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than anything else, because certainly there was no pain. His hands expertly touched places on her neck,
and unconsciousness came.
She awoke to the lapping of water.
She was wrapped in a blanket and the giant Turk was putting her in the bottom of a boat. For a moment
she was about to talk, but then when they began talking, she thought it better to listen. And after she had
listened for a moment, it got harder and harder to hear. Because of the terrible pounding of her heart.
"I think you should kill her now," the Turk said.
"The less you think, the happier I'll be," the Sicilian answered.
There was the sound of ripping cloth.
"What is that?" the Spaniard asked.
"The same as I attached to her saddle," the Sicilian replied. "Fabric from the uniform of an officer of
Guilder."
"I still think " the Turk began.
"She must be found dead on the Guilder frontier or we will not be paid the remainder of our fee. Is that
clear enough for you?"
"I just feel better when I know what's going on, that's all," the Turk mumbled. "People are always
thinking I'm so stupid because I'm big and strong and sometimes drool a little when I get excited."
"The reason people think you're so stupid," the Sicilian said, "is because you are so stupid. It has nothing
to do with your drooling."
There came the sound of a flapping of sail. "Watch your heads," the Spaniard cautioned, and then the
boat was moving. "The people of Florin will not take her death well, I shouldn't think. She has become
beloved."
"There will be war," the Sicilian agreed. "We have been paid to start it. It's a fine line of work to be
expert in. If we do this perfectly, there will be a continual demand for our services."
"Well I don't like it all that much," the Spaniard said. "Frankly, I wish you had refused."
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"The offer was too high."
"I don't like killing a girl," the Spaniard said.
"God does it all the time; if it doesn't bother Him, don't let it worry you."
Through all this, Buttercup had not moved.
The Spaniard said, "Let's just tell her we're taking her away for ransom."
The Turk agreed. "She's so beautiful and she'd go all crazy if she knew."
"She knows already," the Sicilian said. "She's been awake for every word of this."
Buttercup lay under the blanket, not moving. How could he have known that, she wondered.
"How can you be sure?" the Spaniard asked.
"The Sicilian senses all," the Sicilian said.
Conceited, Buttercup thought.
"Yes, very conceited," the Sicilian said.
He must be amind reader, Buttercup thought.
"Are you giving it full sail?" the Sicilian said.
"As much as is safe," the Spaniard answered from the tiller.
"We have an hour on them, so no risks yet. It will take her horse perhaps twenty-seven minutes to reach
the castle, a few minutes more for them to figure out what happened and, since we left an obvious trail,
they should be after us within an hour. We should reach the Cliffs in fifteen minutes more and, with any
luck at all, the Guilder frontier at dawn, when she dies. Her body should be quite warm when the Prince
reaches her mutilated form. I only wish we could stay for his grief it should be Homeric."
Why does he let me know his plans, Buttercup wondered.
"You are going back to sleep now, my lady," the Spaniard said, and his fingers suddenly were touching
her temple, her shoulder, her neck, and she was unconscious again. . . .
Buttercup did not know how long she was out, but they were still in the boat when she blinked, the
blanket shielding her. And this time, without daring to think the Sicilian would have known it
somehow she threw the blanket aside and dove deep into Florin Channel.
She stayed under for as long as she dared and then surfaced, starting to swim across the moonless water
with every ounce of strength remaining to her. Behind her in the darkness there were cries.
"Go in, go in!" from the Sicilian.
"I only dog paddle" from the Turk.
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"You're better than I am" from the Spaniard.
Buttercup continued to leave them behind her. Her arms ached from effort but she gave them no rest.
Her legs kicked and her heart pounded.
"I can hear her kicking," the Sicilian said. "Veer left."
Buttercup went into her breast stroke, silently swimming away.
"Whereis she?" shrieked the Sicilian.
"The sharks will get her, don't worry," cautioned the Spaniard.
Oh dear, I wish you hadn't mentioned that, thought Buttercup.
"Princess," the Sicilian called, "do you know what happens to sharks when they smell blood in the
water? They go mad. There is no controlling their wildness. They rip and shred and chew and devour,
and I'm in a boat, Princess, and there isn't any blood in the water now, so we're both quite safe, but there
is a knife in my hand, my lady, and if you don't come back I'll cut my arms and I'll cut my legs and I'll
catch the blood in a cup and I'll fling it as far as I can and sharks can smell blood in the water for miles
and you won't be beautiful for long."
Buttercup hesitated, silently treading water. Around her now, although it was surely her imagination, she
seemed to be hearing the swish of giant tails.
"Come back and come back now. There will be no other warning."
Buttercup thought, If I come back, they'll kill me anyway, so what's the difference?
"The difference is "
There he goes doing that again, thought Buttercup. He reallyis a mind reader.
" if you come back now," the Sicilian went on, "I give you my word as a gentleman and assassin that
you will die totally without pain. I assure you, you will get no such promise from the sharks."
The fish sounds in the night were closer now.
Buttercup began to tremble with fear. She was terribly ashamed of herself but there it was. She only
wished she could see for a minute if there really were sharks and if he really would cut himself.
The Sicilian winced out loud.
"He just cut his arm, lady," the Turk called out. "He's catching the blood in a cup now. There must be a
half-inch of blood on the bottom."
The Sicilian winced again.
"He cut his leg this time," the Turk went on. "The cup's getting full."
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I don't believe them, Buttercup thought. There are no sharks in the water and there is no blood in his
cup.
"My arm is back to throw," the Sicilian said. "Call out your location or not, the choice is yours."
I'm not making a peep, Buttercup decided.
"Farewell," from the Sicilian.
There was the splashing sound of liquid landing on liquid.
Then there came a pause.
Then the sharks went mad
'She does not get eaten by the sharks at this time,' my father said.
I looked up at him. 'What?'
'You looked like you were getting too involved and bothered so I thought I would let you relax.'
'Oh, for Pete's sake,' I said, you 'd think I was a baby or something. What kind of stuff is that?' I really
sounded put out, but I'll tell you the truth: I was getting a little too involved and I was glad he told me. I
mean, when you're a kid, you don't think, Well, since the book's called The Princess Bride and since
we're barely into it, obviously, the author's not about to make shark kibble of his leading lady. You get
hooked on things when you're a youngster; so to any youngsters reading, I'll simply repeat my father's
words since they worked to soothe me: 'She does not get eaten by the sharks at this time.'
Then the sharks went mad. All around her, Buttercup could hear them beeping and screaming and
thrashing their mighty tails. Nothing can save me, Buttercup realized. I'm a dead cookie.
Fortunately for all concerned save the sharks, it was around this time that the moon came out.
"There she is," shouted the Sicilian, and like lightning the Spaniard turned the boat and as the boat drew
close the Turk reached out a giant arm and then she was back in the safety of her murderers while all
around them the sharks bumped each other in wild frustration.
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