Three of them? four? five? Ser Waymar may have felt the cold that came with them, but he never saw them, never heard them. 三个……四个……五个……，威玛爵士或许能感觉伴随他们而来的寒意，但他既没看到它们、也没听见它们的声音。

Will had to call out. It was his duty. And his death, if he did. He shivered, and hugged the tree, and kept the silence. 威尔应该警告他，毕竟那是他职责所在。然而一旦出声，他便必死无疑。于是他颤抖着紧抱树干，不敢作声。

The pale sword came shivering through the air. 惨白的长剑厉声破空。

Ser Waymar met it with steel. When the blades met, there was no ring of metal on metal; 威玛爵士举起钢剑迎敌。当两剑交击，发出的却非金属碰撞，

only a high, thin sound at the edge of hearing, like an animal screaming in pain.  而是一种位于人类听觉极限边缘，又高又细，像是动物痛苦哀嚎的声音。

Royce checked a second blow, and a third, then fell back a step. Another flurry of blows, and he fell back again. 罗伊斯挡住第二道攻击，接着是第三道，然后退了一步。又一阵刀光剑影之后，他再度后退。

Behind him, to right, to left, all around him, the watchers stood patient, faceless, silent, 在他左右两侧，前后周围，其余异鬼耐心地伫立旁观。它们一声不吭，面无表情，

the shifting patterns of their delicate armor making them all but invisible in the wood. Yet they made no move to interfere. 盔甲上不断变化的细致图案在树林中格外显眼。它们迟迟未出手干预。

Again and again the swords met, until Will wanted to cover his ears against the strange anguished keening of their clash. 两人不断交手，直到威尔想要捂住耳朵，再也无法忍受武器碰撞时刺耳的诡异声响。

Ser Waymar was panting from the effort now, his breath steaming in the moonlight. 威玛爵士的呼吸开始急促，呼出的气在月光下蒸腾如烟。

His blade was white with frost; the Other's danced with pale blue light. 他的长剑已结满白霜，异鬼的剑则依旧闪耀着苍蓝光芒。

Then Royce's parry came a beat too late. The pale sword bit through the ringmail beneath his arm. 这时罗伊斯一记挡格慢了一拍，惨白色的剑顿时咬穿他腋下环甲。

The young lord cried out in pain. Blood welled between the rings. It steamed in the cold, 年轻贵族痛苦地喊了一声，鲜血流淌在铁环间，炽热的血液在冷空气中蒸汽朦朦，

and the droplets seemed red as fire where they touched the snow. Ser Waymar's fingers brushed his side. 滴到雪地的血泊，红得像火。威玛爵士伸手按住伤口，

His moleskin glove came away soaked with red. 鼹鼠皮手套整个浸成鲜红。