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Tyrion had never quite gotten over the suspicion that his father had inflicted the boy on him as a joke.
提利昂始终怀疑父亲之所以把这孩子交给他，根本是个恶意的玩笑。
Your garb, my lord, the boy mumbled when Tyrion entered, staring down at his boots. Even when he worked up the courage to speak, Pod could never quite manage to look at you. "For the audience. And your chain. The Hand's chain."
“大人，这是您的衣服，”提利昂一进门，男孩便垂下眼睛，视线盯着他的鞋子，嗫嚅着说。波德就是没办法鼓起勇气直视你。“待会儿接见客人要穿。还有您的项链，首相项链。”
Very good. Help me dress. The doublet was black velvet covered with golden studs in the shape of lions' heads, the chain a loop of solid gold hands, the fingers of each clasping the wrist of the next. Pod brought him a cloak of crimson silk fringed in gold, cut to his height. On a normal man, it would be no more than a half cape.
“很好，过来帮我穿衣服。”外衣是黑天鹅绒料子，上面辍满了狮头形状的金色饰扣，那条项链则用只只实心金手串连而成，手指与手腕相扣。波德又为他披上一件深红的丝质金边披风，样式特别为他裁制，若给一般人穿，大概只能算短披风。
The Hand's private audience chamber was not so large as the king's, nor a patch on the vastness of the throne room, but Tyrion liked its Myrish rugs, wall hangings, and sense of intimacy. As he entered, his steward cried out, "Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the King." He liked that too. The gaggle of smiths, armorers, and ironmongers that Bronn had collected fell to their knees.
首相的私人会客室比国王的小得多，自然更无法与王座厅相提并论，但提利昂喜欢其中的密尔地毯，墙壁上的挂饰，以及某种私密的氛围。他刚进门，总管便喊：“恭迎国王之手提利昂·兰尼斯特大人！”他也喜欢这种感觉。波隆聚集的这群铁匠、武器师和五金商人一听纷纷跪下。
He hoisted himself up into the high seat under the round golden window and bid them rise. "Goodman, I know you are all busy, so I will be succinct. Pod, if you please." The boy handed him a canvas sack. Tyrion yanked the drawstring and upended the bag. Its contents spilled onto the rug with a muffled thunk of metal on wool.
他爬上金色圆窗下的那张高位，示意他们起身，“各位师傅，我知你们事务繁忙，所以也不多废话。波德，麻烦你。”男孩递来一个帆布袋，提利昂拉开束带，将袋子里的东西倒出，金属在毛毯上发出模糊的“咚”地一声。
