One of the other acolytes2 stood across the room with a flagon of dark red wine. She had the water. Whenever one of the servants wished to drink, he would raise his eyes or crook3 a finger, and one or both of them would come and fill his cup. But mostly they stood, waiting on looks that never came. I am carved of stone, she reminded herself. I am a statue, like the Sealords that stand along the Canal of the Heroes. The water was heavy, but her arms were strong.
The priests used the language of Braavos, though once for several minutes three spoke5 heatedly in High Valyrian. The girl understood the words, mostly, but they spoke in soft voices, and she could not always hear. “I know this man,” she did hear a priest with the face of a plague victim say. “I know this man,” the fat fellow echoed, as she was pouring for him. But the handsome man said, “I will give this man the gift, I know him not.” Later the squinter6 said the same thing, of someone else.
After three hours of wine and words, the priests took their leave … all but the kindly7 man, the waif, and the one whose face bore the marks of plague. His cheeks were covered with weeping sores, and his hair had fallen out. Blood dripped from one nostril8 and crusted at the corners of both eyes. “Our brother would have words with you, child,” the kindly man told her. “Sit, if you wish.” She seated herself in a weirwood chair with a face of ebony. Bloody10 sores held no terror for her. She had been too long in the House of Black and White to be afraid of a false face.
“Who are you?” plague face asked when they were alone.
“No one.”
“Not so. You are Arya of House Stark11, who bites her lip and cannot tell a lie.”
“I was. I’m not now.”
“Why are you here, liar12?”
“To serve. To learn. To change my face.”
“First change your heart. The gift of the Many-Faced God is not a child’s plaything. You would kill for your own purposes, for your own pleasures. Do you deny it?”
She bit her lip. “I—”
He slapped her.
The blow left her cheek stinging, but she knew that she had earned it. “Thank you.” Enough slaps, and she might stop chewing on her lip. Arya did that, not the night wolf. “I do deny it.”
“You lie. I can see the truth in your eyes. You have the eyes of a wolf and a taste for blood.”
Ser Gregor, she could not help but think. Dunsen, Raff the Sweetling. Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei. If she spoke, she would need to lie, and he would know. She kept silent.
“You were a cat, they tell me. Prowling through the alleys14 smelling of fish, selling cockles and mussels for coin. A small life, well suited for a small creature such as you. Ask, and it can be restored to you. Push your barrow, cry your cockles, be content. Your heart is too soft to be one of us.”
He means to send me away. “I have no heart. I only have a hole. I’ve killed lots of people. I could kill you if I wanted.”
“Would that taste sweet to you?”
She did not know the right answer. “Maybe.”
“Then you do not belong here. Death holds no sweetness in this house. We are not warriors15, nor soldiers, nor swaggering bravos puffed16 up with pride. We do not kill to serve some lord, to fatten17 our purses, to stroke our vanity. We never give the gift to please ourselves. Nor do we choose the ones we kill. We are but servants of the God of Many Faces.”
“Valar dohaeris.” All men must serve.
“You know the words, but you are too proud to serve. A servant must be humble18 and obedient.”
“I obey. I can be humbler than anyone.”
That made him chuckle19. “You will be the very goddess of humility20, I am sure. But can you pay the price?”
“What price?”
“The price is you. The price is all you have and all you ever hope to have. We took your eyes and gave them back. Next we will take your ears, and you will walk in silence. You will give us your legs and crawl. You will be no one’s daughter, no one’s wife, no one’s mother. Your name will be a lie, and the very face you wear will not be your own.”
She almost bit her lip again, but this time she caught herself and stopped. My face is a dark pool, hiding everything, showing nothing. She thought of all the names that she had worn: Arry, Weasel, Squab, Cat of the Canals. She thought of that stupid girl from Winterfell called Arya Horseface. Names did not matter. “I can pay the price. Give me a face.”
“Faces must be earned.”
“Tell me how.”
“Give a certain man a certain gift. Can you do that?”
“What man?”
“No one that you know.”
“I don’t know a lot of people.”
“He is one of them. A stranger. No one you love, no one you hate, no one you have ever known. Will you kill him?”
“Yes.”
“Then on the morrow, you shall be Cat of the Canals again. Wear that face, watch, obey. And we will see if you are truly worthy21 to serve Him of Many Faces.”
So the next day she returned to Brusco and his daughters in the house on the canal. Brusco’s eyes widened when he saw her, and Brea gave a little gasp22. “Valar morghulis,” Cat said, by way of greeting. “Valar dohaeris,” Brusco replied.
After that it was as if she had never been away.
She got her first look at the man she must kill later that morning as she wheeled her barrow through the cobbled streets that fronted on the Purple Harbor. He was an old man, well past fifty. He has lived too long, she tried to tell herself. Why should he have so many years when my father had so few? But Cat of the Canals had no father, so she kept that thought to herself.
“Cockles and mussels and clams,” Cat cried as he went past, “oysters and prawns23 and fat green mussels.” She even smiled at him. Sometimes a smile was all you needed to make them stop and buy. The old man did not smile back. He scowled24 at her and went on past, sloshing through a puddle25. The splash wet her feet.
He has no courtesy, she thought, watching him go. His face is hard and mean. The old man’s nose was pinched and sharp, his lips thin, his eyes small and close-set. His hair had gone to grey, but the little pointed26 beard at the end of his chin was still black. Cat thought it must be dyed and wondered why he had not dyed his hair as well. One of his shoulders was higher than the other, giving him a crooked27 cast.
“He is an evil man,” she announced that evening when she returned to the House of Black and White. “His lips are cruel, his eyes are mean, and he has a villain’s beard.”
The kindly man chuckled28. “He is a man like any other, with light in him and darkness. It is not for you to judge him.”
That gave her pause. “Have the gods judged him?”
“Some gods, mayhaps. What are gods for if not to sit in judgment29 over men? The Many-Faced God does not weigh men’s souls, however. He gives his gift to the best of men as he gives it to the worst. Elsewise the good would live forever.”
The old man’s hands were the worst thing about him, Cat decided30 the next day, as she watched him from behind her barrow. His fingers were long and bony, always moving, scratching at his beard, tugging32 at an ear, drumming on a table, twitching33, twitching, twitching. He has hands like two white spiders. The more she watched his hands, the more she came to hate them.
“He moves his hands too much,” she told them at the temple. “He must be full of fear. The gift will bring him peace.”
“The gift brings all men peace.”
“When I kill him he will look in my eyes and thank me.”
“If he does, you will have failed. It would be best if he takes no note of you at all.”
The old man was some sort of merchant, Cat concluded after watching him for a few days. His trade had to do with the sea, though she never saw him set foot upon a ship. He spent his days sitting in a soup shop near the Purple Harbor, a cup of onion broth9 cooling at his elbow as he shuffled34 papers and sealing wax and spoke in sharp tones to a parade of captains, shipowners, and other merchants, none of whom seemed to like him very much.
Yet they brought him money: leather purses plump with gold and silver and the square iron coins of Braavos. The old man would count it out carefully, sorting the coins and stacking them up neatly35, like with like. He never looked at the coins. Instead he bit them, always on the left side of his mouth, where he still had all his teeth. From time to time he’d spin one on the table and listen to the sound it made when it came clattering36 to a stop.
And when all the coins had been counted and tasted, the old man would scrawl37 upon a parchment, stamp it with his seal, and give it to the captain. Else he’d shake his head and shove the coins back across the table. Whenever he did that, the other man would get red-faced and angry, or pale and scared-looking.
Cat did not understand. “They pay him gold and silver, but he only gives them writing. Are they stupid?”
“A few, mayhaps. Most are simply cautious. Some think to cozen38 him. He is not a man easily cozened, however.”
“But what is he selling them?”
“He is writing each a binder39. If their ships are lost in a storm or taken by pirates, he promises to pay them for the value of the vessel40 and all its contents.”
“Is it some kind of wager41?”
“Of a sort. A wager every captain hopes to lose.”
“Yes, but if they win …”
“… they lose their ships, oftimes their very lives. The seas are dangerous, and never more so than in autumn. No doubt many a captain sinking in a storm has taken some small solace42 in his binder back in Braavos, knowing that his widow and children will not want.” A sad smile touched his lips. “It is one thing to write such a binder, though, and another to make good on it.”
Cat understood. One of them must hate him. One of them came to the House of Black and White and prayed for the god to take him. She wondered who it had been, but the kindly man would not tell her. “It is not for you to pry43 into such matters,” he said. “Who are you?”
“No one.”
“No one asks no questions.” He took her hands. “If you cannot do this thing, you need only say so. There is no shame in that. Some are made to serve the Many-Faced God and some are not. Say the word, and I shall lift this task from you.”
“I will do it. I said I would. I will.”
How, though? That was harder.
He had guards. Two of them, a tall thin man and a short thick one. They went with him everywhere, from when he left his house in the morning till he returned at night. They made certain no one got close to the old man without his leave. Once a drunk almost staggered into him as he was coming home from the soup shop, but the tall one stepped between them and gave the man a sharp shove that knocked him to the ground. At the soup shop, the short one always tasted the onion broth first. The old man waited until the broth had cooled before he took a sip44, long enough to be sure his guardsman had suffered no ill effects.
“He’s afraid,” she realized, “or else he knows that someone wants to kill him.”
“He does not know,” said the kindly man, “but he suspects.”
“The guards go with him even when he slips out to make water,” she said, “but he doesn’t go when they do. The tall one is the quicker. I’ll wait till he is making water, walk into the soup shop, and stab the old man through the eye.”
“And the other guard?”
“He’s slow and stupid. I can kill him too.”
“Are you some butcher of the battlefield, hacking45 down every man who stands in your way?”
“No.”
“I would hope not. You are a servant of the Many-Faced God, and we who serve Him of Many Faces give his gift only to those who have been marked and chosen.”
She understood. Kill him. Kill only him.
It took her three more days of watching before she found the way, and another day of practicing with her finger knife. Red Roggo had taught her how to use it, but she had not slit46 a purse since back before they took away her eyes. She wanted to make certain that she still knew how. Smooth and quick, that’s the way, no fumbling47, she told herself, and she slipped the little blade out of her sleeve, again and again and again. When she was satisfied that she still remembered how to do it, she sharpened the steel on a whetstone until its edge glimmered48 silver-blue in the candlelight. The other part was trickier49, but the waif was there to help her. “I will give the man the gift on the morrow,” she announced as she was breaking her fast.
“Him of Many Faces will be pleased.” The kindly man rose. “Cat of the Canals is known to many. If she is seen to have done this deed, it might bring down trouble on Brusco and his daughters. It is time you had another face.”
The girl did not smile, but inside she was pleased. She had lost Cat once, and mourned her. She did not want to lose her again. “What will I look like?”
“Ugly. Women will look away when they see you. Children will stare and point. Strong men will pity you, and some may shed a tear. No one who sees you will soon forget you. Come.”
The kindly man took the iron lantern off its hook and led her past the still black pool and the rows of dark and silent gods, to the steps at the rear of the temple. The waif fell in behind them as they were making their descent. No one spoke. The soft scuff50 of slippered51 feet on the steps was the only sound. Eighteen steps brought them to the vaults52, where five arched passageways spread out like the fingers of a man’s hand. Down here the steps grew narrower and steeper, but the girl had run up and down them a thousand times and they held no terrors for her. Twenty-two more steps and they were at the subcellar. The tunnels here were cramped53 and crooked, black wormholes twisting through the heart of the great rock. One passage was closed off by a heavy iron door. The priest hung the lantern from a hook, slipped a hand inside his robe, and produced an ornate key.
Gooseprickles rose along her arms. The sanctum. They were going lower still, down to the third level, to the secret chambers55 where only the priests were permitted.
The key clicked three times, very softly, as the kindly man turned it in a lock. The door swung open on oiled iron hinges, making not a sound. Beyond were still more steps, hewn out of solid rock. The priest took down the lantern once again and led the way. The girl followed the light, counting the steps as she went down. Four five six seven. She found herself wishing that she had brought her stick. Ten eleven twelve. She knew how many steps there were between the temple and the cellar, between the cellar and the subcellar, she had even counted the steps on the cramped winding56 stair that spiraled up into the garret and the rungs on the steep wooden ladder that ascended57 to the rooftop door and the windy perch58 outside.
This stair was unknown to her, however, and that made it perilous59. One-and-twenty two-and-twenty three-and-twenty. With every step the air seemed to grow a little colder. When her count reached thirty she knew that they were under even the canals. Three-and-thirty four-and-thirty. How deep were they going to go?
She had reached fifty-four when the steps finally ended at another iron door. This one was unlocked. The kindly man pushed it open and stepped through. She followed, with the waif on her heels. Their footsteps echoed through the darkness. The kindly man lifted his lantern and flicked60 its shutters61 wide open. Light washed over the walls around them.
A thousand faces were gazing down on her.
They hung upon the walls, before her and behind her, high and low, everywhere she looked, everywhere she turned. She saw old faces and young faces, pale faces and dark faces, smooth faces and wrinkled faces, freckled62 faces and scarred faces, handsome faces and homely63 faces, men and women, boys and girls, even babes, smiling faces, frowning faces, faces full of greed and rage and lust64, bald faces and faces bristling65 with hair. Masks, she told herself, it’s only masks, but even as she thought the thought, she knew it wasn’t so. They were skins.
“Do they frighten you, child?” asked the kindly man. “It is not too late for you to leave us. Is this truly what you want?”
Arya bit her lip. She did not know what she wanted. If I leave, where will I go? She had washed and stripped a hundred corpses66, dead things did not frighten her. They carry them down here and slice their faces off, so what? She was the night wolf, no scraps67 of skin could frighten her. Leather hoods68, that’s all they are, they cannot hurt me. “Do it,” she blurted69 out.
He led her across the chamber54, past a row of tunnels leading off into side passages. The light of his lantern illuminated70 each in turn. One tunnel was walled with human bones, its roof supported by columns of skulls71. Another opened on winding steps that descended72 farther still. How many cellars are there? she wondered. Do they just go down forever?
“Sit,” the priest commanded. She sat. “Now close your eyes, child.” She closed her eyes. “This will hurt,” he warned her, “but pain is the price of power. Do not move.”
Still as stone, she thought. She sat unmoving. The cut was quick, the blade sharp. By rights the metal should have been cold against her flesh, but it felt warm instead. She could feel the blood washing down her face, a rippling73 red curtain falling across her brow and cheeks and chin, and she understood why the priest had made her close her eyes. When it reached her lips the taste was salt and copper74. She licked at it and shivered.
“Bring me the face,” said the kindly man. The waif made no answer, but she could hear her slippers75 whispering over the stone floor. To the girl he said, “Drink this,” and pressed a cup into her hand. She drank it down at once. It was very tart76, like biting into a lemon. A thousand years ago, she had known a girl who loved lemon cakes. No, that was not me, that was only Arya.
“Mummers change their faces with artifice77,” the kindly man was saying, “and sorcerers use glamors, weaving light and shadow and desire to make illusions that trick the eye. These arts you shall learn, but what we do here goes deeper. Wise men can see through artifice, and glamors dissolve before sharp eyes, but the face you are about to don will be as true and solid as that face you were born with. Keep your eyes closed.” She felt his fingers brushing back her hair. “Stay still. This will feel queer. You may be dizzy, but you must not move.”
Then came a tug31 and a soft rustling78 as the new face was pulled down over the old. The leather scraped across her brow, dry and stiff, but as her blood soaked into it, it softened79 and turned supple80. Her cheeks grew warm, flushed. She could feel her heart fluttering beneath her breast, and for one long moment she could not catch her breath. Hands closed around her throat, hard as stone, choking her. Her own hands shot up to claw at the arms of her attacker, but there was no one there. A terrible sense of fear filled her, and she heard a noise, a hideous81 crunching82 noise, accompanied by blinding pain. A face floated in front of her, fat, bearded, brutal83, his mouth twisted with rage. She heard the priest say, “Breathe, child. Breathe out the fear. Shake off the shadows. He is dead. She is dead. Her pain is gone. Breathe.”
The girl took a deep shuddering84 breath, and realized it was true. No one was choking her, no one was hitting her. Even so, her hand was shaking as she raised it to her face. Flakes85 of dried blood crumbled86 at the touch of her fingertips, black in the lantern light. She felt her cheeks, touched her eyes, traced the line of her jaw87. “My face is still the same.”
“Is it? Are you certain?”
Was she certain? She had not felt any change, but maybe it was not something you could feel. She swept a hand down across her face from top to bottom, as she had once seen Jaqen H’ghar do, back at Harrenhal. When he did it, his whole face had rippled88 and changed. When she did it, nothing happened. “It feels the same.”
“To you,” said the priest. “It does not look the same.”
“To other eyes, your nose and jaw are broken,” said the waif. “One side of your face is caved in where your cheekbone shattered, and half your teeth are missing.”
She probed around inside her mouth with her tongue, but found no holes or broken teeth. Sorcery, she thought. I have a new face. An ugly, broken face.
“You may have bad dreams for a time,” warned the kindly man. “Her father beat her so often and so brutally89 that she was never truly free of pain or fear until she came to us.”
“Did you kill him?”
“She asked the gift for herself, not for her father.”
You should have killed him.
He must have read her thoughts. “Death came for him in the end, as it comes for all men. As it must come for a certain man upon the morrow.” He lifted up the lamp. “We are done here.”
For now. As they made their way back to the steps, the empty eyeholes of the skins upon the walls seemed to follow her. For a moment she could almost see their lips moving, whispering dark sweet secrets to one another in words too faint to hear.
Sleep did not come easily that night. Tangled90 in her blankets, she twisted this way and that in the cold dark room, but whichever way she turned, she saw the faces. They have no eyes, but they can see me. She saw her father’s face upon the wall. Beside him hung her lady mother, and below them her three brothers all in a row. No. That was some other girl. I am no one, and my only brothers wear robes of black and white. Yet there was the black singer, there the stableboy she’d killed with Needle, there the pimply91 squire92 from the crossroads inn, and over there the guard whose throat she’d slashed94 to get them out of Harrenhal. The Tickler hung on the wall as well, the black holes that were his eyes swimming with malice95. The sight of him brought back the feel of the dagger96 in her hand as she had plunged97 it into his back, again and again and again.
When at last day came to Braavos, it came grey and dark and overcast98. The girl had hoped for fog, but the gods ignored her prayers as gods so often did. The air was clear and cold, and the wind had a nasty bite to it. A good day for a death, she thought. Unbidden, her prayer came to her lips. Ser Gregor, Dunsen, Raff the Sweetling. Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei. She mouthed the names silently. In the House of Black and White, you never knew who might be listening.
The vaults were full of old clothing, garments claimed from those who came to the House of Black and White to drink peace from the temple pool. Everything from beggar’s rags to rich silks and velvets could be found there. An ugly girl should dress in ugly clothing, she decided, so she chose a stained brown cloak fraying100 at the hem4, a musty green tunic101 smelling of fish, and a pair of heavy boots. Last of all she palmed her finger knife.
There was no haste, so she decided to take the long way round to the Purple Harbor. Across the bridge she went, to the Isle102 of the Gods. Cat of the Canals had sold cockles and mussels amongst the temples here, whenever Brusco’s daughter Talea had her moon blood flowing and took to her bed. She half-expected to see Talea selling there today, perhaps outside the Warren where all the forgotten godlings had their forlorn little shrines103, but that was silly. The day was too cold, and Talea never liked to wake this early. The statue outside the shrine104 of the Weeping Lady of Lys was crying silver tears as the ugly girl walked by. In the Gardens of Gelenei stood a gilded105 tree a hundred feet high with leaves of hammered silver. Torchlight glimmered behind windows of leaded glass in the Lord of Harmony’s wooden hall, showing half a hundred kinds of butterflies in all their bright colors.
One time, the girl remembered, the Sailor’s Wife had walked her rounds with her and told her tales of the city’s stranger gods. “That is the house of the Great Shepherd. Three-headed Trios has that tower with three turrets106. The first head devours107 the dying, and the reborn emerge from the third. I don’t know what the middle head’s supposed to do. Those are the Stones of the Silent God, and there the entrance to the Patternmaker’s Maze108. Only those who learn to walk it properly will ever find their way to wisdom, the priests of the Pattern say. Beyond it, by the canal, that’s the temple of Aquan the Red Bull. Every thirteenth day, his priests slit the throat of a pure white calf109, and offer bowls of blood to beggars.”
Today was not the thirteenth day, it seemed; the Red Bull’s steps were empty. The brother gods Semosh and Selloso dreamed in twin temples on opposite sides of the Black Canal, linked by a carved stone bridge. The girl crossed there and made her way down to the docks, then through the Ragman’s Harbor and past the half-sunken spires110 and domes111 of the Drowned Town.
A group of Lysene sailors were staggering from the Happy Port as she went by, but the girl did not see any of the whores. The Ship was closed up and forlorn, its troupe112 of mummers no doubt still abed. But farther on, on the wharf113 beside an Ibbenese whaler, she spied Cat’s old friend Tagganaro tossing a ball back and forth114 with Casso, King of Seals, whilst his latest cutpurse worked the crowd of onlookers115. When she stopped to watch and listen for a moment, Tagganaro glanced at her without recognition, but Casso barked and clapped his flippers. He knows me, the girl thought, or else he smells the fish. She hurried on her way.
By the time she reached the Purple Harbor, the old man was ensconced inside the soup shop at his usual table, counting a purse of coins as he haggled116 with a ship’s captain. The tall thin guard was hovering117 over him. The short thick one was seated near the door, where he would have a good view of anyone who entered. That made no matter. She did not intend to enter. Instead she perched atop a wooden piling twenty yards away as the blustery wind tugged118 at her cloak with ghostly fingers.
Even on a cold grey day like this, the harbor was a busy place. She saw sailors on the prowl for whores, and whores on the prowl for sailors. A pair of bravos passed in rumpled119 finery, leaning on each other as they staggered drunkenly past the docks, their blades rattling120 at their sides. A red priest swept past, his scarlet121 and crimson122 robes snapping in the wind.
It was almost noon before she saw the man she wanted, a prosperous shipowner she had seen doing business with the old man three times before. Big and bald and burly, he wore a heavy cloak of plush brown velvet99 trimmed with fur and a brown leather belt ornamented123 with silver moons and stars. Some mishap124 had left one leg stiff. He walked slowly, leaning on a cane125.
He would do as well as any and better than most, the ugly girl decided. She hopped126 off the piling and fell in after him. A dozen strides put her right behind him, her finger knife poised127. His purse was on his right side, at his belt, but his cloak was in her way. Her blade flashed out, smooth and quick, one deep slash93 through the velvet and he never felt a thing. Red Roggo would have smiled to see it. She slipped her hand through the gap, slit the purse open with the finger knife, filled her fist with gold …
The big man turned. “What—”
The movement tangled her arm in the folds of his cloak as she was pulling out her hand. Coins rained around their feet. “Thief!” The big man raised his stick to strike at her. She kicked his bad leg out from under him, danced away, and bolted as he fell, darting128 past a mother with a child. More coins fell from between her fingers to bounce along the ground. Shouts of “thief, thief” rang out behind her. A potbellied innkeep passing by made a clumsy grab for her arm, but she spun129 around him, flashed past a laughing whore, raced headlong for the nearest alley13.
Cat of the Canals had known these alleys, and the ugly girl remembered. She darted130 left, vaulted131 a low wall, leapt across a small canal, and slipped through an unlocked door into some dusty storeroom. All sounds of pursuit had faded by then, but it was best to be sure. She hunkered down behind some crates132 and waited, arms wrapped around her knees. She waited for the best part of an hour, then decided it was safe to go, climbed straight up the side of the building, and made her way across the rooftops almost as far as the Canal of Heroes. By now the shipowner would have gathered up coins and cane and limped on to the soup shop. He might be drinking a bowl of hot broth and complaining to the old man about the ugly girl who had tried to rob his purse.
The kindly man was waiting for her at the House of Black and White, seated on the edge of the temple pool. The ugly girl sat next to him and put a coin on the lip of the pool between them. It was gold, with a dragon on one face and a king on the other.
“The golden dragon of Westeros,” said the kindly man. “And how did you come by this? We are no thieves.”
“It wasn’t stealing. I took one of his, but I left him one of ours.”
The kindly man understood. “And with that coin and the others in his purse, he paid a certain man. Soon after that man’s heart gave out. Is that the way of it? Very sad.” The priest picked up the coin and tossed it into the pool. “You have much and more to learn, but it may be you are not hopeless.”
That night they gave her back the face of Arya Stark.
They brought a robe for her as well, the soft thick robe of an acolyte1, black upon one side and white upon the other. “Wear this when you are here,” the priest said, “but know that you shall have little need of it for the present. On the morrow you will go to Izembaro to begin your first apprenticeship133. Take what clothes you will from the vaults below. The city watch is looking for a certain ugly girl, known to frequent the Purple Harbor, so best you have a new face as well.” He cupped her chin, turned her head this way and that, nodded. “A pretty one this time, I think. As pretty as your own. Who are you, child?”
“No one,” she replied.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
acolyte
|
|
| n.助手，侍僧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
acolytes
|
|
| n.助手( acolyte的名词复数 )；随从；新手；（天主教）侍祭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
crook
|
|
| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
hem
|
|
| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
squinter
|
|
| 斜视的人，眯着眼看的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
7
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
nostril
|
|
| n.鼻孔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
broth
|
|
| n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
bloody
|
|
| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
stark
|
|
| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
liar
|
|
| n.说谎的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
alley
|
|
| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
alleys
|
|
| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
warriors
|
|
| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
puffed
|
|
| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
fatten
|
|
| v.使肥，变肥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
chuckle
|
|
| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
humility
|
|
| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
gasp
|
|
| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
prawns
|
|
| n.对虾，明虾( prawn的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
scowled
|
|
| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
puddle
|
|
| n.(雨)水坑，泥潭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
crooked
|
|
| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
chuckled
|
|
| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
tug
|
|
| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
tugging
|
|
| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
twitching
|
|
| n.颤搐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
shuffled
|
|
| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
neatly
|
|
| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
clattering
|
|
| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
scrawl
|
|
| vt.潦草地书写；n.潦草的笔记，涂写 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
cozen
|
|
| v.欺骗，哄骗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
binder
|
|
| n.包扎物，包扎工具；[法]临时契约；粘合剂；装订工 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
vessel
|
|
| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
wager
|
|
| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
solace
|
|
| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
pry
|
|
| vi.窥(刺)探，打听；vt.撬动(开，起) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
sip
|
|
| v.小口地喝，抿，呷；n.一小口的量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
hacking
|
|
| n.非法访问计算机系统和数据库的活动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
slit
|
|
| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
fumbling
|
|
| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
glimmered
|
|
| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
trickier
|
|
| adj.狡猾的( tricky的比较级 )；（形势、工作等）复杂的；机警的；微妙的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
scuff
|
|
| v. 拖着脚走；磨损 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
slippered
|
|
| 穿拖鞋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
vaults
|
|
| n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 )；地下室；撑物跳高；墓穴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
cramped
|
|
| a.狭窄的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
chambers
|
|
| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
winding
|
|
| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
ascended
|
|
| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
perch
|
|
| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
perilous
|
|
| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
flicked
|
|
| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
shutters
|
|
| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
freckled
|
|
| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
homely
|
|
| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
lust
|
|
| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
bristling
|
|
| a.竖立的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
corpses
|
|
| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
scraps
|
|
| 油渣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
hoods
|
|
| n.兜帽( hood的名词复数 )；头巾；（汽车、童车等的）折合式车篷；汽车发动机罩v.兜帽( hood的第三人称单数 )；头巾；（汽车、童车等的）折合式车篷；汽车发动机罩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
blurted
|
|
| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
illuminated
|
|
| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
skulls
|
|
| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
rippling
|
|
| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
copper
|
|
| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
slippers
|
|
| n. 拖鞋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
tart
|
|
| adj.酸的；尖酸的，刻薄的；n.果馅饼；淫妇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
artifice
|
|
| n.妙计，高明的手段；狡诈，诡计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
rustling
|
|
| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
softened
|
|
| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
supple
|
|
| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
hideous
|
|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
crunching
|
|
| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的现在分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
brutal
|
|
| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
shuddering
|
|
| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
flakes
|
|
| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
crumbled
|
|
| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
jaw
|
|
| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
rippled
|
|
| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
brutally
|
|
| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
tangled
|
|
| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
pimply
|
|
| adj.肿泡的；有疙瘩的；多粉刺的；有丘疹的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
squire
|
|
| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
slash
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
slashed
|
|
| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
malice
|
|
| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
dagger
|
|
| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
plunged
|
|
| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
overcast
|
|
| adj.阴天的，阴暗的，愁闷的；v.遮盖，（使）变暗，包边缝；n.覆盖，阴天 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
velvet
|
|
| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
fraying
|
|
| v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
tunic
|
|
| n.束腰外衣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
isle
|
|
| n.小岛，岛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
shrines
|
|
| 圣地，圣坛，神圣场所( shrine的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
shrine
|
|
| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
gilded
|
|
| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
turrets
|
|
| （六角）转台( turret的名词复数 )； （战舰和坦克等上的）转动炮塔； （摄影机等上的）镜头转台； （旧时攻城用的）塔车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
devours
|
|
| 吞没( devour的第三人称单数 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
maze
|
|
| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
calf
|
|
| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
spires
|
|
| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
domes
|
|
| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
troupe
|
|
| n.剧团，戏班；杂技团；马戏团 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
wharf
|
|
| n.码头，停泊处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
onlookers
|
|
| n.旁观者，观看者( onlooker的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
haggled
|
|
| v.讨价还价( haggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
hovering
|
|
| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
tugged
|
|
| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
rumpled
|
|
| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
rattling
|
|
| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
scarlet
|
|
| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
ornamented
|
|
| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
mishap
|
|
| n.不幸的事，不幸；灾祸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
cane
|
|
| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
hopped
|
|
| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
poised
|
|
| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
darting
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
spun
|
|
| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
darted
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
vaulted
|
|
| adj.拱状的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
crates
|
|
| n. 板条箱, 篓子, 旧汽车 vt. 装进纸条箱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
apprenticeship
|
|
| n.学徒身份；学徒期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |