冰与火之歌·卷五·魔龙的狂舞（上）

角落有故事

他们启程返回，每个侏儒都提了两个溢满水的木桶而乔拉爵士则一手提了两个。天气越来越热，空气厚重的如同潮湿的羊毛，似乎每走一步桶便重一分。断腿跑长途。每走一步都伴随着水花泼到他的腿上，而同时他的铃铛则奏着一首进行曲。要我早知道事情会变成这样，老爹，我大概就留你一条命了。往东半里外，一个帐篷被点燃冒着一股浓烟。烧毁昨晚的死人。“这边走，”提利昂说着，将头甩向右边。


Penny gave him a puzzled look. “That’s not how we came.”


佩妮疑惑的看了他一眼。“那不是我们来的路。”


“We don’t want to breathe that smoke. It’s full of malign humors.” It was not a lie. Not entirely.


“我们不想去吸那口烟，它充满了有害气体。”这不是谎言。至少不全是。


Penny was soon puffing, struggling with the weight of her pails. “I need to rest.”


佩妮很快就上气不接下气，挣扎着提着她的桶。“我得歇歇。”


“As you wish.” Tyrion set the pails of water on the ground, grateful for the halt. His legs were cramping badly, so he found himself a likely rock and sat on it to rub his thighs.


“如你所愿。”提利昂把盛满水的桶放到地上，庆幸好不容易得到的休息。他的双腿抽搐的厉害，于是他找了块合适的岩石坐上去揉大腿。


“I could do that for you,” offered Penny. “I know where the knots are.” As fond as he had grown of the girl, it still made him uncomfortable when she touched him. He turned to Ser Jorah. “A few more beatings and you’ll be uglier than I am, Mormont. Tell me, is there any fight left in you?”


“我能帮你，”陪你提出。“我知道硬块在哪。”即便他蛮喜欢这女孩，但是当她碰触他时依旧让他不太舒服，他转向乔拉爵士。“你要是在吃几顿棍子，就改变的比我还丑了，莫尔蒙。告诉我，你还留下什么斗志么？”


The big knight raised two blackened eyes and looked at him as he might look at a bug. “Enough to crack your neck, Imp.”


大个的骑士抬起两只淤青的眼看着他，仿佛在看一只虫子。“足够捏碎你的脖子，小恶魔。”


“Good.” Tyrion picked up his pails. “This way, then.”


“很好。”提利昂拾起他的桶。“那么，这边走。”


Penny wrinkled her brow. “No. It’s to the left.” She pointed. “That’s the Harridan there.”


佩妮皱起眉。“不，应该左走。”她指出。“那边才是‘老泼妇’。”

角落有故事

“And that’s the Wicked Sister.” Tyrion nodded in the other direction. “Trust me,” he said. “My way is quicker.” He set off, his bells jingling. Penny would follow, he knew.


“而那个是‘狡猾老姐’。”提利昂用下巴指指另一个方向。“相信我，”他说。“我的路更近点。”他出发了，铃铛叮当作响。佩妮会跟上的，他知道这一点。


Sometimes he envied the girl all her pretty little dreams. She reminded him of Sansa Stark, the child bride he had wed and lost. Despite the horrors Penny had suffered, she remained somehow trusting. She should know better. She is older than Sansa. And she’s a dwarf. She acts as if she has forgotten that, as if she were highborn and fair to look upon, instead of a slave in a grotesquerie. At night Tyrion would oft hear her praying. A waste of words. If there are gods to listen, they are monstrous gods who torment us for their sport. Who else would make a world like this, so full of bondage, blood, and pain? Who else would shape us as they have? Some-times he wanted to slap her, shake her, scream at her, anything to wake her from her dreams. No one is going to save us, he wanted to scream at her. The worst is yet to come. Yet somehow he could never say the words. Instead of giving her a good hard crack across that ugly face of hers to knock the blinders from her eyes, he would find himself squeezing her shoulder or giving her a hug. Every touch a lie. I have paid her so much false coin that she half thinks she’s rich.


有时他有些羡慕女孩的那些甜蜜小美梦。这让他想起了珊莎·史塔克，那位他娶了又丢了的小新娘。即便佩妮因恐惧而担惊受怕，但是至少她还留有些轻信。她本该有更清醒的认识的。她比珊莎要年长，还是个侏儒，而从她的言行来看，她似乎忘记了这点，好像她是个高贵出身的受人敬仰的淑女，而不是什么滑稽团的奴隶。晚上提利昂经常听到她的祈祷声。全是白说。若真有神灵在倾听，都该是些可恶的以折磨我们为消遣的家伙。还有谁会造出如此的世界，到处是奴役、血腥和痛楚？谁又会造出向我们这样的人？有时他想搧她，晃她，吼她，做任何事只要让她从她那些白日梦里醒来。没人会来救我们，他想这样对她吼。更糟的还没来呢。但是不知怎么他怎么也开不了口。他没有对着她那丑脸一记猛敲敲碎那层眼前的遮罩，相反他发现自己只是捏了捏她的肩膀或者抱抱她。每次的碰触都是一个谎言。我付给她太多的假硬币弄到她以为自己成了富婆。

角落有故事

He had even kept the truth of Daznak’s Pit from her.


他甚至对她隐瞒了达兹纳克兽坑的真相。


Lions. They were going to set lions on us. It would have been exquisitely ironic, that. Perhaps he would have had time for a short, bitter chortle before being torn apart.


群狮。他们本打算放群狮攻击我们。那还真是尖锐的讽刺。在被撕成几瓣前他大概还有点时间大笑几下。


No one ever told him the end that had been planned for them, not in so many words, but it had not been hard to puzzle out, down beneath the bricks of Daznak’s Pit, in the hidden world below the seats, the dark domain of the pit fighters and the serving men who tended to them, quick and dead—the cooks who fed them, the ironmongers who armed them, the barber-surgeons who bled them and shaved them and bound up their wounds, the whores who serviced them before and after fights, the corpse handlers who dragged the losers off the sands with chains and iron hooks.


没有人告诉他们他们既定的结局，至少没多说什么，但是想找出真相却不那么难，在达兹纳克都兽坑的层层砖下，那些座位之下的隐秘世界，角斗士以及照料他们的仆人的黑暗领域，敏捷麻木——喂他们的厨师，为其披甲的铁商，理发师——为其放血剃毛处理伤口的医生，斗前斗后为其献身的妓女，用铁钩锁链将失败者从沙子里拖走的葬仪师。


Nurse’s face had given Tyrion his first inkling. After their show, he and Penny had returned to the torchlit vault where the fighters gathered before and after their matches. Some sat sharpening their weapons; others sacrificed to queer gods, or dulled their nerves with milk of the poppy before going out to die. Those who’d fought and won were dicing in a corner, laughing as only men who have just faced death and lived can laugh.


保姆的脸给了他第一个启示。在他们表演后，他和佩妮回到了点着火炬的地下室，那里是角斗士决斗前后的集聚地。有些人坐着磨他们的武器；其他人则对些奇怪的神灵献祭，或者在他们赴死前灌下一杯罂粟花奶麻木感官。而打赢的人则在角落掷骰子，笑着那些劫后余生的人才有的笑声。


Nurse was paying out some silver to a pit man on a lost wager when he spied Penny leading Crunch. The confusion in his eyes was gone in half a heartbeat, but not before Tyrion grasped what it meant. Nurse did not expect us back. He had looked around at other faces. None of them expected us back. We were meant to die out there. The final piece fell into place when he overheard an animal trainer complaining loudly to the pitmaster. “The lions are hungry. Two days since they ate. I was told not to feed them, and I haven’t. The queen should pay for meat.”

角落有故事

当保姆给一个斗兽坑的人一些银子支付输掉的赌注时，看到了佩妮牵着克朗奇。他眼中的迷惑顿时一扫而空，但是提利昂此时已经知道了个中含义。保姆不希望我们活着回去。他环顾四周的其他脸庞，没有人希望我们回去。我们本该死在外头。拼图的最后一片在他不小心听到一个驯兽师大声对兽坑主人抱怨时嵌实。“狮子们都饿的要命，两天没吃东西。有人告诉我别去喂，于是我便没喂。女王得为肉付钱。”


“You take that up with her the next time she holds court,” the pitmaster threw back at him.


“下次她开庭你就提议，”兽坑主人将差事丢回给他。


Even now, Penny did not suspect. When she spoke about the pit, her chief worry was that more people had not laughed. They would have pissed themselves laughing if the lions had been loosed, Tyrion almost told her. Instead he’d squeezed her shoulder.


即使现在，佩妮也不曾怀疑。当她提到兽坑，她最大的担心就是众人没笑。要是狮子去了锁链的话他们准会笑到尿裤子，提利昂差点就告诉她了。但是他只是又捏了捏她的肩膀。


Penny came to a sudden halt. “We’re going the wrong way.”


佩妮突然停下来。“我们走错了。”


“We’re not.” Tyrion lowered his pails to the ground. The handles had gouged deep grooves in his fingers. “Those are the tents we want, there.”


“我们没有。”提利昂将水桶放到地上。提手在他的指间留下了深深的勒痕。“那便是我们想要的帐篷，那儿”


“The Second Sons?” A queer smile split Ser Jorah’s face. “If you think to find help there, you don’t know Brown Ben Plumm.”


“次子团？”乔拉爵士的脸上咧开了哥古怪的笑容。“你要是认为能在那儿得到帮助，你可不了解布朗·本·普拉姆。”


“Oh, I do. Plumm and I have played five games of cyvasse. Brown Ben is shrewd, tenacious, not unintelligent … but wary. He likes to let his opponent take the risks whilst he sits back and keeps his options open, reacting to the battle as it takes shape.”


“哦，我知道。普拉姆和我曾经下过五局锡瓦斯棋。布朗·本精明顽固也不是傻子……但是小心谨慎。他喜欢坐在后台留着自己的多重选择，而让对手们冒险，在战斗成定局时才开始有所行动。”


“Battle? What battle?” Penny backed away from him. “We have to get back. The master needs clean water. If we take too long, we’ll be whipped. And Pretty Pig and Crunch are there.”

角落有故事

“战斗？什么战斗？”佩妮赶忙退后远离他。“我们得回去。主人需要干净的水。若我们走开太久，我们会被鞭打的。美丽猪和克朗奇还在那儿。”


“Sweets will see that they are taken care of,” Tyrion lied. More like, Scar and his friends would soon be feasting on ham and bacon and a savory dog stew, but Penny did not need to hear that. “Nurse is dead and Yezzan’s dying. It could be dark before anyone thinks to miss us. We will never have a better chance than now.”


“糖果会照顾他们的，”提利昂撒谎。更可能的情况是，伤疤和他的伙伴们很快就有火腿、培根和炖薄荷狗好吃了，但是佩妮不需要知道这些。“保姆死了而耶赞也快了。在有任何人想起来我们不见了之前天就黑了。我们再不会有比现在更好的机会。”


“No. You know what they do when they catch slaves trying to escape. You know. Please. They’ll never let us leave the camp.”


“不要。你知道他们抓到逃跑的奴隶后会怎么做。你知道的，求求你。他们再不会让我们离开营地了。”


“We haven’t left the camp.” Tyrion picked up his pails. He set off at a brisk waddle, never looking back. Mormont fell in beside him. After a moment he heard the sounds of Penny hurrying after him, down a sandy slope to a circle of ragged tents.


“我们还没离开营地呢。”提利昂捡起他的桶。他轻快地摇摆出发，不再回头。莫尔蒙也跟了上去，只消片刻，他听到了佩妮急忙赶上他的声音，前方往下就是一个沙质斜坡直通向一圈圆形破帐篷。


The first guard appeared as they neared the horse lines, a lean spear-man whose maroon beard marked him as Tyroshi. “What do we have here? And what have you got in those pails?”


第一个守卫在他们靠近铁栏杆时出现了，这个瘦瘦的枪兵的紫褐色虎子显示出他是个泰洛西人。“看看我们这都来了谁？你那些木桶里又装了些什么？”


“Water,” said Tyrion, “if it please you.”


“水，”提利昂说，“若这么说令你高兴的话。”


“Beer would please me better.” A spearpoint pricked him in the back—a second guard, come up behind them. Tyrion could hear King’s Landing in his voice. Scum from Flea Bottom. “You lost, dwarf?” the guard demanded.


“要装的是啤酒我会更高兴点。”一个矛尖戳中了他的后背——第二个守卫来到他身后，提利昂听出他说话带着点君临口音。跳蚤窝的人渣。“你迷路了，侏儒？”守卫盘问。

角落有故事

“We’re here to join your company.”


“我们来这加入你们军团。”


A pail slipped from Penny’s grasp and overturned. Half the water had spilled before she could right it once again.


一个桶从佩妮的手里滑落翻倒在地。在她能补救前里面一半的水就已经洒了出来。


“We got fools enough in this company. Why would we want three more?” The Tyroshi flicked at Tyrion’s collar with his spearpoint, ringing the little golden bell. “A runaway slave is what I see. Three runaway slaves. Whose collar?”


“我们团里已经够多的白痴了。我们干嘛还在要三个？”泰洛西人用矛尖轻弹提利昂的项圈，弄得小金铃叮当作响。“我就只看到一个逃跑的奴隶。三个逃跑的奴隶。这是谁的项圈？”


“The Yellow Whale’s.” That from a third man, drawn by their voices—a skinny stubble-jawed piece of work with teeth stained red from sourleaf. A serjeant, Tyrion knew, from the way the other two deferred to him. He had a hook where his right hand should have been. Bronn’s meaner bastard shadow, or I’m Baelor the Beloved. “These are the dwarfs Ben tried to buy,” the serjeant told the spearmen, squinting, “but the big one … best bring him too. All three.”


“黄鲸鱼的。”第三个人开口了，他被他们的声音吸引过来——一个皮包骨头的家伙，下巴上满是胡茬，一口牙被酸叶染成红色。一个士官，从另两人对他的遵从态度来看，提利昂得出结论。他的右手被一个钩子代替。这家伙是个比波隆还卑鄙的杂种的翻版，否则我还成了受祝福的贝勒了。“这两个是本试图买下的侏儒，”士官告诉枪兵，接着乜了一眼乔拉爵士，“但是这个大个子的么……最好也带上他。三个都带上。”


The Tyroshi gestured with his spear. Tyrion moved along. The other sell sword—a stripling, hardly more than a boy, with fuzz on his cheeks and hair the color of dirty straw—scooped up Penny under one arm. “Ooh, mine has teats,” he said, laughing. He slipped a hand under Penny’s tunic, just to be sure.


泰洛西人用他的长矛比划了一下，提利昂便跟了上去。其他几个雇佣剑士——一个小伙子，几乎还是个男孩，脸上还长着软毛，头发是脏稻草的颜色——将佩妮一把捞起夹到腋下。“呵，我的这个还有乳头呢，”他说着大笑起来。他又将手滑进佩妮的上衣底下确定。

角落有故事

“Just bring her,” snapped the serjeant.


“好好带着她，”士官厉声说。


The stripling slung Penny over one shoulder. Tyrion went ahead as quick as his stunted legs would allow. He knew where they were going: the big tent on the far side of the fire pit, its painted canvas walls cracked and faded by years of sun and rain. A few sellswords turned to watch them pass, and a camp follower sniggered, but no one moved to interfere.


小伙子将佩妮摔到一边肩上。提利昂则在他的畸形腿能力范围内尽快走在前面。他知道他们要去哪儿：火坑远边的那个大帐，它喷漆的帆布墙在经年累月的日晒雨淋下已经开裂。几个雇佣剑士转身看着他们走过，一个营妓对着他们窃笑，但没人上前干预。


Within the tent, they found camp stools and a trestle table, a rack of spears and halberds, a floor covered with threadbare carpets in half a dozen clashing colors, and three officers. One was slim and elegant, with a pointed beard, a bravo’s blade, and a slashed pink doublet. One was plump and balding, with ink stains on his fingers and a quill clutched in one hand.


到了帐内，所见的便是几张营凳和一搁板桌，一架子长矛和戟，地上磨得薄旧的杂色地毯，还有三个军官。一个高而优雅，蓄着尖角须，带着把杀手刀，穿着撕破的粉红紧身衣。另一个圆胖秃顶，手指上满是墨水渍，一之手拿了一支羽毛笔。


The third was the man he sought. Tyrion bowed. “Captain.”


第三个则是他要找的人。提利昂鞠了个躬。“长官。”


“We caught them creeping into camp.” The stripling dumped Penny onto the carpet.


“我们抓到他们鬼鬼祟祟潜入营地。”小伙子将佩妮丢到地毯上。


“Runaways,” the Tyroshi declared. “With pails.”


“逃跑的奴隶，”泰洛西人声称。“还带着木桶。”


“Pails?” said Brown Ben Plumm. When no one ventured to explain, he said, “Back to your posts, boys. And not a word o’ this, to anyone.” When they were gone, he smiled at Tyrion. “Come for another game of cyvasse, Yollo?”


“木桶？”布朗·本·普拉姆说。见没人敢解释，他说，“回你们的岗位去，男孩儿。别跟任何人提一个字。”当他们走后，他对提利昂笑了笑。“来玩另一局锡瓦斯棋，尤罗？”


“If you wish. I do enjoy defeating you. I hear you’re twice a turncloak, Plumm. A man after mine own heart.”

角落有故事

“若你希望的话。我很享受打败你的感觉。听说你已经当了两次叛徒了，普拉姆。正合我心。”


Brown Ben’s smile never reached his eyes. He studied Tyrion as a man might study a talking snake. “Why are you here?”


布朗·本的笑容从没触及眼内。他像研究一条会说话是蛇一样研究提利昂。“你来这干什么？”


“To make your dreams come true. You tried to buy us at auction. Then you tried to win us at cyvasse. Even when I had my nose, I was not so handsome as to provoke such passion … save in one who happened to know my true worth. Well, here I am, free for the taking. Now be a friend, send for your smith, and get these collars off us. I’m sick of tinkling when I tinkle.”


“来实现你的梦想。你试图在拍卖会买下我们。接着你又试图在锡瓦斯棋上把我们赢过去。回想我有鼻子的那会儿，我也没英俊到能激起这么大的热情……都留着等到个伯乐呢。好吧，现在我在这儿了，免费送上门。现在，做个朋友该做的，送我们到你的铁匠那里，将这些项圈取下来。我受够了我在叮当时叮叮当当。（啥意思……难道是说他撒尿时，啥叫i tinkle）”


“I want no trouble with your noble master.”


“我可不想惹你那高贵的主人的麻烦。”


“Yezzan has more urgent matters to concern him than three missing slaves. He’s riding the pale mare. And why should they think to look for us here? You have swords enough to discourage anyone who comes nosing round. A small risk for a great gain.”


“耶赞有比丢失了三个奴隶更需要操心的事。他现在骑上了苍白母马。而他们怎么会想起来来这里找我们呢？你有剑足以保证任何希望来探听的人望而却步。比起巨大的利益来说只是小小的风险。”


The jackanapes in the slashed pink doublet hissed. “They’ve brought the sickness amongst us. Into our very tents.” He turned to Ben Plumm. “Shall I cut his head off, Captain? We can toss the rest in a latrine pit.” He drew a sword, a slender bravo’s blade with a jeweled hilt.


穿着破健身衣的傲慢家伙嘶嘶出声反对。“他们已经将疾病带到我们中来了。带到我们帐子里。”他转向本·普拉姆。“我能砍掉他的脑袋吗，长官？剩下的部分就丢到厕所茅坑里好了。”他拔出剑，一把柄镶着宝石的修长杀手利刃。


“Do be careful with my head,” said Tyrion. “You don’t want to get any of my blood on you. Blood carries the disease. And you’ll want to boil our clothes, or burn them.”

角落有故事

“还是小心我的脑袋为妙，”提利昂说。“你不会想溅上我的一滴血的。血可以传播疾病。而你会想要烧掉或煮掉我们的衣服。”


“I’ve a mind to burn them with you still in them, Yollo.”


“我的主意是在你还穿着它们时连你一起烧掉，尤罗。”


“That is not my name. But you know that. You have known that since you first set eyes on me.”


“那不是我的名字。但是你知道的，自从你第一眼看到我你就知道。”


“Might be.”


“大概吧。”


“I know you as well, my lord,” said Tyrion. “You’re less purple and more brown than the Plumms at home, but unless your name’s a lie, you’re a westerman, by blood if not by birth. House Plumm is sworn to Casterly Rock, and as it happens I know a bit of its history. Your branch sprouted from a stone spit across the narrow sea, no doubt. A younger son of Viserys Plumm, I’d wager. The queen’s dragons were fond of you, were they not?”


“我一样也知道你，大人，”提利昂说。“你比家乡的那个普拉姆要棕点，但是却没那么紫，但是除非你的名字是个谎言，你就是个西方人，不按出身也得按血统。普拉姆家族对凯岩城效忠，而我恰恰知道点它的历史。你们这一支毫无疑问是从狭海对面一个石头突起那延伸出的。我打赌是韦塞里斯·普拉姆的一个小儿子。女王的龙们喜欢你，不是么？”


That seemed to amuse the sellsword. “Who told you that?”


这点似乎激起点雇佣剑士的兴趣。“你听谁说的？”


“No one. Most of the stories you hear about dragons are fodder for fools. Talking dragons, dragons hoarding gold and gems, dragons with four legs and bellies big as elephants, dragons riddling with sphinxes … nonsense, all of it. But there are truths in the old books as well. Not only do I know that the queen’s dragons took to you, but I know why.”


“没人。你听说的多数关于龙的轶事都是骗骗白痴的。说道龙，龙囤积着金银珠宝啊，龙有四条腿和像大象一样大的肚子啊，龙出的谜题啊……全都是胡说。但是古书里也不乏真相。我不光知道女王的龙喜欢你，还知道为什么。”


“My mother said my father had a drop of dragon blood.”


“我母亲说我父亲有一滴龙血。”


“Two drops. That, or a cock six feet long. You know that tale? I do. Now, you’re a clever Plumm, so you know this head of mine is worth a lordship … back in Westeros, half a world away. By the time you get it there, only bone and maggots will remain. My sweet sister will deny the head is mine and cheat you of the promised reward. You know how it is with queens. Fickle cunts, the lot of them, and Cersei is the worst.”

角落有故事

“两滴。那个，兴许还有一根六英尺长的老二。你知道那个传说么？我可知道。现在，你是个聪明的普拉姆，所以你知道我的这颗脑袋可是值一个爵位的……回到维斯特洛伊，半个世界之外。但等你到那儿了，就只剩下骷髅和蛆虫了。我可爱的姐姐会拒绝承认那是我的脑袋也就从你手上骗走了那些允诺的嘉奖。你也知道女王都是怎么样的。嬗变的婊子，他们大多数都这德行，而瑟熙就是婊子中的婊子。”


Brown Ben scratched at his beard. “Could deliver you alive and wriggling, then. Or pop your head into a jar and pickle it.”


布朗·本抓了抓胡须。“那好，就把你活生生还能扭来扭曲的送过去。要么就把你的脑袋封进瓶子里拿药水泡泡。”


“Or throw in with me. That’s the wisest move.” He grinned. “I was born a second son. This company is my destiny.


“或算我一个。那才算一招好棋。”他笑了笑。“我就是家中次子。加入这个军团可是命中注定。”


“The Second Sons have no place for mummers,” the bravo in pink said scornfully. “It’s fighters we need.”


“‘次子团’可没伶人们的空位，”粉红脸的刺客鄙视地说。“我们需要的是战士。”


“I’ve brought you one.” Tyrion jerked a thumb at Mormont. “That creature?” The bravo laughed. “An ugly brute, but scars alone don’t make a Second Son.”


“我带给了一个。”提利昂把拇指指了指莫尔蒙。“那个家伙？”杀手笑了笑。“一个丑陋的畜生，但是仅仅伤疤可不能算成‘次子团’的一员。”


Tyrion rolled his mismatched eyes. “Lord Plumm, who are these two friends of yours? The pink one is annoying.”


提利昂转了转他大小不一的眼睛。“普拉姆大人，你这两个朋友是谁？那个粉色的很烦人。”


The bravo curled a lip, whilst the fellow with the quill chuckled at his insolence. But it was Jorah Mormont who supplied their names. “Inkpots is the company paymaster. The peacock calls himself Kasporio the Cunning, though Kasporio the Cunt would be more apt. A nasty piece of work.”


杀手卷起了嘴唇，同时拿着羽毛笔的小伙子对他的傲慢报以轻笑。但乔拉·莫尔蒙报出了他们的名字。“墨水瓶是团队的会计，那只孔雀自称‘狡猾的卡斯伯利欧’，但是‘下流的卡斯伯利欧’更合适。一个下流胚子。”


Mormont’s face might have been unrecognizable in its battered state, but his voice was unchanged. Kasporio gave him a startled look, whilst the wrinkles around Plumm’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Jorah Mormont? Is that you? Less proud than when you scampered off, though. Must we still call you ser?”