評論
打印
For the eyes of Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne. Tyrion peeled the cracked shell away from his egg and took a bite. It wanted salt. "One letter, in two copies. Send your swiftest birds. The matter is of great import."
“寄給多恩親王道朗·馬泰爾的信函，”提利昂剝開蛋殼，咬了一口，似乎沒加鹽，“一式兩份，事關重大，派你最快的鳥兒送去。”
I shall dispatch them as soon as we have broken our fast.
“吃完早餐，我即刻處理。”
Dispatch them now. Stewed plums will keep. The realm may not. Lord Renly is leading his host up the roseroad, and no one can say when Lord Stannis will sail from Dragonstone.
“現在就辦，李子可以待會再吃，國家大事可等不得。眼下藍禮大人正率軍沿玫瑰大道北進，而誰也說不準史坦尼斯大人何時會自龍石島啟航。”
Pycelle blinked. "If my lord prefers—"
派席爾眨眨眼，“如果大人您堅持——”
He does.
“我很堅持。”
I am here to serve. The maester pushed himself ponderously to his feet his chain of office clinking softly. It was a heavy thing, a dozen maester's collars threaded around and through each other and ornamented with gemstones. And it seemed to Tyrion that the gold and silver and platinum links far outnumbered those of baser metals.
“我隨時任您差遣。”學士蹣跚起身，頸鏈輕聲作響。他的頸鏈粗大沉重，重量乃是普通學士項鏈的十數倍，互相串接，鑲以寶石。在提利昂看來，其中黃金、白銀和鉑金的鏈條數目遠遠超過其他不值錢的金屬。
Pycelle moved so slowly that Tyrion had time to finish his egg and taste the plums—overcooked and watery, to his taste— before the sound of wings prompted him to rise. He spied the raven, dark in the dawn sky, and turned briskly toward the maze of shelves at the far end of the room.
派席爾動作很慢，提利昂吃完煮蛋，又嘗過李子——李子煮得爛熟多汁，正合他胃口——這才聽見撲翅之音。他站起來，看見清晨天際烏鴉墨黑的身影，便驟然轉身，朝房間遠端迷宮般的置物架走去。
