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Even the whorehouse was down there, nothing on the surface but a wooden shack no bigger than a privy, with a red lantern hung over the door. On the Wall, he'd heard men call the whores "buried treasures." He wondered whether any of his brothers in black were down there tonight, mining. That was oathbreaking too, yet no one seemed to care.
就連妓院也在地下，從地面上看，它們只是比廁所大不了多少的小木屋，門上掛了盞紅燈籠。長城上守軍把妓女們叫做“地底的寶藏”，他不禁揣測今晚有多少黑衣弟兄在下面挖寶呢？這當然也算是一種背誓，只是無人在意。
Not until he was well beyond the village did Jon slow again. By then both he and the mare were damp with sweat. He dismounted, shivering, his burned hand aching. A bank of melting snow lay under the trees, bright in the moonlight, water trickling off to form small shallow pools. Jon squatted and brought his hands together, cupping the runoff between his fingers. The snowmelt was icy cold. He drank, and splashed some on his face, until his cheeks tingled. His fingers were throbbing worse than they had in days, and his head was pounding too. I am doing the right thing, he told himself, so why do I feel so bad?
直到把村子遠遠地拋在后面，瓊恩方才再次減速。這時，他和母馬都已經滿身大汗。于是他跳下馬背，只覺渾身發抖，灼傷的手更是疼痛。樹叢下有大堆融雪，在月光下映射發亮，涓滴細流從中淌出，匯聚成淺淺的小池。瓊恩蹲下來，雙手合掌，捧起雪水。融雪冰冷刺骨，他喝了幾口，接著洗臉，直洗得兩頰發麻。他感覺到頭昏腦脹，手指也好幾天沒有痛得這么厲害。我做得沒錯，他告訴自己，可我為何這么難受？
The horse was well lathered, so Jon took the lead and walked her for a while. The road was scarcely wide enough for two riders to pass abreast, its surface cut by tiny streams and littered with stone. That run had been truly stupid, an invitation to a broken neck. Jon wondered what had gotten into him. Was he in such a great rush to die?
馬兒仍舊氣喘吁吁，于是瓊恩牽它走了一段。道路很窄，只能勉強容兩人并肩而騎，表面更被細小溝渠所切割，布滿碎石。剛才那樣狂奔委實愚蠢，分明就是自找麻煩，稍不小心就會摔斷脖子。瓊恩不禁納悶，自己究竟怎么搞的？就這么急著尋死么？
