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"I wonder," said the man in black, "will he stay in one group or will he
divide, some to search the coastline, some to follow your path on land? What
do you think?"
"I only know he will find me. And if you have not given me my freedom first,
he will not treat you gently."
"Surely he must have discussed things with you? The thrill of the hunt. What
has he done in the past with many ships?"
"We do not discuss hunting, that I can assure you."
"Not hunting, not love, what do you talk about?"
"We do not see all that much of each other."
"Tender couple."
Buttercup could feel the upset coming. "We are always very honest with each
other. Not everyone can say as much."
"May I please tell you something, Highness? You're very cold "
"I'm not "
" very cold and very young, and if you live, I think you'll turn to
hoarfrost "
"
Why do you pick at me?
I have come to terms with my life, and that is my affair I am not cold, I
swear, but I have decided certain things, it is best for me to ignore emotion;
I have not been happy dealing with it " Her heart was a secret garden and the
walls were very high. "I loved once," Buttercup said after a moment. "It
worked out badly."
"Another rich man? Yes, and he left you for a richer woman."
"No. Poor. Poor and it killed him."
"Were you sorry? Did you feel pain? Admit that you felt nothing
 "
"Do not mock my grief!
I died that day
."
The Armada began to fire signal cannons. The explosions echoed through the
mountains. The man in black stared as the ships began to change formation.
And while he was watching the ships, Buttercup shoved him with all her
strength remaining.
For a moment, the man in black teetered at the ravine edge. His arms spun like
windmills fighting for balance. They swung and gripped the air and then he
began his slide.
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Down went the man in black.
Stumbling and torn and reaching out to stop his descent, but the ravine was
too steep, and nothing could be done.
Down, down.
Rolling over rocks, spinning, out of all control.
Buttercup stared at what she had done.
Finally he rested far below her, silent and without motion.
"You can die too for all I
care,"
she said, and then she turned away.
Words followed her. Whispered from far, weak and warm and familiar. "As . . .
you . . .
wish . . ."
Dawn in the mountains. Buttercup turned back to the source of the sound and
stared down as, in first light, the man in black struggled to remove his mask.
"Oh, my sweet Westley," Buttercup said. "What have I done to you now?"
From the bottom of the ravine, there came only silence.
Buttercup hesitated not a moment. Down she went after him, keeping her feet as
best she could, and as she began, she thought she heard him crying out to her
over and over, but she could not make sense of his words, because inside her
now there was the thunder of walls crumbling, and that was noise enough.
Besides, her balance quickly was gone and the ravine had her. She fell fast
and she fell hard, but what did that matter, since she would have gladly
dropped a thousand feet onto a bed of nails if Westley had been waiting at the
bottom.
Down, down.
Tossed and spinning, crashing, torn, out of all control, she rolled and
twisted and plunged, cartwheeling toward what was left of her beloved. . . .
From his position at the point of the Armada, Prince Humperdinck stared up at
the
Cliffs of Insanity. This was just like any other hunt. He made himself think
away the quarry. It did not matter if you were after an antelope or a
bride-to-be; the procedures held. You gathered evidence. Then you acted. You
studied, then you performed. If you studied too little, the chances were
strong that your actions would also be too late. You had to take time. And so,
frozen in thought, he continued to stare up the sheer face of the Cliffs.
Obviously, someone had recently climbed them. There were foot scratchings all
the way up a straight line, which meant, most certainly, a rope, an
arm-over-arm climb up a thousand-foot rope with occasional foot kicks for
balance. To make such a climb required both strength and planning, so the
Prince made those marks in his brain: my enemy is strong; my enemy is not
impulsive.
Now his eyes reached a point perhaps three hundred feet from the top. Here it
began to get interesting. Now the foot scratchings were deeper, more frequent,
and they followed no direct ascending line. Either someone left the rope three
hundred feet from the top intentionally, which made no sense, or the rope was
cut while that someone was still three hundred feet from safety. For clearly, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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