News travels fast in the Dry-towns. If Rakhal were in the city, he'd soon know that I was here, and guess who I was or why I'd come. I might disguise myself so that my own sister, or the mother who bore me, would not know me. But I had no illusions about my ability to disguise myself from Rakhal. He had created the disguise that was me.
When the second sun set, red and burning, behind the salt cliffs, I knew he was not in Shainsa, but I stayed on, waiting for something to happen. At night I slept in a cubbyhole behind a wineshop, paying an inordinate4 price for that very dubious5 privilege. And every day in the sleepy silence of the blood-red noon I paced the public square of Shainsa.
This went on for four days. No one took the slightest notice of another nameless man in a shabby shirtcloak, without name or identity or known business. No one appeared to see me except the dusty children, with pale fleecy hair, who played their patient games on the windswept curbing6 of the square. They surveyed my scarred face with neither curiosity or fear, and it occurred to me that Rindy might be such another as these.
If I had still been thinking like an Earthman, I might have tried to question one of the children, or win their confidence. But I had a deeper game in hand.
On the fifth day I was so much a fixture7 that my pacing went unnoticed even by the children. On the gray moss8 of the square, a few dried-looking old men, their faces as faded as their shirtcloaks and bearing the knife scars of a hundred forgotten fights, drowsed on the stone benches. And along the flagged walk at the edge of the square, as[49] suddenly as an autumn storm in the salt flats, a woman came walking.
She was tall, with a proud swinging walk, and a metallic9 clashing kept rhythm to her swift steps. Her arms were fettered11, each wrist bound with a jeweled bracelet12 and the bracelets13 linked together by a long, silver-gilt14 chain passed through a silken loop at her waist. From the loop swung a tiny golden padlock, but in the lock stood an even tinier key, signifying that she was a higher caste than her husband or consort15, that her fettering16 was by choice and not command.
She stopped directly before me and raised her arm in formal greeting like a man. The chain made a tinkling17 sound in the hushed square as her other hand was pulled up tight against the silken loop at her waist. She stood surveying me for some moments, and finally I raised my head and returned her gaze. I don't know why I had expected her to have hair like spun18 black glass and eyes that burned with a red reflection of the burning star.
This woman's eyes were darker than the poison-berries of the salt cliffs, and her mouth was a cut berry that looked just as dangerous. She was young, the slimness of her shoulders and the narrow steel-chained wrists told me how very young she was, but her face had seen weather and storms, and her dark eyes had weathered worse psychic19 storms than that. She did not flinch20 at the sight of my scars, and met my gaze without dropping her eyes.
"You are a stranger. What is your business in Shainsa?"
I met the direct question with the insolence21 it demanded, hardly moving my lips. "I have come to buy women for the brothels of Ardcarran. Perhaps when washed you might be suitable. Who could arrange for your sale?"
She took the rebuke22 impassively, though the bitter crimson23 of her mouth twitched24 a little in mischief25 or rage. But she made no sign. The battle was joined between us, and I knew already that it would be fought to the end.
From somewhere in her draperies, something fell to the ground with a little tinkle26. But I knew that trick too and I did not move. Finally she went away without bending to retrieve27 it and when I looked around I saw that all the fleece-haired children had stolen away, leaving their play[50]things lying on the curbing. But one or two of the gaffers on the stone benches, who were old enough to show curiosity without losing face, were watching me with impassive eyes.
I could have asked the woman's name then, but I held back, knowing it could only lessen28 the prestige I had gained from the encounter. I glanced down, without seeming to do so, at the tiny mirror which had fallen from the recesses29 of the fur robe. Her name might have been inscribed30 on the reverse.
But I left it lying there to be picked up by the children when they returned, and went back to the wineshop. I had accomplished31 my first objective; if you can't be inconspicuous, be so damned conspicuous32 that nobody can miss you. And that in itself is a fair concealment33. How many people can accurately35 describe a street riot?
I was finishing off a bad meal with a stone bottle of worse wine when the chak came in, disregarding the proprietor36, and made straight for me. He was furred immaculately white. His velvet37 muzzle38 was contracted as if the very smells might soil it, and he kept a dainty paw outstretched to ward39 off accidental contact with greasy40 counters or tables or tapestries41. His fur was scented42, and his throat circled with a collar of embroidered43 silk. This pampered44 minion45 surveyed me with the innocent malice46 of an uninvolved nonhuman for merely human intrigues47.
"You are wanted in the Great House of Shanitha, thcarred man." He spoke48 the Shainsa dialect with an affected49 lisp. "Will it pleathe you, come wis' me?"
I came, with no more than polite protest, but was startled. I had not expected the encounter to reach the Great House so soon. Shainsa's Great House had changed hands four times since I had last been in Shainsa. I wasn't overly anxious to appear there.
The white chak, as out of place in the rough Dry-town as a jewel in the streets or a raindrop in the desert, led me along a winding50 boulevard to an outlying district. He made no attempt to engage me in conversation, and indeed I got the distinct impression that this cockscomb of a nonhuman considered me well beneath his notice. He seemed much more aware of the blowing dust in the street, which ruffled51 and smudged his carefully combed fur.[51]
The Great House was carved from blocks of rough pink basalt, the entry guarded by two great caryatids enwrapped in chains of carved metal, set somehow into the surface of the basalt. The gilt had long ago worn away from the chains so that it alternately gleamed gold or smudged base metal. The caryatids were patient and blind, their jewel-eyes long vanished under a hotter sun than today's.
The entrance hall was enormous. A Terran starship could have stood upright inside it, was my first impression, but I dismissed that thought quickly; any Terran thought was apt to betray me. But the main hall was built on a scale even more huge, and it was even colder than the legendary52 hell of the chaks. It was far too big for the people in it.
There was a little solar heater in the ceiling, but it didn't help much. A dim glow came from a metal brazier but that didn't help much either. The chak melted into the shadows, and I went down the steps into the hall by myself, feeling carefully for each step with my feet and trying not to seem to be doing so. My comparative night-blindness is the only significant way in which I really differ from a native Wolfan.
There were three men, two women and a child in the room. They were all Dry-towners and had an obscure family likeness53, and they all wore rich garments of fur dyed in many colors. One of the men, old and stooped and withered54, was doing something to the brazier. A slim boy of fourteen was sitting cross-legged on a pile of cushions in the corner. There was something wrong with his legs.
A girl of ten in a too-short smock that showed long spider-thin legs above her low leather boots was playing with some sort of shimmery55 crystals, spilling them out into patterns and scooping56 them up again from the uneven57 stones of the floor. One of the women was a fat, creased58 slattern, whose jewels and dyed furs did not disguise her greasy slovenliness59.
Her hands were unchained, and she was biting into a fruit which dripped red juice down the rich blue fur of her robe. The old man gave her a look like murder as I came in, and she straightened slightly but did not discard the fruit. The whole room had a curious look of austere60, dignified61 poverty, to which the fat woman was the only discordant62 note.[52]
But it was the remaining man and woman who drew my attention, so that I noticed the others only peripherally63, in their outermost64 orbit. One was Kyral, standing65 at the foot of the dais and glowering66 at me.
Kyral said, "So it's you." And his voice held nothing. Not rebuke, not friendliness68 or a lack of it, not even hatred69.
Nothing.
There was only one way to meet it. I faced the girl—she was sitting on a thronelike chair next to the fat woman, and looked like a doe next to a pig—and said boldly, "I assume this summons to mean that you informed your kinsmen70 of my offer."
She flushed, and that was triumph enough. I held back the triumph, however, wary71 of overconfidence. The gaffer laughed the high cackle of age, and Kyral broke in with a sharp, angry monosyllable by which I knew that my remark had indeed been repeated, and had lost nothing in the telling. But only the line of his jaw72 betrayed the anger as he said calmly, "Be quiet, Dallisa. Where did you pick this up?"
I said boldly, "The Great House has changed rulers since last I smelled the salt cliffs. Newcomers do not know my name and theirs is unknown to me."
The old gaffer said thinly to Kyral, "Our name has lost kihar. One daughter is lured73 away by the Toymaker and another babbles74 with strangers in the square, and a homeless no-good of the streets does not know our name."
My eyes, growing accustomed to the dark blaze of the brazier, saw that Kyral was biting his lip and scowling75. Then he gestured to a table where an array of glassware was set, and at the gesture, the white chak came on noiseless feet and poured wine.
"I will," I said, relaxing. Even if he had associated the trader with the scarred Earthman of the spaceport, he seemed to have decided77 to drop the matter. He seemed startled, but he waited until I had lifted the glass and taken[53] a sip78. Then, with a movement like lightning, he leaped from the dais and struck the glass from my lips.
I staggered back, wiping my cut mouth, in a split-second juggling79 possibilities. The insult was terrible and deadly. I could do nothing now but fight. Men had been murdered in Shainsa for far less. I had come to settle one feud, not involve myself in another, but even while these lightning thoughts flickered80 in my mind, I had whipped out my skean and I was surprised at the shrillness81 of my own voice.
"Spy and renegade!" Kyral thundered. He did not touch his skean. From the table he caught a long four-thonged whip, making it whistle through the air. The long-legged child scuttled85 backward. I stepped back one pace, trying to conceal34 my desperate puzzlement. I could not guess what had prompted Kyral's attack, but whatever it was, I must have made some bad mistake and could count myself lucky to get out of there alive.
Kyral's voice perceptibly trembled with rage. "You dare to come into my own home after I have tracked you to the Kharsa and back, blind fool that I was! But now you shall pay."
The whip sang through the air, hissing86 past my shoulders. I dodged87 to one side, retreating step by step as Kyral swung the powerful thongs88. It cracked again, and a pain like the burning of red-hot irons seared my upper arm. My skean rattled89 down from numb90 fingers.
The fat woman screamed.
I stood rigid93, gauging94 my chances of disarming95 him with a sudden leap. Suddenly the girl Dallisa leaped from her seat with a harsh musical chiming of chains.
"Kyral, no! No, Kyral!"
He moved slightly, but did not take his eyes from me. "Get back, Dallisa."
"No! Wait!" She ran to him and caught his whip-arm, dragging it down, and spoke to him hurriedly and urgently. Kyral's face changed as she spoke; he drew a long breath and threw the whip down beside my skean on the floor.[54]
"Answer straight, on your life. What are you doing in Shainsa?"
I could hardly take it in that for the moment I was reprieved96 from sudden death, from being beaten into bloody97 death there at Kyral's feet. The girl went back to her thronelike chair. Now I must either tell the truth or a convincing lie, and I was lost in a game where I didn't know the rules. The explanation I thought might get me out alive might be the very one which would bring down instant and painful death. Suddenly, with a poignancy98 that was almost pain, I wished Rakhal were standing here at my side.
If they had recognized me for Race Cargill, the Terran spy who had often been in Shainsa, they might release me—it was possible, I supposed, that they were Terran sympathizers. On the other hand, Kyral's shouts of "Spy, renegade!" seemed to suggest the opposite.
I stood trying to ignore the searing pain in my lashed100 arm, but I knew that blood was running hot down my shoulder. Finally I said, "I came to settle blood-feud."
Kyral's lips thinned in what might have been meant for a smile. "You shall, assuredly. But with whom, remains101 to be seen."
Knowing I had nothing more to lose, I said, "With a renegade called Rakhal Sensar."
Only the old man echoed my words dully, "Rakhal Sensar?"
I felt heartened, seeing I wasn't dead yet.
"I have sworn to kill him."
Kyral suddenly clapped his hands and shouted to the white chak to clean up the broken glass on the floor. He said huskily, "You are not yourself Rakhal Sensar?"
"I told you he wasn't," said Dallisa, high and hysterically102. "I told you he wasn't."
"A scarred man, tall—what was I to think?" Kyral sounded and looked badly shaken. He filled a glass himself and handed it to me, saying hoarsely103, "I did not believe even the renegade Rakhal would break the code so far as to drink with me."
"He would not." I could be positive about this. The codes of Terra had made some superficial impress on Rakhal, but[55] down deep his own world held sway. If these men were at blood-feud with Rakhal and he stood here where I stood, he would have let himself be beaten into bloody rags before tasting their wine.
I took the glass, raised it and drained it. Then, holding it out before me, I said, "Rakhal's life is mine. But I swear by the red star and by the unmoving mountains, by the black snow and by the Ghost Wind, I have no quarrel with any beneath this roof." I cast the glass to the floor, where it shattered on the stones.
Kyral hesitated, but under the blazing eyes of the girl he quickly poured himself a glass of the wine and drank a few sips104, then flung down the glass. He stepped forward and laid his hands on my shoulders. I winced105 as he touched the welt of the lash and could not raise my own arm to complete the ceremonial toast.
Kyral stepped away and shrugged106. "Shall I have one of the women see to your hurt?" He looked at Dallisa, but she twisted her mouth. "Do it yourself!"
"It is nothing," I said, not truthfully. "But I demand in requital107 that since we are bound by spilled blood under your roof, that you give me what news you have of Rakhal, the spy and renegade."
Kyral said fiercely, "If I knew, would I be under my own roof?"
The old gaffer on the dais broke into shrill82 whining108 laughter. "You have drunk wi' him, Kyral, now he's bound you not to do him harm! I know the story of Rakhal! He was spy for Terra twelve years. Twelve years, and then he fought and flung their filthy109 money in their faces and left 'em. But his partner was some Dry-town halfbreed or Terran spy and they fought wi' clawed gloves, and near killed one another except the Terrans, who have no honor, stopped 'em. See the marks of the kifirgh on his face!"
"By Sharra the golden-chained," said Kyral, gazing at me with something like a grin. "You are, if nothing else, a very clever man. What are you, spy, or half-caste of some Ardcarran slut?"
"What I am doesn't matter to you," I said. "You have blood-feud with Rakhal, but mine is older than yours and his life is mine. As you are bound in honor to kill"—the formal[56] phrases came easily now to my tongue; the Earthman had slipped away—"so you are bound in honor to help me kill. If anyone beneath your roof knows anything of Rakhal—"
Kyral's smile bared his teeth.
"Rakhal works against the Son of the Ape," he said, using the insulting Wolf term for the Terrans. "If we help you to kill him, we remove a goad110 from their flanks. I prefer to let the filthy Terranan spend their strength trying to remove it themselves. Moreover, I believe you are yourself an Earthman.
"You have no right to the courtesy I extend to we, the People of the Sky. Yet you have drunk wine with me and I have no quarrel with you." He raised his hand in dismissal, outfencing me. "Leave my roof in safety and my city with honor."
I could not protest or plead. A man's kihar, his personal dignity, is a precious thing in Shainsa, and he had placed me so I could not compromise mine further in words. Yet I lost kihar equally if I left at his bidding, like an inferior dismissed.
One desperate gamble remained.
"A word," I said, raising my hand, and while he half turned, startled, believing I was indeed about to compromise my dignity by a further plea, I flung it at him:
"I will bet shegri with you."
His iron composure looked shaken. I had delivered a blow to his belief that I was an Earthman, for it is doubtful if there are six Earthmen on Wolf who know about shegri, the dangerous game of the Dry-towns.
It is no ordinary gamble, for what the bettor stakes is his life, possibly his reason. Rarely indeed will a man bet shegri unless he has nothing further to lose.
But I had no choice. I had struck a cold trail in Shainsa. Rakhal might be anywhere on the planet and half of Magnusson's month was already up. Unless I could force Kyral to tell what he knew, I might as well quit.
So I repeated: "I will bet shegri with you."
And Kyral stood unmoving.
For what the shegrin wagers112 is his courage and endur[57]ance in the face of torture and an unknown fate. On his side, the stakes are clearly determined113 beforehand. But if he loses, his punishment or penalty is at the whim114 of the one who has accepted him, and he may be put to whatever doom115 the winner determines.
And this is the contest:
The shegrin permits himself to be tortured from sunrise to sunset. If he endures he wins. It is as simple as that. He can stop the torture at any moment by a word, but to do so is a concession116 of defeat.
This is not as dangerous as it might, at first, seem. The other party to the bet is bound by the ironclad codes of Wolf to inflict117 no permanent physical damage (no injury that will not heal with three suncourses). But from sunrise to sunset, any torment118 or painful ingenuity119 which the half-human mentality120 of Wolf can devise must be endured.
The man who can outthink the torture of the moment, the man who can hold in his mind the single thought of his goal—that man can claim the stakes he has set, as well as other concessions121 made traditional.
The silence grew in the hall. Dallisa had straightened and was watching me intently, her lips parted and the tip of a little red tongue visible between her teeth. The only sound was the tiny crunching122 as the fat woman nibbled123 at nuts and cast their shells into the brazier. Even the child on the steps had abandoned her game with the crystal dice124, and sat looking up at me with her mouth open. Finally Kyral demanded, "Your stakes?"
"Tell me all you know of Rakhal Sensar and keep silence about me in Shainsa."
"By the red shadow," Kyral burst out, "you have courage, Rascar!"
"Say only yes or no!" I retorted.
Rebuked, he fell silent. Dallisa leaned forward and again, for some unknown reason, I thought of a girl with hair like spun black glass.
Kyral raised his hand. "I say no. I have blood-feud with Rakhal and I will not sell his death to another. Further, I believe you are Terran and I will not deal with you. And finally, you have twice saved my life and I would find small[58] pleasure in torturing you. I say no. Drink again with me and we part without a quarrel."
Beaten, I turned to go.
"Wait," said Dallisa.
She stood up and came down from the dais, slowly this time, walking with dignity to the rhythm of her musically clashing chains. "I have a quarrel with this man."
I started to say that I did not quarrel with women, and stopped myself. The Terran concept of chivalry125 has no equivalent on Wolf.
She looked at me with her dark poison-berry eyes, icy and level and amused, and said, "I will bet shegri with you, unless you fear me, Rascar."
And I knew suddenly that if I lost, I might better have trusted myself to Kyral and his whip, or to the wild beast-things of the mountains.
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1
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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bleached
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| 漂白的，晒白的，颜色变浅的 | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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inordinate
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| adj.无节制的；过度的 | |
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dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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curbing
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| n.边石，边石的材料v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的现在分词 ) | |
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fixture
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| n.固定设备；预定日期；比赛时间；定期存款 | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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10
lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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fettered
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| v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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bracelets
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| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
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gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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consort
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| v.相伴；结交 | |
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fettering
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| v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的现在分词 ) | |
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tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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psychic
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| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
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flinch
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| v.畏缩，退缩 | |
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insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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retrieve
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| vt.重新得到，收回；挽回，补救；检索 | |
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lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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concealment
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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tapestries
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| n.挂毯( tapestry的名词复数 )；绣帷，织锦v.用挂毯（或绣帷）装饰( tapestry的第三人称单数 ) | |
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scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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44
pampered
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| adj.饮食过量的，饮食奢侈的v.纵容，宠，娇养( pamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
minion
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| n.宠仆；宠爱之人 | |
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46
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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47
intrigues
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| n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 )；神秘气氛；引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 )；激起…的好奇心 | |
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48
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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49
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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50
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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51
ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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52
legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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53
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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54
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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55
shimmery
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| adj.微微发亮的 | |
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56
scooping
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| n.捞球v.抢先报道( scoop的现在分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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57
uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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58
creased
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的过去式和过去分词 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹； 皱皱巴巴 | |
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59
slovenliness
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60
austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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61
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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62
discordant
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| adj.不调和的 | |
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63
peripherally
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| 外围地，外面地 | |
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64
outermost
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| adj.最外面的，远离中心的 | |
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65
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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66
glowering
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| v.怒视( glower的现在分词 ) | |
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67
rebuked
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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69
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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70
kinsmen
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| n.家属，亲属( kinsman的名词复数 ) | |
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71
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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72
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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73
lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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74
babbles
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| n.胡言乱语( babble的名词复数 )；听不清的声音；乱哄哄的说话声v.喋喋不休( babble的第三人称单数 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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75
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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76
feud
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| n.长期不和；世仇；v.长期争斗；世代结仇 | |
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77
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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78
sip
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| v.小口地喝，抿，呷；n.一小口的量 | |
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79
juggling
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| n. 欺骗, 杂耍(=jugglery) adj. 欺骗的, 欺诈的 动词juggle的现在分词 | |
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80
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
shrillness
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| 尖锐刺耳 | |
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82
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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83
contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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84
offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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85
scuttled
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| v.使船沉没( scuttle的过去式和过去分词 )；快跑，急走 | |
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86
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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87
dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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88
thongs
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| 的东西 | |
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89
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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90
numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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91
whacked
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| a.精疲力尽的 | |
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92
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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93
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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94
gauging
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| n.测量[试]，测定，计量v.（用仪器）测量( gauge的现在分词 )；估计；计量；划分 | |
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95
disarming
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| adj.消除敌意的，使人消气的v.裁军( disarm的现在分词 )；使息怒 | |
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96
reprieved
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| v.缓期执行（死刑）( reprieve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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97
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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98
poignancy
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| n.辛酸事，尖锐 | |
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99
bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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100
lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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101
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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102
hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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103
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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104
sips
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| n.小口喝，一小口的量( sip的名词复数 )v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的第三人称单数 ) | |
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105
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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107
requital
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| n.酬劳；报复 | |
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108
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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109
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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110
goad
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| n.刺棒，刺痛物；激励；vt.激励，刺激 | |
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111
decadent
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| adj.颓废的，衰落的，堕落的 | |
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112
wagers
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| n.赌注，用钱打赌( wager的名词复数 )v.在（某物）上赌钱，打赌( wager的第三人称单数 )；保证，担保 | |
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113
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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114
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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115
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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116
concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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117
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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118
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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119
ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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120
mentality
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| n.心理，思想，脑力 | |
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121
concessions
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| n.（尤指由政府或雇主给予的）特许权( concession的名词复数 )；承认；减价；（在某地的）特许经营权 | |
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122
crunching
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| 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 | |
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123
nibbled
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的过去式和过去分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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124
dice
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| n.骰子；vt.把（食物）切成小方块，冒险 | |
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125
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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