評論
打印
Help me saddle a horse, Arya pleaded, reaching back into the chest, groping for Needle. "My father's the Hand of the King, he'll reward you."
“幫我裝馬鞍好嗎？”艾莉亞拜托他，一邊伸手到箱里，掏拿縫衣針。“我父親是國王的首相，他會獎賞你的。”
Father's dead, the boy said. He shuffled toward her. "It's the queen who'll be rewarding me. Come here, girl."
“你老爸死翹翹啦。”男孩邊說邊向她靠近。“會獎賞我的是王后。小妹妹，過來。”
Stay away! Her fingers closed around Needle's hilt.
“不要過來！”她握住縫衣針的劍柄。
I says, come. He grabbed her arm, hard.
“我叫你‘過來’。”他使勁抓住她的手。
Everything Syrio Forel had ever taught her vanished in a heartbeat. In that instant of sudden terror, the only lesson Arya could remember was the one Jon Snow had given her, the very first.
在那性命攸關的剎那，西利歐·佛瑞爾教她的一切招式全部消失無蹤。在那恐懼的瞬間，艾莉亞惟一記得的要訣是瓊恩·雪諾教她的那一招，她學會的第一招。
She stuck him with the pointy end, driving the blade upward with a wild, hysterical strength.
她用尖的那端去刺敵人，使出突如其來、歇斯底里般的蠻力往上猛刺。
Needle went through his leather jerkin and the white flesh of his belly and came out between his shoulder blades. The boy dropped the pitchfork and made a soft noise, something between a gasp and a sigh. His hands closed around the blade. "Oh, gods," he moaned, as his undertunic began to redden. "Take it out."
縫衣針刺進他的皮背心和白肚皮，從肩胛骨穿出來。男孩拋下干草叉，發出介于驚呼和嘆息之間的綿軟聲音。他的手抓住劍。“喔，老天。”他呻吟道。他的上衣開始泛紅。“把它拔出來。”
When she took it out, he died.
等她拔出劍，他已經死了。
The horses were screaming. Arya stood over the body, still and frightened in the face of death. Blood had gushed from the boy's mouth as he collapsed, and more was seeping from the slit in his belly, pooling beneath his body.
馬兒驚慌嘶叫。艾莉亞站在尸體旁，面對死亡，鎮靜而又害怕。男孩倒地時口冒鮮血，現在有更多的血從他腹部傷口涌出，在尸身下聚集成潭。
