Уильям Голдман - The Princess Bride

Inigo, for his part, was startled at Fezzik's strange behavior. He saw no reason for it whatsoever, and was about to call after Fezzik when he saw a tiny green speckled spider scurrying down from the door handle, so he stepped on it with his boot as he hurried to the cage.

Fezzik was already inside the place, kneeling over the body.

"Don't say it," Inigo said, entering.

Fezzik tried not to, but it was on his face. "Dead."

Inigo examined the body. He had seen a lot of corpses in his time. "Dead." Then he sat down miserably on the floor and put his arms around his knees and rocked back and forth like a baby, back and forth, back and forth and back.

It was too unfair. You expected unfairness if you breathed, but this went beyond that. He, Inigo, no thinker, had thought—hadn't he found the man in black? He, Inigo, frightened of beasts and crawlers and anything that stung, had brought them down the Zoo unharmed. He had said good-by to caution and stretched himself far beyond any boundaries he ever dreamed he possessed. And now, after such effort, after being reunited with Fezzik on this day of days for this one purpose, to find the man to help him find a plan to help him revenge his dead Domingo—gone. All was gone. Hope? Gone. Future? Gone. All the driving forces of his life. Gone. Snuffed out. Beaten. Dead.

" I am Inigo Montoya, the son of Domingo Montoya, and I do not accept it. " He sprang to his feet, started up the underground stairs, stopping only long enough to snap commands. "Come, come along. Bring the body." He searched through his pockets for a moment, but they were empty, from the brandy. "Have you got any money, Fezzik?"

"Some. They pay well on the Brute Squad."

"Well I just hope it's enough to buy a miracle, that's all."

WHEN THE KNOCKING started on his hut door, Max almost didn't answer it. "Go away," he almost said, because lately it was only kids come to mock him. Except this was a little past the time for kids being up—it was almost midnight—and besides, the knocking was both loud and, at the same time, rat-a-tatty, as if the brain was saying to the fist, "Hurry it up; I want to see a little action."

So Max opened the door a peek's worth. "I don't know you."

"Aren't you Miracle Max that worked all those years for the King?" this skinny guy said.

"I got fired, didn't you hear? That's a painful subject, you shouldn't have brought it up, good night, next time learn a little manners," and he closed the hut door.

Rat-a-tat—rat-a -tattt.

"Get away, I'm telling you, or I call the Brute Squad."

"I'm on the Brute Squad," this other voice said from outside the door, a big deep voice you wanted to stay friendly with.

"We need a miracle; it's very important," the skinny guy said from outside.

"I'm retired," Max said, "anyway, you wouldn't want someone the King got rid of, would you? I might kill whoever you want me to miracle."

"He's already dead," the skinny guy said.

"He is, huh?" Max said, a little interest in his voice now. He opened the door a peek's worth again. "I'm good at dead."

"Please," the skinny guy said.

"Bring him in. I'm making no promises," Miracle Max answered after some thought.

This huge guy and this skinny guy brought in this big guy and put him on the hut floor. Max poked the corpse. "Not so stiff as some," he said.

The skinny guy said, "We have money."

"Then go get some great genius specialist, why don't you? Why waste time messing around with me, a guy who the King fired." It almost killed him when it happened. For the first two years, he wished it had. His teeth fell out from gnashing; he pulled the few loyal tufts from his scalp in wild anger.

"You're the only miracle man left alive in Florin," the skinny guy said.

"Oh, so that's why you come to me? One of you said, 'What'll we do with this corpse?' And the other one said, 'Let's take a flyer on that miracle man the King fired,' and the first one probably said, 'What've we got to lose; he can't kill a corpse' and the other one probably said—"

"You were a wonderful miracle man," the skinny guy said. "It was all politics that got you fired."

"Don't insult me and say wonderful—I was great —I am great—there was never— never, you hear me, sonny, a miracle man could match me—half the miracle techniques I invented—and then they fired me...." Suddenly his voice trailed off. He was very old and weak and the effort at passionate speech had drained him.

"Sir, please, sit down—" the skinny guy said.

"Don't 'sir' me, sonny," Miracle Max said. He was tough when he was young and he was still tough. "I got work to do. I was feeding my witch when you came in; I got to finish that now," and he lifted the hut trap door and took the ladder down into the cellar, locking the trap door behind him. When that was done, he put his finger to his lips and ran to the old woman cooking hot chocolate over the coals. Max had married Valerie back a million years ago, it seemed like, at Miracle School, where she worked as a potion ladler. She wasn't, of course, a witch, but when Max started practice, every miracle man had to have one, so, since Valerie didn't mind, he called her a witch in public and she learned enough of the witch trade to pass herself off as one under pressure. "Listen! Listen!" Max whispered, gesturing repeatedly toward the hut above. "Upstairs you'll never guess what I got—a giant and a spick."

" A giant on a stick? " Valerie said, clutching her heart; her hearing wasn't what it once was.

"Spick! Spick! A Spanish fella. Scars and everything, a very tough cookie."

"Let them steal what they want; what do we have worth fighting over?"

"They don't want to steal, they want to buy. Me. They got a corpse up there and they want a miracle."

"You were always good at dead," Valerie said. She hadn't seen him trying so hard not to seem excited since the firing had all but done him in. She very carefully kept her own excitement under control. If only he would work again. Her Max was such a genius, they'd all come back, every patient. Max would be honored again and they could move out of the hut. In the old days, the hut was where they tried experiments. Now it was home. "You had nothing else pressing on for the evening, why not take the case?"

"I could, I admit that, no question, but suppose I did? You know human nature; they'd probably try getting out without paying. How can I force a giant to pay if he doesn't want to? Who needs that kinda grief? I'll send them on their way and you bring me up a nice cup of chocolate. Besides, I was halfway through an article on eagles' claws that was very well written."

"Get the money in advance. Go. Demand. If they say no, out with them. If they say yes, bring the money down to me, I'll feed it to the frog, they'll never find it even if they change their mind and try to rob it back."

Max started back up the ladder. "What should I ask for? I haven't done a miracle—it's what, three years now? Prices may have skyrocketed. Fifty, you think? If they got fifty, I'll consider. If not, out they go."

"Right," Valerie agreed, and the minute Max had shut the trap door, she clambered silently up the ladder and pressed her ear to the ceiling.

"Sir, we're in a terrible rush, so—" this one voice said.

"Don't you hurry me, sonny, you hurry a miracle man, you get rotten miracles, that what you want?"

"You'll do it, then?"

"I didn't say I'd do it, sonny, don't try pressuring a miracle man, not this one; you try pressuring me, out you go, how much money you got?"

"Give me your money, Fezzik?" the same voice said again.

"Here's all I've got," this great voice boomed. "You count it, Inigo."

There was a pause. "Sixty-five is what we've got," the one called Inigo said.