Chapter 48 Chapter 48 Arya

"It's haunted, really." Hot Pie was kneading bread, covered in flour from palm to elbow. "Pia came across something in the storage room last night." Arya swore a foul word.Pia often sees things in the storage room.Usually a man. "Can I have a jam pie?" she asked. "You baked a whole pan." "I need a whole plate. Ser Amory will do just that." She hated Ser Amory. "Then we'll spit on it." Hot Pie looked around nervously.The kitchen was full of shadows and echoes, and the other cooks and servants slept in cavernous lofts above the stove. "He'll find out!"

"No," said Arya, "I can't drool." "If he eats it, I'll be the one to be whipped." Hot Pie stopped kneading the dough. "You shouldn't even be here. It's late at night." True, but Arya didn't care.Even in the dark of night, the kitchen never stopped working, and there was always someone on duty: kneading dough for bread, stirring soup with a long wooden spoon, or slaughtering a pig for Sir Amory's breakfast bacon.Tonight it's Hot Pie's turn. "If Pinkeye wakes up and finds you're not there—" Hot Pie said.

"Pink-eye won't wake up," his real name was Mabel, but everyone called him "Pink-eye" because his eyes were always sticky. "Sleeping like a dead pig." Take ale for breakfast, and after dinner, go to sleep drunk, even the spittle flowing in the dream is the color of wine.Arya had only to wait for him to snore, and then she could creep up the servants' stairs barefoot, making a noise like a mouse.She has become a mouse, and she doesn't use candles, big or small.Syrio had told her that darkness was a friend, and he was right, moonlight and starlight were enough. "I bet we could escape, I didn't even know Pinkeye," she told Hot Pie.

"I don't want to run away. It's so nice to be here, much better than the barren mountains and wild forests. I don't want to eat bugs. Come, help me sprinkle some flour on the board." Arya pricked up her ears, "What's that?" "What? I didn't—" "Listen with your ears, not your mouth. It's a battle horn, blown twice, don't you hear it? There's also the sound of the iron chain being pulled on the gate. Either someone wants to go out or someone wants to come in. Do you want to see it? ?” The gates of Harrenhal had not been opened since Lord Tywin set off that morning.

"I'm making breakfast bread," Hot Pie complained. "And—and I told you, I hate the dark." "Then I'll go see it alone, and I'll tell you later. Can I have a jam pie?" "no." She stole one anyway and ate it as she walked.Thin, crispy pie crust stuffed with chopped nuts, fruit and cheese, fresh out of the oven and still warm.Stealing Ser Amory's jam pie makes Arya feel heroic.Barefoot, steady and light, she sang softly, I am a ghost at Harrenhal. The horn woke up the sleeping castle, and everyone went to the yard to see what happened, and Arya mixed in with the crowd.A train of bullock carts rumbled into the gate, and she knew the looted property at a glance.The riders of the escort convoy muttered strange languages, their armor gleamed faintly in the moonlight, and she saw two black and white striped horses.It's a troupe of blood.Arya shrank into the shadows.Bullock carts brought in a large black bear in a cage, and other carts were laden with silver, weapons, shields, sacks of flour, litters of screaming pigs, and scrawny dogs and chickens.Arya was counting how long she hadn't had a roast pork when the captives walked in.

He held his head proudly, and from his manner and dress he must have been a lord.She thought it was a Lannister when she saw the gleaming mail under his ripped red coat, but as he passed by the torch she saw that his sigil was a silver gauntlet, not a lion.His wrists were tied tightly, and the ropes at his ankles connected him to the people behind him, and the ropes connected with each other: the whole queue could only move slowly and swaying at a consistent pace.Many were wounded, but if anyone stopped, the rider would run up and whip him, driving him on.She tried to count the total number of captives, but got confused at fifty, only knowing that the total was at least twice that number.Their coats were muddy and bloody, and in the light of the torches it was hard to make out the heraldry, but at a glance she recognized some of it: the Twin Towers, the Sunburst, the Flayed Man, the battle-axe... the battle-axe It was the Savins, and the sun in the black was the Karstarks.They were the Northmen, father's men, Robb's men.She didn't want to think about what that meant.

The members of the blood troupe dismounted one by one.The stable boy rubbed his sleepy eyes, climbed out of the straw pile, and took care of their half-tired horses.Someone was yelling for wine.The noise woke Ser Amory Lodge, and he came to the vaulted balcony above the yard, attended by a man on the left and right with a torch.Vargo Hurt of the Goat Helm reined in the reins below. "My lord, acting castellan," the mercenary greeted.His voice was muffled, as if his tongue was too big to fit in his mouth. "What's the matter, Hurt?" Ser Amory asked, frowning. "Captives taken. Ruth Bolton tried to cross the river, but our warrior ship smashed his vanguard. Killed many, but Bolton escaped. This is their vanguard officer, Gro Buddha, that one in the back is Ser Aenys Frey." (Note: The translator used some typos here, and modified them on his own initiative, please read Hurt's words inarticulately:-D)

Ser Amory stared down at his bound captives with his piggy eyes.Arya didn't think he was happy, and the whole town knew he didn't get along with Vargo Hurt. "Very well," he said, "Ser Kedwin, throw these men into the dungeon." The lord with steel gauntlets on his coat raised his head. "You promised us courtesy—" he began. "Shut up!" Vargo Hurt hissed at him, spitting. Sir Amory turned to the captives: "Hert's pledge has nothing to do with me. Lord Tywin has appointed me as castellan of Harrenhal, and I can do what I like." He gestured to the guards. "The prison under the Widow's Tower should be able to accommodate everyone. Anyone who doesn't want to go can die here."

As his men drove the captives away with spear points, Arya saw Pinkeye finally appear in the stairwell, blinking in the firelight.He would have shouted and threatened to whip her if he found her missing, but she wasn't afraid.He is not Weiss.He threatened to hit one and another, but Arya had never seen him hit anyone.Of course, it was best not to let him see it.She looked around. Cattle were being unharnessed and trucks were being unloaded, members of the Warriors were clamoring for drinks, and curious people were watching the bears in their cages.In chaos, it's easy to sneak away.She called and left quietly, hoping to escape without a trace before being found and taken to work.

Beyond the gates and stables, the vast castle was almost entirely deserted.The noise gradually subsided.The whirlwind blew, and the cracks in the stones of the Wailing Tower emitted high-pitched and terrifying screams.The godswood had begun to shed its leaves, and the leaves drifted with the wind across the abandoned courtyard and the empty buildings, rubbing stones and making a slight sound.Now that Harrenhal was empty again, the sound had a strange effect.Sometimes the stone sucks sound away, wrapping the courtyard in a blanket of silence; sometimes the echo takes on a life of its own, and every footfall becomes a step of an army of ghosts, and every voice from afar becomes a feast of ghostly laughter.The strange noises bother Hot Pie, but not Arya.

Quiet as a shadow, she sailed safely across the atrium, skirting the Tower of Terror, and through the empty falconry where, it is said, the ghost of the dead falcon still stirs the air with its void wings.She felt so free, she could go wherever she wanted.The garrison was less than one hundred, such a small army was completely swallowed by the huge Harrenhal, so the Hundred Hearth Hall was closed together with many secondary buildings, and even the Wailing Tower was abandoned.Ser Amory Lodge lived in the lord's suite in the Burning King's Tower, which was as spacious as the residence of the great nobles. Arya and other servants also moved into the cellar under the tower, so that they could be called nearby.When Duke Tywin was there, there were soldiers questioning everywhere, but now a hundred people guard a thousand doors, no one knows who is where, and no one cares about the whereabouts of others. Arya heard the clang of hammers as she passed the smithy.The tall windows reflected the dark orange firelight.She climbed up to the roof and peeked down, and saw Gendry working on a breastplate. He was working so intently that it seemed as if all the world was left with metal and bellows and fire, and the hammer was part of the arm.She watched the movement of his chest muscles and listened to the music he made of steel.He's so strong, she thought.As he picked up the long-handled tongs and lifted the breastplate into the tempered sink, Arya slid down the window and jumped to the ground beside him. He didn't seem surprised, "Little sister, it's time to go to bed." He dipped the breastplate in cold water, and the armor made a cat-like "hissing" sound, "It's so noisy outside, what's going on?" "Vargo Hurt brought back some captives. I saw their arms, and one of the Glover's in Deepwood Motte was my father's. Most of the others, too." Suddenly, Arya understood herself Why walk here. "Help me and get them out." Gendry laughed. "How do we do that?" "Ser Amory put them in the dungeon, the big cell under the Widow's Tower. You can break the door open with your hammer—" "You thought the guards would watch and bet I'd have to swing it a few times to break it?" Arya bit her lip. "We have to kill the guards." "How to kill?" "There aren't many of them." "Even if there are only two, it's still too much for you and me. In the fishing village, haven't you learned your lesson yet? You have to try it and guarantee that your hands and feet will be cut off by Wag Hutt. Don't forget, this It's his style." Gendry picked up the pliers again. "You're scared." "Leave me alone, little sister." "Gendley, there's a hundred Northmen out there, maybe more than I can count, not less than Sir Morley's anyway. Well, I'm not counting the Mummers, but let them out and we'll Surely we can take the castle and escape." "Forget it, you can't let them go, just like you can't save Romy." Gendry flipped the breastplate with the pliers and inspected it carefully. "Even if we can escape, where are we going?" "To Winterfell," she answered immediately. "I'll tell mother how you helped me, and you can stay in—" "Will I win your favor, Miss? From now on, I will put iron shoes on your horse and forge swords for your noble brothers?" Sometimes he's just annoying. "Don't be so stupid!" "It's the same sweat and effort. Why should I bet my feet and exchange Winterfell for Harrenhal? Do you know 'Black Thumb' old Ben? And her father and grandfather were blacksmiths, and even served the Rothsteins before the Hean family took over Harrenhal. Now he's Lord Tywin's blacksmith, you know what he says? A sword is a sword, and a helm is a helm, Put your hand in the fire and you'll burn—these things don't matter who you work for. All in all, Lucan was a good master, and I'm staying." "You'll be caught by the queen! 'Black Thumb' Ben has no one to catch!" "It's likely not me that the golden robe wants." "That's strange! It's you, you know very well: you are an important person." "I'm an apprentice blacksmith, and I might become a weapons master one day... as long as I don't do something stupid like run away and lose my feet or even my life." He turned his back and raised his hammer to strike again.Arya clenched her hands into fists helplessly. "Next time you make a helmet, change the horns into mule ears!" If she didn't run fast, she couldn't help but beat him.Even if I beat him, this idiot won't feel it!Well, when they find out who he is and chop off the mule's head, he'll regret not helping me.It would be better if he didn't participate. In that fishing village, he was the one who got her arrested. When she thought of the fishing village, she thought of the long trek, the warehouse, the notepad, the little boy whose face had been flattened with a mace, the old fool "It's all about Joffrey," and Lommy the Green Hand.I used to be a sheep, but now I am a mouse, and I can only hide and hide.Arya bit her lip, trying to find her courage.Jaqen gave me courage, he made me a ghost of Harrenhal, not just a mouse. She had been hiding from the Loras since Wyse's death.Chiswick's death is easy to say, anyone can push people off the city wall, but Wes's ugly dalmatian was raised by him since he was a child, and he must have used some kind of black magic to make this animal betray him .Yoren had dug Jaqen, Rorge, and Fang out of the dungeon, and she remembered that Jaqen must have done something terrible. Yoren knew that, and that was why he had chained him.If the Lorasian was a wizard, then Rorge and Fang were demons he'd summoned from hell, and they weren't human at all. Jaqen still owes her his life.In Old Nan's story, the genie makes people make wishes, but be careful with the third wish, because it's the last wish.Neither Chiswick nor Weese mattered, a third life must have value, Arya told herself every night as she repeated the names.Now while running and thinking, she suddenly suspected the real reason for her indecision.Yes, she can kill someone with just a whisper, so she doesn't need to be afraid of anyone... But once the last place is used, she will turn back into a mouse. Pinkeye had woken up, and she was afraid to go back to sleep, but she didn't know where to hide, so she went to the godswood.She loved the pungent smell of pine and sentinel, the feel of grass and dirt squeezed between her toes, the sound of wind blowing leaves.A meandering stream flows slowly through the forest.A tree fell down and there was a small hole underneath. Under rotting wood and twisted twigs, she found her sword. Gendry was too stubborn to do it to her, so she picked broom stubble herself to use as a sword.This sword is too light and has no handle, but the tip of the sword is still unevenly sharp. As long as she is free on weekdays, she will sneak over to practice the skills taught by Syrio.She moves barefoot among fallen leaves, chops off branches, knocks down leaves, and even climbs onto trees, jumping and dancing from branch to branch.She clings to the branch with her toes and walks back and forth, less and less wobbly as her sense of balance builds.The best time to practice is at night, when no one disturbs her. This time, Arya climbed the tree again.Standing high in the kingdom of leaves, she draws her sword and forgets all about Ser Amory, the Mummers, and her father's men for a moment, reveling in the gnarled branches under her feet and swinging her broom in the air In the thrill of the sword.The broken branch turned into Joffrey, and she kept attacking until it fell.The Queen, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, and the Hound were just leaves, and she chopped them down mercilessly, smashing them into little green splinters.Tired of swinging her arms, she sat on a high branch with her feet up, panting in the cool, dark air, listening to the squeaking and screeching of hunting bats.Through the luxuriant canopy, she saw the bone-like branches of the heart tree.Exactly the same as Winterfell.Is it really that tree? … Did she just have to climb down and be home again, and even find her father sitting under the weir tree as usual. So she tucked her sword into her girdle and slid back down the high and low branches to the ground, toward the weirwood.The moonlight dyes its branches silvery white, but the five-pointed red leaves are dark in the night.Arya stared at the face carved into the trunk of the tree. It was a horrible face, with a twisted mouth and sharp, hateful eyes.Is this what the gods look like?Will the gods be harmed like mortals?I should pray to them, she thought suddenly. Arya fell to her knees, not knowing how to begin.She put her hands together, please help me, old gods, she prayed silently, help me release those people from the dungeon, kill Ser Amory, and then take me back to Winterfell, home.Let me be a water dancer, be a direwolf, never be afraid. Is this enough?Have the ancient gods heard?Should it be said out loud?Maybe... it's time to pray longer, remembering that my father often prayed for a long time.But the ancient gods didn't help him, and she was annoyed thinking about it. "You should save him," she couldn't help scolding the tree. "He's been praying to you all the time. I don't care if you help me. Anyway, even if you want to help, I don't think you can..." "Girls must not mock the gods." The sound startled her.She drew her wooden sword and jumped up.Jaqen H'ghar stood in the darkness, motionless as a tree in a forest. "Someone to hear the names. One two and a third. Someone to finish what needs to be done." Arya lowered her broken sword and pointed it at the ground. "How do you know I'm here?" "One's eyes will see. One's ears will hear. One's eyes will see." She stared at him suspiciously. Had the gods sent him? "How did you let the dog kill Wes? Did you summon Rorger and Fang from hell? Is your name really Jaqen H'ghar?" "Someone with many names. Weasel. Ali. Arya." She backed up until her back touched the heart tree. "What did Gendry say?" "Someone has insight," he repeated. "Miss Stark." Perhaps his presence was really the gods' answer to her prayers. "I want your help, get those people out of the dungeon. Free that Glover, and everyone else. We've got to find a way to kill the guards, open the cell door—" "The girl forgot," he said calmly. "She has three lives, and she has claimed two so far. Tell me which guard you want to kill, and tell his name." "One guard is not enough. You have to kill them all before you can open the cell." Arya bit her lip hard to keep herself from crying. "I want you to save those northerners as I saved you." He looked down at her without a trace of sympathy. "The girl took three lives that belonged to him. The girl has to pay with three lives. Don't lie to the gods." His voice was like silk and steel. "I didn't lie." She thought for a while. "Name... I say anyone's name? Will you kill him?" Jaqen H'ghar nodded. "Someone walks the talk." "Anyone?" she repeated. "Men, women, children, or Lord Tywin? Or the Archbishop? Or your father?" "A certain person Gao Tang has passed away long ago. If he is still alive and you can name him, his life and death are at your disposal." "You swear," said Arya, "to the gods." "By all the gods of sea and air, and moreover the god of fire, I swear." He put a hand in the weirwood's mouth. "In the name of the Newborn Seven Gods and many ancient gods, I make this oath." He swore. "Even though I'm talking about the king..." "When the name is spoken, death comes. Maybe the next day, maybe every other month, maybe the next year, death will never leave. Someone can't fly without wings, but step by step, one day he will achieve his goal, and the king will die." He knelt In front of her, they faced each other. "A girl may whisper if she is afraid. Speak quickly, is it not Joffrey?" Arya brought her lips to his ear. "It's Jaqen H'ghar." Even in the burning barn, surrounded by roaring flames and bound by iron chains, he did not panic at this moment. "Girl... just kidding." "You swore. The gods heard your oath." "The gods heard," suddenly a knife appeared in his hand, the blade was as thin as her little finger.Arya didn't know if he was going to kill herself or her. "Girls will cry. Girls will lose their only friend." "You are not my friend. If you are a friend, you will help me." She took a step back, balancing her body on her toes, in case he shot the knife in case. "I don't kill friends." Jaqen's smile was fleeting. "If a friend will help, maybe the girl can... change her name?" "Girls might," she said. "If a friend will help." The knife disappeared. "follow me." "Now?" She didn't expect him to act immediately. "Someone hears the whisper of the hourglass. Someone won't sleep until the girl calls back the name. Come on, vicious child." I am not a wicked child, she thought, I am a direwolf, a ghost of Harrenhal.She hid the broomblade back where it was and followed him out of the godswood. Although it was late at night, Harrenhal was full of life, just because Vargo Hurt's arrival completely disrupted the daily routine.At this moment, the vehicles, cattle and horses in the courtyard have disappeared, only the bear cage remains.It was hung on the arch bridge that separated the outer court from the atrium, suspended by heavy iron chains, a few feet above the ground, and a circle of torches bathed it in bright light.Some stableboys were throwing stones at the bear, making it growl and growl.Across the yard, light came through the door of the barracks hall, accompanied by the clinking of glasses and the sound of drinking.A dozen people were singing, in a guttural language that Arya found odd. They'd eat and drink before they went to bed, she realized, and Pinkeye would wake me up for service and find out I wasn't in bed.But at the moment, he was probably busy pouring wine for the "Warrior Group" and the garrison who joined the carnival, so he didn't have time to take care of it. "If someone does something, the hungry gods will feast on blood tonight," Jaqen said. "Lovely girl, kind and gentle girl, take back that name, say another, and leave this crazy dream." "No." "Fine then." He seemed to give up. "One obeys, but the girl follows instructions, and one has no time to say." "The girl will obey," Arya said. "what should I do?" "A hundred captives were hungry and had to eat, and my lord ordered broth. The girl ran to the kitchen and told her pie boy." "I'm going for broth," she repeated. "And you?" "Girl helps make soup and waits in the kitchen, someone will come to her. Go. Run." Hot Pie was taking the bread out of the oven when she rushed into the kitchen, but he wasn't alone here anymore, the cook was all roused to cook for Wag Hurt and the Mummers.The servants were busy carrying out the baskets of bread and jam pies made by the hot pies, the chef was cutting the cold ham, the stoker boy was turning the roast rabbit, the pot girls were spreading honey on them, and the cook was chopping the onion. and carrots. "What are you doing, weasel?" asked the cook, seeing her. "Broth," she announced. "My lord wants broth." He pointed at the black iron pan on the fire with his meat cutting knife. "What do you think it is? Tell you, I'll piss in it first, and then I'll give it to the goat. It won't make anyone sleep well!" he said angrily. "Okay, you don't have to worry about it, go back and tell him that the pot can't be urged." "I'll just wait here until it's cooked." "Then don't get in the way, or help. Well, you go to the storage room and get the butter and cheese that Mrs. Goat asked for. Wake up Pia and tell her, if you want to keep your feet, give me this time A bit." She ran as fast as she could.Pia was awake, but still sleeping in the attic, moaning under a member of the blood troupe.When she heard Arya yell, she got back into her clothes and filled six baskets with butter-jars and hunks of stinking cheese wrapped in cloth. "Come on, give me a hand," she told Arya. "I won't help. You'd better go yourself, or Vargo Hurt will cut off your feet." Arya ran before Pia could catch her.On the way back, she suddenly wondered why none of the captives had their limbs cut off?Was Vargo Hurt afraid of Robb?But he looks so fearless. When Arya returned to the kitchen, Hot Pie was stirring the pot with a long wooden spoon, and she grabbed another spoon to help.For a moment she considered telling him her plan, and then, remembering what had happened in the fishing village, she decided not to.He'll just surrender one more time. Then she heard Rorge's piercing voice. "Cook," he called. "Let's get the bloody soup." Arya put down her spoon in a panic.Oops, how did they participate!Rorge wore an iron helmet and a nose guard to hide the hollowness in his face.Jaqen and Fang followed behind him. "Damn soup is not fucking ready yet," the chef said, "It still needs to be stewed, and the onions just put in—" "Close the stinky hole, or I'll poke your asshole with a barbecue spit, spread honey and roast you a few times. I said I want soup, and I want it now!" Fang Fang hissed strangely, while tearing off a large piece of half-grilled rabbit meat from the iron fork, he bit it down with his sharp teeth, and honey dripped from his fingers. Chef caved. "Then take the damn soup away, and if the goat complains, explain yourself." Fang licked the grease and honey between his fingers eagerly. Jaqen H'ghar put on a pair of thick padded gloves and handed the other to Arya. "Weasel to help." Heaviness, Arya and Jaqen struggled to lift one, Rorge lifted one pot by himself, Fang lifted two, his hand was scalded by the handle of the pot, his mouth screamed in pain, but his hands Didn't relax.They carried the pot out of the kitchen and across the courtyard.Two guards stood guard at the gate of the Widow's Tower. "What is this?" one of them asked Rorge. "A pot of hot urine, do you want to try it?" Jaqen smiled charmingly, "We give food to the captives." "No one ever said it would—" Arya cut him off. "It's for them, not for you." The second guard waved them through. "Then take it down." Inside the door is a winding staircase leading down to the dungeon.Among the four, Rorger leads the way, while Jaqen and Arya break off. "Girls stay away," he told her. At the top of the stairs was a long, narrow stone cellar, dank and dark, without a skylight.A few torches were burning nearby, and a group of Ser Amory's soldiers were sitting around a broken wooden table playing cards and chatting. Heavy iron bars separated them from the captives huddled in the darkness.No sooner had they entered than the smell of the broth drew many captives to the bars. Arya counted eight guards.They also smelled of broth. "You are the ugliest maid I have ever seen in my life," said their captain to Rorge. "What's in the cauldron?" "How does your dick and balls taste?" One guard was pacing, another was standing by the fence, another was sitting on the floor against the wall, but the food drew them all to the table. "It's time to fucking eat." "There are onions in it?" "Where's the bread?" "Hell, we need bowls, cups, spoons—" "No, you don't need it." Rorge vigorously lifted the hot soup pot, splashed it across the table, and poured it all on their faces.Jaqen.Hjal also obeyed the law.The fangs flew out of the pot like throwing a plate, and the pot spun through the cell, raining soup.The captain was about to get up, but was hit in the temple by the whirling pot, and fell down like a sandbag, motionless.The rest screamed in pain, begged for life, or tried to sneak away. Arya pressed against the wall, Rorge began to cut people's throats, and Fang grabbed the back of the guards' heads and jaws with a pair of pale giant hands, twisting the necks in one fell swoop.Only one guard had time to draw his sword.Jaqen danced past his blows, drew his own sword, cornered the man with a few thrusts, and then stabbed the man through the heart, killing him.The Lorathian came up to Arya with his sword, the blood of his heart running on it, and he wiped it away with the front of her dress. "Girls deserve blood. It's her handwriting." The cell key hung from a hook on the wall by the table.Rorge took it off and opened the cell door.The first one to go out was the lord with the armored glove emblem on his coat. "Good job," he said. "I'm Robert Glover." "My lord," Jaqen bowed to him. As soon as they were free, the captives immediately snatched the weapons of the death guards, held them in their hands, and rushed up the stairs, followed by those behind them with empty hands.They all moved swiftly and without saying a word, and all of the wounds that Vargo Hurt had driven them through the gates had healed without medicine. "Tang's idea is brilliant," Glover said. "I never thought it was Lord Hurt's idea?" Rorge laughed so hard that the snot splashed out of the hole where his nose used to be.Fang sat on the dead man, grabbed a limp arm, and gnawed on the corpse's fingers.There was a creaking sound between the teeth. "Who are you guys?" Robert Glover wrinkled his forehead. "You didn't follow Lord Hutt to Lord Bolton's camp. Are you members of the Warriors?" Rorge wiped the snot from his chin with the back of his hand. "We are now." "It is my honor to be Jaqen H'ghar, from the Free Cities of Lorath. Rorge and Fang are his impudent companions. Your lord can see who Fang is." He waved his hand , pointing at Arya. "this--" "I'm a weasel," she said quickly, lest he reveal her true identity.She didn't want to say her name here, to be heard by Rorger, Bitter, and a whole bunch of strangers. Glover didn't care about her at all. "Very well," he said, "let's end this bloody drama." They climbed the winding stairs to find the guard at the door lying in a pool of blood.Arya heard the shouts as the northmen rushed across the courtyard.The door of the barracks hall opened suddenly, and a wounded man staggered out screaming.Three others followed, and finally silenced him with spears and swords.There was fighting near the gatehouse, and Rorge and Fang rushed after Glover, but Jaqen H'ghar knelt beside Arya. "The girl doesn't understand?" "I get it," she said, though she didn't really get it. The Loras saw it in her face. "The goat is unfaithful, the wolf flag will be hoisted. Someone will hear a name be withdrawn." "I take that name back." Arya bit her lip. "Do I have a third life?" "Girls are greedy." Jaqen touched the dead guard and showed her bloody fingers. "This is the third, that is the fourth, and there are eight more lying down. The debt has been paid." "The debt is paid," Arya had to agree, reluctantly.She felt a little sad that she was a mouse again. "The Red God is a creditor. Someone must die." A strange smile played on Jaqen H'ghar's lips. "Dead?" she said, confused.What does he mean? "I have withdrawn my name. You don't need to die now." "Someone must die. Someone's time has come." Jaqen wiped his hands from top to bottom across his face, from forehead to chin, wherever he passed There were changes: the face became fuller, the eyes came closer together, the nose became aquiline, and an unprecedented scar appeared on the right cheek.He shook his head, and the long, straight, half-red, half-white hair disappeared into neat black curls. Arya's mouth fell open. "Who the hell are you?" she whispered, too surprised to be afraid. "How did you do it? Is it difficult?" He grinned, revealing a single shiny gold tooth. "It's as easy as changing your name, as long as you know how." "Teach me," she blurted out, "I want to learn." "If you want to learn, you have to follow me." She hesitated, "Where are you going?" "A place far, far away, across the narrow sea." "I'm not going. I want to go home. Back to Winterfell." "Then we have to separate," he said, "I have a mission." He took her hand and stuffed a small coin into her palm. "Take it." "what is this?" "A precious coin." Arya bites.So hard, it seems to be iron. "Is it enough to buy a horse?" "not enough." "What's the use of that?" "Why is life better than death? If one day you want to find me, please give this coin to any Braavosian and say to him—Valar morghulis." "Valar morghulis," Arya repeated.It's not hard to remember.She gripped the coin tightly between her fingers.At the other end of the yard, people kept dying. "Please don't go, Jaqen." "Jarqen is dead, and Arlie is dead," he said mournfully. "I have a promise to keep. Valar morghulis, Arya Stark, please repeat it to me." "Valar morghulis," she repeated, and the stranger in Jaqen's clothes bowed to her and turned back into the darkness, his cloak fluttering.Arya was left alone with the dead body.Damn them, she told herself, thinking of Ser Amory Lodge's massacre at Lakeside. When she returned to her straw bed, the cellar under the Burning King Tower was empty.She repeated the name softly to the pillow, and when she had finished she added, in a soft, small voice: "Valar morghulis," without understanding what it meant. After dawn, Pinkeye and the others returned, only one boy was killed in the fight, and no one could tell why.Pink Eye went upstairs alone to see what work was assigned during the day, and while climbing the stairs, she complained that her old bones could not stand the toss.When he came back, he told everyone that Harrenhal had been taken. "The blood troupe struck while Ser Amory's men were sleeping, and others were drunk and died at the table. Before the sun went down, the new lord would arrive with an army. He came from the wild north, from the side of the Wall. Nobles, it is said that they are very strict. Listen to me, you slackers, no matter who the lord is, you have to do what you are supposed to do. Whoever dares to steal and play tricks, I will take a whip to slap you off. ”他边说边看艾莉亚，但关于她昨晚的去向，一个字也没问。 整个早上，她都在观看血戏班搜刮死者身上的钱物，然后将尸体拖到流石庭院，并在那儿堆好木柴，准备焚烧。“小丑”夏格维砍下两个死骑士的脑袋，拎着头发，在城堡里神气十足地到处挥舞，还让它们表演对话。“你咋死啦？”一个脑袋问。“喝了滚烫的黄鼠狼汤，”另一个回答。 艾莉亚被派去拖地，擦掉干涸的血迹。没人对她多说什么，但她不时注意到人们奇怪的眼光。罗贝特·葛洛佛和其他人想必把地牢里发生的事传了出去，然后夏格维和他会说话的蠢头颅便开始到处宣扬黄鼠狼汤。她想去叫他闭嘴，却不敢这么做。小丑半疯半傻，听说有次杀人就因为对方没有为他的笑话而发笑。他最好闭嘴，否则我把他加入名单，她一边擦拭红棕色的血渍一边想。快入夜时，赫伦堡的新主人才到达。他相貌平凡，没有胡子，惟一引人注目的是那双淡得出奇的怪眼。他不胖不瘦，也不强壮，穿着黑色锁甲和一件粉红斑点的披风。他旗上的图案似乎是个血人。“恐怖堡伯爵驾到，下跪！”他的侍从高喊，那是个跟艾莉亚年纪相仿的男孩。整个赫伦堡都跪下了。 瓦格·赫特迎上前。“大人，赫伦堡属于您了。” 领主开口作答，但声音太轻，艾莉亚听不到。罗贝特·葛洛佛和伊尼斯·佛雷爵士上前加入，他们刚刚梳洗整洁，穿着崭新的上衣和披风。简短对话之后，伊尼斯爵士引见罗尔杰和尖牙。看到他俩还在，艾莉亚吃了一惊，她还以为贾昆一走，他们也会跟着消失。她听见罗尔杰刺耳的嗓门，却听不清说话的内容。突然夏格维跳到身边，拽着她穿过庭院。“大人，大人，”他牵着她的手腕大声唱，“这是煮汤的黄鼠狼！” “放手，”艾莉亚边说边用力挣脱。 领主注视着她。头不动，眼睛转，瞳仁淡白，好似玄冰。“孩子，你多大？” 她都忘了，不得不想了一会儿。“十岁。” “十岁，大人，”他提醒她。“你喜欢动物吗？” “有些动物我喜欢。大人。” 他嘴角现出一抹淡淡的微笑。“看来不包括狮子。也不包括狮身蝎尾兽。” 她不知如何应对，因此什么也没说。 “他们叫你黄鼠狼。这可不行。你母亲给你取什么名？” 她紧咬嘴唇，努力搜寻一个名字。以前罗米叫她“癞痢头”，珊莎叫她“马脸艾莉亚”，父亲的手下给她取的绰号则是“捣蛋鬼艾莉亚”，但她认为这些都不是他想听的名字。 “娜梅莉亚，她叫我娜梅莉亚，”她说，“平日简称娜娜。” “跟我说话时要称我为'大人'，娜娜，”领主温和地说。“我认为你还太小，不能加入'勇士团'，而且性别也不对。水蛭是你害怕的动物吗，孩子？” “水蛭不过是小虫子，大人。” “看来我的侍从该向你学习。常用水蛭放血是长寿秘诀，一个人应该常常清除自己的脏血。我就把这个工作交给你了。我留在赫伦堡一天，娜娜，你就是我的侍酒，负责在餐桌上和居室里伺候。” 这次她知道别开口讨要马厩的工作。“是……我是说，是，大人。” 领主挥挥手。“把她收拾得像样点儿，”他不特定对谁地说，“教她倒酒，别洒出来。”他转身抬起一只手，“赫特大人，换掉城门楼的旗帜。” 四个勇士团的成员爬上城墙，扯下兰尼斯特家金色的狮子和亚摩利爵士黑色的狮身蝎尾兽，升起恐怖堡的剥皮人和史塔克家的冰原狼。当晚，一个叫娜娜的侍酒一边替站在楼台上的卢斯·波顿和瓦格·赫特斟酒，一边看着勇士团押解赤身裸体的亚摩利。洛奇爵士穿过中庭。亚摩利爵士紧紧抱住押送者的腿，一边乞求一边抽泣，最后罗尔杰把他拉开，夏格维将他一脚踢进养熊的坑。 黑色的熊，艾莉亚心想，和尤伦一样。她倒满卢斯·波顿的杯子，一滴也没有洒出来。