“A fire?” Bronn said, spitting. “Are you so hungry to die, dwarf2? Or have you taken leave of yoursenses? A fire will bring the clansmen down on us from miles around. I mean to survive this journey,Lannister.”
“And how do you hope to do that?” Tyrion asked. He tucked the branch under his arm and pokedaround through the sparse6 undergrowth, looking for more. His back ached from the effort of bending;they had been riding since daybreak, when a stone-faced Ser Lyn Corbray had ushered7 them throughthe Bloody8 Gate and commanded them never to return.
“We have no chance of fighting our way back,” Bronn said, “but two can cover more ground thanten, and attract less notice. The fewer days we spend in these mountains, the more like we are to reachthe riverlands. Ride hard and fast, I say. Travel by night and hole up by day, avoid the road where wecan, make no noise and light no fires.”
Tyrion Lannister sighed. “A splendid plan, Bronn. Try it, as you like … and forgive me if I do notlinger to bury you.”
“You think to outlive me, dwarf?” The sellsword grinned. He had a dark gap in his smile wherethe edge of Ser Vardis Egen’s shield had cracked a tooth in half.
Tyrion shrugged9. “Riding hard and fast by night is a sure way to tumble down a mountain andcrack your skull10. I prefer to make my crossing slow and easy. I know you love the taste of horse,Bronn, but if our mounts die under us this time, we’ll be trying to saddle shadowcats … and if truthbe told, I think the clans4 will find us no matter what we do. Their eyes are all around us.” He swept agloved hand over the high, wind-carved crags that surrounded them.
Bronn grimaced11. “Then we’re dead men, Lannister.”
“If so, I prefer to die comfortable,” Tyrion replied. “We need a fire. The nights are cold up here,and hot food will warm our bellies12 and lift our spirits. Do you suppose there’s any game to be had?
Lady Lysa has kindly13 provided us with a veritable feast of salt beef, hard cheese, and stale bread, but Iwould hate to break a tooth so far from the nearest maester.”
“I can find meat.” Beneath a fall of black hair, Bronn’s dark eyes regarded Tyrion suspiciously. “Ishould leave you here with your fool’s fire. If I took your horse, I’d have twice the chance to make itthrough. What would you do then, dwarf?”
“Die, most like.” Tyrion stooped to get another stick.
“You don’t think I’d do it?”
“You’d do it in an instant, if it meant your life. You were quick enough to silence your friendChiggen when he caught that arrow in his belly14.” Bronn had yanked back the man’s head by the hairand driven the point of his dirk in under the ear, and afterward15 told Catelyn Stark16 that the othersellsword had died of his wound.
“He was good as dead,” Bronn said, “and his moaning was bringing them down on us. Chiggenwould have done the same for me … and he was no friend, only a man I rode with. Make no mistake,dwarf. I fought for you, but I do not love you.”
“It was your blade I needed,” Tyrion said, “not your love.” He dumped his armful of wood on theground.
Bronn grinned. “You’re bold as any sellsword, I’ll give you that. How did you know I’d take yourpart?”
“Know?” Tyrion squatted17 awkwardly on his stunted18 legs to build the fire. “I tossed the dice19. Backat the inn, you and Chiggen helped take me captive. Why? The others saw it as their duty, for thehonor of the lords they served, but not you two. You had no lord, no duty, and precious little honor, sowhy trouble to involve yourselves?” He took out his knife and whittled20 some thin strips of bark offone of the sticks he’d gathered, to serve as kindling21. “Well, why do sellswords do anything? For gold.
You were thinking Lady Catelyn would reward you for your help, perhaps even take you into herservice. Here, that should do, I hope. Do you have a flint?”
Bronn slid two fingers into the pouch22 at his belt and tossed down a flint. Tyrion caught it in the air.
“My thanks,” he said. “The thing is, you did not know the Starks. Lord Eddard is a proud,honorable, and honest man, and his lady wife is worse. Oh, no doubt she would have found a coin ortwo for you when this was all over, and pressed it in your hand with a polite word and a look ofdistaste, but that’s the most you could have hoped for. The Starks look for courage and loyalty23 andhonor in the men they choose to serve them, and if truth be told, you and Chiggen were lowbornscum.” Tyrion struck the flint against his dagger24, trying for a spark. Nothing.
Bronn snorted. “You have a bold tongue, little man. One day someone is like to cut it out and makeyou eat it.”
“Everyone tells me that.” Tyrion glanced up at the sellsword. “Did I offend you? Mypardons … but you are scum, Bronn, make no mistake. Duty, honor, friendship, what’s that to you?
No, don’t trouble yourself, we both know the answer. Still, you’re not stupid. Once we reached theVale, Lady Stark had no more need of you … but I did, and the one thing the Lannisters have neverlacked for is gold. When the moment came to toss the dice, I was counting on your being smartenough to know where your best interest lay. Happily for me, you did.” He slammed stone and steeltogether again, fruitlessly.
“Here,” said Bronn, squatting26, “I’ll do it.” He took the knife and flint from Tyrion’s hands andstruck sparks on his first try. A curl of bark began to smolder27.
“Well done,” Tyrion said. “Scum you may be, but you’re undeniably useful, and with a sword inyour hand you’re almost as good as my brother Jaime. What do you want, Bronn? Gold? Land?
Women? Keep me alive, and you’ll have it.”
Bronn blew gently on the fire, and the flames leapt up higher. “And if you die?”
“Why then, I’ll have one mourner whose grief is sincere,” Tyrion said, grinning. “The gold endswhen I do.”
The fire was blazing up nicely. Bronn stood, tucked the flint back into his pouch, and tossed Tyrionhis dagger. “Fair enough,” he said. “My sword’s yours, then … but don’t go looking for me to bendthe knee and m’lord you every time you take a shit. I’m no man’s toady28.”
“Nor any man’s friend,” Tyrion said. “I’ve no doubt you’d betray me as quick as you did LadyStark, if you saw a profit in it. If the day ever comes when you’re tempted29 to sell me out, rememberthis, Bronn—I’ll match their price, whatever it is. I like living. And now, do you think you could dosomething about finding us some supper?”
“Take care of the horses,” Bronn said, unsheathing the long dirk he wore at his hip25. He strode intothe trees.
An hour later the horses had been rubbed down and fed, the fire was crackling away merrily, and ahaunch of a young goat was turning above the flames, spitting and hissing30. “All we lack now is somegood wine to wash down our kid,” Tyrion said.
“That, a woman, and another dozen swords,” Bronn said. He sat cross-legged beside the fire,honing the edge of his longsword with an oilstone. There was something strangely reassuring31 aboutthe rasping sound it made when he drew it down the steel. “It will be full dark soon,” the sellswordpointed out. “I’ll take first watch … for all the good it will do us. It might be kinder to let them kill usin our sleep.”
“Oh, I imagine they’ll be here long before it comes to sleep.” The smell of the roasting meat madeTyrion’s mouth water.
Bronn watched him across the fire. “You have a plan,” he said flatly, with a scrape of steel on stone.
“A hope, call it,” Tyrion said. “Another toss of the dice.”
“With our lives as the stake?”
Tyrion shrugged. “What choice do we have?” He leaned over the fire and sawed a thin slice ofmeat from the kid. “Ahhhh,” he sighed happily as he chewed. Grease ran down his chin. “A bittougher than I’d like, and in want of spicing, but I’ll not complain too loudly. If I were back at theEyrie, I’d be dancing on a precipice33 in hopes of a boiled bean.”
“And yet you gave the turnkey a purse of gold,” Bronn said.
“A Lannister always pays his debts.”
Even Mord had scarcely believed it when Tyrion tossed him the leather purse. The gaoler’s eyeshad gone big as boiled eggs as he yanked open the drawstring and beheld34 the glint of gold. “I kept thesilver,” Tyrion had told him with a crooked35 smile, “but you were promised the gold, and there it is.” Itwas more than a man like Mord could hope to earn in a lifetime of abusing prisoners. “And rememberwhat I said, this is only a taste. If you ever grow tired of Lady Arryn’s service, present yourself atCasterly Rock, and I’ll pay you the rest of what I owe you.” With golden dragons spilling out of bothhands, Mord had fallen to his knees and promised that he would do just that.
Bronn yanked out his dirk and pulled the meat from the fire. He began to carve thick chunks36 ofcharred meat off the bone as Tyrion hollowed out two heels of stale bread to serve as trenchers. “If wedo reach the river, what will you do then?” the sellsword asked as he cut.
“Oh, a whore and a featherbed and a flagon of wine, for a start.” Tyrion held out his trencher, andBronn filled it with meat. “And then to Casterly Rock or King’s Landing, I think. I have somequestions that want answering, concerning a certain dagger.”
The sellsword chewed and swallowed. “So you were telling it true? It was not your knife?”
Tyrion smiled thinly. “Do I look a liar37 to you?”
By the time their bellies were full, the stars had come out and a half-moon was rising over themountains. Tyrion spread his shadowskin cloak on the ground and stretched out with his saddle for apillow. “Our friends are taking their sweet time.”
“If I were them, I’d fear a trap,” Bronn said. “Why else would we be so open, if not to lure38 themin?”
Tyrion chuckled39. “Then we ought to sing and send them fleeing in terror.” He began to whistle atune.
“You’re mad, dwarf,” Bronn said as he cleaned the grease out from under his nails with his dirk.
“Where’s your love of music, Bronn?”
“If it was music you wanted, you should have gotten the singer to champion you.”
Tyrion grinned. “That would have been amusing. I can just see him fending40 off Ser Vardis with hiswoodharp.” He resumed his whistling. “Do you know this song?” he asked.
“You hear it here and there, in inns and whorehouses.”
“Myrish. ‘The Seasons of My Love.’ Sweet and sad, if you understand the words. The first girl Iever bedded used to sing it, and I’ve never been able to put it out of my head.” Tyrion gazed up at thesky. It was a clear cold night and the stars shone down upon the mountains as bright and merciless astruth. “I met her on a night like this,” he heard himself saying. “Jaime and I were riding back fromLannisport when we heard a scream, and she came running out into the road with two men doggingher heels, shouting threats. My brother unsheathed his sword and went after them, while I dismountedto protect the girl. She was scarcely a year older than I was, dark-haired, slender, with a face thatwould break your heart. It certainly broke mine. Lowborn, half-starved, unwashed … yet lovely.
They’d torn the rags she was wearing half off her back, so I wrapped her in my cloak while Jaimechased the men into the woods. By the time he came trotting41 back, I’d gotten a name out of her, and astory. She was a crofter’s child, orphaned42 when her father died of fever, on her way to … well,nowhere, really.
“Jaime was all in a lather43 to hunt down the men. It was not often outlaws44 dared prey45 on travelersso near to Casterly Rock, and he took it as an insult. The girl was too frightened to send off by herself,though, so I offered to take her to the closest inn and feed her while my brother rode back to the Rockfor help.
“She was hungrier than I would have believed. We finished two whole chickens and part of athird, and drank a flagon of wine, talking. I was only thirteen, and the wine went to my head, I fear.
The next thing I knew, I was sharing her bed. If she was shy, I was shyer. I’ll never know where Ifound the courage. When I broke her maidenhead, she wept, but afterward she kissed me and sang herlittle song, and by morning I was in love.”
rlittle song, and by morning I was in love.”
“You?” Bronn’s voice was amused.
“Absurd, isn’t it?” Tyrion began to whistle the song again. “I married her,” he finally admitted.
“A Lannister of Casterly Rock wed32 to a crofter’s daughter,” Bronn said. “How did you managethat?”
“Oh, you’d be astonished at what a boy can make of a few lies, fifty pieces of silver, and adrunken septon. I dared not bring my bride home to Casterly Rock, so I set her up in a cottage of herown, and for a fortnight we played at being man and wife. And then the septon sobered and confessedall to my lord father.” Tyrion was surprised at how desolate47 it made him feel to say it, even after allthese years. Perhaps he was just tired. “That was the end of my marriage.” He sat up and stared at thedying fire, blinking at the light.
“He sent the girl away?”
“He did better than that,” Tyrion said. “First he made my brother tell me the truth. The girl was awhore, you see. Jaime arranged the whole affair, the road, the outlaws, all of it. He thought it wastime I had a woman. He paid double for a maiden46, knowing it would be my first time.
“After Jaime had made his confession48, to drive home the lesson, Lord Tywin brought my wife inand gave her to his guards. They paid her fair enough. A silver for each man, how many whorescommand that high a price? He sat me down in the corner of the barracks and bade me watch, and atthe end she had so many silvers the coins were slipping through her fingers and rolling on the floor,she …” The smoke was stinging his eyes. Tyrion cleared his throat and turned away from the fire, togaze out into darkness. “Lord Tywin had me go last,” he said in a quiet voice. “And he gave me agold coin to pay her, because I was a Lannister, and worth more.”
After a time he heard the noise again, the rasp of steel on stone as Bronn sharpened his sword.
“Thirteen or thirty or three, I would have killed the man who did that to me.”
Tyrion swung around to face him. “You may get that chance one day. Remember what I told you.
A Lannister always pays his debts.” He yawned. “I think I will try and sleep. Wake me if we’re aboutto die.”
He rolled himself up in the shadowskin and shut his eyes. The ground was stony49 and cold, but aftera time Tyrion Lannister did sleep. He dreamt of the sky cell. This time he was the gaoler, not theprisoner, big, with a strap50 in his hand, and he was hitting his father, driving him back, toward theabyss …“Tyrion.” Bronn’s warning was low and urgent.
Tyrion was awake in the blink of an eye. The fire had burned down to embers, and the shadowswere creeping in all around them. Bronn had raised himself to one knee, his sword in one hand andhis dirk in the other. Tyrion held up a hand: stay still, it said. “Come share our fire, the night is cold,”
he called out to the creeping shadows. “I fear we’ve no wine to offer you, but you’re welcome tosome of our goat.”
All movement stopped. Tyrion saw the glint of moonlight on metal. “Our mountain,” a voice calledout from the trees, deep and hard and unfriendly. “Our goat.”
“Your goat,” Tyrion agreed. “Who are you?”
“When you meet your gods,” a different voice replied, “say it was Gunthor son of Gurn of theStone Crows who sent you to them.” A branch cracked underfoot as he stepped into the light; a thinman in a horned helmet, armed with a long knife.
“And Shagga son of Dolf.” That was the first voice, deep and deadly. A boulder51 shifted to theirleft, and stood, and became a man. Massive and slow and strong he seemed, dressed all in skins, witha club in his right hand and an axe52 in his left. He smashed them together as he lumbered53 closer.
Other voices called other names, Conn and Torrek and Jaggot and more that Tyrion forgot theinstant he heard them; ten at least. A few had swords and knives; others brandished54 pitchforks andscythes and wooden spears. He waited until they were done shouting out their names before he gavethem answer. “I am Tyrion son of Tywin, of the Clan3 Lannister, the Lions of the Rock. We will gladlypay you for the goat we ate.”
“What do you have to give us, Tyrion son of Tywin?” asked the one who named himself Gunthor,who seemed to be their chief.
“There is silver in my purse,” Tyrion told them. “This hauberk I wear is large for me, but it shouldfit Conn nicely, and the battle-axe I carry would suit Shagga’s mighty55 hand far better than that wood-axe he holds.”
dfit Conn nicely, and the battle-axe I carry would suit Shagga’s mighty hand far better than that wood-axe he holds.”
“The half man would pay us with our own coin,” said Conn.
“Conn speaks truly,” Gunthor said. “Your silver is ours. Your horses are ours. Your hauberk andyour battle-axe and the knife at your belt, those are ours too. You have nothing to give us but yourlives. How would you like to die, Tyrion son of Tywin?”
“In my own bed, with a belly full of wine and a maiden’s mouth around my cock, at the age ofeighty,” he replied.
The huge one, Shagga, laughed first and loudest. The others seemed less amused. “Conn, take theirhorses,” Gunthor commanded. “Kill the other and seize the halfman. He can milk the goats and makethe mothers laugh.”
Bronn sprang to his feet. “Who dies first?”
“No!” Tyrion said sharply. “Gunthor son of Gurn, hear me. My House is rich and powerful. If theStone Crows will see us safely through these mountains, my lord father will shower you with gold.”
“The gold of a lowland lord is as worthless as a half man’s promises,” Gunthor said.
“Half a man I may be,” Tyrion said, “yet I have the courage to face my enemies. What do theStone Crows do, but hide behind rocks and shiver with fear as the knights56 of the Vale ride by?”
Shagga gave a roar of anger and clashed club against axe. Jaggot poked5 at Tyrion’s face with thefire-hardened point of a long wooden spear. He did his best not to flinch57. “Are these the best weaponsyou could steal?” he said. “Good enough for killing58 sheep, perhaps … if the sheep do not fight back.
My father’s smiths shit better steel.”
“Little boyman,” Shagga roared, “will you mock my axe after I chop off your manhood and feedit to the goats?”
But Gunthor raised a hand. “No. I would hear his words. The mothers go hungry, and steel fillsmore mouths than gold. What would you give us for your lives, Tyrion son of Tywin? Swords?
Lances? Mail?”
“All that, and more, Gunthor son of Gurn,” Tyrion Lannister replied, smiling. “I will give you theVale of Arryn.”
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1
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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dwarf
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| n.矮子，侏儒，矮小的动植物；vt.使…矮小 | |
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clan
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| n.氏族，部落，宗族，家族，宗派 | |
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clans
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| 宗族( clan的名词复数 )； 氏族； 庞大的家族； 宗派 | |
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poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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sparse
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| adj.稀疏的，稀稀落落的，薄的 | |
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ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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grimaced
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| v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bellies
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| n.肚子( belly的名词复数 )；腹部；（物体的）圆形或凸起部份；腹部…形的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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dice
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| n.骰子；vt.把（食物）切成小方块，冒险 | |
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whittled
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| v.切，削（木头），使逐渐变小( whittle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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pouch
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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smolder
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| v.无火焰地闷烧；n.焖烧，文火 | |
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toady
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| v.奉承；n.谄媚者，马屁精 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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wed
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| v.娶，嫁，与…结婚 | |
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precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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chunks
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| 厚厚的一块( chunk的名词复数 )； （某物）相当大的数量或部分 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fending
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| v.独立生活，照料自己( fend的现在分词 )；挡开，避开 | |
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trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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orphaned
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| [计][修]孤立 | |
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lather
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| n.(肥皂水的)泡沫，激动 | |
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outlaws
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| 歹徒，亡命之徒( outlaw的名词复数 )； 逃犯 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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47
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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49
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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50
strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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51
boulder
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| n.巨砾；卵石，圆石 | |
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52
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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53
lumbered
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| 砍伐（lumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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54
brandished
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| v.挥舞( brandish的过去式和过去分词 )；炫耀 | |
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55
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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56
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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57
flinch
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| v.畏缩，退缩 | |
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58
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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