她站在碼頭邊，在霧氣中顫抖，臉色蒼白，渾身起了雞皮疙瘩。手中的縫衣針仿佛在跟她講悄悄話。第一課，用尖的那端去刺敵人，劍說，還有，無論如何……絕對……不要……告訴……珊莎！劍身有密肯的記號。只不過是把劍。假如她需要劍，神廟底下有上百把。縫衣針太小了，算不上真正的劍，比玩具強不了多少。瓊恩讓鐵匠鑄這把劍時，她還是個笨得無可救藥的小女孩。“只不過是把劍。”她大聲說出來……

She stood on the end of the dock, pale and goosefleshed and shivering in the fog. In her hand, Needle seemed to whisper to her. Stick them with the pointy end, it said, and, don’t tell Sansa! Mikken’s mark was on the blade. It’s just a sword. If she needed a sword, there were a hundred under the temple. Needle was too small to be a proper sword, it was hardly more than a toy. She’d been a stupid little girl when Jon had it made for her. “It’s just a sword,” she said, aloud this time …

……然而事實并非如此。

… but it wasn’t.

縫衣針是羅柏、布蘭與瑞肯，是母親和父親，甚至是珊莎。縫衣針是臨冬城灰色的墻壘，是城中眾人的歡樂。它是夏天的雪花，是老奶媽的故事，是心樹的紅葉和嚇人的臉龐，是玻璃花園中溫暖的泥土氣息，是將她房間的窗戶吹得嗒嗒作響的北風。縫衣針是瓊恩的微笑。他總愛弄亂我的頭發(fā)，叫我“我的小妹”，她眼中忽然有了淚水。

Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell’s grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan’s stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow’s smile. He used to mess my hair and call me “l(fā)ittle sister,” she remembered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes.

魔山的手下抓住她時，波利佛奪走了那柄劍，但當她和獵狗走進十字路口的客棧，它又物歸原主。這是諸神給我的東西。不是七神，也不是千面之神，而是她父親的神祗，北境古老的舊七神。千面之神可以拿走我所有的東西，她心想，但他拿不走這柄劍。

Polliver had stolen the sword from her when the Mountain’s men took her captive, but when she and the Hound walked into the inn at the crossroads, there it was. The gods wanted me to have it. Not the Seven, nor Him of Many Faces, but her father’s gods, the old gods of the north. The Many-Faced God can have the rest, she thought, but he can’t have this.

她像命名日一樣裸著身子走上臺階，手中緊握縫衣針。走到一半時，腳下有塊石頭松了一下，艾莉亞跪下來，用手指去摳它的邊緣。一開始紋絲不動，但她堅持不懈，指甲刮下碎泥灰，終于有了成果。她悶哼幾聲，雙手用力，挖出一塊石頭。

She padded up the steps as naked as her name day, clutching Needle. Halfway up, one of the stones rocked beneath her feet. Arya knelt and dug around its edges with her fingers. It would not move at first, but she persisted, picking at the crumbling mortar with her nails. Finally, the stone shifted. She grunted and got both hands in and pulled. A crack opened before her.

“你在這兒會很安全，”她告訴縫衣針，“除了我，沒人知道。”她將短劍連鞘推進臺階后面，再把石頭塞回去，使它看起來跟其他階梯一樣。她邊走回神廟邊數(shù)臺階，牢牢記住劍的所在。總有一天她會需要它。“總有一天。”她輕聲對自己承諾。

“You’ll be safe here,” she told Needle. “No one will know where you are but me.” She pushed the sword and sheath behind the step, then shoved the stone back into place, so it looked like all the other stones. As she climbed back to the temple, she counted steps, so she would know where to find the sword again. One day she might have need of it. “One day,” she whispered to herself.

她沒告訴慈祥的人自己做了什么，但他就是知道。第二天晚飯后，他來到她房里。“孩子，”他說，“坐到我身邊。我給你講個故事。”

She never told the kindly man what she had done, yet he knew. The next night he came to her cell after supper. “Child,” he said, “come sit with me. I have a tale to tell you.”

“什么故事？”她警惕地問。

“What kind of tale?” she asked, wary.

“關(guān)于我們起源的故事。既然你想成為我們的一員，就得了解我們是誰，我們從何而來。世上的人們會悄悄談?wù)摬祭鹚沟臒o面者，他們不清楚的是，我們比秘之城本身更古老。我們出現(xiàn)在泰坦巨人興起之前，在烏瑟羅揭開面具之前，在建城之前，我們跟著北方人在布拉佛斯興旺繁盛，但我們的根在瓦雷利亞，誕生于悲慘的奴隸群中，我們的祖先在十四火峰地底深處的礦井里辛苦勞作，正是這些火峰照亮了古自由堡壘的夜晚。普通礦井是黑暗陰冷的場所，自冰冷死寂的石頭中開鑿出來，但十四火峰乃熔巖火山，終日熊熊燃燒著，因此古瓦雷利亞的礦井很熱，隨著井道越鉆越深，溫度也越升越高。奴隸們猶如在烤箱中勞作，周圍的巖石燙得沒法碰，空氣彌漫著硫黃的味道，吸進肺里灼痛難耐，而即使穿上最厚的鞋子，腳底也會被燙出水泡。有時，他們?yōu)閷ふ医鹱悠崎_洞壁，結(jié)果卻遭遇蒸氣、沸水或熔巖。有些井道鑿得十分低矮，奴隸們無法站立，只能爬行或彎腰行走。那泛紅的黑暗之中還有蠕蟲。”

“The tale of our beginnings. If you would be one of us, you had best know who we are and how we came to be. Men may whisper of the Faceless Men of Braavos, but we are older than the Secret City. Before the Titan rose, before the Unmasking of Uthero, before the Founding, we were. We have flowered in Braavos amongst these northern fogs, but we first took root in Valyria, amongst the wretched slaves who toiled in the deep mines beneath the Fourteen Flames that lit the Freehold’s nights of old. Most mines are dank and chilly places, cut from cold dead stone, but the Fourteen Flames were living mountains with veins of molten rock and hearts of fire. So the mines of old Valyria were always hot, and they grew hotter as the shafts were driven deeper, ever deeper. The slaves toiled in an oven. The rocks around them were too hot to touch. The air stank of brimstone and would sear their lungs as they breathed it. The soles of their feet would burn and blister, even through the thickest sandals. Sometimes, when they broke through a wall in search of gold, they would find steam instead, or boiling water, or molten rock. Certain shafts were cut so low that the slaves could not stand upright, but had to crawl or bend. And there were wyrms in that red darkness too.”

“蚯蚓？”她皺眉問。

“Earthworms?” she asked, frowning.

“火蚯蚓。有人說它們是龍的遠族，因為也會噴火。它們無法在天空中翱翔，只能在巖石土壤中鉆洞。假如古老的傳說可信的話，早在巨龍來到之前，十四火峰中就有火蚯蚓。幼蟲跟你細瘦的胳膊差不多大，但它們可以長到巨大無比，而且極端不喜歡人類。”

“Firewyrms. Some say they are akin to dragons, for wyrms breathe fire too. Instead of soaring through the sky, they bore through stone and soil. If the old tales can be believed, there were wyrms amongst the Fourteen Flames even before the dragons came. The young ones are no larger than that skinny arm of yours, but they can grow to monstrous size and have no love for men.”

“它們會殺奴隸嗎？”

“Did they kill the slaves?”

“那些被鉆開的井道中通常會發(fā)現(xiàn)燒得焦黑的尸體。然而礦還是越挖越深，奴隸大量死亡，奴隸主卻不在乎。他們認為紅金、黃金和銀子比奴隸的生命更珍貴，奴隸在古自由堡壘中本不值錢。每逢戰(zhàn)爭，瓦雷利亞人都會俘虜成千上萬的奴隸，和平時期，他們讓奴隸繁衍，其中最差的則被送入地底泛紅的黑暗中等死。”

“Burnt and blackened corpses were oft found in shafts where the rocks were cracked or full of holes. Yet still the mines drove deeper. Slaves perished by the score, but their masters did not care. Red gold and yellow gold and silver were reckoned to be more precious than the lives of slaves, for slaves were cheap in the old Freehold. During war, the Valyrians took them by the thousands. In times of peace they bred them, though only the worst were sent down to die in the red darkness.”

“奴隸們不起來反抗嗎？”

“Didn’t the slaves rise up and fight?”

“有些人反抗過，”他說，“礦井里起義很常見，但收獲甚微。古自由堡壘的龍王們擁有強大的巫術(shù)，弱者挑戰(zhàn)他們是很危險的。第一個無面者就是反抗者之一。”

“Some did,” he said. “Revolts were common in the mines, but few accomplished much. The dragonlords of the old Freehold were strong in sorcery, and lesser men defied them at their peril. The first Faceless Man was one who did.”

“他是誰？”艾莉亞不及細想便脫口而出。

“Who was he?” Arya blurted, before she stopped to think.

“無名之輩，”他回答。“有人認為他本身就是個奴隸，有人堅持說他是自由堡壘的公民，出身于貴族世家，有人甚至會告訴你，他是個同情手下奴隸的監(jiān)工。事實上，沒人真正清楚他的來歷，大家只知道，他在奴隸中活動，聆聽他們的祈禱。上百個國家的子民被抓來在礦井中勞作，每個人都用自己的語言向自己的神禱告，然而祈求的都是同一件事——解脫，終結(jié)痛苦，一件極為普通極其簡單的小事，卻得不到神的回應(yīng)。煎熬無止境地繼續(xù)著。難道世上的神們?nèi)@了嗎？他疑惑地想……直到有天晚上，在泛紅的黑暗中，他明白了。”

“No one,” he answered. “Some say he was a slave himself. Others insist he was a freeholder’s son, born of noble stock. Some will even tell you he was an overseer who took pity on his charges. The truth is, no one knows. Whoever he was, he moved amongst the slaves and would hear them at their prayers. Men of a hundred different nations labored in the mines, and each prayed to his own god in his own tongue, yet all were praying for the same thing. It was release they asked for, an end to pain. A small thing, and simple. Yet their gods made no answer, and their suffering went on. Are their gods all deaf? he wondered … until a realization came upon him, one night in the red darkness.

“所有神祗都有自己的工具，為其效力的善男信女在世間執(zhí)行他們的意志。表面上，奴隸是在向上百個不同的神靈哭喊，其實那是同一個神，有著上百張不同的臉孔而已……而他即是這個神的工具。就在當晚，他選擇了一個景況最悲慘、祈求解脫最迫切的奴隸，將他從痛苦中解放了出來。這就是首次恩賜的由來。”

“All gods have their instruments, men and women who serve them and help to work their will on earth. The slaves were not crying out to a hundred different gods, as it seemed, but to one god with a hundred different faces … and he was that god’s instrument. That very night he chose the most wretched of the slaves, the one who had prayed most earnestly for release, and freed him from his bondage. The first gift had been given.”

艾莉亞向后退開。“他殺了那奴隸？”這不對，“他應(yīng)該殺奴隸主才對！”

Arya drew back from him. “He killed the slave?” That did not sound right. “He should have killed the masters!”

“他也將恩賜帶給了他們……這個故事改天再講，它只屬于不為人知的無名之輩。”他昂起頭，“你是誰，孩子？”

“He would bring the gift to them as well … but that is a tale for another day, one best shared with no one.” He cocked his head. “And who are you, child?”

“無名之輩。”

“No one.”

“你撒謊。”

“A lie.”

“你怎么這么肯定？是魔法嗎？”

“How do you know? Is it magic?”

“用你的眼睛去看，無須魔法就能分辨真?zhèn)巍Ｄ阋獙W習如何解讀表情，如何看眼睛，看嘴巴，看下巴的動作，還有肩頸連接處的肌肉。”他用兩根手指輕輕碰了碰她。“有些人說謊時會眨眼睛，有些人會張大眼睛，有些人會將視線轉(zhuǎn)向別處，有些人會舔嘴唇，還有許多人撒謊前會捂住嘴，仿佛要掩蓋自己的欺騙行為。其他征兆或許更隱蔽，但總是存在。虛假的微笑和真實的微笑在此刻的你眼中也許差不多，實際上它們的區(qū)別猶如黃昏與清晨。你能分辨黃昏與清晨嗎？”

“A man does not need to be a wizard to know truth from falsehood, not if he has eyes. You need only learn to read a face. Look at the eyes. The mouth. The muscles here, at the corners of the jaw, and here, where the neck joins the shoulders.” He touched her lightly with two fingers. “Some liars blink. Some stare. Some look away. Some lick their lips. Many cover their mouths just before they tell a lie, as if to hide their deceit. Other signs may be more subtle, but they are always there. A false smile and a true one may look alike, but they are as different as dusk from dawn. Can you tell dusk from dawn?”

艾莉亞點點頭，盡管她不太確定。

Arya nodded, though she was not certain that she could.

“那么你就可以學習分辨謊言……學成之后，沒有任何秘密能瞞過你。”

“Then you can learn to see a lie … and once you do, no secret will be safe from you.”

“教我。”她愿意當無名之輩，愿意承受這個代價。無名之輩心中沒有空洞。

“Teach me.” She would be no one if that was what it took. No one had no holes inside her.

“她會教你。”流浪兒出現(xiàn)在門外，“從布拉佛斯語開始。若是你既不會說又聽不懂，那還從何做起呢？你也要把你的語言教給她。你們倆互相學習。你愿不愿意？”

“She will teach you,” said the kindly man as the waif appeared outside her door. “Starting with the tongue of Braavos. What use are you if you cannot speak or understand? And you shall teach her your own tongue. The two of you shall learn together, each from the other. Will you do this?”

“愿意。”她回答。于是從此刻起，她成了黑白之院的學徒。她的仆人衣服被取走，得到一件黑白相間的長袍，如同黃油般柔軟，令她想起臨冬城的舊紅毯子。長袍下面，她穿著精紡白亞麻布內(nèi)衣和懸垂過膝的黑襯袍。

“Yes,” she said, and from that moment she was a novice in the House of Black and White. Her servant’s garb was taken away, and she was given a robe to wear, a robe of black and white as buttery soft as the old red blanket she’d once had at Winterfell. Beneath it she wore smallclothes of fine white linen, and a black undertunic that hung down past her knees.

從此以后，她成天和流浪兒在一起，摸摸這個東西，指指那個東西，互相教授語言。起初是簡單詞匯，例如杯子、蠟燭、鞋子，然后逐漸變難，最后是句子。西里歐·佛瑞爾曾讓艾莉亞單腿站立，直到站不住為止，后來又讓她去抓貓。她也曾手握木劍在樹枝上舞蹈。那些都很難，但現(xiàn)在更難。

Thereafter she and the waif spent their time together touching things and pointing, as each tried to teach the other a few words of her own tongue. Simple words at first, cup and candle and shoe; then harder words; then sentences. Once Syrio Forel used to make Arya stand on one leg until she was trembling. Later he sent her chasing after cats. She had danced the water dance on the limbs of trees, a stick sword in her hand. Those things had all been hard, but this was harder.

連針線活都比學語言有趣，她心想，因為前天晚上，她忘了一半自以為已經(jīng)掌握的詞語，剩下的一半發(fā)音也糟糕得很，結(jié)果被流浪兒嘲笑。我學句子就像從前縫針腳一樣亂七八糟。假如那女孩不是餓得如此瘦小，艾莉亞或許會揍她那張笨臉蛋，現(xiàn)下只能咬緊嘴唇。我笨得什么都學不會，我笨得不知道放棄。

Even sewing was more fun than tongues, she told herself, after a night when she had forgotten half the words she thought she knew, and pronounced the other half so badly that the waif had laughed at her. My sentences are as crooked as my stitches used to be. If the girl had not been so small and starved, Arya would have smashed her stupid face. Instead she gnawed her lip. Too stupid to learn and too stupid to give up.

流浪兒學通用語卻比較快。某天晚餐時，她忽然扭頭問艾莉亞，“你是誰？”

The Common Tongue came to the waif more quickly. One day at supper she turned to Arya, and asked, “Who are you?”

“無名之輩。”艾莉亞用布拉佛斯語回答。

“No one,” Arya answered, in Braavosi.

“你撒謊，”流浪兒道，“你必須撒得更好。”

“You lie,” said the waif. “You must lie gooder.”

艾莉亞笑出來，“撒得更好？你的意思是，說謊說得更好吧，真笨。”

Arya laughed. “Gooder? You mean better, stupid.”

“說謊說得更好吧真笨。我來教你撒謊。”

“Better stupid. I will show you.”

第二天，她們便開始了撒謊游戲，彼此輪流問問題。有時候如實回答，有時候則撒謊，提問者必須嘗試分辨真?zhèn)巍０騺喼荒芸坎隆４蠖鄶?shù)時候她都猜錯。

The next day they began the lying game, asking questions of one another, taking turns. Sometimes they would answer truly, sometimes they would lie. The questioner had to try and tell what was true and what was false. The waif always seemed to know. Arya had to guess. Most of the time she guessed wrong.

“你幾歲了？”有一次流浪兒用通用語問她。“十歲。”艾莉亞邊說邊伸出十根手指。她認為自己仍然是十歲，但很難確定。布拉佛斯計算日子的方法跟維斯特洛不同。不過她知道自己的命名日已經(jīng)過了。

“How many years have you?” the waif asked her once, in the Common Tongue. “Ten,” said Arya, and raised ten fingers. She thought she was still ten, though it was hard to know for certain. The Braavosi counted days differently than they did in Westeros. For all she knew her name day had come and gone.

流浪兒點點頭。艾莉亞也點頭回應(yīng)，并用自己最流利的布拉佛斯語問，“你幾歲了？”

The waif nodded. Arya nodded back, and in her best Braavosi said, “How many years have you?”

流浪兒伸出十根手指。然后伸了第二遍，第三遍。接著是六根手指。她的臉仍然靜如止水。她不可能有三十六歲，艾莉亞心想，她是個小女孩。“你撒謊。”她說。流浪兒搖搖頭，又給她演示了一次：十，十，十，六。她告訴艾莉亞“三十六”怎么說，并讓艾莉亞重復。

The waif showed ten fingers. Then ten again, and yet again. Then six. Her face remained as smooth as still water. She can’t be six-and-thirty, Arya thought. She’s a little girl. “You’re lying,” she said. The waif shook her head and showed her once again: ten and ten and ten and six. She said the words for six-and-thirty, and made Arya say them too.

第二天，她把事情告訴慈祥的人。“她沒撒謊，”牧師呵呵笑道，“被你稱做‘流浪兒’的人是個成年女子，終生侍奉千面之神。她將自己的一切都交給了神，一切可能的未來，一切體內(nèi)的活力。”

The next day she told the kindly man what the waif had claimed. “She did not lie,” the priest said, chuckling. “The one you call waif is a woman grown who has spent her life serving Him of Many Faces. She gave Him all she was, all she ever might have been, all the lives that were within her.”

艾莉亞咬緊嘴唇，“我會跟她一樣嗎？”

Arya bit her lip. “Will I be like her?”

“不會，”他說，“除非你希望如此。是毒藥讓她變成現(xiàn)在這個樣子。”

“No,” he said, “not unless you wish it. It is the poisons that have made her as you see her.”

毒藥。她明白了。每晚祈禱之后，流浪兒都要將一個石壺倒空至黑水池中。

Poisons. She understood then. Every evening after prayer the waif emptied a stone flagon into the waters of the black pool.

流浪兒與慈祥的人并非千面之神僅有的仆人。時不時會有其他牧師造訪黑白之院。胖子有一雙兇狠的黑眼睛和一只鷹鉤鼻，寬大的嘴里滿是黃板牙；古板臉從來不笑，他的眼睛是白色，嘴唇又厚又黑；美男子每次來都會變化胡子的顏色，鼻子也不相同，但始終不失英俊。這三個來得最頻繁，偶而也有別的人：斜眼，領(lǐng)主和餓鬼。有回胖子跟斜眼一起來，烏瑪派艾莉亞給他們倒酒。“沒倒酒時，你必須站得跟石像一樣，”慈祥的人告訴她，“能做到嗎？”

The waif and kindly man were not the only servants of the Many-Faced God. From time to time others would visit the House of Black and White. The fat fellow had fierce black eyes, a hook nose, and a wide mouth full of yellow teeth. The stern face never smiled; his eyes were pale, his lips full and dark. The handsome man had a beard of a different color every time she saw him, and a different nose, but he was never less than comely. Those three came most often, but there were others: the squinter, the lordling, the starved man. One time the fat fellow and the squinter came together. Umma sent Arya to pour for them. “When you are not pouring, you must stand as still as if you had been carved of stone,” the kindly man told her. “Can you do that?”

“能。”習動先習靜，西里歐·佛瑞爾很久以前在君臨城教導她，這也成為了她的信條之一。她曾在赫倫堡當過盧斯·波頓的侍酒，要是把他的酒灑了，他會剝你的皮。

“Yes.” Before you can learn to move you must learn to be still, Syrio Forel had taught her long ago at King’s Landing, and she had. She had served as Roose Bolton’s cupbearer at Harrenhal, and he would flay you if you spilled his wine.

“好，”慈祥的人說，“你還是瞎子和聾子。你也許會聽到一些事，但必須一只耳朵進一只耳朵出。不能聽進去。”

“Good,” the kindly man said. “It would be best if you were blind and deaf as well. You may hear things, but you must let them pass in one ear and out the other. Do not listen.”

艾莉亞那天晚上聽到許多對話，大多是布拉佛斯語，她能理解的連十分之一都不到。不動如石，她告訴自己，于是最難的部分成了竭力遏制打哈欠。晚餐還沒結(jié)束，她便開始精神恍惚。她手捧酒壺，夢到自己是一頭狼，在月光下的森林里自由奔馳，身后跟著的龐大狼群發(fā)出陣陣嗥叫。

Arya heard much and more that night, but almost all of it was in the tongue of Braavos, and she hardly understood one word in ten. Still as stone, she told herself. The hardest part was struggling not to yawn. Before the night was done, her wits were wandering. Standing there with the flagon in her hands, she dreamed she was a wolf, running free through a moonlit forest with a great pack howling at her heels.

“其他人也是牧師嗎？”第二天早晨她問慈祥的人，“他們都以真面目示人嗎？”

“Are the other men all priests?” she asked the kindly man the next morning. “Were those their real faces?”

“你怎么想，孩子？”

“What do you think, child?”

她認為不是。“賈昆·赫加爾是牧師嗎？賈昆會不會回布拉佛斯？”

She thought no. “Is Jaqen H’ghar a priest too? Do you know if Jaqen will be coming back to Braavos?”

“誰？”他完全一無所知。

“Who?” he said, all innocence.

“賈昆·赫加爾。他給了我那枚鐵幣。”

“Jaqen H’ghar. He gave me the iron coin.”

“我不認識叫這個名字的人，孩子。”

“I know no one by this name, child.”

“我問他怎么變臉，他說跟換名字一樣簡單，只要你了解方法。”

“I asked him how he changed his face, and he said it was no harder than taking a new name, if you knew the way.”

“是嗎？”

“Did he?”

“你能不能教我變臉？”

“Will you show me how to change my face?”

“沒問題。”他說著托起她的下巴，將她的頭轉(zhuǎn)過來。“鼓起腮幫子，伸出舌頭。”

“If you wish.” He cupped her chin in his hand and turned her head. “Puff up your cheeks and stick out your tongue.”

艾莉亞鼓起腮幫子，伸出舌頭。

Arya puffed up her cheeks and stuck out her tongue.

“好。你變臉了。”

“There. Your face is changed.”

“我不是這個意思。賈昆用了魔法。”

“That’s not how I meant. Jaqen used magic.”

“巫術(shù)都是有代價的，孩子。獲取真正的魔力需要多年的祈禱、奉獻和學習。”

“All sorcery comes at a cost, child. Years of prayer and sacrifice and study are required to work a proper glamor.”

“多年？”她沮喪地說。

“Years?” she said, dismayed.

“若是容易的話，任何人都能做到。對你而言，奔跑之前先學走路，在戲子的把戲就能達到目的的場合，何必求助魔法？”

“If it were easy all men would do it. You must walk before you run. Why use a spell, where mummer’s tricks will serve?”

“我連戲子的把戲都不會。”

“I don’t know any mummer’s tricks either.”

“從扮鬼臉開始練習。皮膚下面是肌肉。學著運用它們。你的臉長在你身上。臉頰，嘴唇，耳朵。微笑和憤怒不該像風暴一樣忽去忽來。笑容應(yīng)是仆人，當你召喚時才出現(xiàn)。學習控制你的臉。

“Then practice making faces. Beneath your skin are muscles. Learn to use them. It is your face. Your cheeks, your lips, your ears. Smiles and scowls should not come upon you like sudden squalls. A smile should be a servant, and come only when you call it. Learn to rule your face.”

“教我怎樣做。”

“Show me how.”

“鼓起臉頰。”她鼓起臉頰。“抬起眉毛。不，再高點。”她又抬起眉毛。“好。看你能保持多久。現(xiàn)在還長不了。明天早上再試。地窖里有塊密爾鏡子。每天在它面前練習一小時。眼睛，鼻孔，臉頰，耳朵，嘴唇，學習控制所有這一切。”他托起她下巴。“你是誰？”

“Puff up your cheeks.” She did. “Lift your eyebrows. No, higher.” She did that too. “Good. See how long you can hold that. It will not be long. Try it again on the morrow. You will find a Myrish mirror in the vaults. Train before it for an hour every day. Eyes, nostrils, cheeks, ears, lips, learn to rule them all.” He cupped her chin. “Who are you?”

“無名之輩。”

“No one.”

“謊言。可悲的謊言，孩子。”

“A lie. A sad little lie, child.”

第二天她找到那塊密爾鏡子，然后每天早晚都坐在它面前扮鬼臉，兩邊各點上一支蠟燭照明。控制你的臉，她告訴自己，你就能撒謊。

She found the Myrish mirror the next day, and every morn and every night she sat before it with a candle on each side of her, making faces. Rule your face, she told herself, and you can lie.

此后不久，慈祥的人命她去幫侍僧處理尸體。其實這比替威斯擦樓梯輕松多了：有的尸體肥胖高大，她鉚足勁才搬得動，然而大多數(shù)死者都是皮包骨頭，干干瘦瘦的老人。艾莉亞一邊清洗，一邊觀察，琢磨著他們?yōu)楹螘淼胶谒剡叀Ｋ€記得老奶媽講的一個故事，故事里說，在某個漫長的冬季，一群活得太久的人宣布自己要去打獵。他們的女兒嗚咽哭泣，他們的兒子將臉轉(zhuǎn)向火堆，她仿佛仍能聽到老奶媽的聲音，但沒人阻攔，也沒人詢問他們打算在這深深的積雪和呼號的寒風中捕什么獵。她不知這些布拉佛斯老人在前往黑白之院前是如何跟子女們說的。

Soon thereafter the kindly man commanded her to help the other acolytes prepare the corpses. The work was not near as hard as scrubbing steps for Weese. Sometimes if the corpse was big or fat she would struggle with the weight, but most of the dead were old dry bones in wrinkled skins. Arya would look at them as she washed them, wondering what brought them to the black pool. She remembered a tale she had heard from Old Nan, about how sometimes during a long winter men who’d lived beyond their years would announce that they were going hunting. And their daughters would weep and their sons would turn their faces to the fire, she could hear Old Nan saying, but no one would stop them, or ask what game they meant to hunt, with the snows so deep and the cold wind howling. She wondered what the old Braavosi told their sons and daughters, before they set off for the House of Black and White.

月亮一輪又一輪地變換形狀，但艾莉亞完全看不到。她在黑白之院中侍奉，清洗死者，學習布拉佛斯語，就著鏡子扮鬼臉，試圖記住自己是無名之輩。

The moon turned and turned again, though Arya never saw it. She served, washed the dead, made faces at the mirrors, learned the Braavosi tongue, and tried to remember that she was no one.

有一天，慈祥的人傳喚她。“你的口音太糟糕，”他說，“但積累的詞匯已勉強能讓別人明白意思。該是讓你暫時離開我們的時候了。要想真正掌握我們的語言，只有每天從早到晚地講，不停地講。你走吧。”

One day the kindly man sent for her. “Your accent is a horror,” he said, “but you have enough words to make your wants understood after a fashion. It is time that you left us for a while. The only way you will ever truly master our tongue is if you speak it every day from dawn to dusk. You must go.”

“什么時候？”她問他，“去哪兒？”

“When?” she asked him. “Where?”

“現(xiàn)在，”他回答，“去神廟之外。布拉佛斯是海中的上百島嶼，你已經(jīng)學會怎么說蚌殼、扇貝、蛤蜊，對不對？”

“Now,” he answered. “Beyond these walls you will find the hundred isles of Braavos in the sea. You have been taught the words for mussels, cockles, and clams, have you not?”

“對。”她用自己最好的布拉佛斯語重復了一遍這些名詞。

“Yes.” She repeated them, in her best Braavosi.

她最好的布拉佛斯語讓他露出笑容。“行了。去水淹鎮(zhèn)下面的碼頭，找一個叫布魯斯科的魚販，他是個好人，可惜背不大好使，他需要一個女孩，推著他的小車售賣蚌殼、扇貝和蛤蜊給船上下來的水手。你就是那個女孩。明白嗎？”

Her best Braavosi made him smile. “It will serve. Along the wharves below the Drowned Town you will find a fishmonger named Brusco, a good man with a bad back. He has need of a girl to push his barrow and sell his cockles, clams, and mussels to the sailors off the ships. You shall be that girl. Do you understand?”

“明白。”

“Yes.”

“假如布魯斯科問起你，你是誰？”

“And when Brusco asks, who are you?”

“無名之輩。”

“No one.”

“不。那不行，在黑白之院外不行。”

“No. That will not serve, outside this House.”

她猶豫片刻。“我是阿鹽，來自鹽場鎮(zhèn)。”

She hesitated. “I could be Salty, from Saltpans.”

“特尼西奧·特里斯和泰坦之女號上的人們認識阿鹽。你的口音很特別，因此肯定來自維斯特洛……但我想應(yīng)該是另一個女孩。”

“Salty is known to Ternesio Terys and the men of the Titan’s Daughter. You are marked by the way you speak, so you must be some girl of Westeros … but a different girl, I think.”

她咬緊嘴唇，“可以叫我凱特嗎？也就是‘貓兒’？”

She bit her lip. “Could I be Cat?”

“凱特。貓兒。”他考慮了一會兒。“好。布拉佛斯到處是貓。多一只也不會引人注目。你就是貓兒，一個孤兒，來自……”

“Cat.” He considered. “Yes. Braavos is full of cats. One more will not be noticed. You are Cat, an orphan of …”

“君臨。”她曾隨父親兩次造訪白港，但更熟悉君臨。

“King’s Landing.” She had visited White Harbor with her father twice, but she knew King’s Landing better.

“就是這樣。你父親是一艘劃槳船上的槳手長。你母親死后，他帶你一起出海，接著他也死了，船長覺得你沒用，就在布拉佛斯把你趕下了船。那艘船叫什么名字？”

“Just so. Your father was oarmaster on a galley. When your mother died, he took you off to sea with him. Then he died as well, and his captain had no use for you, so he put you off the ship in Braavos. And what was the name of the ship?”

“娜梅莉亞。”她立刻接道。

“Nymeria,” she said at once.

當晚，她便離開了黑白之院，右腰插著一把長長的鐵匕首，隱藏在斗篷下面，那是一件打過補丁，又褪了色的斗篷，適合孤兒穿。她的鞋子夾腳，漏風的上衣破舊不堪，但想到展現(xiàn)在眼前的布拉佛斯，一切都無所謂了。夜晚的空氣中有煙塵、鹽和魚的味道，運河曲折蜿蜒，街巷更加離奇，人們好奇地看著她經(jīng)過，乞兒們朝她叫喊。她聽不懂，完全迷了路。

That night she left the House of Black and White. A long iron knife rode on her right hip, hidden by her cloak, a patched and faded thing of the sort an orphan might wear. Her shoes pinched her toes and her tunic was so threadbare that the wind cut right through it. But Braavos lay before her. The night air smelled of smoke and salt and fish. The canals were crooked, the alleys crookeder. Men gave her curious looks as she went past, and beggar children called out words she could not understand. Before long she was completely lost.

“格雷果爵士，”她一邊念誦，一邊踏上四拱石橋。在橋中央，她看到舊衣販碼頭的船桅。“鄧森，‘甜嘴’拉夫，伊林爵士，馬林爵士，瑟曦太后。”雨水嘩啦啦地下，艾莉亞仰頭望天，讓雨點落在臉頰上，猶如愉快的舞蹈。“Valar morghulis.”她說，“Valar morghulis，Valar morghulis.”

“Ser Gregor,” she chanted, as she crossed a stone bridge supported by four arches. From the center of its span she could see the masts of ships in the Ragman’s Harbor. “Dunsen, Raff the Sweetling, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei.” Rain began to fall. Arya turned her face up to let the raindrops wash her cheeks, so happy she could dance. “Valar morghulis,” she said, “valar morghulis, valar morghulis.”