Wordlessly, Tyrion limped away. The cold had settled deep in his bones, and his legs were so sore he could scarcely walk.  提利昂一言不发，跛着脚走开。他只觉寒意彻骨，两腿酸痛得几乎无法走动。

　　Perhaps his dead mare was the lucky one.  或许他的母马死了反而幸运，

　　He had hours more riding ahead of him, followed by a few mouthfuls of food and a short, cold sleep on hard ground,  因为他自己还有得走咧。每天晚上吃点东西，在坚硬又寒冷的岩地上小睡片刻，便又上路，

　　and then another night of the same, and another, and another, and the gods only knew how it would end.  如此日复一日，只有天上诸神知道何时才是尽头。

　　Damn her, he muttered as he struggled up the road to rejoin his captors, remembering, damn her and all the Starks. 去她的，他喃喃道，一边挣扎着上坡回到绑架他的人身边，一边忆起发生过的事。姓史塔克的都该死。

　　The memory was still bitter. One moment he'd been ordering supper,  之前的经过，现在回想起来，依然很不好受。前一秒他才刚点晚餐，

　　and an eye blink later he was facing a room of armed men, with Jyck reaching for a sword and the fat innkeep shrieking, No swords, not here, please, m'lords. 一眨眼全屋子的人却都拔刀相向，杰克也准备抽出武器，肥胖的老板娘则尖叫道：各位大人，求求你们别在这儿动刀动枪。

　　Tyrion wrenched down Jyck's arm hurriedly, before he got them both hacked to pieces. Where are your courtesies, Jyck?  提利昂赶在他们两个一起被剁成肉块前抓住杰克的胳膊。杰克，你的礼貌哪儿去了？

　　Our good hostess said no swords. Do as she asks. He forced a smile that must have looked as queasy as it felt.  咱们好心的老板娘不是说别动刀动枪吗？还不快照办。他勉强挤出一丝微笑，心想在别人眼里一定难看。

　　You're making a sad mistake, Lady Stark. I had no part in any attack on your son. On my honor... 史塔克夫人，我想您一定是弄错了，我跟贵公子的事一点关系也没有。我以我的荣誉起誓—

　　Lannister honor, was all she said. She held up her hands for all the room to see. His dagger left these scars.  兰尼斯特的荣誉。她只说了这句，便举起手让全屋子的人看。这伤疤是他的匕首留下的。

　　The blade he sent to open my son's throat. 他派人用那把刀来割我儿子的喉咙。

　　Tyrion felt the anger all around him, thick and smoky, fed by the deep cuts in the Stark woman's hands.  提利昂只感觉周遭人众的怒火上升，被那史塔克女人手上的伤煽动得简直要冒烟。