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“What are our liabilities?”

“There is but one working castle gate and it is guarded by perhaps a hundred men.”Advertisement

“Hmmm,” Westley said, not as unhappy as he might have been ordinarily, because just then he began to be able to wiggle his toes.

“And our assets?”

“Your brains, Fezzik’s strength, my steel.”

Westley stopped wiggling his toes. “That’s all? That’s it? Everything? The grand total?”

Inigo tried to explain. “We’ve been operating under a terrible time pressure from the very beginning. Just yesterday morning, for example, I was a hopeless drunk and Fezzik toiled for the Brute Squad.”

“It’s impossible,” Westley cried.

“I am Inigo Montoya and I do not accept defeat—you will think of something; I have complete confidence in you.”

“She’s going to marry Humperdinck and I’m helpless,” Westley said in blind despair. “Lay me down again. Leave me alone.”

“You’re giving in too easily, we fought monsters to reach you, we risked everything because you have the brains to conquer problems. I have complete and absolute total confidence that you—”

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“I want to die,” Westley whispered, and he closed his eyes. “If I had a month to plan, maybe I might come up with something, but this…” His head rocked from side to side. “I’m sorry. Leave me.”

“You just moved your own head,” Fezzik said, doing his best to be cheery. “Doesn’t that up your spirits?”

“My brains, your strength and his steel against a hundred troops? And you think a little head-jiggle is supposed to make me happy? Why didn’t you leave me to death? This is worse. Lying here helpless while my true love marries my murderer.”

“I just know once you’re over your emotional outbursts, you’ll come up with—”

“I mean if we even had a wheelbarrow, that would be something,” Westley said.

“Where did we put that wheelbarrow the albino had?” Inigo asked.

“Over by the albino, I think,” Fezzik replied.

“Maybe we can get a wheelbarrow,” Inigo said.

“Well why didn’t you list that among our assets in the first place?” Westley said, sitting up, staring out at the massed troops in the distance.

“You just sat up,” Fezzik said, still trying to be cheery.

Westley continued to stare at the troops and the incline leading down toward them. He shook his head. “What I’d give for a holocaust cloak,” he said then.

“There we can’t help you,” Inigo said.

“Will this do?” Fezzik wondered, pulling out his holocaust cloak.

“Where…?” Inigo began.

“While you were after frog dust—” Fezzik answered. “It fit so nicely I just tucked it away and kept it.”

Westley got to his feet then. “All right. I’ll need a sword eventually.”

“Why?” Inigo asked. “You can barely lift one.”

“True,” Westley agreed. “But that is hardly common knowledge. Hear me now; there may be problems once we’re inside—”

“I’ll say there may be problems,” Inigo cut in. “How do we stop the wedding? Once we do, how do I find the Count? Once I do, where will I find you again? Once we’re together, how do we escape? Once we escape—”

“Don’t pester him with so many questions,” Fezzik said. “Take it easy; he’s been dead.”

“Right, right, sorry,” Inigo said. pqdm.com