A full moon floated above the mast. It is following me downriver, watching me like some great eye. Despite the warmth of the musty skins that covered him, a shiver went through the little man. I need a cup of wine. A dozen cups of wine. But the moon would blink before that whoreson Griff let him quench2 his thirst. Instead he drank water, and was condemned3 to sleepless4 nights and days of sweats and shakes.
The dwarf5 sat up, cradling his head in his hands. Did I dream? All memory of it had fled. The nights had never been kind to Tyrion Lannister. He slept badly even on soft feather beds. On the Shy Maid, he made his bed atop the roof of the cabin, with a coil of hempen6 rope for a pillow. He liked it better up here than in the boat’s cramped7 hold. The air was fresher, and the river sounds were sweeter than Duck’s snoring. There was a price to be paid for such joys, though; the deck was hard, and he woke stiff and sore, his legs cramped and aching.
They were throbbing9 now, his calves10 gone hard as wood. He kneaded them with his fingers, trying to rub the ache away, but when he stood the pain was still enough to make him grimace11. I need to bathe. His boy’s clothes stank13, and so did he. The others bathed in the river, but thus far he had not joined them. Some of the turtles he’d seen in the shallows looked big enough to bite him in half. Bonesnappers, Duck called them. Besides, he did not want Lemore to see him naked.
A wooden ladder led down from the cabin roof. Tyrion pulled on his boots and descended14 to the afterdeck, where Griff sat wrapped in a wolfskin cloak beside an iron brazier. The sellsword kept the night watch by himself, rising as the rest of his band sought their beds and retiring when the sun came up.
Tyrion squatted15 across from him and warmed his hands over the coals. Across the water nightingales were singing. “Day soon,” he said to Griff.
“Not soon enough. We need to be under way.” If it had been up to Griff, the Shy Maid would continue downstream by night as well as day, but Yandry and Ysilla refused to risk their poleboat in the dark. The Upper Rhoyne was full of snags and sawyers, any one of which could rip out the Shy Maid’s hull. Griff did not want to hear it. What he wanted was Volantis.
The sellsword’s eyes were always moving, searching the night for … what? Pirates? Stone men? Slave-catchers? The river had perils16, the dwarf knew, but Griff himself struck Tyrion as more dangerous than any of them. He reminded Tyrion of Bronn, though Bronn had a sellsword’s black humor and Griff had no humor at all.
“I would kill for a cup of wine,” muttered Tyrion.
Griff made no reply. You will die before you drink, his pale eyes seemed to say. Tyrion had drunk himself blind his first night on the Shy Maid. The next day he awoke with dragons fighting in his skull17. Griff took one look at him retching over the side of the poleboat, and said, “You are done with drink.”
“Wine helps me sleep,” Tyrion had protested. Wine drowns my dreams, he might have said.
“Then stay awake,” Griff had replied, implacable.
To the east, the first pale light of day suffused18 the sky above the river. The waters of the Rhoyne slowly went from black to blue, to match the sellsword’s hair and beard. Griff got to his feet. “The others should wake soon. The deck is yours.” As the nightingales fell silent, the river larks19 took up their song. Egrets splashed amongst the reeds and left their tracks across the sandbars. The clouds in the sky were aglow20: pink and purple, maroon21 and gold, pearl and saffron. One looked like a dragon. Once a man has seen a dragon in flight, let him stay at home and tend his garden in content, someone had written once, for this wide world has no greater wonder. Tyrion scratched at his scar and tried to recall the author’s name. Dragons had been much in his thoughts of late.
“Good morrow, Hugor.” Septa Lemore had emerged in her white robes, cinched at the waist with a woven belt of seven colors. Her hair flowed loose about her shoulders. “How did you sleep?”
“Fitfully, good lady. I dreamed of you again.” A waking dream. He could not sleep, so he had eased a hand between his legs and imagined the septa atop him, breasts bouncing.
“A wicked dream, no doubt. You are a wicked man. Will you pray with me and ask forgiveness for your sins?”
Only if we pray in the fashion of the Summer Isles23. “No, but do give the Maiden24 a long, sweet kiss for me.”
Laughing, the septa walked to the prow25 of the boat. It was her custom to bathe in the river every morning. “Plainly, this boat was not named for you,” Tyrion called as she disrobed.
“The Mother and the Father made us in their image, Hugor. We should glory in our bodies, for they are the work of gods.”
The gods must have been drunk when they got to me. The dwarf watched Lemore slip into the water. The sight always made him hard. There was something wonderfully wicked about the thought of peeling the septa out of those chaste26 white robes and spreading her legs. Innocence27 despoiled28, he thought … though Lemore was not near as innocent as she appeared. She had stretch marks on her belly29 that could only have come from childbirth.
Yandry and Ysilla had risen with the sun and were going about their business. Yandry stole a glance at Septa Lemore from time to time as he was checking the lines. His small dark wife, Ysilla, took no notice. She fed some wood chips to the brazier on the afterdeck, stirred the coals with a blackened blade, and began to knead the dough30 for the morning biscuits.
When Lemore climbed back onto the deck, Tyrion savored31 the sight of water trickling32 between her breasts, her smooth skin glowing golden in the morning light. She was past forty, more handsome than pretty, but still easy on the eye. Being randy is the next best thing to being drunk, he decided33. It made him feel as if he was still alive. “Did you see the turtle, Hugor?” the septa asked him, wringing34 water from her hair. “The big ridgeback?”
The early morning was the best time for seeing turtles. During the day they would swim down deep, or hide in cuts along the banks, but when the sun was newly risen they came to the surface. Some liked to swim beside the boat. Tyrion had glimpsed a dozen different sorts: large turtles and small ones, flatbacks and red-ears, softshells and bonesnappers, brown turtles, green turtles, black turtles, clawed turtles and horned turtles, turtles whose ridged and patterned shells were covered with whorls of gold and jade35 and cream. Some were so large they could have borne a man upon their backs. Yandry swore the Rhoynar princes used to ride them across the river. He and his wife were Greenblood born, a pair of Dornish orphans36 come home to Mother Rhoyne.
“I missed the ridgeback.” I was watching the naked woman.
“I am sad for you.” Lemore slipped her robe over her head. “I know you only rise so early in hopes of seeing turtles.”
“I like to watch the sun come up as well.” It was like watching a maiden rising naked from her bath. Some might be prettier than others, but every one was full of promise. “The turtles have their charms, I will allow. Nothing delights me so much as the sight of a nice pair of shapely … shells.”
Septa Lemore laughed. Like everyone else aboard the Shy Maid, she had her secrets. She was welcome to them. I do not want to know her, I only want to fuck her. She knew it too. As she hung her septa’s crystal about her neck, to nestle in the cleft37 between her breasts, she teased him with a smile.
Yandry pulled up the anchor, slid one of the long poles off the cabin roof, and pushed them off. Two of the herons raised their heads to watch as the Shy Maid drifted away from the bank, out into the current. Slowly the boat began to move downstream. Yandry went to the tiller. Ysilla was turning the biscuits. She laid an iron pan atop the brazier and put the bacon in. Some days she cooked biscuits and bacon; some days bacon and biscuits. Once every fortnight there might be a fish, but not today.
When Ysilla turned her back, Tyrion snatched a biscuit off the brazier, darting38 away just in time to avoid a smack39 from her fearsome wooden spoon. They were best when eaten hot, dripping with honey and butter. The smell of the bacon cooking soon fetched Duck up from the hold. He sniffed40 over the brazier, received a swack from Ysilla’s spoon, and went back to have his morning piss off the stern.
Tyrion waddled41 over to join him. “Now here’s a sight to see,” he quipped as they were emptying their bladders, “a dwarf and a duck, making the mighty42 Rhoyne that much mightier43.”
Yandry snorted in derision. “Mother Rhoyne has no need of your water, Yollo. She is the greatest river in the world.”
Tyrion shook off the last few drops. “Big enough to drown a dwarf, I grant you. The Mander is as broad, though. So is the Trident, near its mouth. The Blackwater runs deeper.”
“You do not know the river. Wait, and you will see.”
The bacon turned crisp, the biscuits golden brown. Young Griff stumbled up onto deck yawning. “Good morrow, all.” The lad was shorter than Duck, but his lanky44 build suggested that he had not yet come into his full growth. This beardless boy could have any maiden in the Seven Kingdoms, blue hair or no. Those eyes of his would melt them. Like his sire, Young Griff had blue eyes, but where the father’s eyes were pale, the son’s were dark. By lamplight they turned black, and in the light of dusk they seemed purple. His eyelashes were as long as any woman’s.
“I smell bacon,” the lad said, pulling on his boots.
“Good bacon,” said Ysilla. “Sit.”
She fed them on the afterdeck, pressing honeyed biscuits on Young Griff and hitting Duck’s hand with her spoon whenever he made a grab for more bacon. Tyrion pulled apart two biscuits, filled them with bacon, and carried one to Yandry at the tiller. Afterward45 he helped Duck to raise the Shy Maid’s big lateen sail. Yandry took them out into the center of the river, where the current was strongest. The Shy Maid was a sweet boat. Her draft was so shallow she could work her way up even the smallest of the river’s vassal46 streams, negotiating sandbars that would have stranded47 larger vessels48, yet with her sail raised and a current under her, she could make good speed. That could mean life and death on the upper reaches of the Rhoyne, Yandry claimed. “There is no law above the Sorrows, not for a thousand years.”
“And no people, so far as I can see.” He’d glimpsed some ruins along the banks, piles of masonry49 overgrown by vines and moss50 and flowers, but no other signs of human habitation.
“You do not know the river, Yollo. A pirate boat may lurk51 up any stream, and escaped slaves oft hide amongst the ruins. The slave-catchers seldom come so far north.”
“Slave-catchers would be a welcome change from turtles.” Not being an escaped slave, Tyrion need not fear being caught. And no pirate was like to bother a poleboat moving downstream. The valuable goods came up the river from Volantis.
When the bacon was gone, Duck punched Young Griff in the shoulder. “Time to raise some bruises52. Swords today, I think.”
“Swords?” Young Griff grinned. “Swords will be sweet.”
Tyrion helped him dress for the bout22, in heavy breeches, padded doublet, and a dinted suit of old steel plate. Ser Rolly shrugged53 into his mail and boiled leather. Both set helms upon their heads and chose blunted longswords from the bundle in the weapons chest. They set to on the afterdeck, having at each other lustily whilst the rest of the morning company looked on.
When they fought with mace12 or blunted longaxe, Ser Rolly’s greater size and strength would quickly overwhelm his charge; with swords the contests were more even. Neither man had taken up a shield this morning, so it was a game of slash55 and parry, back and forth56 across the deck. The river rang to the sounds of their combat. Young Griff landed more blows, though Duck’s were harder. After a while, the bigger man began to tire. His cuts came a little slower, a little lower. Young Griff turned them all and launched a furious attack that forced Ser Rolly back. When they reached the stern, the lad tied up their blades and slammed a shoulder into Duck, and the big man went into the river.
He came up sputtering57 and cursing, bellowing58 for someone to fish him out before a ’snapper ate his privates. Tyrion tossed a line to him. “Ducks should swim better than that,” he said as he and Yandry were hauling the knight59 back aboard the Shy Maid.
Ser Rolly grabbed Tyrion by the collar. “Let us see how dwarfs60 swim,” he said, chucking him headlong into the Rhoyne.
The dwarf laughed last; he could paddle passably well, and did … until his legs began to cramp8. Young Griff extended him a pole. “You are not the first to try and drown me,” he told Duck, as he was pouring river water from his boot. “My father threw me down a well the day I was born, but I was so ugly that the water witch who lived down there spat61 me back.” He pulled off the other boot, then did a cartwheel along the deck, spraying all of them.
Young Griff laughed. “Where did you learn that?”
“The mummers taught me,” he lied. “My mother loved me best of all her children because I was so small. She nursed me at her breast till I was seven. That made my brothers jealous, so they stuffed me in a sack and sold me to a mummer’s troupe62. When I tried to run off the master mummer cut off half my nose, so I had no choice but to go with them and learn to be amusing.”
The truth was rather different. His uncle had taught him a bit of tumbling when he was six or seven. Tyrion had taken to it eagerly. For half a year he cartwheeled his merry way about Casterly Rock, bringing smiles to the faces of septons, squires63, and servants alike. Even Cersei laughed to see him once or twice.
All that ended abruptly64 the day his father returned from a sojourn65 in King’s Landing. That night at supper Tyrion surprised his sire by walking the length of the high table on his hands. Lord Tywin was not pleased. “The gods made you a dwarf. Must you be a fool as well? You were born a lion, not a monkey.”
And you’re a corpse66, Father, so I’ll caper67 as I please.
“You have a gift for making men smile,” Septa Lemore told Tyrion as he was drying off his toes. “You should thank the Father Above. He gives gifts to all his children.”
“He does,” he agreed pleasantly. And when I die, please let them bury with me a crossbow, so I can thank the Father Above for his gifts the same way I thanked the father below.
His clothing was still soaked from his involuntary swim, clinging to his arms and legs uncomfortably. Whilst Young Griff went off with Septa Lemore to be instructed in the mysteries of the Faith, Tyrion stripped off the wet clothes and donned dry ones. Duck had a good guffaw68 when he emerged on deck again. He could not blame him. Dressed as he was, he made a comic sight. His doublet was divided down the middle; the left side was purple velvet69 with bronze studs; the right, yellow wool embroidered70 in green floral patterns. His breeches were similarly split; the right leg was solid green, the left leg striped in red and white. One of Illyrio’s chests had been packed with a child’s clothing, musty but well made. Septa Lemore had slit71 each garment apart, then sewn them back together, joining half of this to half of that to fashion a crude motley. Griff had even insisted that Tyrion help with the cutting and sewing. No doubt he meant for it to be humbling72, but Tyrion enjoyed the needlework. Lemore was always pleasant company, despite her penchant73 for scolding him whenever he said something rude about the gods. If Griff wants to cast me as the fool, I’ll play the game. Somewhere, he knew, Lord Tywin Lannister was horrified74, and that took the sting from it.
His other duty was anything but foolish. Duck has his sword, I my quill75 and parchment. Griff had commanded him to set down all he knew of dragonlore. The task was a formidable one, but the dwarf labored76 at it every day, scratching away as best he could as he sat cross-legged on the cabin roof.
Tyrion had read much and more of dragons through the years. The greater part of those accounts were idle tales and could not be relied on, and the books that Illyrio had provided them were not the ones he might have wished for. What he really wanted was the complete text of The Fires of the Freehold, Galendro’s history of Valyria. No complete copy was known to Westeros, however; even the Citadel77’s lacked twenty-seven scrolls78. They must have a library in Old Volantis, surely. I may find a better copy there, if I can find a way inside the Black Walls to the city’s heart.
He was less hopeful concerning Septon Barth’s Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural79 History. Barth had been a blacksmith’s son who rose to be King’s Hand during the reign80 of Jaehaerys the Conciliator. His enemies always claimed he was more sorcerer than septon. Baelor the Blessed had ordered all Barth’s writings destroyed when he came to the Iron Throne. Ten years ago, Tyrion had read a fragment of Unnatural History that had eluded81 the Blessed Baelor, but he doubted that any of Barth’s work had found its way across the narrow sea. And of course there was even less chance of his coming on the fragmentary, anonymous82, blood-soaked tome sometimes called Blood and Fire and sometimes The Death of Dragons, the only surviving copy of which was supposedly hidden away in a locked vault83 beneath the Citadel.
When the Halfmaester appeared on deck, yawning, the dwarf was writing down what he recalled concerning the mating habits of dragons, on which subject Barth, Munkun, and Thomax held markedly divergent views. Haldon stalked to the stern to piss down at the sun where it shimmered84 on the water, breaking apart with every puff85 of wind. “We should reach the junction86 with the Noyne by evening, Yollo,” the Halfmaester called out.
Tyrion glanced up from his writing. “My name is Hugor. Yollo is hiding in my breeches. Shall I let him out to play?”
“Best not. You might frighten the turtles.” Haldon’s smile was as sharp as the blade of a dagger87. “What did you tell me was the name of that street in Lannisport where you were born, Yollo?”
“It was an alley88. It had no name.” Tyrion took a mordant89 pleasure in inventing the details of the colorful life of Hugor Hill, also known as Yollo, a bastard90 out of Lannisport. The best lies are seasoned with a bit of truth. The dwarf knew he sounded like a westerman, and a highborn westerman at that, so Hugor must needs be some lordling’s by-blow. Born in Lannisport because he knew that city better than Oldtown or King’s Landing, and cities were where most dwarfs ended up, even those whelped by Goodwife Bumpkin in the turnip91 patch. The countryside had no grotesqueries or mummer shows … though it did have wells aplenty, to swallow up unwanted kittens, three-headed calves, and babes like him.
“I see you have been defacing more good parchment, Yollo.” Haldon laced up his breeches.
“Not all of us can be half a maester.” Tyrion’s hand was cramping92. He put his quill aside and flexed93 his stubby fingers. “Fancy another game of cyvasse?” The Halfmaester always defeated him, but it was a way to pass the time.
“This evening. Will you join us for Young Griff’s lesson?”
“Why not? Someone needs to correct your errors.”
There were four cabins on the Shy Maid. Yandry and Ysilla shared one, Griff and Young Griff another. Septa Lemore had a cabin to herself, as did Haldon. The Halfmaester’s cabin was the largest of the four. One wall was lined with bookshelves and bins94 stacked with old scrolls and parchments; another held racks of ointments95, herbs, and potions. Golden light slanted96 through the wavy97 yellow glass of the round window. The furnishings included a bunk98, a writing desk, a chair, a stool, and the Halfmaester’s cyvasse table, strewn with carved wooden pieces.
The lesson began with languages. Young Griff spoke99 the Common Tongue as if he had been born to it, and was fluent in High Valyrian, the low dialects of Pentos, Tyrosh, Myr, and Lys, and the trade talk of sailors. The Volantene dialect was as new to him as it was to Tyrion, so every day they learned a few more words whilst Haldon corrected their mistakes. Meereenese was harder; its roots were Valyrian as well, but the tree had been grafted100 onto the harsh, ugly tongue of Old Ghis. “You need a bee up your nose to speak Ghiscari properly,” Tyrion complained. Young Griff laughed, but the Halfmaester only said, “Again.” The boy obeyed, though he rolled his eyes along with his zzzs this time. He has a better ear than me, Tyrion was forced to admit, though I’ll wager101 my tongue is still more nimble.
Geometry followed languages. There the boy was less adroit102, but Haldon was a patient teacher, and Tyrion was able to make himself of use as well. He had learned the mysteries of squares and circles and triangles from his father’s maesters at Casterly Rock, and they came back more quickly than he would have thought.
By the time they turned to history, Young Griff was growing restive103. “We were discussing the history of Volantis,” Haldon said to him. “Can you tell Yollo the difference between a tiger and an elephant?”
“Volantis is the oldest of the Nine Free Cities, first daughter of Valyria,” the lad replied, in a bored tone. “After the Doom104 it pleased the Volantenes to consider themselves the heirs of the Freehold and rightful rulers of the world, but they were divided as to how dominion105 might best be achieved. The Old Blood favored the sword, while the merchants and moneylenders advocated trade. As they contended for rule of the city, the factions106 became known as the tigers and elephants, respectively.
“The tigers held sway for almost a century after the Doom of Valyria. For a time they were successful. A Volantene fleet took Lys and a Volantene army captured Myr, and for two generations all three cities were ruled from within the Black Walls. That ended when the tigers tried to swallow Tyrosh. Pentos came into the war on the Tyroshi side, along with the Westerosi Storm King. Braavos provided a Lyseni exile with a hundred warships107, Aegon Targaryen flew forth from Dragonstone on the Black Dread108, and Myr and Lys rose up in rebellion. The war left the Disputed Lands a waste, and freed Lys and Myr from the yoke109. The tigers suffered other defeats as well. The fleet they sent to reclaim110 Valyria vanished in the Smoking Sea. Qohor and Norvos broke their power on the Rhoyne when the fire galleys111 fought on Dagger Lake. Out of the east came the Dothraki, driving smallfolk from their hovels and nobles from their estates, until only grass and ruins remained from the forest of Qohor to the headwaters of the Selhoru. After a century of war, Volantis found herself broken, bankrupt, and depopulated. It was then that the elephants rose up. They have held sway ever since. Some years the tigers elect a triarch, and some years they do not, but never more than one, so the elephants have ruled the city for three hundred years.”
“Just so,” said Haldon. “And the present triarchs?”
“Malaquo is a tiger, Nyessos and Doniphos are elephants.”
“And what lesson can we draw from Volantene history?”
“If you want to conquer the world, you best have dragons.”
Tyrion could not help but laugh.
Later, when Young Griff went up on deck to help Yandry with the sails and poles, Haldon set up his cyvasse table for their game. Tyrion watched with mismatched eyes, and said, “The boy is bright. You have done well by him. Half the lords in Westeros are not so learned, sad to say. Languages, history, songs, sums … a heady stew112 for some sellsword’s son.”
“A book can be as dangerous as a sword in the right hands,” said Haldon. “Try to give me a better battle this time, Yollo. You play cyvasse as badly as you tumble.”
“I am trying to lull113 you into a false sense of confidence,” said Tyrion, as they arranged their tiles on either side of a carved wooden screen. “You think you taught me how to play, but things are not always as they seem. Perhaps I learned the game from the cheesemonger, have you considered that?”
“Illyrio does not play cyvasse.”
No, thought the dwarf, he plays the game of thrones, and you and Griff and Duck are only pieces, to be moved where he will and sacrificed at need, just as he sacrificed Viserys. “The blame must fall on you, then. If I play badly, it is your doing.”
The Halfmaester chuckled114. “Yollo, I shall miss you when the pirates cut your throat.”
“Where are these famous pirates? I am beginning to think that you and Illyrio made them all up.”
“They are thickest on the stretch of river between Ar Noy and the Sorrows. Above the ruins of Ar Noy, the Qohorik rule the river, and below the Sorrows the galleys of Volantis hold sway, but neither city claims the waters in between, so the pirates have made it their own. Dagger Lake is full of islands where they lurk in hidden caves and secret strongholds. Are you ready?”
“For you? Beyond a doubt. For the pirates? Less so.”
Haldon removed the screen. Each of them contemplated115 the other’s opening array. “You are learning,” the Halfmaester said.
Tyrion almost grabbed his dragon but thought better of it. Last game he had brought her out too soon and lost her to a trebuchet. “If we do meet these fabled116 pirates, I may join up with them. I’ll tell them that my name is Hugor Halfmaester.” He moved his light horse toward Haldon’s mountains.
Haldon answered with an elephant. “Hugor Halfwit would suit you better.”
“I only need half my wits to be a match for you.” Tyrion moved up his heavy horse to support the light. “Perhaps you would care to wager on the outcome?”
The Halfmaester arched an eyebrow117. “How much?”
“I have no coin. We’ll play for secrets.”
“Griff would cut my tongue out.”
“Afraid, are you? I would be if I were you.”
“The day you defeat me at cyvasse will be the day turtles crawl out my arse.” The Halfmaester moved his spears. “You have your wager, little man.”
Tyrion stretched a hand out for his dragon.
It was three hours later when the little man finally crept back up on deck to empty his bladder. Duck was helping118 Yandry wrestle119 down the sail, while Ysilla took the tiller. The sun hung low above the reed-beds along the western bank, as the wind began to gust120 and rip. I need that skin of wine, the dwarf thought. His legs were cramped from squatting121 on that stool, and he felt so light-headed that he was lucky not to fall into the river.
“Yollo,” Duck called. “Where’s Haldon?”
“He’s taken to his bed, in some discomfort122. There are turtles crawling out his arse.” He left the knight to sort that out and crawled up the ladder to the cabin roof. Off to the east, there was darkness gathering123 behind a rocky island.
Septa Lemore found him there. “Can you feel the storms in the air, Hugor Hill? Dagger Lake is ahead of us, where pirates prowl. And beyond that lie the Sorrows.”
Not mine. I carry mine own sorrows with me, everywhere I go. He thought of Tysha and wondered where whores go. Why not Volantis? Perhaps I’ll find her there. A man should cling to hope. He wondered what he would say to her. I am sorry that I let them rape124 you, love. I thought you were a whore. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me? I want to go back to our cottage, to the way it was when we were man and wife.
The island fell away behind them. Tyrion saw ruins rising along the eastern bank: crooked125 walls and fallen towers, broken domes126 and rows of rotted wooden pillars, streets choked by mud and overgrown with purple moss. Another dead city, ten times as large as Ghoyan Drohe. Turtles lived there now, big bonesnappers. The dwarf could see them basking127 in the sun, brown and black hummocks128 with jagged ridges129 down the center of their shells. A few saw the Shy Maid and slid down into the water, leaving ripples130 in their wake. This would not be a good place for a swim.
Then, through the twisted half-drowned trees and wide wet streets, he glimpsed the silvery sheen of sunlight upon water. Another river, he knew at once, rushing toward the Rhoyne. The ruins grew taller as the land grew narrower, until the city ended on a point of land where stood the remains131 of a colossal132 palace of pink and green marble, its collapsed133 domes and broken spires134 looming135 large above a row of covered archways. Tyrion saw more ’snappers sleeping in the slips where half a hundred ships might once have docked. He knew where he was then. That was Nymeria’s palace, and this is all that remains of Ny Sar, her city.
“Yollo,” shouted Yandry as the Shy Maid passed the point, “tell me again of those Westerosi rivers as big as Mother Rhoyne.”
“I did not know,” he called back. “No river in the Seven Kingdoms is half so wide as this.” The new river that had joined them was a close twin to the one they had been sailing down, and that one alone had almost matched the Mander or the Trident.
“This is Ny Sar, where the Mother gathers in her Wild Daughter, Noyne,” said Yandry, “but she will not reach her widest point until she meets her other daughters. At Dagger Lake the Qhoyne comes rushing in, the Darkling Daughter, full of gold and amber136 from the Axe54 and pine-cones from the Forest of Qohor. South of there the Mother meets Lhorulu, the Smiling Daughter from the Golden Fields. Where they join once stood Chroyane, the festival city, where the streets were made of water and the houses made of gold. Then south and east again for long leagues, until at last comes creeping in Selhoru, the Shy Daughter who hides her course in reeds and writhes137. There Mother Rhoyne waxes so wide that a man upon a boat in the center of the stream cannot see a shore to either side. You shall see, my little friend.”
I shall, the dwarf was thinking, when he spied a rippling138 ahead not six yards from the boat. He was about to point it out to Lemore when it came to the surface with a wash of water that rocked the Shy Maid sideways.
It was another turtle, a horned turtle of enormous size, its dark green shell mottled with brown and overgrown with water moss and crusty black river molluscs. It raised its head and bellowed139, a deep-throated thrumming roar louder than any warhorn that Tyrion had ever heard. “We are blessed,” Ysilla was crying loudly, as tears streamed down her face. “We are blessed, we are blessed.”
Duck was hooting140, and Young Griff too. Haldon came out on deck to learn the cause of the commotion141 … but too late. The giant turtle had vanished below the water once again. “What was the cause of all that noise?” the Halfmaester asked.
“A turtle,” said Tyrion. “A turtle bigger than this boat.”
“It was him,” cried Yandry. “The Old Man of the River.”
And why not? Tyrion grinned. Gods and wonders always appear, to attend the birth of kings.
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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4
sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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5
dwarf
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| n.矮子，侏儒，矮小的动植物；vt.使…矮小 | |
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6
hempen
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| adj. 大麻制的, 大麻的 | |
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7
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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8
cramp
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| n.痉挛；[pl.](腹)绞痛；vt.限制，束缚 | |
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9
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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10
calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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11
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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12
mace
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| n.狼牙棒，豆蔻干皮 | |
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13
stank
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| n. (英)坝，堰，池塘 动词stink的过去式 | |
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14
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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15
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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16
perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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17
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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18
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19
larks
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| n.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的名词复数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的第三人称单数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
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20
aglow
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| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
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21
maroon
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| v.困住，使（人）处于孤独无助之境；n.逃亡黑奴；孤立的人；酱紫色，褐红色；adj.酱紫色的，褐红色的 | |
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22
bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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23
isles
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| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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24
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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25
prow
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| n.(飞机)机头，船头 | |
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26
chaste
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| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
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27
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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28
despoiled
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| v.掠夺，抢劫( despoil的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
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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30
dough
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| n.生面团；钱，现款 | |
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31
savored
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| v.意味，带有…的性质( savor的过去式和过去分词 )；给…加调味品；使有风味；品尝 | |
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32
trickling
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| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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33
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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34
wringing
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| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
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35
jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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36
orphans
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| 孤儿( orphan的名词复数 ) | |
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37
cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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38
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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39
smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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40
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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41
waddled
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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43
mightier
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| adj. 强有力的，强大的，巨大的 adv. 很，极其 | |
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44
lanky
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| adj.瘦长的 | |
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45
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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46
vassal
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| n.附庸的；属下；adj.奴仆的 | |
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47
stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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48
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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49
masonry
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| n.砖土建筑；砖石 | |
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50
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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51
lurk
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| n.潜伏，潜行；v.潜藏，潜伏，埋伏 | |
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52
bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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53
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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54
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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55
slash
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| vi.大幅度削减；vt.猛砍，尖锐抨击，大幅减少；n.猛砍，斜线，长切口，衣衩 | |
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56
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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57
sputtering
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| n.反应溅射法；飞溅；阴极真空喷镀；喷射v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的现在分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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58
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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59
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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60
dwarfs
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| n.侏儒，矮子（dwarf的复数形式）vt.（使）显得矮小（dwarf的第三人称单数形式） | |
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61
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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62
troupe
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| n.剧团，戏班；杂技团；马戏团 | |
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63
squires
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| n.地主，乡绅( squire的名词复数 ) | |
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64
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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65
sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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66
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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67
caper
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| v.雀跃，欢蹦；n.雀跃，跳跃；续随子，刺山柑花蕾；嬉戏 | |
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68
guffaw
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| n.哄笑；突然的大笑 | |
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69
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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70
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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71
slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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72
humbling
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| adj.令人羞辱的v.使谦恭( humble的现在分词 )；轻松打败（尤指强大的对手）；低声下气 | |
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73
penchant
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| n.爱好，嗜好；（强烈的）倾向 | |
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74
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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75
quill
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| n.羽毛管；v.给（织物或衣服）作皱褶 | |
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76
labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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77
citadel
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| n.城堡；堡垒；避难所 | |
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78
scrolls
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| n.（常用于录写正式文件的）纸卷( scroll的名词复数 )；卷轴；涡卷形（装饰）；卷形花纹v.（电脑屏幕上）从上到下移动（资料等），卷页( scroll的第三人称单数 )；（似卷轴般）卷起；（像展开卷轴般地）将文字显示于屏幕 | |
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79
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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80
reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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81
eluded
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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82
anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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83
vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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84
shimmered
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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85
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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86
junction
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| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
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87
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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88
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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89
mordant
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| adj.讽刺的；尖酸的 | |
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90
bastard
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| n.坏蛋，混蛋；私生子 | |
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91
turnip
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| n.萝卜，芜菁 | |
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92
cramping
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| 图像压缩 | |
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93
flexed
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| adj.[医]曲折的，屈曲v.屈曲( flex的过去式和过去分词 )；弯曲；（为准备大干而）显示实力；摩拳擦掌 | |
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94
bins
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| n.大储藏箱( bin的名词复数 )；宽口箱（如面包箱，垃圾箱等）v.扔掉，丢弃( bin的第三人称单数 ) | |
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95
ointments
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| n.软膏( ointment的名词复数 )；扫兴的人；煞风景的事物；药膏 | |
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96
slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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97
wavy
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| adj.有波浪的，多浪的，波浪状的，波动的，不稳定的 | |
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98
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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99
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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100
grafted
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| 移植( graft的过去式和过去分词 )； 嫁接； 使（思想、制度等）成为（…的一部份）； 植根 | |
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101
wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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102
adroit
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| adj.熟练的，灵巧的 | |
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103
restive
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| adj.不安宁的，不安静的 | |
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104
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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105
dominion
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| n.统治，管辖，支配权；领土，版图 | |
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106
factions
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| 组织中的小派别，派系( faction的名词复数 ) | |
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107
warships
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| 军舰，战舰( warship的名词复数 )； 舰只 | |
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108
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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109
yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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110
reclaim
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| v.要求归还，收回；开垦 | |
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111
galleys
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| n.平底大船，战舰( galley的名词复数 )；（船上或航空器上的）厨房 | |
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112
stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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113
lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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114
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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115
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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116
fabled
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| adj.寓言中的，虚构的 | |
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117
eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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118
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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119
wrestle
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| vi.摔跤，角力；搏斗；全力对付 | |
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120
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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121
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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122
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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123
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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124
rape
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| n.抢夺，掠夺，强奸；vt.掠夺，抢夺，强奸 | |
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125
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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126
domes
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| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
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127
basking
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| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的现在分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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128
hummocks
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| n.小丘，岗( hummock的名词复数 ) | |
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129
ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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130
ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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131
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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132
colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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133
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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134
spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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135
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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136
amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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137
writhes
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的第三人称单数 ) | |
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138
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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139
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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140
hooting
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| （使）作汽笛声响，作汽车喇叭声( hoot的现在分词 )； 倒好儿； 倒彩 | |
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141
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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