“That may not be so easy, Inigo, because the Count is with the Prince, and the Prince is in his castle, and he is pledged not to leave it till after his wedding, for he fears another sneak attack from Guilder, and all the entrances but the main one are sealed for safety and the main doors are guarded by twenty men.”
“Hmmm,” Inigo said, pacing faster now. “If you fought five and I fenced five, that would mean ten gone, which would be bad because that would also mean ten left and they would kill us. But,” and now he picked up his pace even more, “if you should take six and I took eight, that would mean fourteen beaten, which would not be as bad but still bad enough, since the six remaining would kill us.” And now he whirled on Fezzik. “How many could you handle at the most?”
“Well, some of them are from the Brute Squad, so I don’t think more than eight.”
“Leaving me twelve, which is not impossible, but not the best way to spend your first evening after three months on brandy.” And suddenly Inigo’s body sagged and in his eyes, bright a moment ago, now there was moisture.
“What has happened?” Fezzik cried.
“Oh, my friend, my friend, I need Vizzini. I am not a planner. I follow. Tell me what to do and no man alive does it better. But my mind is like fine wine; it travels badly. I go from thought to thought but not with logic, and I forget things, and help me, Fezzik, what am I to do?”
Fezzik wanted to cry now too. “I’m the stupidest fellow that was ever born; you know that. I couldn’t remember to come back here even after you made up that special lovely rhyme for me.”
“I need Vizzini.”
“But Vizzini is dead.”
And then Inigo was up again, blazing about the kitchen, and for the first time his fingers were snapping with excitement: “I don’t need Vizzini; I need his master: I need the man in black! Look—he bested me with steel, my greatness; he bested you with strength; yours. He must have outplanned and outthought Vizzini and he will tell me how to break through the castle and kill the six-fingered beast. If you have the least notion where the man in black is at this moment, relate, quickly the answer.”
“He sails the seven seas with the Dread Pirate Roberts.”
“Why would he do a thing like that?”
“Because he is a sailor for the Dread Pirate Roberts.”
“A sailor? A common sailor? A common ordinary seaman bests the great Inigo Montoya with the sword? In-con-ceiv-a-ble. He must be the Dread Pirate Roberts. Otherwise it makes no sense.”
“In any event, he is sailing far away. Count Rugen says so and the Prince himself gave the order. The Prince wants no pirates around, what with all the trouble he is having with Guilder—remember, they kidnapped the Princess once, they might try—”
“Fezzik, we kidnapped the Princess once. You never were strong on memory, but even you should recall that we put the Guilder uniform pieces under the Princess’s saddle. Vizzini did it because he was under orders to do it. Someone wanted Guilder to look guilty and who but a noble would want that and what noble more than the war-loving Prince himself? We never knew who hired Vizzini. I guess Humperdinck. And as for the Count’s word on the man in black’s whereabouts, since the Count is the same man who slaughtered my father, we can rest assured that he is certainly a terrific fellow.” He started for the door. “Come. We have much to do.”
Fezzik followed him through the darkening streets of the Thieves Quarter. “You’ll explain things to me as we go along?” Fezzik asked.
“I’ll explain them to you now…” His bladelike body knifed on through the quiet streets, Fezzik hurrying alongside, “(a) I need to reach Count Rugen to at last avenge my father; (b) I cannot plan on how to reach Count Rugen; (c) Vizzini could have planned it for me but, (c prime) Vizzini is unavailable; however, (d) the man in black outplanned Vizzini, so, therefore, (e) the man in black can get me to Count Rugen.”
