（小说翻译）剑之真相

TRUTH OF THE SWORD

Doors and roofs rattled in the drift camps. Cords of static began to gather in the cables running from the electro-kites to their tethers. The smell of the storm was thick in Sigismund's nose. He could hear the cries of the murder gangs, far off but coming closer, as they ran with the storm. The ground beneath him sloped down from the crag of stones that jutted up from the sprawl. The metal bar lay in the dust between his feet where he sat. He closed his eyes, for a second.

流浪者营房的门和屋顶在吱嘎作响，静电开始在连接着导电风筝和系绳的电缆中聚集着。风暴的气味颇为浓郁，充塞着西吉斯蒙德的鼻腔。他能听到那些嗜杀的帮派所发出的怒吼声，声音离他很远，但正在不断接近——那些人在随着风暴狂奔。他身下的土地是一段从凸出的岩石峭壁倾斜而下的坡道。西吉斯蒙德坐在那里，一根金属棒放在他双脚间的尘土中。他闭上双眼，静待了一秒。

'May I sit with you?'

“我能坐在你旁边吗？”

Sigismund opened his eyes and looked up. A man stood next to him. His face was dark and lean. A ragged cloak of blue hung over battered and mismatched armour. His eyes were very dark. Sigismund began to rise, to open his mouth, but the man motioned him to stillness with a gesture.

西吉斯蒙德睁开眼睛，抬头看去。站在他身边的是一个男人，面庞晦暗而精瘦，穿着一身破旧且错配的甲胄，外面还披着一件褴褛的蓝色斗篷。男人的双眼极为黑暗。西吉斯蒙德开始站起身来，开始张嘴发声，但男人做了个手势，示意他一切照旧便好。

'May I sit with you?' asked the man again.

“我能坐在你旁边吗？”男人再次问到。

Sigismund nodded.

西吉斯蒙德点点头。

'Yes,' he said, and he was suddenly aware that his limbs and body were clad in battleplate, his hands not bare but skinned in yellow ceramite.

“可以。”西吉斯蒙德说到，他也突然意识到自己的四肢和躯体包裹在动力甲中，他的双手并非裸露，而是包覆着黄色的陶钢。

The man lowered himself to the ground beside Sigismund and gazed out towards where the grey yellow blur of the storm had stolen the horizon

男人俯身坐在西吉斯蒙德身边的地面上，他凝视远方，看着风暴灰黄色的身影隐没在地平线上。

'We are not here,' said Sigismund. 'This was long ago. I am with you on Ullanor, not here. This is a dream.'

“我们未在此地，”西吉斯蒙德说到。“这是很久之前的事情，我现在和你同在乌兰诺，而非此地。这是梦境。”

'We have always been here,' said the man

“我们一直都在此地，”男人说到。

Sigismund felt his eyes close for a second, and a shutter-blur of years flicked across his vision.

西吉斯蒙德感觉自己的双眼闭上了一会儿，岁月模糊的身影从他眼前一闪而过。

'You have been fighting a long time,' said the man.

“你已经战斗很久了。”男人说到。

Sigismund opened his eyes. He could barely tell apart the sound of the hunting gangs and the cry of the rising wind. He noticed that the man had picked the iron bar up and was looking at it, eyes intent as he turned it over, as though it were a wonder of the ages and not a length of raw metal pitted with rust. The dark eyes glanced at Sigismund, knowing but not judging, hard yet sorrowful.

西吉斯蒙德睁开了双眼。他几乎分辨不出狩猎帮派的吼声与不断增强的风声；他注意到男人拾起了那根铁棒，并正在端详这件物品，男人目不转睛地翻看这根铁棒，仿佛那是一件（历经了）时代的奇迹珍宝，而非一根生锈的粗陋金属。男人黑暗双眼瞥了瞥西吉斯蒙德，目光中流露出的是理解而非审判，冷酷中又掺杂了哀伤。

'You wish for peace,' said the man.

“你渴望和平。”男人说到。

'Yes.' said Sigismund.

“是的。”西吉斯蒙德回答到。

'You will not have it,' said the man. 'But your life has been lived for a purpose. You have purpose.'

“你不会得到和平。”男人说到，“但你是为了一个目标而活着的，你是有目标的。”

'What purpose?'

“什么目标？”

'To stand.'

“去忍受。”

'Why?'

“为什么？”

'Because someone must.'

“因为必须有某些人去忍受。”

The figure in battered armour stood and handed the iron bar to Sigismund. He nodded, and Sigismund saw there was tiredness in the eyes, the weariness of one who has come far and yet has further to go.

穿着破旧甲胄的男人站起身来，把铁棒递给西吉斯蒙德。他点点头，西吉斯蒙德在他眼中看到了疲倦——那是来自某个已经走了很远的路，却仍有很远的路要走的人的疲惫。

'We will win?' asked Sigismund 'The war, we will win in the end, won't we? It will be over?'

“我们会赢吗？”西吉斯蒙德问到，“我们最终会赢得这场战争，不是吗？这场战争会结束吗？”

The man gave a sad smile and tapped the iron bar in Sigismund's hands.

男人露出一个悲伤的微笑，轻轻地敲了敲西吉斯蒙德手中的铁棒。

'Ask the sword,' he said, and then he was turning, wrapping the fold of his cloak over his head.

“问问这把剑，”他说到，之后他转过身，拉起披风的兜帽，盖住自己的头。

Drops of rain had begun to fall. Cords of lightning arced down the cables of the electro-kites. Far off, but drawing closer, thunder growled. Sigismund watched as the man walked down the slope, a ragged outline in the billowing dust and ochre smog of the first fall of rain, then he was gone.

雨点开始落下了。闪电沿着导电风筝的电缆呈弧线向下流动，远处的隆隆雷声在不断逼近。西格斯蒙德看着男人人走下斜坡，褴褛的身形在第一场雨带来的滚滚灰尘和赭色烟雾中渐行渐远，然后消失在了尘雾中。

Sigismund was still for a long moment, and then stood. Rain struck his face, first one drop, then a scattering, then more. He looked at the black iron in his hand that would become a sword, and slowly, as he had for a lifetime and would for an eternity, he bowed his head and touched the cold metal to his forehead.

西吉斯蒙德静坐了好一会儿，然后才站起身来。雨水落在他脸上，先是一滴，之后是一阵，继而瓢朴大雨倾盆而下，冲刷着他。他看着手中那根将会变成一把长剑的黑色铁棒，之后，就像自己这一生都始终在做的那样，他低下头，用冰冷的金属碰了碰额头。