decide and we drink the wine and find out who is right and who is dead. We both drink, need I add, and swallow, naturally, at precisely the same time.'

'It's all so simple,' said the hunchback. 'All I have to do is deduce, from what I know of you, the way your mind works. Are you the kind of man who would put the poison into his own glass, or into the glass of his enemy?'

'You're stalling,' said the man in black.

'I'm relishing is what I'm doing,' answered the Sicilian. 'No one has challenged my mind in years and I love it. ... By the way, may I smell both goblets?'

'Be my guest. Just be sure you put them down the same way you found them.'