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She heard shouting behind her as she spun around a portly butcher who stood gaping at her with a cleaver in his hand. His arms were red to the elbow.
她又绕过一个手拿切肉刀，肘部以下全是血，张大嘴巴吃惊地看着她的肥胖屠夫，隐约听见背后的叫喊。
All that Syrio Forel had taught her went racing through her head. Swift as a deer. Quiet as a shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Strong as a bear. Fierce as a wolverine. Fear cuts deeper than swords. The man who fears losing has already lost. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords. The grip of her wooden sword was slick with sweat, and Arya was breathing hard when she reached the turret stair. For an instant she froze. Up or down? Up would take her to the covered bridge that spanned the small court to the Tower of the Hand, but that would be the way they'd expect her to go, for certain. Never do what they expect, Syrio once said. Arya went down, around and around, leaping over the narrow stone steps two and three at a time. She emerged in a cavernous vaulted cellar, surrounded by casks of ale stacked twenty feet tall. The only light came through narrow slanting windows high in the wall.
西利欧·佛瑞尔所教过的每一件事都在她脑中迅速流窜。疾如鹿，静如影。恐惧比利剑更伤人。迅如蛇，止如水。恐惧比利剑更伤人。壮如熊，猛如狼。恐惧比利剑更伤人。害怕失败者必败无疑。恐惧比利剑更伤人。恐惧比利剑更伤人。恐惧比利剑更伤人。她紧握木剑，汗湿手心，当抵达塔里的楼梯时，已经上气不接下气。她愣了一会儿。往上还是往下？上楼之后会经过覆篷的桥，桥连接着议事厅和首相塔，但他们一定以为她会朝那边去，没错，而且西利欧不是说要“出其不意”吗？于是艾莉亚往下走，一层又一层螺旋，三步并作两步，跳过一级级狭窄的阶梯。直到最后进入宽敞的圆顶地窖，四周的麦酒桶足足堆了二十尺高。惟一的光源是高墙上的倾斜窄窗。
The cellar was a dead end. There was no way out but the way she had come in. She dare not go back up those steps, but she couldn't stay here, either.
地窖是条死路。除了她进来的路，无路可走。她不敢回头，也不敢留在这里。
