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For the eyes of Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne. Tyrion peeled the cracked shell away from his egg and took a bite. It wanted salt. "One letter, in two copies. Send your swiftest birds. The matter is of great import."
“寄给多恩亲王道朗·马泰尔的信函，”提利昂剥开蛋壳，咬了一口，似乎没加盐，“一式两份，事关重大，派你最快的鸟儿送去。”
I shall dispatch them as soon as we have broken our fast.
“吃完早餐，我即刻处理。”
Dispatch them now. Stewed plums will keep. The realm may not. Lord Renly is leading his host up the roseroad, and no one can say when Lord Stannis will sail from Dragonstone.
“现在就办，李子可以待会再吃，国家大事可等不得。眼下蓝礼大人正率军沿玫瑰大道北进，而谁也说不准史坦尼斯大人何时会自龙石岛启航。”
Pycelle blinked. "If my lord prefers—"
派席尔眨眨眼，“如果大人您坚持——”
He does.
“我很坚持。”
I am here to serve. The maester pushed himself ponderously to his feet his chain of office clinking softly. It was a heavy thing, a dozen maester's collars threaded around and through each other and ornamented with gemstones. And it seemed to Tyrion that the gold and silver and platinum links far outnumbered those of baser metals.
“我随时任您差遣。”学士蹒跚起身，颈链轻声作响。他的颈链粗大沉重，重量乃是普通学士项链的十数倍，互相串接，镶以宝石。在提利昂看来，其中黄金、白银和铂金的链条数目远远超过其他不值钱的金属。
Pycelle moved so slowly that Tyrion had time to finish his egg and taste the plums—overcooked and watery, to his taste— before the sound of wings prompted him to rise. He spied the raven, dark in the dawn sky, and turned briskly toward the maze of shelves at the far end of the room.
派席尔动作很慢，提利昂吃完煮蛋，又尝过李子——李子煮得烂熟多汁，正合他胃口——这才听见扑翅之音。他站起来，看见清晨天际乌鸦墨黑的身影，便骤然转身，朝房间远端迷宫般的置物架走去。
